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Bibliophile By Green

Karen Lowes hummed to herself as she sorted through the files that had arrived on her desk overnight. It wasn't anything major, just a little paperwork, and she didn't mind. A smile appeared on the deer's face as she finally located the invoice that had gone missing last week, noting an upcoming shipment of young adult novels. Most of them were mindless Twilight knockoffs, sadly, but anything that got the kids to read was a step in the right direction in her mind. Karen was a librarian, you see, and she loved her job. She looked the part, too, in a dark blue conservative suit with a skirt that showed off her slender legs, while the tight hem negated the danger of accidentally exposing her underwear. Topping off the ensemble, she wore her long, dark brown hair up in a tight bun, positively radiating 'dedicated professional'. The doe adjusted her reading glasses and gave the files a once-over, making sure there were no surprises. The business side of a library wasn't as tepid as some might think, and she did her best to make sure things were running smoothly. Seeing that everything was in order, she looked up from her desk for a moment, just taking in the view of the stacks and the people quietly walking throughout the halls.

As odd as it sounded, Karen had wanted to be a librarian as long as she could remember. It wasn't a case of the peculiar phenomenon Hollywood liked to depict, where a plain-looking girl grew up to be drop-dead gorgeous. Karen had always looked good, hadn't wanted for friends, but the simple fact was that sometimes she simply preferred the company of a good book to other people. She had history with this building. Some of her earliest memories were of her mother taking her here on the weekends for story time in the children's section. So many nights when she'd been a schoolgirl, she'd come here, looking for some subject or other for reports or to cram for tests, and the librarians had always been so helpful, helping the ever-polite girl find what she was looking for, no matter how obscure. Once, when she was looking for a rather old novel that the library simply did not have in stock, the head librarian had quietly added it to the list of books on the next shipping order, and surprised the doe with it the next time she stopped by. That librarian, a kindly otter, had since retired, but she still kept in touch with her favourite deer. Over the years, Karen had grown to love the place, so it was no big surprise when, after graduating from high school, she'd taken a major in Library Sciences, and then applied for a position so she could actually work at the lovely old building that had brought her so many fond memories. Some of her friends saw her working at her hometown library as Karen being afraid to 'stretch her wings' and explore the world. What they didn't seem to understand was that Karen wasn't afraid of the world outside, she just loved this place, loved the stores of knowledge in its impressive halls. She didn't need to go anywhere when practically all the wisdom of the world was right here. But sometimes, she didn't feel like basking in wisdom. Sometimes she just liked to take a moment for people-watching.

She'd been working here for a few years now, and had grown to be able to read people almost as well as she read her beloved books. The black cat over in the fiction section, for example, was just walking back and forth, sometimes in loops, with no particular aim. She suspected very strongly that he hadn't come here with anything specific in mind, and was just browsing for an interesting read. She was much the same way herself, enjoyed just exploring and discovering what books she might stumble across. The somewhat stressed-looking coyote girl over in the sciences section, on the other hand, books held closely to her chest, piece of paper in hand, scrutinizing the spines of all the texts she passed and glancing back to that paper, was pretty clearly looking for a specific book she'd looked up earlier and not having much luck finding it. Getting up to stretch her legs, Karen made a mental note to go and help the poor girl if she was still looking when she got back to her desk. Karen was pleased to see that the library was still busy and thriving. There had been a growing trend in the industry to print "books" in shells of plastic instead of the rough familiarity of paper. This very library had recently started a service where members could "rent" e-books for their Kindles and Kobos and various other e-readers. Personally, Karen thought nothing could ever replace the feeling of a nice, solid book in her hands, and hated reading anything much lengthier than an e-mail on a screen, going as far as to print out the stories circulated among her online short story appreciation club. She'd actually slapped someone at a party once for drunkenly rambling about how print was dead and people like her needed to get with the times. She liked the way she did things just fine, thank you very much.

Shaking off the momentary dark mood, the doe made her way over to the front desk, only mildly surprised to see the head librarian, a soft-spoken human who had proven to be a worthy successor to Karen's otter mentor upon her retirement. She walked over to have a chat, when she realized she was still holding the pencil she'd been idly toying with as she watched the patrons of the library. Feeling a moment of uncharacteristic silliness, she smiled and reached back and up, sticking the pencil through the bun of her hair, the way teachers did in old cartoons. She walked up behind Jacob, the man who was technically her boss but never made her feel like a subordinate, and waited politely while he helped some gleeful kids check out some colourful picture books, an old copy of Moppy Saves The Day in hand at the moment. "There you go, you take good care of those books now, they've been here for a very long time." "Thanks! We will!" As the kids scampered off to join their mother by the door, Jacob turned around and smiled slightly wider as he saw the doe standing behind him. "Ah, Karen, what can I do you for?" "Hi, Jacob, it's okay, just stretching my legs. Are we busy today? I could lend a hand if we've got you on the front desk." He had taught her early on not to call him 'Mr. Stevenson'. The older man chuckled slightly, his wide, gentle smile showing how he'd earned those laugh lines, slightly obscured by his neatly-trimmed beard, jet black with streaks of white, just like the rest of his hair. "It's fine, my dear, just the usual weekend rush, nothing we can't handle. I just like to take some time once in a while to man the desk, remind myself why I got into this business." "That's very admirable." "Thank you, but I note it's not that different from you leaving your desk to help the patrons from time to time." She blushed, having been unaware anyone was taking note of that. Stroking his beard, the human beamed at her. "You know, my dear, it's only been a handful of years now since I replaced Helen, and already I hear the staff whispering that you're the perfect candidate for when I retire." Her blush deepened. She hadn't been aware of that either. "Really?" "You can't deny the dedication you have towards this place, now can you? But don't you go ordering new office furniture just yet, young lady, I plan on sticking around for a while." His wink betrayed his serious tone, and she grinned, her embarrassment lifting.

Jacob's smile faltered slightly as he took hold of his wrist, rubbing it gingerly. "Actually, you could do me a favour and cover the desk for me for a moment, I think my arthritis is acting up again." "Of course I'll help. Sorry to hear that, Jacob." "Oh, it's no big problem, I've got some pills in my office, I'll be fine in a few minutes. Guess it means we're getting rain tonight." As the human headed off, Karen turned to face the front desk just in time to catch the eye of an embarrassed looking teenaged fennec fox who was shyly looking in her direction, only to blush and immediately avert his eyes when she met his gaze. She smirked slightly, reading him as well as she did the other patrons. The other boys his age, who grinned as they nudged him and gestured with their heads in the direction of the counter, were a dead giveaway. Unless she missed her guess, the fox had been watching her for some time now, no doubt internally seeing the shapely deer as moving in slow motion, with some classic rock song playing in his head. As he began hesitantly approaching the counter, she turned around, and removed the pencil from her hair, then, after a moment of thought, surreptitiously opened the top button on her suit jacket, exposing just a bit more of her chest to view. She turned around again and bent over onto the raised counter, resting her elbow against it and supporting her head with a hand, fully aware of the fact that the angle of her torso meant that the fox was catching a glimpse of her cleavage, which he was desperately trying not to look at, fidgeting and toying with his hands, his ears swivelled back just a bit in agitation. Ignoring this, she smiled widely at the young man, probably a high schooler, and greeted him warmly. "Can I help you, handsome?" His nervousness was palpable. And adorable. "Y-yeah, I need to find a book..." She chuckled at that as though she were inherently entertained by this, and languidly reached up with her other hand, idly playing the eraser end of the pencil across her ever-so-slightly pursed lips, as though at any moment she might take it into her mouth like a lollipop... among other things. "You're going to have to be a bit more specific than that, honey, we've got kind of a monopoly on books." "Uhh... I - er, we - my friends and I - we've got a p-project to do, in our geography class, and uh, we needed to find a book on, you know, tectonic plates and c-continental stiff. Drift! Continental drift!" Karen giggled again, as though what he said had been witty and charming. Then, gazing at him with bedroom eyes, she lifted her free hand and pointed towards the stairs to the next floor, though of course he didn't look away. "Well, sugar, you'll find what you're looking for in the far corner of the Science and Technology section on the second floor. Just look for the sign that says 'Earth Sciences', you can't miss it." She winked at him, trying hard not to burst out in a genuine giggle fit. The poor fennec was blushing like she was pulling a Mrs. Robinson on him, his large ears turned beet red. "Th-thanks, miss." "You're very welcome, hon, and listen, if you boys can't find what you're looking for, you just come give me a shout, okay?" Swallowing audibly, he nodded and then walked away a little too quickly. Karen stood up straight and turned around again to disguise her barely-contained amusement, and as she did up the button again, she heard from the direction of the cluster of boys, 'Dude, she was so into you!' and nearly exploded from the pressure of the suppressed laughter. She did so enjoy the Hot Librarian game. It wasn't like she was being mean, she would never actually give a false indication that she was attracted to someone, and of course she wasn't really 'into' him, he was just a kid. She just liked to play with the stereotype that surrounded her career choice, since she was fully aware she was easy on the eyes, and sometimes it was fun to be a bit of a tease. Just a bit of harmless fun. She had to admit, though, this particular boy seemed to be a bit more affected than most, perhaps she should have dialed it down a bit. She snickered, now that the teenagers were safely out of range, wondering idly to herself if the poor fennec was going to be fantasizing about her once he reached the privacy of his home... if he even made it that far.

As she composed herself, a squeak behind her caught her attention. A younger ferret named Lewis, one of the library's hard-working volunteers, was pushing a big cart, laden with random books of all kinds. One of the tasks given to the volunteers was to retrieve the books the library's patrons left lying around on tables, in the public reading areas, or on the covered desks which afforded students privacy and helped concentration. They were to be gathered up and brought together, where they would be sorted and returned to their appropriate places. Karen had once heard a little girl tell her even littler brother that it was okay to leave books on the floor near the story time corner, as "book fairies" would put them back where they belonged. Normally the doe took every opportunity to remind kids of proper library etiquette, but that was just so adorable she had left them be. "Hey Lewis. Sounds like the cart could use some oiling." "Hiya, Miss Lowes. You know how it is, 'it's on the list', but there's kind of a lot of stuff to do on that list, you know? Anyway, bunch of them this time, we just get a load of kids on lunch break or something?" The deer leaned over and examined the load of books on the cart. A few novels, like Raise the Titanic! by Clive Cussler, one of her father's favourite authors, as well as more recent fare like Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, already a bit beaten up by the number of kids who had eagerly poured over its pages, and Chris Cleave's Little Bee, which tempted Karen right then and there, as it was on her to-read list. There were also a few assorted textbooks and instructional documents, no doubt left behind after a day of study. There was also a Roget's Dictionary and Thesaurus, which was rarer; with the multitude of definition websites and the easy access anyone with a smart phone had to them, people rarely picked up physical dictionaries anymore. As the doe continued to poke through the pile, Lewis began to fill in a chart taped to a nearby support pillar, filling in the details of his latest 'sweep' of the library. "Yeah, nothing too unusual in there, bunch of manga and kid's books under the stuff you see there... well, except for that."

Curiously following the ferret's gesture, Karen reached over and moved a book about the history of flight and a Star Trek: Voyager novel off of the largest book on the cart. Her eyes widened ever so slightly as she uncovered the old tome, with its ancient, leather-bound cover, now marred by a few dozen small scratches it had picked up over the years, with gold inlay on the words on the spine, and a somewhat frayed and faded, though still presentable-looking red ribbon hanging down from the bottom, a built-in bookmark. The librarian was staring at the book with something close to awe, a reaction one would not expect for a history of English literature that was thirty or forty years out of date. Lewis missed this, as he was still distracted by the necessary paperwork. "Never seen that one before. Big sucker, isn't it? Weird, too. I tried bringing it up to the reference section on the top floor, but I didn't see anywhere it could go, and the code on the sticker didn't even make sense, says it goes in the children's picture book section." Karen chuckled again, genuinely this time. "Of course you haven't seen it before. This is from the archives in the basement. Someone must have gotten special permission to study it." Her tone was matter-of-fact, but her eyes looked much, much softer. As she spoke, she was running her fingertips over the aged leather cover with all the gentleness one might expect from a caress of a lover's cheek, tracing the various marks and scuffs that gave the tome its character. "The sticker doesn't work because this hasn't been on the public shelves since before they completely redid the filing system in 1999. Used an older system." She looked over at Lewis and grinned playfully. "Really, you should have been able to guess just by looking at it." She reverently picked up the book and opened it, very gently flipping a few pages. "If you can't tell by the yellowing of the paper, or the craftsmanship of the binding and the cover, then you can always tell an archived book... by the smell." Karen leaned in closer, holding her nose just off the surface of the page, and inhaled deeply of the scent of the tome, stifling a whimper as a shiver ran down her spine. She composed herself just in time, as Lewis finally turned back to her, none the wiser. "Heh, yeah, my grandmother loved the smell of old books, it was really strong in the air in her study." Although the idea of that study appealed to her, Karen's thoughts had suddenly gone elsewhere, her pulse increased a little in speed. Looking across the library, she saw Jacob leaving his office, and knew he would be back at this post soon. All thought of the coyote girl and the paperwork on her desk having flitted out of her head, she made her decision and tried not to grin as widely as she felt. "I'll tell you what, Lewis, I'm not too busy right now, so I'll take this back to the archives for you. You need a key to get in anyway." The ferret smiled at her, completely oblivious to any alternative motives the doe might have had, though her personal friends would have seen her left ear flicking nervously and known she was hiding something. "Hey, thanks, Miss Lowes, I really appreciate that." Without another word, Karen turned around and walked away, trying to look casual and to keep her walking speed reasonable as she headed for the 'staff-only' staircase, nearly bumping right into a Maine coon girl with an armful of fantasy-romance novels with the laser focus she'd put on her destination.

Heading down those blank, unremarkable stairs, hugging the book tightly to her chest, Karen felt excited, almost giddy. It had been a couple of months since she'd been down here, she'd been busy lately. This felt like a reward for getting through those work-filled days. The hallway wasn't very well-lit, but then it didn't really need to be. There wasn't much down here, after all. There was an alcove on the left containing a rather impressive filing cabinet, a dusty index of every book in the library to be used as a physical back-up in case some catastrophic failure afflicted the building's computer network. On the right was a room Karen had never been in, nor ever had any interest in, as it was merely a maintenance room for the mechanisms that ran the handicapped elevator, directly above it. But at the end of the hallway was an ornate wooden door with a simple false-gold sign proclaiming it to contain the Stanley J. Biedelmann Memorial Archive, named after the man who'd founded this library all those years ago. Like every other time she'd been down here, she stopped for a moment before the door as if mentally preparing herself for unimaginable wonder. The deer reached into a pocket and retrieved the archive key entrusted to full librarians, an old-fashioned key of the design still popular in video games, rather than the modern jagged keys used in most locks. She kept it separate from her other keys because this one felt special, felt important, much more so than the one that unlocked her car doors or her apartment. Not to mention that just touching the key reminded her of the room she was about to enter... which tended to distract her from work that needed doing. Feeling sufficiently prepared, she reached forward, inserted the old key in the lock, and turned until she heard that satisfying click. Then, holding her breath in excitement, beaming like a child on Christmas Day, Karen opened the door and stepped inside.

The archive room wasn't much to look at. A somewhat spartan room with old wooden furniture set out in a small, brightly-lit reading area, with two rows of evenly spaced shelves going back to the walls, each one laden with old, old books that were either so out of date their information wasn't useful to the general public anymore, or were simply so old that they were in danger of falling apart if not handled with care. A door in the back corner lead to a small room full of supplies for restoring the tomes that were in bad condition, but the library hadn't had anyone with the appropriate skillset since just before Karen had been hired, so it hadn't been visited in years, except for the occasional dusting. Just like every other time she'd stepped into the archives, Karen made a mental note to look into learning restoration so she could spend more time down here with her beloved tomes. And that was the heart of the matter, of course. She didn't just love her job, she loved books. She really loved books. In fact, as she stood there in the doorway, the doe paused for a moment to inhale as deeply as she could, filling her lungs with the scent of the old texts, and shuddered as she felt the first stirrings of arousal inside her. Hurrying to close and lock the door behind her, Karen moved to one of the reading tables and sat down with her new friend, the Unabridged History of English Literature, and her mind took her back to yet another happy memory associated with this library...

Karen had been a bit of a late bloomer. By the time she was 16, she'd already developed into a beautiful young woman, but she felt no particular urging towards romance, and didn't really see what all the fuss surrounding sex was about, hadn't even played with herself yet. Then, one day, she had been doing a project for school, and after politely asking Helen if she could please study the subject in the building's archives, the old otter had agreed, going as far as to leave Karen alone in the room, which was just about unheard-of for a non-staff member. At first the doe had worked diligently, treating the old books with the care and respect they deserved, not wanting to damage them. But the longer she worked in that room, the more difficult it became to concentrate. To her, the smell in the air, of all those old books mingled together, was more than just the smell of the natural process of aging paper and leather, it was an embodiment of all that old knowledge, all those learned authors' work, merging in the air and filling her with their secrets. It was a heady feeling, to be sure, but she had been shocked to realize that as she got more and more distracted by the scent, she was becoming more and more physically aroused. Eventually she gave up on studying, and began to take old tomes at random, feeling their covers, the texture of their aging pages, leaning in to the middle of the book to inhale deeply of their scent, and finally, overwhelmed by her new feelings and unable to resist any longer, Karen had snuck a hand under her skirt, to where relief had been so desperately needed. Right then and there in this very room, basking in the scent of knowledge and aged intelligence, Karen Lowes brought herself to her first orgasm, and her very literal passion for books, for knowledge, for information, had grown only stronger as the years went by.

It wasn't that weird, she had always told herself. There were perverts on the Internet who were attracted to rubber-soled shoes, or characters from children's cartoons, or being publically embarrassed, among a seemingly infinite variety of other things. And it certainly wasn't the only way she could be aroused; after that night in the archives, Karen's latent sexuality finally began to blossom, and she'd subsequently enjoyed dating and relationships just as much as any other young woman. It had been a while since she'd been serious with someone, sure, but that was normal too, wasn't it? Hell, was it really that different from her fellow morphics being affected by pheromones and musk? No, her love for books wasn't harmful in any way, and given this harmlessness, it was probably healthier not to deny herself. That being said... She took another deep sniff of the air and moaned quietly. "Oh, God... it's been too long..." Reaching up with quivering hands, she freed her hair from the constraining bun, shaking her head from side to side to let her long brunette locks fall naturally into place. The last time she'd been here, it had been in the middle of a very busy inventory check, she'd just taken a moment during a break to go relieve some stress, it hadn't been anything more complicated than locking herself in, tugging her skirt up and her panties down, and frigging herself off in a few minutes. This time, her schedule was wide-open, so she intended to linger, to take her time, to really enjoy herself. She removed her suit jacket and put it, neatly folded, on the table next to the one where she'd laid the book down, then reached down and unfastened her skirt, freeing her lower body. She stayed like this for a moment, reaching down to gently, lightly run a finger along her slit through her panties, squeezing one of her breasts with her free hand. Her arousal was growing with every breath, but she forced herself to stop, lest she grow too excited and soak through her underwear. Forcing her shaking fingers to cooperate, she opened the buttons on her blouse one by one, leaving it on but open as she reached back and opened the clasp on her bra, letting out a sigh of relief as her breasts were freed. Karen had heard that "anything more than a handful was a waste", but she'd always been fond of her large chest. It wasn't like she was embarrassingly huge or anything, one wouldn't confuse her for a porn star, but she liked that they had a bit of weight to them, fondly remembered one night when they had literally served as pillows for a lover who had fallen asleep in her embrace. Resisting the urge to play with her stiffening nipples, the doe ran her hands along her downy fur until they reached her hips, and then kicked her shoes off, gratefully sliding her panties down and off, reaching back to free her tuft of a tail when it got caught in the hole in the back of the garment, idly wondering how skunks and squirrels, with their large, wide tails, managed to get their underwear off when they were in a hurry. Her excitement getting to her, Karen casually tossed her panties onto the other table and sat down in front of the book. She always got such a naughty thrill when her fur came into contact with the aged oak of the chairs in here. Leaning back, she spread her legs and closed her eyes, just letting her hand rest on top of her mound, feeling her own damp heat, basking in the scent of the tomes. Every time she came here she found herself wondering if it was just a little stronger than it had been last time. Made sense in her head anyway, it's not like any of these books were getting any younger. The doe let her head dangle back, her long, flowing hair cascading down behind her, and began to run a single finger back and forth along her labia, keeping just outside the cleft between her lips, feeling her fingertip beginning to gather her juice as she became more and more aroused.

Opening her eyes, she leaned forward and, with her free hand, opened the tome before her. The others would donate their scent to the cause, but this was the one she would be most focused on. Opening the book to a random page, a discussion on the use of metaphor in Shakespeare's works, her trembling fingers began to examine the pages, which were no longer quite flat, gentle creases and bumps marking the old pages like well-earned wrinkles and laugh lines. It must have had some water damage somewhere along the way to have such a curious texture, she decided, biting her lip and leaning forward to partake of its heady scent. She was reminded that recently she'd seen a website selling body wash and bars of soap that were supposedly 'book-scented'. Although it sounded like a dream come true, she had forced herself to resist, fearing that if she smelled like a book, she would be distracted to the point of never being able to accomplish anything. Finally, able to wait no longer, feeling her juices spreading into the fur of her thighs, she pushed her index finger between her lips and into her eagerly awaiting warmth, just as its opposite number pushed into the spine of the book, tracing the space between the pages as tenderly as if the book were her lover, feeling her inner muscles clenching down on the intruding digit as if they wanted to keep it inside her forever. Adding another finger inside her and reaching up with her thumb to rub and stroke at her throbbing clitoris, an unexpected burst of pleasure causing her to inhale sharply, which of course only amplified the effect. The doe shuddered from head to toe and moaned, before cutting herself off and glancing to the door, as if expecting to find the whole of the staff there, staring, horrified. Naturally, it was still locked, and she was indeed alone with these books, but she whimpered, partly out of need and partly out of nervousness.

She had discovered over the years that she was a bit loud when it came to her most powerful orgasms, and of course she tended to come harder than usual when she did it in here. The last time she'd done it, in fact, she'd climaxed sooner than she'd expected, and let out a cry before she could contain herself, was horrified to hear someone knock on the door and ask if she was alright. That could have ended poorly, seeing how all the other librarians had a key to the archives (though as far as Karen knew, she was the only one to keep that key on her at all times). Fortunately, that time she had barely exposed herself, so she was able to tug her clothes back into place and quickly leave the room before concern would lead her colleague to unlock the door and check on her. She'd closed the door behind her so the scent of her release wouldn't follow her, making up an excuse about how one of the old books had fallen on her toe. She hadn't been planning to return to work that quickly, but even more luckily, her friend Marian, a fellow librarian who happened to be a bloodhound, had a cold that evening, so she wasn't able to smell Karen's "exertions" on her, despite her normally impressive ability to discern scents. The doe was always careful to try and keep her voice down, but the orgasms she had here were just so good, so powerful, she couldn't help but vocalize her pleasure. She was brought back to the present as she felt her vagina reflexively clenching down on her fingers again, felt her toes curling up with a pulse of bliss that spread through her body. Speaking of powerful, she could already tell that this one was going to be one of the best yet, and she was worried she might inadvertently draw attention to herself again.

Putting the thought out of her mind for the time being, she concentrated on the pleasure, concentrated on seeking out each of her most sensitive spots with her slender fingers, and basked in the intelligence that surrounded her. The books in this room had all been written by exceptional minds seeking to share their knowledge with the world, and since then so many people had studied them, some casually, some with a feverish pace, determined to learn everything the books had to offer. Karen imagined she could even smell the 'mental sweat' of so many years of study in the archives. Hell, for that matter, how many people had enriched themselves with all of the books in this library? The entire building was a monument - no, a temple, dedicated to knowledge, and here she was, right at its heart, breathing deep, as if she could absorb the learned secrets of the books simply by breathing in their scent. Groaning in pleasure, she began to roll her hips, wanting to reach deeper into herself, to touch all of her most pleasurable regions. The fur on her hand, short as it was, was already damp with her arousal, by now her nethers were positively dripping. Leaning down, she pressed her cheek against the English lit book she had chosen to accompany her, ear flat against it as if listening for her lover's heartbeat. The silly thought popped into her head to kiss the book and just tell it how good it smelled, but she managed to resist the impulse. It reminded her of a time when the library had briefly been home to a medieval scroll, stopping here on its way to a much larger, more prestigious facility in the city. It had been held in a smooth, mahogany cylinder, to protect it from the world that might damage the ancient parchment, and upon bringing it down to the Archives for safe keeping, the doe had suddenly been overcome with the thought of literally making love to knowledge, of pushing the cylindrical case inside herself and going a step beyond merely touching herself with her fingers in the vicinity of the old books. In the end, she hadn't dared; she wouldn't have been able to live with herself if her juices had gotten inside the casing and damaged the scroll, no matter how good it was for her.

As she squeezed and tweaked her clit, Karen nuzzled against the page, revelling in the scent, when something occurred to her. The scroll had been a single piece of old, fragile parchment, but this was a thick, mighty book, much sturdier and much younger, as the written word went. Sitting back up, the doe turned the pages to the very centre of the book, where she liked to imagine the scent was strongest, and took note of a page corner, a dark spot where someone had accidentally dripped ink many years ago, even a sentence someone had dared to underline for their own personal reasons. Swallowing, her mouth dry, she pushed her fingers as deep into herself as they could go, before reluctantly pulling them out, her lips clenching onto them as they left, as if wanting to keep them inside. With shaking hands, she reached forward and placed her damp fingers against the top of the page, over the spine, and then dragged them down, leaving a trail of moisture, her juices soaking into the paper. She whimpered as a shudder ran through her body, the deed done. This book had lasted so many years, imparted its knowledge to so many people... and from now on, a little bit of her was soaked into the pages of that book. From this moment forward, a tiny piece of the essence of Karen Lowes was now interminably entwined with the History of English Literature. She bit her lip and imagined that from now on, a hint of her own personal scent would mingle with the book's scholarly aroma.

Moaning aloud at the idea of combining herself with one of her beloved tomes, Karen couldn't get her fingers back into herself fast enough. Leaning back in the chair, the doe put her feet up on the table, legs spread wide, as if putting on a show for a voyeuristic lover. One hand was roughly squeezing and kneading her breasts, switching between them quickly, like she couldn't decide which one felt better. The other was buried between her legs, stroking and teasing her aching clit, plunging her fingers into her wet warmth, greedily trying to hit as many of the hot zones along her inner walls as possible. She whimpered as she stroked a particularly sensitive spot, toes curling up as a shiver ran down her spine. "Ohhh, God, yes... So close..." In the past, she had briefly considered the idea of secreting a vibrator into this room, to aid in her ecstasy, but had quickly decided against it, as the idea of getting caught with it in her purse or something would be too humiliating. As her climax built and built within her, getting closer and closer to release, she wondered to herself why it had even occurred to her, given how good a job she was doing with fingers alone. She squeezed her clitoris between two fingers, and began to stroke up and down its stubby length, letting out a shuddery gasp as she was flooded with pleasure. The deer moved a hand up to push her bangs out of her eyes, one of the reasons she wore it in a bun at work in the first place, but her hand was shaking as she did so, and the instant she was done she resumed tweaking her nipple. Her legs were twitching, her honey was flowing freely, and it was getting hard for her to keep quiet. She was definitely approaching the glorious release she so desperately wanted. Closing her eyes and tilting her head back, she blew out one long, uneven breath, and then inhaled as deeply as she could through her nose, letting the scent fill her as her fingers expertly worked her towards the point of no return. Feeling a warning tremor, the doe grunted as pleasure spread throughout her, feeling her body prepare itself. In a brief moment of lucidity, she realized it was going to be even stronger than she thought; there was no way she'd be able to keep this one quiet! In her desperation, she blindly reached out to the other table, grabbed hold of the first fabric she encountered - her panties - and stuffed it in her mouth just in time for the explosion of bliss that spread outwards from her white-hot core, dancing down her veins, tickling her nerves, as it filled every part of her body with the ecstasy she'd sought so hard. Arching her back as her vagina began rhythmically clenching down on her fingers, she was relieved on one level that her act of desperation seemed to have saved her; the underwear did a good job of muffling her orgasmic cries and moans, protecting her privacy, but on another level, she realized she could taste her own arousal in the fabric, which only amplified her climax as it tore through her body. It all came to a head with one strong pulse that left every muscle in her body rigid and hit her so hard she couldn't see, marking the occasion with a gush of juices that spurted out from her cleft to splash onto the cold tile floor as she came and came and came, with more force than she'd experienced in months, if not years.

When her orgasm finally burned itself out, the slender deer pulled her underwear out of her mouth, feeling rather silly as she did so, and let her legs drop from the table to rest on the floor, as limp as overcooked spaghetti. For a few moments, Karen was completely drained, and she just sat there, eyes closed, focusing on her runaway heartbeat and her breathing. Then, she smiled weakly as she realized that thanks to the strength of her release, she could definitely smell a combination of old books and her own juices in the air, a poetic combination of knowledge and the girl who loved it so. The one hand had finally relented in its assault on her breasts, but the other lingered between her legs, no longer working anywhere near the feverish pace she had set while trying to come, and certainly not teasing her now over-sensitive clitoris. Instead, she lovingly massaged her tired inner walls and her swollen outer lips, as if thanking herself for the pleasure she'd just enjoyed. Finally, the librarian reluctantly slipped her fingers out of her wet slit, leaning back in the chair and stretching, feeling both tired and renewed at the same time. Karen glanced under the table, grinning sheepishly at the sight of the puddle of her juices. She'd never done that before. Didn't know she could. It called, she decided, for further analysis and experimentation at home. She would have to find something to clean that up before anyone found it, but she was practically the only person who even came in here anyway, so she wasn't especially worried. Maybe next time she would bring a towel. Maybe she should have done that anyway. Her thighs and her hand were pretty soaked by themselves, and grinning, still abuzz with afterglow, she brought her hand to her mouth, gently suckling on her own fingers, enjoying her own flavour. She wasn't especially worried about her state, Marian was on holiday and she could give herself a quick rinse in the bathroom before anyone caught her. Besides, her thoughts of home had suggested something very interesting to her. She'd been toying with the idea for some time now, but by the time she'd gotten up and begun to get dressed, it had cemented itself rather firmly in her brain. This summer, she decided, she was finally going to convert that old walk-in closet into a personal collection, a private library where she would keep only the oldest, most distinguished books she could find. She giggled like a schoolgirl as she imagined how much more satisfied she would be in general if she could come this hard every single day without the slightest worry of getting caught. That led her mind to wandering down other roads, namely, that it had been a long time since she'd felt someone else's hands on her like that. She'd been awfully focused on the work this year, hadn't really done much for herself except for little breaks like this one. Karen decided that she would at least try to put in more effort to meet someone, found herself wondering if she would give up this habit of hers if she found 'That Special Someone'. Then she took a sniff of the fragrant air, and smiled to herself as she belatedly returned the old tome to its proper place on the shelf, now given her personal seal of approval. No, this wasn't something that would magically disappear just because she was in a relationship. If anything, she enjoyed the fantasy of bringing someone else into the archive with her... if touching herself in this room felt so magical, how good must it feel to make love in here?

Secure in her feelings and finally presentable again, Karen left the room in search of paper towels to remove the evidence, her mind already starting to turn back to her work and her books. After all, they were her passion. She didn't know why she'd even considered that a lover might come between her and her literature. The right person might get her to forget about these books for a little while, but she knew they would always have a place in her life. After all, in her heart of hearts, she would always be a bibliophile of the highest fashion.