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From: john_dark@anon.nymserver.com
Subject: {Telephoto}JDR"Library"( MF fant )[1/1]
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JOHN DARK REPOST
The following story is posted for the entertainment of adults. If you are
below the age of eighteen or are otherwise forbidden to read electronic
erotic fiction in your locality, please delete this message now. The story
codes in the subject line are intended to inform readers of possible areas
that some might find distasteful, but neither the poster nor the author
make any guarantee. You should be aware that the story might raise other
matters that you find distasteful. You read at your own risk.
The enjoyment of these reposts can be increased by reading the "Coming
Attractions," which includes the titles to be reposted in the next week.
These stories have not been written by the person posting them. Many of
those e-mail addresses below the author's byline still work. If you liked
the story, either drop the author a line at that e-mail address or post a
comment to alt.sex.stories.d. Please don't post it to alt.sex.stories
itself. Posting the comment with a Cc: to the author would be the best way
to encourage them to continue entertaining you.
The copyright of this story belongs to the author, and the fact of this
posting should not be construed as limiting or releasing these rights in
any way. In most cases, the author will have further notices of copyright
below. If you keep the story, *PLEASE* keep the copyright disclaimer as
well.
=====================
2) This work is copyright by the author. You may download and keep
copies for your personal use as long as the author's byline and e-mail
address and this paragraph remain on the copies. Posting to newsgroups or
on websites is permitted as long as no money is charged for access and as
long as the author's byline and e-mail address and this paragraph remain on
the story.
This is my second post here. Keep being gentle.
=====================
***
Library
TelePhoto
telephoto@aol.com
In the deathly still of the library, sitting at a desk tucked between
the bookcases and the far wall, calmly scanning the pages of an accounting
text, she sat. She stifled a slight yawn and pushed her fingers under her
glasses to rub her eyes. Above her, one of the fluorescent bulbs flickered
on and off, as it had for hours. As far as she knew, there was no one else
on the floor, and as fas as she was concerned, that was just how she liked
it.
She was almost right. There was one other on that floor, and that was
just how he liked it.
After turning a page, she pulled out the ruler she used as a bookmark
and put it in, marking the end of the chapter and the beginning of the
next. She put down her accounting book and got up. The last book she
needed was on the shelf closest to her. As she stood, her skirt rustled
about her knees, and the keys in her jacket pocket jingled.
Quickly, she found the book, and as she reached for it, he grabbed her
wrist, very gently but firmly.
Her first instinct was to reach into her pocket to grab the security
whistle. Even if she had reached it, though, it wouldn't have done any
good; no one was around to hear it. Instead, the ring of keys, with the
whistle, fell to the floor, making a tinkling sound on the carpet.
He slowly pulled her hand down, turning her to face him. The fear on
her face was obvious, and her eyes were huge. With the exception of the
hand still holding her, there was little about him to be frightened of. He
was average size, with short, dark hair, and he smiled at her. He had a
strange glint in his eyes, she thought, something that made him different.
Her lips quivered, sounds trying to escape her but unable to. He
stared into her eyes; no, not stared, she thought. Gazed. He caught her
eyes, though, and he held them. And with each passing moment, she felt
more and more comfortable with this stranger. Fear slowly faded, with
desire taking the place.
Finally, the silence was broken, by his crisp voice.
"You see, there's no reason to be frightened. I want to love you, and
I want you to love me."
What little of her mind that could still question what was going on
screamed as he said this, but her body, totally independent of her will,
assumed a posture befitting his statement.
She slowly backed against the wall, her hands reaching onto his
shoulders. Meanwhile, his hands slid along her shoulders, pushing her
jacket down her arms. It fell to the ground in a clump near her feet.
He kissed her once, powerfully. She felt her knees waver and her mind
was dazzled by the force of his energy. It was as if she could hear his
mind talking to her. She heard the words forming inside her head. Open
your shirt. Take it off.
Her hands obeyed the unvoiced commands. Button by button, spurred by
his slight smile and the deep brown eyes and the words she heard but didn't
hear, she opened her blouse, and when that task was done, she took it off.
Now, the voice whispered, your bra. A corner of her mind noted that
there was no verb in the statement, but her body didn't need proper grammar
to obey. When she had finished, she felt a rush, prompting her to tip back
her head and close her eyes.
She could feel his hands on her, softly caressing her. His lips
gently kissed her, on her lips, her cheek, her throat, her shoulders. Then
the throat again.
Had she been in control of herself, she would have feared that he was
going to rape her. With his power dominating her, she hoped that he would.
He didn't.
She couldn't bring herself to open her eyes, so she depended on her
other senses. She heard his light breathing, almost a wheeze. As his
tongue flicked along the ridge of her collarbone, she could almost taste
the salty skin, her own skin. She felt the incredible sharpness of his
teeth as he bit down hard into her, the fantastic pain of the puncture, the
almost orgasmic stirring as he rhythmically sucked her blood. She smelled
the metallic heat of her own life flowing out of her.
She finally opened her eyes, but it was too late. Instants later, she
blacked out.
She had a smile on her face, lying on the ground, her clothes
scattered around her. She was nearly dead when the first person found her.
He was nearly dead when the next person found him.
***
Library
TelePhoto
-30-
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