The Enlightened Librarian

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Friendly feedback welcome! The character ‘Sarah’ is introduced in the story Teeny Black Bikini – in case you are curious.

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In addition to running, Sarah started attending yoga classes with one of her co-workers. Doris Timmons was the school librarian and Sarah really liked her. Doris was in her mid 50s but looked much younger. She was a very pretty woman blonde with a pixie style haircut but always seemed to play down her looks by sporting conservative makeup and clothes. She credited the youthful look and her vigor to healthy eating and exercise. It was hard to argue with the results.

Doris was very well read – oddly enough. She was quiet but projected an inner confidence Sarah wished she could emulate. Doris had started a before-school reading program for students at their school and had invited Sarah to help out. As a result, they spent a lot of time together and became close friends.

Doris was always said nice things to Sarah, complimenting her on the recent changes in her life, the improved fitness level, the more positive attitude, the fact that she smiled more often. She knew Sarah had taken up running and inquired as to whether Sarah would like to join her in yoga classes she attended with a group of women. Sarah jumped on the invitation. She believed it would be good a good addition to her exercise routing and she would get to spend more with her friend. There was just something about Doris that Sarah was drawn to. Sarah couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Inner peace? Inner strength? Karmic balance? Whatever it was, it worked.

The yoga classes were quite enjoyable and Sarah was amazed by the level of fitness Doris displayed. Doris was lean and flexible and looked sexy in yoga pants and sleek tops. She put many younger women to shame with her style, grace, and beauty. This was a very different Doris than the buttoned-down librarian she knew at school. And what was a little startling for Sarah was that Doris wore some pretty hot lingerie under her street clothes. It was obvious there was more to Doris than met the eye.

The usual instructor, Trina, was gone on vacation for a week and had arranged for a friend to take over the class in the interim. The ladies were stretching and warming up when he walked in and made his way to the front of the salon. He was a young black man sporting dreadlocks who looked to be a little over six feet tall and somewhere in the 160 to 170 pound range. He turned to face the class and flashed a brilliant smile. He was exceptionally handsome in a Shemar Moore kind of way. Sarah’s eyes went wide, Doris raised an appreciative eyebrow, and a girl next to Doris, named Kelly, said, “Oh my!”

“Students, I am Bradford Minifield, the Third, but everyone calls me Trey. I know exactly what each of you is thinking right now, and you are correct. My hair is fabulous!” And he grinned. Several of the women chuckled. Sarah whispered to Doris, “That’s not all that is fabulous.”

“I will be here this week and then Trina will be back from vacation. Shall we begin?”

The classes that week were fun. Oddly, attendance soared. Trey was charming and witty and supportive. And it didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes. Some of the women tried very hard to flirt with him but he remained a consummate professional in his interactions with them.

When Trina returned the next week, everyone told her that she had made a wonderful choice in selecting Trey in as a replacement. A couple of the girls teased her and asked when she was going on vacation again. Trina just rolled her eyes. She had known Trey for years and women reacted the same way every time.

After class, Doris overheard Trina phoning Trey to say thanks, give him the kind regards of EVERY woman in the class, and to inquire what he’d be doing that weekend. Doris didn’t necessarily mean to eavesdrop, but did hear mention a club named The Regent. It was a spot she knew well. Doris loved to dance and she frequented several different clubs depending on her mood. Psychedelic Trance was probably her favorite kind of music but The Regent was a quieter spot. It was kind of a combination piano/slow jazz bar. There was a small dance floor and an eclectic crowd. She knew exactly what to wear.

Few people knew the raven-haired Doris making her way to The Regent in the back of a cab. She was dressed conservatively but had added glasses and a black wig. Sexy lingerie, seamed, thigh-high stockings, and a new pair of very chic Louboutin pumps that screamed ‘Fuck me’ completed her ensemble. Most assumed Doris was a quiet home-body who knits sweaters or did crossword puzzles and shared a small apartment with at least one cat. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, Doris lived in a very nice townhouse on the river. It was elegantly decorated, very comfortable, and she preferred dogs to cats. Doris had made very good investments over the years. She had been fortunate to meet some influential people who had given her direction and guidance on how and when bahis firmalar─▒ and where to invest and she had done very well. As a result, she had been able to follow her desire to be a librarian but didn’t have to worry about financial constraints.

It was around 11:00 PM when Doris entered The Regent. It was busy but not packed. Music played and several couples were dancing. Doris’ eyes swept the dance floor, the tables, and finally the bar. When she spotted him, a quiet smile came to her lips. Trey was sitting at the bar with one of his friends. Doris strolled to the bar and ordered a Cosmopolitan. She turned, and in well disguised surprise said, “Hello, Bradford. How very fortunate to find you here.”

Trey was puzzled for a moment. This woman. This well dressed, dark-haired woman obviously knew who he was but he could not place her. Trey studied her as Doris calmly took a sip of her drink. Finally, recognition hit.

“Doris. From yoga. Right?”

“You are correct, Bradford.”

Normally, Trey might had told her she didn’t need to be so formal, but he quite enjoyed hearing this woman say his name.

“You’ve change your hair color. I like it!”

“It is a woman’s prerogative to change things up from time to time.” replied Doris. She looked intently at Trey and added, “I like variety. I consider it an essential part of my life.”

It was hard to tell which of them was the hunter and which the prey. Trey was full of the confidence of youth but Doris had learned when to take control and when to yield. She knew that granting the illusion of submission could be extremely effective seduction strategy. Her desire was that she and Bradford would become lovers this night and, unless she was very mistaken, she had little doubt that would be the case.

Doris finished her Cosmo and said, “Bradford, I think you should ask me to dance.”

“I believe it would be my pleasure.” he replied and extended his hand to invite her to join him.

“With a little luck”, thought Doris, “the pleasure will be ours.”

Song after song played and they danced the night away, perfectly comfortable in each others arms. Doris was reminded of a similar night many years ago when she found herself dancing with another young man. It had been an unforgettable evening at the beginning of a very memorable journey.

Doris Timmons was called Doris Timids as a child. She was quiet, unsure, and soft-spoken. And kids being kids, others had tagged her with that nickname when she got to school. Doris escaped by reading. She fell in love with books. All kinds of books. In some ways, the teasing helped her decide on a career path. Doris wanted nothing more than to be a librarian.

Her nickname stuck with her until she went away to college. Not that the transition was immediate. It wasn’t until she started Junior year that fate and curiosity brought transformation to her life. Curiosity was piqued by both external and internal forces. Doris took a room in a small house located off-campus. She shared it with a couple of girls she became friends with as a sophomore. The rent was cheaper than living in a dorm and it was mostly a less chaotic environment. Mostly, because her roommates were very social individuals.

Susan and Rachel dated a lot of guys. Friday and Saturday nights were just part of a regular week for Doris, but Susan and Rachel were out dancing or at parties almost every weekend. Every once in a while, they would bring a date home for the night and sometimes Doris could hear the sounds of sexual encounters through the air vents. It was both taboo and thrilling at the same time for her to eavesdrop on such intimate moments. It probably wasn’t what ‘good girls’ were supposed to do. At the same time, she was mesmerized and excited.

Susan, in particular, was a wild child. She dressed in sexy attire. She flirted relentlessly with almost any man she met. She projected a freedom and enjoyment of living that Doris envied. Once in a while, Susan would pick up a copy of Playgirl magazine to bring home. Doris, was properly shocked at this but was determined not to be a stick-in-the-mud about it.

One Saturday night, when both Susan and Rachel were out for the night, Doris found an issue of Playgirl sitting on the coffee table in the living room. She ignored it for a while, but then the urge to peek inside got the better of her. She had not expected to react the way she did. Instead of being mortified or morally shocked, she was mesmerized. Her body literally tingled with excitement as she gazed at the beautiful, naked bodies. One young man, a light-complected black male, really caught her eye and she actually ran her hands over his pictures on the pages. Susan and Rachel met men like these in real life. They had been with men like these. Doris wondered if that might happen for her some day.

This is where fate intervened. Doris took a very Doris-like approach to the situation. She wanted to learn about intimacy and sexuality. At the time, there ka├žak iddaa was no internet. There weren’t a million and one sources of information on every subject known to man like there are now. She found very little in the library at the college in the way of books on the topic. There was however, a new course of study being offered the next semester. It was a Tuesday-Thursday evening class. Her hand actually shook as she signed the form enrolling herself in Human Sexuality.

Only a small number of students enrolled. Some of them were Psychology students. There were a couple of pre-med types. Others were taking the class because they hoped it would be easy credits. Doris, on the other hand, was genuinely interested in learning everything she could about the topic.

Her professor, Sam Henderson, seemed to recognize in Doris a student with an unsullied desire to understand and embrace what was being offered. Sam appreciated that and sought to nurture Doris, the kindred spirit.

Sometimes, Doris would stay after class and they would talk in-depth about the course material, research on the topic, social stigmas, and a host of other things. Sam was intensely interested in Doris and her passion for learning. One night Sam suggested they take the after-class conversation to the student lounge for a drink. Doris, though not much of a drinker, readily agreed. Conversation flowed easily and Doris told her life story. She did not see it as a tale of self-pity, but more a story of delayed discovery, desire to learn and to change, and a drive to perhaps catch up on things she may have missed out on earlier in life.

Sam was a willing and attentive listener. Doris was a very genuine and open person beneath her usually quiet exterior. The professor saw in Doris a pupil with a thirst for understanding. This was someone who could be mentored, guided, molded. A protege. Maybe even a research assistant.

After several drinks, Sam decided to seize the moment and conspiratorially leaned close to Doris.

“I have a proposition for you, Doris, and I’d like you to consider it carefully before answering. I have been wanting to do some of what might be described as ‘hands-on’ research in this field of human sexuality. There are so many facets that could be explored. Psychological. Sociological. Many in society see human sexuality as a taboo topic. And sadly, much of the learning that takes place, is passed along informally through a handful of commercially driven adult magazines and in scandalous playground conversations from one generation to the next. Not much is done in terms of serious study or training.”

“Now, I must tell you, there is no budget for this position. This would be for extra class credit. I know you are carrying a very heavy course load at the moment and perhaps we could consider this a replacement for the research paper and final exam. It would be strictly voluntary and you could opt-out at any time. There might be some weekend work involved. If you think you might be interested I think you might find it fascinating and enlightening.”

“I have already engaged the services of another individual for this work. He’s a young man I worked with in the past. Very bright. Very gifted. Very eager. I truly believe the two of you would get along quite well. He’ll provide the male point of view but what I really need is a female perspective on the research, the methods, and the learning.”

“If you think you might want to pursue this, I’d ask you to take a couple of days and…”

“Yes, Professor, I would love to take you up on the offer! When would you like to start?” asked Doris.

“You sound quite emphatic! That’s great.” replied Sam. “I would ask you to come to my house Saturday night at 8:00 PM, sharp. A simple dress and white blouse would be fine, if you have those.”

Doris could hardly believe her luck. Here was an opportunity to work hand-in-hand with a learned scholar in a field she found fascinating. Now, it wasn’t a paid position, but this would probably look good on a resume.

Friday classes seemed to drag on forever. She spent Friday night fretting about what to wear. She wanted to look professional but not stuffy. After all, she was going to be working on research in kind of a non-traditional field. After going through her sparsely populated closet she decided she did not have ‘the’ outfit. Saturday morning she talked to Rachel and Susan and they quickly found several pieces of clothing that would work well. The girls were curious about what Doris was up to and whether she had a hot date but she told them she would be engaged in a research project for one of her courses. Discreetly, she left the name of the class out of the conversation.

Doris arrived precisely at 8:00 PM and rang the doorbell at Professor Henderson’s house. The professor opened the door and invited Doris to come in and join them in the living room at the rear of the residence. The house was beautifully decorated, warm and inviting. Doris followed behind the ka├žak bahis professor and noticed several sculptures of nudes and a couple of startlingly graphic paintings. “Well, this is the home of a professor of human sexuality.” mused Doris.

They entered the living room and a young black man rose from the couch to greet them. He was strikingly handsome. He flashed a dazzling smile and introduced himself as Marcus Alexander. He must have been an athlete of some kind. Marcus stood about 6′ 2″ tall and was clad in dark pants and a white shirt. He was definitely in shape but not overly muscular. Flawless, mocha colored skin, short black hair, a rich, deep baritone voice, and smouldering dark eyes that seemed to look straight into Doris’ soul. He was not the man from Playgirl whose beautiful body had made Doris tingle, but he could have been.

Doris tried to speak but her voice caught in her throat.

Professor Henderson grinned at Doris’ reaction and said, “Marcus, this is Doris. Doris, should you decide to grace us with your presence, this is Marcus. He is my other research assistant. You will be working with him.”

Doris snapped out of her reverie, blushed at her reaction, and extended her hand to Marcus. “I’m Doris. It is very nice to meet you.”

Marcus shook her hand and the professor told them to sit and chat for a minute or two before walking to a sideboard to pour wine.

Without thinking, Doris downed the entire glass. She felt like she needed something to calm herself. Professor Henderson quietly refilled her glass and she drank half of that before catching herself in mid gulp. She looked from the professor to Marcus and they both had smirks on their faces.

“Oh, God. I’m making a real spectacle of myself. I’m sorry, Professor. I’m sorry, Marcus.”

Sam Henderson was nothing if not caring and gracious. “Think nothing of it, Doris. You’re a little nervous. That is perfectly understandable. And please, call me Sam.”

They sat and talked for quite some time. They talked about the challenges ahead. This was a relatively new and controversial field of study. It was not likely they would receive a lot of support from the academic community or the community at large. However, the professor felt it was important and could be richly rewarding professionally and personally. It was, in Sam Henderson’s mind, all about a desire to push the limits.

Doris asked Marcus how he knew the professor and he hesitated for a moment. The professor jumped in and casually said they had been involved in projects outside university life.

The wine flowed freely and Doris became less guarded in her answers. The conversation became more personal in nature. Normally, Doris would have been very inhibited by this but in this environment, shielded as it were, by the presence of her mentor, she divulged a great deal about her private life.

No, she wasn’t a virgin, at least not technically. She had kissed several boys and even engaged in some light to moderate petting, and there was one fumbling and unsatisfactory incident in the back seat of a car with a boy from high school, but that was pretty much the extent of it. She had a romantic side but had never allowed herself to explore it in real life. She was interested in the topic of human sexuality. It seemed to be something that others felt great ease in expressing – her roommates, for example. She talked about listening through the air vents as Rachel and Susan had sex with their partners. Rachel and Susan seemed to enjoy sex a great deal, she said, and she was envious of them. Finally, she talked about her experience with Playgirl magazine. She felt a tinge of guilt as she confessed she had secreted that particular copy of the magazine in her nightstand and how she spent time staring at the men inside.

She blushed when she told Marcus one of the men looked very much like him.

The professor asked her several questions. Did she touch herself? If she didn’t, did she think she could? Were there any strong religious influences that had shaped her view of sex or sexuality? What were her views on sex or sexuality? Had she ever experienced orgasm? Was she, in her mind, heterosexual or homosexual? How did she think being sexually active might change her life? Did she have any sexual activities she was particularly interested in, enjoyed, or wanted to explore?

It was pretty overwhelming. Doris’ mind raced. Many of these were questions she had never considered. Masturbation wasn’t a topic ever discussed in her family. They were Protestant, of some kind but she was not a very religious person. Sexuality was a foreign concept to her – but one she yearned to understand. Orgasm? Probably not. She was pretty sure she was heterosexual. And, at the moment, she was struggling with the idea of being sexually active, period. Others seemed to embrace it with ease. She allowed as how she might never know unless she broke out of her comfort zone.

She was intensely embarrassed discussing these topics in front of her professor and this handsome man she had just met. It wasn’t humiliating, in fact, it felt liberating, but she could not look at either of them. She felt as if she would melt into the floor if she did.

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