The Dark Library (2 page)

“And uhm, food, snacks...?”

“The kitchen is down the corridor between the
staircases in the lobby towards the rear of the house. I'm sure
Edwin will be able to help you with whatever you need.”

He nodded in evident dismissal, then turned
and left. Hannah looked after him for a long moment, then put the
books back and left. She found her way to the kitchen, an enormous
place quite a bit bigger than any flat she'd ever been in, opposite
a grand dining room which could have seated scores. As with the
modern washroom, the kitchen had clearly been remade in a crisp,
shiny new image, with rows of stainless steel appliances along the
wall and acres of clean new wooden counters.

Edwin proved to be a short, fussy little man
who showed her where food could be had in off hours, and explained
when he made lunch and dinner. Patrick the butler prepared
breakfast, it seemed.

A butler named Butler, she mused, wondering
if Edwin's last name was Cook.

All in all she was quite content. It was a
lovely old building, with a grand looking library, and very few
people to get in her way or trouble her. She had a very comfortable
room with all the amenities, and the only down side was that big
public washroom, which made her slightly nervous to
contemplate.

Especially as she did need a shower, really.
It had been a long trip getting out here by train, then finding a
cab at the village.

And so, that was her first challenge, one she
thought she might as well get through so she'd be prepared when she
met Lord Carling.

She stripped off in her room, feeling a
trifle nervous given she was in a strange place, put on her robe,
carried her soap and towels down the stairs and then out into the
corridor. She was even more nervous there, for though Patrick had
told her there were almost no residents it still felt rather like a
public place, and she had nothing on her but the thin robe.

She went into the washroom, examined the door
again in hopes of finding a lock, then made a face and let it close
behind her as she walked past the stalls and then set her things
down on the counter. She spied a hook between the shower-heads, and
put her towel on it, then, feeling a prickling of anxiety, she
opened her robe and stripped it off, putting it on the hook.

Naked, she reached up, pointing the
shower-head aside before turning on the water. At five foot seven
she was a tall girl, but still had to stand on her toes to reach
the thing and put it aside. She stood on the balls of her feet as
she adjusted the water on the lever, letting it spray off to the
side, then, when it was hot enough, she drew it back and down and
stepped under it.

There was already fresh soap on a little
holder attached to the wall. She reached for it as the water poured
down, then stepped out from the stream to begin soaping herself up.
As her soapy hands slid across her wet flesh she was aware of a
rising sense of arousal within her. Hannah had always been aroused
by the thought of exhibitionism. As modestly as she dressed at all
times, she had always harbored a secret thrill of excitement at the
thought, the fantasy, of exposing herself to people in public, one
that, of course, she had no intention of ever experiencing.

For despite that exhibitionism she was a shy
and private young woman loath to get the sort of reputation so many
girls her age had. The idea of getting drunk in public and dancing
half naked on a bar top or something was exquisitely exciting, but
would have, in reality, been humiliating. Despite the modesty of
her outfits she occasionally caught male eyes looking intently at
her chest, and that never failed to make her blush deeply.

It was not that she was all that big down
there, she thought, as her hands slid across the wet, slippery,
rounded curves of her firm young breasts. No, she was not large
there, but neither was she small and almost no matter what she
wore, the existence of her breasts could not be denied, especially
in conjunction with her smooth, flat tummy and slim hips.

The opposite wall, the one over the long sink
counter, was one large mirror, and so, when she turned her back to
the water, she caught sight of herself and felt a breathless sense
of excitement in her chest as her hands caressed her breasts. Her
nipples were already hard and tingly, and as she stared at herself,
she felt the hot rush of excitement surging up from between her
legs.

With her hair slicked back, she looked
very... erotic, she thought, as sexual tension rose. She allowed
her back to arch, and slid her hands up and back behind her head,
sliding her tongue seductively across her lower lip.

Her pussy was completely nude, smoothly
waxed, her one indulgence, her one acknowledgment of her sexual
longings and fantasies. Nothing hid her smooth, tight sex from her
eyes, or the eyes of anyone else. She drew her arms in together
squeezing her full breasts between them, mashing them together so
that the nipples tingled, and slid her hands down between her legs,
fingers sliding across the her soap covered sex, then easing in
between her labia to slide up and down.

Her heart pounded furiously, and she was
filled with tension and wariness as she looked at herself. Her ears
and eyes were alert to the sight or sound of anyone coming near, of
perhaps those two maids Patrick had mentioned coming in. Even girls
seeing her naked would have made her blush red, for she was not
used to exposing herself to anyone, and dreaded the thought of
exposing herself to them. She would have to find out their hours
and ensure she took her showers at other times than they did.

Breathless, she stopped, and turned, letting
the water pour down on her and wash away the soap, rinsing herself
off, turning in place until the soap was all gone, then shutting
off the water.

Nude, she wrapped the towel around her head
to partly dry off her hair, then wrapped it around her chest and
body as she went to the sink. She brushed out her hair, dried it,
then donned her robe and went back to her room, locking the door at
the bottom of the stairs.

Once upstairs, as was her habit, she tossed
off the robe, and finished brushing and styling her hair in the
large mirror over one of the dressers. She didn't really do a lot
to her hair. It was a soft brown, and cut off above her shoulders.
It was perfectly straight, and full, even silky, curling in ever so
slightly above her shoulders and under her jaw.

She decided to put just a trace of lipstick
on, and pulled on her glasses to do it. She was far sighted, which
meant she had to wear glasses when reading or working up close. Her
glasses were stylish, as befitted her ambitions, half frames, with
the top being a dark brown. they made her look, she thought,
intelligent, thoughtful, and perhaps, she hoped, even a little
posh. Her big brown eyes looked soft but intelligent behind them,
and her small nose seemed even more delicate with the glasses
perched upon it.

She ran her finger along her lips, then
through them and along her tongue, idly sucking on it, sliding her
finger in and out of her mouth. She was still somewhat aroused from
her experience downstairs. The sudden thought hit her that with
almost no one living there, she could try to walk around naked in
the still night hours, and no one would likely spot her. Her
nipples tingled at the thought.

The thought of doing naughty things always
aroused her, though, of course, she never actually did them. She
was far too controlled in her day to day life to do foolish things
which might humiliate her, and damage her reputation.

She licked her lips as she picked up the
plastic bottle of skin lotion, feeling the prickle in her nipples
becoming more pronounced. She carried it across to the bed and then
turned and jumped back onto it, nude, then propped herself up
amidst all the pillows back there and flipped through the
television channels.

There was a movie with Antonio Banderas on
and she licked her lips appreciatively, then turned the lid of the
plastic bottle and squirted a thick, creamy substance onto her
chest between her breasts. She put down the bottle and dropped her
hands to her chest, then filled them with the cream and spread them
slowly over her chest.

Her nipples began to tingle now as her
breasts throbbed. Her fingers caressed her sensitive flesh, and
began to knead it lightly as she watched Banderas. She imagined him
atop her, thrusting, thrusting ,thrusting forcefully, with her
entirely naked – naked – beneath him, his eyes feasting on her.

She let her slippery hands slide down her
body, caressing and coating her lower chest and belly, then her
abdomen. Her right hand slid between her legs as she drew her knees
up and spread them wide, and her fingers pushed into the mouth of
her sex, rubbing and pushing, twisting and turning as her breathing
became more ragged.

She eased a finger into the tight center of
her sex, dipping it lightly in and out. She was slippery, and the
tactile sensation was delicious and erotic as skin stroked across
skin. She added a second finger, then a third, moaning softly as
she let the fingers of her other hand stroke across her throbbing
clit.

She groaned and arched back against the wall
of pillows behind her. She put her feet flat on the bed, feeling
the tautness of the tendons and muscles in her strain as she spread
her raised knees wide apart. Her fingers caressed her breasts and
pussy, and began to dip within, stroking and caressing the soft
flesh at the mouth of her sex.

Her hands moved slowly, softly, up and down
her body as she lay her head back. Images flitted past her eyes,
erotic images of men, and women. Her hands stroked up across her
breasts and she squeezed them lightly, then more strongly. She
gripped her stiff nipples between thumbs and forefingers and rolled
and stroked them, then pinched, hard, harder, gasping, wincing,
pulling them slowly outward, stretching them before letting them
go.

Her right hand slid back down her taut belly,
her fingers framing her sex, rubbing up and down on either side.
Then she let those fingers spread her labia and brought her other
hand down, fingers dipping inside again, lightly, then pushing more
deeply in and out.

Her breathing quickened, and she picked up
the bottle. She didn't really need skin softener, but this was
slippery, slick, and all natural. You could swallow the stuff if
you could stand the taste. It was a soft gel as she squirted it
into her hand, but cool. She brought her hand down between her
legs, spreading it against the opening of her pussy, then pushing
her fingers in deeper, groaning, her mind still searching through
erotic fantasies and images.

Then it settled on one, and her pulse picked
up.

She was in the washroom, naked, putting on
makeup. She was... beautiful, and leaned over the counter, putting
lipstick on, her lips pursed as the door opened. In strode workmen
from up the hall. They were rough hewn men, broad of shoulder, with
powerful chests. They all looked dangerous, with flinty eyes and
stubble on their faces. They wore tank tops, their shoulders and
arms muscled and bare as they moved slowly into the room, staring
at her, wanting her, licking their lips excitedly to see her.

She was bent over, exposed to them from both
sides as she concentrated on her lips, her glasses only allowing
her to see close-up objects so that they were invisible to her as
they moved quietly behind her.

She bent forward further, spreading her legs
for balance, and they stared down at her, their tight, dirty jeans
now bulging in front.

She was wearing high heels, for some reason,
stilettos, though she didn't actually own a pair. And she had a
black ribbon around her throat, or perhaps a choker. She
straightened up, unaware of the three men standing silently behind
her, and picked up a comb to draw it through her hair. Her breasts
rose and tautened as her arms were raised above and behind her
head, and the men stared at them in the mirror, filled with lust,
with hunger and need as she unconsciously posed for them.

One of them peeled his tank top up and off,
revealing a heavily muscled chest. It was not the chest of a
weightlifter, not filled with big, bulging muscles, but rather, of
a very strong man, with a light sprinkling of hair. In her fantasy,
something alerted her, and she turned, taking off the glasses,
gasping, eyes widening in shock as she realized they were
there.

“
Sorry,” one said with a smile. “We
thought the place was empty and came to wash up.”

“
Just to wash up,” the next said, removing
his shirt to reveal a second powerful chest.

She covered herself with her arms, gaping at
them, filled with a strange, dark sense of hunger, her pulse
pounding in her throat as they looked at her and she looked back.
Her eyes were drawn downward and she swallowed as she felt her
fingers twitching, wanting to touch their chests, wanting to slide
through the hair and over the muscled surfaces.

And then, helplessly, she felt her hands
move away from herself, felt a wild thrill of heat as she exposed
herself to their eyes. Her hands reached out to the two closest
men, one apiece, sliding across their chests as she moaned in
excitement.

Yet there was a dark thrill of fear, too,
for they were rough, common men, dirty men, powerfully built men
who might do anything to her! One moved forward, forcing her back
against the counter. His hands slid around her. His hands squeezed
her buttocks and he kissed her. She jerked her mouth away but one
of hands gripped her soft hair behind her neck, jerking her head up
and back, crushing her lips with his.

His tongue invaded her mouth, sliding over
hers, and she felt his hardness pressing against her belly as he
picked her up and dropped her on the counter. Her hands were still
excitedly stroking thei chest of both men, but she felt her right
hand pulled away, slid down by the man there, down to his groin to
caress him through his tight jeans.