Dominated by the Librarian #1: 'Surrender to your Desire' (Male submission erotica)

Dominated by the Librarian
M
ale
S
ubmission
: Surrender to your Desire

by
Tara Jones

“Excuse me,
but
we are closing now,” a voice inf
ormed me
in
a
rather
bored tone, which tattl
ed of that it was
n’t
the first–nor the last–
time that she had to
sho
w
visitors to the door.

“Of course,” I said and replaced the
Swedish thriller I
had been considering lending
on
the bookshelf. It was getting close to
nine
o’clock in the ev
ening and the library was open late
only on Thursdays.

I came to the library after work mostly because I wanted to avoid
my own
empty
flat
that was decorated with soulless stylish IKEA furniture in white and grey, however f
or a
small
library
in
one of London’s suburbs it
had a surprisingly good collection of various digital art magazines
that
I li
ked to brows
e
through without having to pay for them.

I worked as a graphic designer at a small
, but
still rather profitable
web
agency
that had survived during the last up-and-downs in the business
an
d it never hurt to be
ahead of the game
.
My job
was
n’t
as trendy as it had been
pe
rhaps
ten years ago of course, but
it paid well and
I
guess I enjoyed it
at some level
,
although
with a
carefully hidden mild
disinterest
.

I
admit that I
wasn’t
really looking forward
buy groceries and then
go home to my empty flat
to
a new
evening
consisting of a
microwave
d
ready-
made
dinner
and yet
another
BBC
docu
mentary
.
There is just so much of
Sir David Attenborough
or
Ne
il
Oliver that a man can digest
.
Perhaps I should
livened up
my life a bit and spend a couple of fruitful hours in front of the comput
er instead?
I pondered.
Go wild and crazy and watch YouT
ube
videos
for the rest of the night
,
I
added
sarcastically
to myself and stifled a small sigh.

“Excuse me sir, but y
ou put the book back
on the
wrong
shelf
,” the woman
behind
me said in
a
slightly irritated
voice and interrupted my
chain of
thoughts.

I looked over my shoulder and turne
d
around to face her.
She was around twenty-five
years old
or so
,
and short. Short enough
so that she just
reach
ed
to
my shoulder.
She seemed vaguely familiar
.
I realized that I had seen her at the library before and that she must be one of the librarians.
She certainly looked the type, dressed neatly and sensibl
y,
and she was wearing glasses too
,
of course.

“Oh,” I said and
looked down on her. In an
exaggeratedly polite
tone I added,
“I’m
truly
t
erribly
sorry.”

I didn’
t mean it really and I let her know that I thou
ght she was being rather prissy as I retrieved the book from where I had put it.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that
,
sir,
” she said and
emphasized
the “sir”, so that it was clear that she was in fact everything else than happy
about it
. “Now put it back
where it belongs
.”

She pushed up her
black
glasses
which had slid do
wn her little nose and raised her eyebrow at me,
waiting for me. She was
clearly
rather
annoyed with me.

I mu
st admit I was starting to get
a little bit
amused about this little woman
and her attitude
.
She had
fiercely
red, curly hair pulled back
with
a girlish hair
bow
, which made her
look like Alice in Wonderland
’
s eloped
cousin. If Alice in Wonderland had a
nerdy
cousin
who
liked
tweed
that is,
because
of course she was wearing a tweed jacke
t
with the mandatory suede
elbow patches
, which wa
s matched by a brown checked skirt in the same material and a cream-colored
rather frilly
blouse. She was however, surprisingly enough
,
not wearing
the
pair of broad ugly low-
heel
ed
pumps
I had predicted, but instead she wore a
nice pair of
black
high heels
that actually looked pretty good.

In fact, I
realized, I
found her rather s
exy in a mind
-
boggling
way
, although of course she wasn’t
my type at all, since
I preferred
tall and slim
brunettes
. Not anorex
ic photo
model
-
skinny, but the slim female
type
with long legs
. The librarian in front of me was quite the opposite, but still I found her oddly attractive.
She
had an hourglass shaped body
and
was
curvy like a pin-up girl from a
1950ies
calendar, with well
-
rounded breasts and nicely shaped ankles under
her
the boring
knee-length tweed
skirt.

She was
also,
however
,
getting more and more
irritated
becau
se I had
n’t
put the book back
on its right place,
and that
only made her cuter.

“Do you mind
hurrying up a bit
? I don’t have the entire night, you know,” she said
. T
o
emphasize
her comment
,
she
deliberately
turned her wrist to look at her small golden watch.

I looked around. The
library
was
more and less
closed
. T
he lights had been
switched off at the end of the room without
that I had
noticed
it
,
and the last of t
he visitor
s
were
just leaving. The automatic doors closed behind
them
,
which meant that it was only the
pretty
little
librarian and I left
in the building
.

“Well,” I said teasingly and smiled down at her. “I have the entire night, if you know what I mean...”

I usually don’t try to seduce tweed-dr
essed librarian
s
, but she was
without doubt quite
app
ealing with her
red hair, tweed
jacket
, high heels and all.

I
t had been
roughly
three weeks
since I had woken up in a
dingy
flat somewhere in Soho
entangled
with a
sleeping
and
naked
art student
who didn’t look a day older than twenty
after
getting more than a little tipsy during an
opening evening
at a gallery.

The web
agency where I worked
had been r
esponsible for creating the website
for the event
, so naturally we had been invited to the opening evening together with a throng of other hipsters and trendy people
,
and one thing had led to the other
.
Seducing art students
was
really
all too easy
;
all you had to do was pretend
to be inter
ested
in their art and not fall asleep when they discussed their inner meaning of their art.

I had left
the flat
quietly, not even bothering leaving my phone number behind
or to say hello to he
r flatmate, who had given me a
n icy
and
disapproving look
on my way out
.

And it had been more than
two
month since
Christine
broke up with me. Christine had been
my latest girlfriend
, but i
t had turned out
that she
had had a rather strict opinion
about
how much flirting a man could get away with and still call himself faithful.
Not that I had been unfaithful, at least not in my opinion, although I guess it did
n’
t look t
o
o pretty
when
she had found out that I had had a short fling with
Josephine,
one of the new trainees at work.
However, she had refused to listen to my explanations and now I was single again.

Not that I cared much
,
I concluded.
I was free to do
whatever I wanted now, and that included
trying to
seduc
e
the red-head
librarian
in front of me
just for fun.

“What do you say, darling?” I asked and smiled my most charming smile.

I knew that a lot of women found me attractive. I was
in good shape for being thirty-
two
years old, which was
mostly a result of
good genes and
possibly
that
I worked out
at least occasionally
,
and not my
lousy
diet
or hectic life style
.
And it wasn’t really a disadvantaged of having large brown eyes for women to drown in. The rest:
Designer
branded
clothes and expensive hair cuts came with the
job, more or less. You couldn’
t work at a web agency in inner London without being a little bit vain.

Still
, I knew that
I was fairly good-looking
,
and that
when
I wanted to
I
could be quite
charismatic
in a way that most women seemed to fall for.

This time, however
,
it seemed not quite to work as well as it should
.