I Fell for a Librarian Bk. 01

With the spirit of wonder that overcame me, what surprise would a door reveal as I squeezed under the last shelf on the bookcase, crawling into the space I say. “There is a sign here it reads Break-room.”

I crawl into the space and see the light leaking at the end of the two twenty-foot-long bookshelves.

“Hey, where are you going?” Mary Asked me as I slipped into the space.

I say. “It’s easy to walk between the bookshelf with my key-chain flashlight; there is a board cut to shape to close it off at the end. I’ll meet you there.”

Just turning a wood block, the board comes out. I see the screw from the outside, and if you turn the screw, it unlocks the board, and I hold my hand to you as you pull a pen lite out on your key ring and help lite our way. We see years of dust, and only our footprints are there.

I put the board back up and turned the block in case someone came by no clue why I did that or why you did not stop me. Of course, you watched me do it, but I took it to mean you trusted me; my Mom would be proud.

We walked to the door. Your keys opened the lock; it was a bit sticky with age, but it opened. There is a break room with a green leather couch and nice matching chairs, all covered in heavy sheets. Light leaks around heavy curtains over windows high up on the outside wall. Flipping the light switch on, the lights flicker and blink a few times, making clicking noises, a buzz then they turn on, lighting the room and showing us a baby blue 1950s icebox still working but empty but with metal ice cubes trays frozen shut, just like my apartment I share with my Mom.

There is a beautiful two-toned wood cabinet; it’s a tube radio, its tubes start glowing orange damn, it’s the size of a microwave, a coffee machine still moldy and dry with long ago coffee, and a running coke machine with dozens of cases of cokes for a Nickel next to it.

The radio starts playing some oldies dance music. I present myself to you, bow at the waist, hold my hand out, and say. “My Mom showed me this downstairs. May I have this next dance, Miss Mary Ann?”

We spun, twisting an essential two-step around the room a basic two-step I tried to dip you a basic two-step, but it was so bad we both chuckled. Finally, the music changed to something more Latin, and I hung in there. My dancing could have been better, but we danced to the tune of your laughter.

Dancing had worked up a thirst in me, in what I call more of a spirit of an adventurer than common sense. So I drop a Nickel in and pull a cold soda out, and it pops when it’s open; it smells good. I did the toss your head back, and it’s flat wet, drinkable but not much fun; no bite left, chiefly just wet.

Mary told me. “I expected the same thing that every day in my life brings; these last years have been a blur; I did not think I would be dancing with a sexy bad boy Dandiana Jones.” You chuckled.

We took a tour around the break room; there are two sets of changing rooms with lockers and showers that turn on a bit rusty at first, but it runs clear, and the water gets hot, even steamy; there is a men’s and a woman’s restroom. Towels still wrapped in brown paper from a local laundry are still usable. They were even thicker and better than what we had at home. “This place needs a good dusting, but it does not have my Mom or your Sister. Do we have to tell people about this place right away?” I asked with a grin on my face.

“You game, Dan? I get so frustrated it hurts sometimes; I don’t even try any more men don’t seem to treat me right.” Mary told me with a hopeful smile on her face.

“Yes, I’m so in; you know you’re sexy, right sexy as hell? We need to clean up here. I can get started. You close at eight, right? I will keep all the original stuff, trash/packaging here so it can be put back when we are done; I clean up here you go back to work the desk and come back to get me; we can meet the next night at your lunch break I can be your D’Artagnan, and you can be my Milady De Winter.” I bowed like I had a sword and chuckled, thinking about how close I was to heaven, a damn woman, not a stuck-up giddy hot high school girl.

I had finished cleaning the place up; it did not take all that much. You came back to get me, and you told me. “Where the last two here, your youth excites me Dan’Artagnan I can’t explain it in words, but I sure will enjoy you.”

As you start unzipping your black dress, your underwear is all black lacy being sheer. It was sexy as hell your skin glowed like virgin snow and was untouched, not a mark on you, not a scar or tattoo; it was not long before I found you were anything but cold.