So there I lay, my arms splayed out with one wrist tied to each bedpost, my ankles tied to the lower ones and a pillow wedged up under my hips. Because of the blindfold and headphones, I had no idea what she was up to.

Perhaps I should back up a bit. Laura seemed like a shy, almost painfully bookish librarian. She wasn’t particularly pretty. She had mousey brown hair she kept in a bun, except for a few stray wisps at the nape of her neck, and her glasses seemed to be as much a means of hiding as they were necessary for her sight. She was always very quiet and unassuming. It was almost as if she was afraid to have an opinion, or afraid that if by expressing it, she might somehow bring down the wrath of management upon herself. We came to talk with each other purely by accident that Saturday.

It had been a particularly hectic week. That first week of school, with all the children being constantly trooped in and out to learn the secrets of the Dewey Decimal System had been incredibly tiresome. On Wednesday, we all decided that, for the rest of the week, we’d just load up the carts with the books, rather than stay late each day to re shelve them. We planned to meet on Saturday, and thought that with all of us working uninterrupted, we’d be able to replace all the books in just a couple of hours.

By the middle of the day Friday all of us on staff had gotten to the point that like some conditioned laboratory animal, we cringed at the sound of the bell signaling the start of a new period. Each new period brought with it a new batch of energetic children, eager to be able to move freely out of the confines of their desks and chairs.

Saturday came, and Laura and I were deep back in the fiction stacks, re-shelving books, when she accidentally shoved one too many into a shelf, and several began to fall out the back side. We both went around to the other side, to pick up the books that had fallen, and were crouched down loading our arms, when she gasped. I looked over at her to see what the problem was.

She had worn a black poplin full skirt that day, topped with a fitted white shirt and a black cardigan sweater. I was surprised to realize that for someone in her (I guessed) mid-forties she had quite a girlish figure. At her throat was a large oval onyx broach. Black stockings and a pair of Mary Jane flats peeked out from beneath the hem of the skirt.

Squatting down as she was, her skirt had ridden up onto her thighs. She had a stack of books tucked under her left arm, and was holding one in her right hand, but it wasn’t the book that held my attention. I was looking straight up under her skirt, and was astounded to see very sexy wide lacy tops of a pair of thigh highs. But what was even more astounding, given her outward decorum, she wasn’t wearing any panties! My breath caught, and I immediately thought about what she'd be like in bed. But I quickly averted my eyes, hoping she hadn’t spotted me ogling her. Just as I looked up, she spoke.

“Up here, You.”

Busted! I could feel my cheeks reddening slightly, as I tried to hide my lascivious thoughts.

“Look at this,” she was saying, holding the book out. It was a copy of The Story of O , by Pauline Reage. “Do you know what this is?” she asked.

“Of course,” I replied. “And I take it you do, as well.”

“Just because I am a respectable lady,” she said, “doesn’t mean I have led a totally sheltered life. Of course I know what it is. But my question is how did it get here? I mean, how would a public school library come to have a pornographic book?”

“It was probably in that stack of books that were donated when they closed the public library last year. I guess whoever shelved it just didn’t realize…”

“Well, we can’t just put it back. Suppose Mr. Redcay, or one of the teachers spotted it. Or, worse yet, what would we do if one of those nosey parents sees it next week on ‘Meet the Parents Night’? We have to get it out of here.”

“Wait a minute. What do you mean, ‘we’? You’re holding it, not I.”

She immediately dropped it, as if it had burned her fingers. It hit flat, making a sound like a paper bag being popped after having been blown full of air.

“What’s going on back there?” the head librarian, Mr. Redcay’s voice came booming at us, and we could hear his footsteps as he approached.

I quickly scooped the book up, and standing, jammed it into my waistband at the small of my back. “We were shelving the fiction, Sir,” I replied, and went on quickly, ”when some fell out of the back side. Miss Jorey and I are picking those up now.”

“Well, see that you don’t drop any more. This is a library, and it may be Saturday, but that is no reason for breaking the normal rules of decorum.” He turned on his heel, and strode off, back to his office.

I heard Laura let out a whoosh of air, and suddenly realized I had been holding my breath, as well. “Here, let me take these from you,” I said, and crooked my arm and hand under hers, taking the books from her. I felt the back of my hand brush what I thought might have been her breast, because it was so soft and yielding. But I wasn’t sure, until I heard her slight gasp, and saw her cheeks color.

We walked back around to the front of the shelves, and returned to our task of shelving the books. From time to time, I looked at her, and several times, thought I caught her just as she looked away, but wasn’t certain. 

How easy men are, Laura thought to herself, as she continued shelving books. And how gullible. He should have known no one would have shelved any books in a school without carefully checking them for content. The only hard part was sneaking that book onto the cart, and keeping it hidden until I could push it out the shelf to the other side. Now, all I have to do is keep him interested until we finish work, and ask for a lift home.