Librarian Accused of Cocaine Use
You need to experience the excitement of having a casual encounter. It's been on my mind as I work on stocking Enlightenment Philosophy. The comment came with some frustration, but she's right. I'm not exactly a fun person to be around lately. I mess up the mood every time I go out. My mind is a tangled mess of insecurities and inhibitions.
Should I just go out and find someone to have a one-night stand with? It sounds so liberating, like a swift sword slicing through my uncomfortable personality.
I find myself looking around the library. It's becoming empty as it's getting late, and the students have begun their weekly exodus to town for a good time. They must be all having a good time out there.
Fun... I've forgotten the feeling. I've been working here for four months. The girls in admin have been trying to welcome me. They keep inviting me out, with the promise that a Girl's Night Out will be entertaining. But it hardly ever is.
Except everyone else always seems to be having tons of fun. It's me. I know it is.
So, I face the central question. Sleeping with someone, knowing that there's no future in it. Would that be enjoyable? How many of the students here are heading out to do that exact same thing tonight? Most of the men, for sure, in that naive belief that hoping will make it come true. How many women?
A few, probably. The free-spirited ones.
I try out the word under my breath. "Slut." A Master's student with a copy of Voltaire in his hand glances at me, but I believe he didn't quite catch what I said.
It feels right to say it. It represents something I'm not though, don't I? I'm a decent girl; I need to be wooed, wine and dined, romanced.
Withheld, harassed, manipulated, groped, threatened...
The truth is, I usually put on the breaks for fear of appearing cheap. I make them work even on the first date, and, frankly, they can't be blamed when I seem not to be interested. The process slowing down can be a drag, especially when I realize they're no longer putting effort into it after months of expectation. What if I set my boundaries immediately? What if I keep them straightforward?
I'm mulling over this thought when the phone rings.
"Hey, are you going out?"
"No, I'm going to take it easy tonight," I hear myself say.
"Come on, Cath, it'll be good! By the way, are you still upset about what Jane said last time?"
"No, I don't even think about it. I'm just planning on staying in and recharging."
"Alright, I'll keep my number handy in case you change your mind."
My test-friend hangs up. I take a deep breath and discard the pretense.
"Slut." This time, it comes out without any breath escaping, only my lips saying the word distinctly.
It's just a fleeting idea. I was being truthful earlier. I will just stay in. Reading a good book and a bottle of wine would cheer me up a bit.
Yet, it won't. Not noticeably, anyway.
If I go out and have a one-night stand with someone, there's no need to inform the gossiping staff members at the admin. They might have a more enjoyable next week if I arrive with a relaxed demeanor and a secret.
In that context...
I shall avoid anywhere near the center of the town. I don't want to run into the staff group out on the streets and be forced to join the party if I don't want to. And, I certainly don't want to end up in a place frequented by students who could recognize me.
There are train stations for several locations. Nottingham will be fine. An hour away will give me some anonymity. I could afford a hotel room. A hotel room means he doesn't know my address. It means I don't return to his place. It means I can make up any story I want about who I am, why I'm there, and when I'll be leaving.
Do I need to go home first? I think not. I'm already dressed neatly in a business casual attire. A short grey pleated skirt, jacket to match, button-down shirt with tiny lace detailing, and my hair pulls into a ponytail. Any attempt at dressing up raises self-consciousness. So, this time, I'll be simply a professional woman stopping by for a drink and a one-night stand in some bar or club.
This cozy bar has a wonderfully relaxing atmosphere with low lighting, soft jazz playing in the background, and a beautiful Art Deco design. The crowd consists of real men, mostly in suits, which creates a refreshing change from the student population. With enough space for comfort, there are a few women scattered around, but the majority of the patrons are male. This is great news for me as it reduces the competition. There's a lady complaining about her work life, a young woman sipping on a martini, and me. It's not overwhelmingly noisy, which helps keep my anxiety at bay.
The drink menu is filled with exotic options that catch my eye. I choose a Bellini, a combination of Prosecco and peach juice. I plan to drink the majority of it quickly but not so quickly that it seems like I'm chugging it, hoping someone will notice and buy me another one.
It doesn't take long. A man, mid-50s with a well-tailored suit and a slightly graying beard, approaches. He's not overweight and has an appealing presence to him. In the dim lighting, he looks quite handsome.
"Is this seat taken?" he asks, sliding onto the next stool.
"Not at all," I respond, signaling him to sit down.
"Do you frequent this establishment often?" he says, using a common pickup line that sounds effortless coming from him.
"This is my first time here," I respond honestly.
"So what brings you here tonight?" he asks, settling into the conversation.
"I'm trying to...uh...you know...hook up," I confess openly.
"I see." He maintains his relaxed manner. "Have you had much luck?"
"No." I decide to just blurt it out. "This is, well, my first time."
"I understand," he replies. "Would you like another drink?"
"Yes, please!" I reply, thrilled at the prospect of him buying me another.
"My name's Alan," he introduces himself, extending a hand.
"I'm Naomi," I say, choosing a more intriguing name.
It feels like I'm about to become his.
We exchange small talk. He mentions his employment, enough for me to gather that he's financially stable. He then speaks of his recent golf trip to Scotland, focusing on the beautiful countryside and the charming 18th-century hotel where he stayed. He still doesn't mention the golfing per se, focusing instead on the scenery and his evening in Edinburgh prior to his return home.
I act interested, occasionally adding "Sounds wonderful" or "I'd love to go."
Finally, my drink is finished.
"Would you like another one?" he asks.
"Yes, please," I reply, even though it's what I've been waiting for.
"Alan," he repeats and extends a hand.
"Naomi," I confirm.
He's the one I'll be screwing tonight. I'll be taking him to slutty heaven.
We engage in idle chit-chat before moving towards the elevator. I'm acutely aware of his presence as we walk to the hotel, making a few wrong turns along the way, making the walk feel interminable.
When we finally reach the fifth floor, the lift climbs up slowly. I use this time to perform a more detailed evaluation of my tardy date. He's definitely an attractive specimen. Entering the hotel lobby, I sense the receptionist's disapproval, her scrutiny unnerving even though her gaze barely leaves her computer screen. As the elevator doors open, we're within a few steps of reaching climax. I grab his hand, dragging him to my room.
My one-night stand has a limited timeline, which makes it difficult to engage in idle chatter. There's no point in pretending I dropped by for a coffee. The only thing on the agenda is the bed. He takes a moment to survey the room.
"It's a nice place," he says. Apparently, he's going to be the one taking the lead tonight. We stand in the center of the room, both unsure of what to do next.
"You're stunning," he says, taking a step towards me. My heart starts racing, anticipating the impending kiss. I lean in.
I've never had a guy with a beard kiss me before. It's ticklish but also kind of pleasant. He smells good, not just from cologne, but he's genuinely masculine. I can feel his bulge pressing into me around my belly button. That surprise startled me. I pull away from him.
"Are you okay?" He looks shocked by my sudden hesitation.
I try to recover with a pout. "I want you to..." What? Fuck me, daddy? That didn't come out right. It was supposed to be sexy and sultry, but I ended up laughing a little.
"I will, and happily if that's what you want," he says. "Is that what you want?"
"Yeah, I do," I admit. "Sorry, I'm being strange. It's just nerves."
"It's okay," he tells me. "Say what you're thinking."
"This isn't really me. I wanted to do something wild and unlike anything I've done before, but I'm not sure I can."
"Being wild and unlike anything you've done before, huh?" he smirks. "Here's an idea: it might help with the nerves and maybe help you have an out-of-character experience."
He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small envelope with white powder.
"Woah. Oh my god. That's..." I'm speechless for a moment.
"No, forget it. I didn't mean to say anything," he says, swiftly putting the substance back in his bag. "I'm not going to pressure you. If you've changed your mind... If you're not sure..."
I don't respond.
Pretty much everything had gone according to plan, and yet I'm hesitating at the last minute. It hit me that I don't know anything about this guy, and there could be some significant risks to not knowing anything. He showed me a glimpse of danger.
Exciting, sure, but also a little scary.
But he's not giving up. He just walks over to the door and opens it. It's so simple that I almost laugh. None of my past would-be boyfriends would've given up like this.
There's a part of me that's comforted by that.
And just as he's about to leave forever, I find my voice - tiny, hesitant.
"Um... actually... do you mind if I try some of your cocaine, please?"
"You want to?" He looks surprised but amused.
"If it's okay," I say shyly.
He smiles darkly and puts his bag on the cramped desk. The envelope comes out again, along with a gold credit card. He starts to lay out part of the dust into one line. The credit card ends up on one side of the desk, still mostly white, and then he hands me a five-pound note rolled into a tube.
"What do I do?" I ask him uncertainly.
"Bend over, put one end to your nose and the other right above the powder. Then just snort it up."
I take the note from him and hold it over the dust, wondering what to do. I try to breathe in through my nose, but nothing happens.
"Closer," he advises. "Make sure you get it right."
I do, and this time a centimeter of the powder disappears. I feel a burning itch and my hand goes straight to my nose, closing it.
"It's okay," he tells me. "It'll take a moment or two to kick in."
I stand there indecisively, my heart pounding faster and faster. "Wow, I think... yeah, I definitely feel something."
I lean over the table again.
"The other nostril," he notes. Moments later, the whole line is gone.
"How do you feel?" he asks.
"I feel...amazing...this is my first time trying anything like this, and I just can't believe that I'm actually..."
I look at him then the bed. Suddenly it all seems so much easier. I pull off my dress over my head, and then my bra. My heart's beating rapidly, and my cheeks are flushed. It's not from embarrassment, but from the excitement of his gaze on me.
"Lie down on the bed," he instructs.
"Right, I...um...are we going to..."
"Just lie down, don't move."
"No, I'm definitely ready..."
Slowly, I realize what he has in mind. I relax and he transports some powder onto his credit card. He sketches a line across each of my breasts. Then he leans down and snorts it up from me. Chills run down my spine. This is more slutty than I ever imagined. As he wrinkles his nose, I grasp him by the neck and pull him in for a passionate kiss.
When our lips separate, he offers me a playful grin.
"Are we going for a shag now?" I inquire. "No, hang on. I have a better idea. I'm going to suck your wee-wee first."
He has no chance to respond as I'm unfastening his belt and trousers. His cock rises up fully erect. I glance at it, give it a gentle tap, and declare, "Yeah, this is what I need. A hard ramming dick!"
"I thought you said your name was Naomi."
"Oops!" I laugh. "Don't tell anyone else, will you?"
With that, I lunge for his member. The taste, the sensation of it in my mouth, the control of giving someone head... it all came flooding back. He's big too. Bigger than any previous boyfriends. I discover I like the challenge.
I make attempts to take him deeper and deeper, yet pull back after getting about an inch. I catch my breath.
"Go on again," I urge.
I plunge down, holding out for a while before coming back up, choking.
"You don't have to do it," he assures me.
"Yes I can," I confidently declare. This time, I block out the sensation and push down, shoving him into my throat.
When I release my grip, there remains a long trail of saliva from his cock to my lips.
"Victory!" I glee. "And now you're all lubed up."
I push him down onto the bed, straddle him, and drop into his lap.
"Oh, fuck yes," I groan. "This is what I crave. A ramming cock inside me."
I ride him, feeling each plunge like a stab to my heart. Perspiration starts pouring from my body.
"Fucking, so damn good," I utter.
He appears impressed by me. He caresses my chests.
"You are fucking amazing."
His gaze fixes on me in awe. I press his fingers onto my tits.
"Yes, I am."
I recline, content to enjoy the feeling of invasion.
"Fucking amazing!" I exclaim. "Fucking amazing."
This is joined by pounding from the neighboring room.
"Jesus...spread your legs," I start shouting. His hands move from my breasts to cover my mouth.
"Let's not draw any attention," he warns. "With all thatstuff exposed."
"Right, right," I concede. "We'll keep it soft and gentle then."
He climbs on top and gains entry in the missionary position. He's gentle at first. As he gets more enthusiastic, he seizes my lips in a prolonged French kiss and pounds away fiercely. He uses me with relentless intensity. I lift my legs to his shoulders, pushing our faces apart and liberating my mouth.
"Oh, fuck me, oh, fuck me, oh, fuck me."
Without interrupting, he pinches my panties, thrusting them into my mouth. In this position, his cock reaches unexpected depths within me. The forceful thrusts imply he strives to reach unknown reaches.
"Your snatch, so tight," he remarks. "Your fucking heavenly snatch."
There's a sense of urgency now. His eyes are locked on mine. "Do you know what I want?"
With my mouth filled, I can only signal approval with my gaze.
"I want to ejaculate all over that gorgeous face of yours. Is that alright? To ejaculate all over your face?"...No, don't remove the panties, just confirm it with a nod.
With my legs high in the air, his cock plunges to depths previously unknown to me, and each thrust conveys his intent to explore uncharted territory.
"Gaze at my twat. So tight, oh, my lovely twat."
There is an urgency now. His eyes penetrate mine. "What do I want?"
With my mouth stuffed, I can only express uncertainty with my eyes.
"I want to ejaculate all over that beautiful face of yours. Would it be okay to come on your face?...No, don't touch the underwear, just nod if it's okay."
I can't nod because my entire body is shaking at that point. The orgasm is taking over me as the flames burn through my veins. I clutch onto his ass and force him deeper inside me. My back arches and my head presses into the pillow. The first wave has barely subsided when he forcefully removes my hands and jumps up onto his knees. The second wave slams into me at the same time as his cum splatters my face. Some lands on my forehead and slides down over my eyebrows. The final collection lands between my panties in my mouth and my chin.
I lie back, simply enjoying the incredible stench of his semen.
"Holy shit, this is exactly how they describe amazing sex in books. The filthy ones, I mean. I thought it was exaggerated. Some kind of artistic license. But no - word for word. Who would've thought? When I've done it before, it's been, well, nothing like that. At all. Just...wow. Fuck...ing...wow."
He comes over and sits on the bed, wrapping his arms around my chest and waist.
"There's still time left in the night," he says. He wipes his finger across my cheek, then spreads his seed between my legs. I don't object. I try to cuddle up to him, but he pushes me away.
"Wait a minute," he says, going into the bathroom. I hear the water running. He comes back with a warm towel. He wipes the semen off my face with tissue, then applies the flannel. I'm completely cleansed of both his juice and my own sweat. He plumps up a pillow and sits on it with his legs apart. "Come here."
I sit between his legs and he starts massaging my shoulders. "Just relax," he says. "Daddy will take care of you."
"Daddy," I laugh. It doesn't sound any less ridiculous coming from him than it did from me. "Daddy. Oh daddy. Big daddy. Daddy-dayo. Papa."
"Look," he says. "The effects will wear off soon, and you may start to feel a little rough. But, I have a proposition for you. Another hit to ride your sweet ass."
"Ass," I say. I don't know why he's suddenly taken on an American accent. "Arrrr-se," I start to giggle. It's funny.
"Do we have a deal?" he asks.
The repetition makes his transactional request even more obvious. But even without the temptation of another hit, him doing me there feels especially taboo. It's not what I'd expect from him - a theme that's been thus far for tonight.
I jump out of bed and reach for the rolled-up note on the table. As I start to lower myself, he suddenly moves beside me. "Whoah, whoah, whoah." He takes the credit card and removes a thinner piece from the pile, cutting off some and pushing it back. "Use this, but don't go overboard with it."
This time, I grab my share of the deal all in one go. "Phew," I say, but this time, I only wipe my nose a few times. I glance at the mirror over the tables. I look great, but my pupils are giant dark circles.
I jump back on the bed, pitching forward towards the headboard with my arse hanging off the side and my head down.
"I want you to lick my anus," I tell him.
"I was supposed to fuck it," he replies.
"But that doesn't mean you can skip out on foreplay," I say. "Eat! Dine!"
He plunges his face in between my cheeks. I have a hard time not laughing at first as his beard brushes against the sensitive nerves inside. But his tongue encounters my sphincter, and I can't help the small giggle now. "That's it!" I say.
"Do you like that?" he asks.
"Keep going and you'll see," I say.
He smacks my asses at the same time, causing it to bounce lightly, before pulling my butt up even further, intensifying the licks the longer he does it.
"Oh, Daddy," I moan. For the first time, either of us uses the term, it no longer sounds ridiculous.
"If you like that," he says, rising. "You're going to love what's coming next."
"No! More! More!" I urge.
"What's happening?" he enquires, his tone suggesting he won't stop even if I plead with him.
"Am I a whore?" I inquire cautiously.
There's a pause before he answers, as if considering his options. "Yes, I'd say so."
"Great," I say happily. "I want you to tell me. Not now. During."
He moves his hands on my buttocks, rubbing them gently, left and right, pushing me backward. His erection enters me without any warning. It's a shock, but soon it's his penis, indeed.
"Ow, shit, motherfucker," I yell out in pain.
"Good girl," he exclaims approvingly.
"I'm serious, that hurts so much," I protest.
"It's alright," he soothes me calmingly. "You can do this."
"Yeah, I know I can. Just...ouch."
He stops moving, but remains inside me, his cock hitting against my buttocks. The pain is cutting deep, but it's also exhilarating. The swearing, too, makes me feel better.
"Fuck me, you asshole," I command.
He begins thrusting into me, more seriously now. The first thrust makes me only grunt, the second and third, I yell "Oh, fuck, aaaaah." But by the fourth, I can reply "Fuck, yes."
It's excruciating. Yet I'm doing it anyway, and loving it.
He grabs my hair and leans into my ear. "Hold on, you slut," he says.
"Is that all you can do?" I challenge him.
In answer, he tries to thrust into me harder.
"Not that," I laugh mockingly. "Fuck me properly."
"You're a great little slut," he compliments me.
"The best," I reply smugly. "So, does daddy like screwing this little crack whore in the arse?"
"To be honest, crack is...let's forget that, yes, I like it, my little slut."
"Don't even think about it," I warn him. "In the morning, I'll be gone and you'll never see me again."
"Is that so," he says. "I was thinking...this is the beginning...oh fuck...of a beautiful relationship."
"Nah," I say. "A whore could get addicted if she's not careful."
He halts his movements for a brief moment and I reach out instinctively to keep him going.
"Don't you fucking stop," I tell him.
"I wasn't," he replies.
"Stick a finger up my cunt," I direct him.
But he doesn't only use one finger. He digs in deep, almost reaching his wrist. Fingers plunge into my pussy, rough and furious, attacking my clit. Happy as I feel, the pain still looms large.
"Oh, fuck, Jesus," I cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.
"Good slut," he compliments me.
He pulls his fingers away briefly and I immediately reach for them, almost losing my balance.
"Don't you fucking stop," I order him.
"I wasn't..."
"Finger fuck me," I order again.
But he does more. His fingers are now inside me, and I don't even see. He grabs me with both hands, pushing me down, his dick in my arse, and he has full access to my pussy. His thumb rubs my clit as his other hand pounds me, making my ass clench hard around his dick, and causing my legs to jerk uncontrollably. It feels incredible, even though it hurts like hell.
My eyes close as I let go and pleasure consumes me. "Oh, Jesus, fuck, oh God," I manage to utter.
"Good slut," he praises me.
In one swift motion, he pulls me up and I find myself on my knees. He holds himself a few inches away from my mouth. "You want me to cum?" he asks.
I nod eagerly.
"Open up," he advises.
I oblige, my mouth open wide.
He guides his cock into my mouth, pulling it out when it's completely inside. He pumps his hips, each thrust bringing him closer. Finally, I feel him twitch, and he shouts out. 'I'm cumming!'
I feel his cum hitting the back of my throat, hot and sticky.
"You know," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice, "they say all good whores are squirtles."
"I've never done that before," I say, still breathless.
"You weren't a whore before."
That makes sense, I guess.
"Give it to me," I say to him. The words come out because they're sexy, but I do want it. I don't know why I want it. Cum is gross, and I've already been fully satisfied, but something about taking his seed again feels like the ultimate ending to the night.
"Oh my God. Oh fuck, my God."
When he says that, I know he's about to come. Unthinkingly, I wrap my lips around the head. It tastes different, and it takes me a moment to realize it's lube. I'm committed now and it doesn't even matter. I suck hungrily until I feel a blast of cum hit the back of my throat. It doesn't touch my tongue, so I only get a hint of the salty taste, but seconds later, my mouth is flooded with more sperm and I'm overwhelmed with the gooey, salty taste.
I get up and rush to the bathroom. I spit it into the sink.
As I gaze into the mirror, I see the girl. Her face, her hair is a mess. She looks like she's been horribly abused. But it's not me. I know I had a great evening.
When I return to the bedroom, he's digging through his bag again.
"Here," he says, offering me a pill. "Take this."
"Aspirin?" I question.
"Benzo," he replies. "It'll make coming down easier."
I open a bottle of mineral water and swallow the pill.
Ten minutes later, I'm sound asleep.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The rest of the night is a bit foggy.
I remember a voice asking me questions and then seeing my eyelids open. I guess I answered okay since I hear him getting dressed and the door closing.
When I wake up for real, I make my way to the shower and wash thoroughly. By the time I'm dressed, I'm surprised to find it's not nearly as late as I thought. Including my free breakfast, I had a great day.
I end up wandering around the shops in Nottingham, and somehow, I walk out with a complete new wardrobe. I'm not sure any of it suits me, but who cares? The one buying probably knows what they're doing.
Then, I'm back in an empty house.
Then it's Sunday, and I'm on the phone with my mom discussing the state of her azaleas.
On Monday, I visit the pharmaceutical section of the library and grab a few books on drugs. I jot down notes in my journal. I write the same thing over and over, creating a new acronym for 'absolutely bloody stupid' in the margins.
And yet, and yet, and yet, and yet...
In a flash, it's Friday night once more. I'm in the pub drinking a glass of dry white wine. The admin girls are roaring with laughter around me.
"So, Becky, tell us about this new guy of yours!" Jane demands.
Becky launches into a grand romance. Her guy, Keith, is a new PhD student who's a bit older because he had some work experience before continuing his studies. He came into the office to inquire about gym subsidies and walked out with her phone number.
"What about you, Cath? Anyone vying for your affection?"
"Oh, not really," I say. "I mean, no."
Conversation moves on without me. I blissfully tune it out.
I've been sitting here, and I've had an epiphany. No, it's not an epiphany, it's the crystallization of everything I've been thinking for months.
These people are dreadful. It's not me. Most people lead tedious, insignificant lives, and there's no reason for me to be here. Avoiding them is the best option if possible. Faking it never got me closer to truly fitting in. I'll never enjoy this.
I reach into my purse and pull out a tissue. Gently, I wipe my nose.
"You alright there?" Becky inquires. "Starting a cold?"
"Yeah, maybe," I answer. "I've had sinus issues all week I still can't get rid of."
Life is pointless - love, career, the chase for happiness. The library suits me just fine. I enjoy the books and the students don't bother me. Who knows? Maybe I'll meet someone nice someday. It's not impossible. If they're as terrible as Keith sounds, I'll probably throw up before ever going on an actual date again.
"We were thinking of clubbing tomorrow. A new place opened up next to the ice rink. You in?"
I smile. I've got my life back.
"Nah, I'll pass, thanks. I think I'll just spend tomorrow night curled up with a good book."
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