Serial · Story

The Book Club – Page 4

“Still want to play?” Asked Jenny Watson smiling, “And as a bonus we’ve decided that you can keep the film …. for .. um ….when you’re alone at nights.” She laughed and added: “So ready to name and shame then? Which member of our little book club do you think has just used you and wants to use you again for a night?”

“You did,” said Gordon, but without any real conviction as his chance of being right was only slightly better than 50:50. “Sorry, but you’re not even close,” said Jenny with a smirk. “I didn’t even do the filming. One more guess.”

“Must have been your tall friend then,” said Gordon confidently, “so will you untie me now?”

“And why do you think that it was Amy?” asked the dark-haired woman smiling as she stood up and took Gordon’s cell phone from one of her skirt pockets, “did you think she looked longingly at you?”

Gordon started to explain about the noise of the zipper but stopped as he noticed that instead of untying one of his restraints, the woman with long dark hair was instead moving the phone towards his face.

He looked up at the film playing on the small screen. It showed him lying on his back, tied to all four legs of a large dark, wooden table, blindfolded and with an almost anorexic, heavily-tattooed woman straddling him while he licked for all he was worth.

He’d never seen anyone with so many body decorations, and there was far more jewellery around the woman’s neck than he could see on any of the three women on his left. “That’s not fair! You said it was one of you three!” protested Gordon as he realized who it was that ‘liked educating naïve young men’, and shouted that “it’s not fair!”

“No,” said Jenny Watson, “We didn’t say it was one of us three. We said that it was a member of our book club and that we wouldn’t let anyone else into the building. It’s not really our fault that you got so excited you just forgot about your own manager sat in her office, ….and she hates that by the way. Absolutely loves having extreme sex with younger men, but hates them not noticing her just because she dresses so demurely. Maybe if we were in a big city and not such a small town it would be alright for a librarian to wear make-up and display her tattoos, but here,……..well it’s expected that she wears loose, dull, unflattering clothing and sort of blends in anonymously into the background, …..so when she gets a chance to show her real self, ……well she does tend to go a little, ….. um,….. wild.”

Gordon looked over at the woman stood in the office doorway. The last time he’d seen Carrie Adams she’d been wearing some loose grey pants, low-heeled brown shoes and a thick, grey cardigan over a sun-bleached denim shirt tightly buttoned right up to her neck. Now, she’d tied her greying shoulder-length hair into a tight bun on the top of her head and was wearing absolutely nothing except a pair of pair of black leather gloves covered in studs, some very high-heeled stilettos and dozens of items of jewellery. Her entire upper body seemed to be covered in tattoos, and as she got closer he could see many more piercings than those he’d been able to taste earlier.

“Sort of ironic if you think about it,” said the woman in ankle boots waving an iPhone and laughing, “Here we are in a library, surrounded by thousands of books, and we all know that you shouldn’t judge them by their covers, and here’s the head librarian proving it to be very true! On the outside, she appears to be so respectable, so boring, so unadventurous, but underneath when the clothes come off…….” She left the sentence unfinished as she leant over to take a picture of Gordon’s expression on her own phone and turned towards the two women embracing his almost-naked boss.

She gestured towards the main door, suggested that they ‘leave the birthday girl to party’, and walked away giggling before turning round and saying, “By the way Gordon. Even though it’s her birthday, or maybe even particularly because it is her birthday, it’s never a good idea to get a dominatrix like Carrie angry, especially one who’s been ….. well educating young men like you since before we were all born. She has to keep finding new, …..um,.… pleasures…….”

Gordon Lister started to sweat as Carrie Adams stared down at him and silently waved the women away without turning round. “So if you’d guessed it was me earlier, where would you have wanted to put this first? “ she asked pulling down the waistband of his trousers to release his rapidly-stiffening penis, “Not that I’d have had a problem with wherever you chose to put it you understand, only whether or not you put my, ….err,… needs before yours.”

She grinned, moved her head so close that their noses touched and staring into his eyes added, “But as my experience of you younger men, is that without some,…. shall we say motivation, ….you can never manage to satisfy a woman of my age before you’ve had your big happy and don’t want to carry on, that it’s better to be a little,….….. creative at times like these.”

Carrie Adams stroked away at the tip of his erection and leant down beside him where she started to lick the inside of his ear and whispered, “So you’re not going to get any sort of happy ending any time soon, but you are going help me enjoy the presents over there…..”

Gordon glanced over at the partly-opened carrier bag his boss had nodded towards and wondered what was in it. He could see what remained of three pink envelopes, three glitter-covered birthday cards, and three ornate boxes partially wrapped in torn, shiny paper, but as he couldn’t see the present he’d hidden under her desk earlier, he knew she was unaware that he’d known all along how many women were in the book club, and all about the woman whose fiftieth  birthday it was.

Gordon Lister closed his eyes and listened to Carrie Adams slowly describing what she intended to do, for how long she intended to do it, and how much pleasure she was going get from doing it, as he congratulated himself on the accuracy of his lip-reading abilities and for making the effort to study the security screen on his desk to work out what three pretty women who never took a book from a shelf spent their afternoons talking about.

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