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Before I slide out my chair and take a seat, I clear my throat. “Gonna go fuck with the nerd,” I tell him like I always do, and he waves me off, paying me no mind. I stroll up to the desk without making a sound, so when she turns around, I’m standing so close to her, only the three feet of wood between us, that she genuinely startles and takes a step back, her hand going to her chest. The book in her other hand drops to the floor, and she looks down at it, her glasses slipping down her nose a little. I smirk when she looks back up at me with a little frown on her perfect lips, and I lean down on the desk when she bends to pick it up.
“Nice hair, Ms. Richards,” I say, not bothering to keep my voice low, since I’d said the same thing to Trevor this morning, and she jerks her head up from her squatted position, her hand feeling around blindly for the book.
“Th-Thank you, Mr. Black.” She swallows. “Nathaniel,” she corrects, and my smirk grows into a wide smile, because it dawns on me she’s always done that—and now I know it was always her submissive showing through.
“A little to the right,” I tell her, and at her confused look, I point downward twice. “Your book.”
“Huh? Oh.” She finally looks back down and snatches up the book before standing abruptly. “Will you be needing help with anything, Nathaniel?” she asks quietly, pushing her glasses back up and looking around with just her eyes as if trying to see if we’re being watched.
“I’ll let you know… Ms. Richards.” I grin, winking at her, and I see her relax oh-so-subtly before she nods and gets back to what she was doing.
I go back to my table, pull my chair out, and relax into my seat, feeling a peace come over me now that I’m in her presence. All the anxiousness I’ve felt all day counting down the hours then minutes until I got to see her again dissipates, and so I flip open my notebook and finish the work I wasn’t able to concentrate on in my last two classes.
Halfway through the study hour, I look up to see Evie isn’t behind the circulation desk, and I glance around to see where she’s gone. Trevor is distracted, working on something with one of our classmates, and no one else is paying me any attention, so I stand and go in search of my little library mouse. I walk down the center aisle between bookcases, not seeing her anywhere on the first floor, so I take the wooden staircase to the second, measuring my steps so it looks like I’m just perusing the shelves. It’s not out of character for me, seeing how I love to read, so if anyone were to look up through the balcony, they wouldn’t think twice about it.
And then I spot her, at the very back of one of the rows, putting away a stack of books in her arms. I wait until she’s done so I don’t risk making her drop one, which would be loud and call attention to us, and then I start toward her. She looks up when I’m halfway down, and she stops in her tracks. I’m proud of her when she doesn’t take a step back; just the small fidget of her pushing her glasses into place is the only sign of her nervousness.
“You look beautiful, little mouse,” I murmur, turning to face the bookshelf and straightening a couple that were pushed slightly farther back than the others.
“Thank you,” she replies in that sweet voice of hers, and I glance at her long enough to catch her shy smile.
“You wear your hair back for me, baby?” I pull a book off the shelf and turn it over as if I’m reading the blurb on the back.
I see her shift on her feet in my peripheral vision, and hear her whisper, “Just for you.”
I close my eyes, trying to fight off the instant arousal, and when I’m unsuccessful, I reach down and adjust my semihard cock. She whimpers.
There are so many things I want to say to her, so many things I want to tell her I learned last night while I was studying the lifestyle, but when I open my mouth, I’m interrupted.
“There you are!”
We both look down the aisle to see Mr. Newman, one of the English teachers, coming toward us.
“Oh shit,” she whispers, and I almost laugh at her sweet voice cursing only loud enough for me to hear before she steps away from me and says louder, “Mr. Newman, what can I help you with?”
“Oh, not you, my dear. I’ve been looking for Mr. Black here,” he explains, taking out a handkerchief and wiping his sweaty forehead.
