1 comments/ 9351 views/ 1 favorites Clarissa's Diary Entry 01 By: Michel_dAttirer Entry 1 – The Beginning There was a sharp knock on Linda's door. "Come in," she said, swinging around on her desk chair to face the invitee. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Ms. Smith," Jonathan said, pushing a book cart before him. There was just a hint of nervousness in his voice. "We have finished cleaning out the storage room and these are the items for you to review." He indicated with his right hand the selection of volumes on the cart. Then, he quickly asked, "I was supposed to bring these to your office, wasn't I?" Linda smiled, inwardly to herself in amusement, and outwardly to Jonathan in support. He had displayed many of the signs of a beginning infatuation with her since the first week of joining the staff. While appreciating the attention on a personal level, Linda quickly set a professional atmosphere between them, so as to avoid any form of impropriety. While she admitted to herself that Jonathan was quite attractive, having just graduated from collage, she knew that a relationship would be unethical, not to mention the fact that she was twenty years his senior. "Thank you very much, Jonathan," she said, getting up from her chair. "Yes, I did ask for all non-catalogued items to be brought to this office. Please leave the cart over here, beside my desk." Jonathan did as he was told while Linda walked around her desk to the cart. Having a life long love of books, she immediately crouched down before the cart and began scanning the titles on the spine. Without acknowledging it, she was aware of Jonathan slowly walking out of the office, his eyes on her. He followed his set pattern of always being discreet in his purveying of her, never lingering too long or in sight of others. Because of his discreetness and modestly, Linda never brought up the subject that she knew what he was doing, and inwardly, she considered this flattering. Always professional, though, Linda never wore provocative clothing or put herself in a provocative position. Her dress suits were earthy colors, her shoes low and plain. The makeup she applied was low-key, and her hair always up in some bun-like coiffure. Linda returned her full attention to the volumes before her. Getting ready for the upcoming renovations had taken time, and the staff would need swing space. The items before her were in a basement storage room that few, if any, librarians had entered in quite some time, herself included. The vast majority of items held in this storage room had been processed by the other staff—either integrated into another part of the collection, or weeded. These items on the cart needed her special attention. Some volumes were easily identified—earlier editions of now-classic texts, probably put in storage to save on shelf space. The staff would want her to make the decision whether to weed these or not. For the other volumes, Linda had to pull them off the cart and skim through the pages. These appeared to be ledgers and listings of acquisitions, with annotations. Some were hand written, indicating their great age. An old, dusty box on the bottom shelf of the cart caught her eye. She pulled the box out, stood up and placed it on the desk. Removing the cover carefully, so as not to damage the possibly brittle material, she found a set of leather bound volumes inside, tied with a black string. Linda undid the bow and picked up the first volume. It appeared to be in good shape, with no signs of damage or decay. Despite any obvious title, the contents inside were quickly identified as a diary, due to the dated entries on each page, their structure, and their conversational manner. The "title" page simply had the name, "Clarissa White." The name jostled something in her memory. Wasn't Clarissa one of her predecessors? Linda stood up, went over to the filing cabinets and began to rummage through the files. Her hand came upon the "History of the Library" folder and withdrawing it, she quickly found the list of prior library directors. There was Clarissa, third from the top on the list. Intrigued, Linda went back to the desk, sat in her chair, and again picked up the volume. Linda flipped through the pages, and rested her finger on the one marked, "March 13th, 1902. A day of unexpected pleasure." Curious, she read the entry: Today was truly a beautiful spring day, in more than one way. While work was typical in its course, I was surprised by an unexpected visitor just before closing. For the sake of discretion, let me leave the kind sir's name off this account. He is a traveling salesman from a reputable publisher. We have had occasion to meet on a professional level in the past, and so began our conversation with the usual pleasantries about the weather and new scientific discoveries. I must say I have always found him pleasant to the eye, and this day was no exception. He has, as well, graced me with more than one glance upon my being, especially to linger upon my bosom. His eyes today were especially, how shall I say it, full of hunger and anticipation. When the last of my staff reported that their time for the day was done and that they were heading homeward, I decided to be a bit more forward with our salesman. "My good sir, I so desire to see what you have to offer me this day," I started. He smiled, handing me the publisher's newest catalog, then adding, "I would be happy to show you the special wares we have available, upon our next trip. For your pleasure, of course." "Why," I asked most sweetly, "Don't you usually have volumes for me to peruse? Something for me to touch?" "As you can see from the weather outside, I was loath to bring any books with me should they get wet," says our salesman. And then he adds, with some emphasis, "It is my understanding that librarians avoid any situation where they may get wet." "Oh, I beg to differ, kind Sir. We librarians frequently deal with wet situations. For instance, there may be times where we need to insert, say, a page into a book. In such a situation, my good Sir, we would want to ply the inseam of the book with a warm, sticky substance, such as a paste, so that the page can slide in easily and remain there until bonding is complete." "This process sounds quite fascinating," replies my salesman. "Perchance, can you demonstrate this technique to me right now." "I would be happy to, good Sir, but we have no such books available. However, I may be able to accommodate you. Imagine, if you will, Sir, that I am the book and that your are the page that needs inserting. "Like any fine craftsman, you must take time to examine the item before you. Feel the material, run your fingers down its spine." He graciously follows my lead, placing his hands on the "book," caressing it, getting a measure of the body beneath. I sign as he explores my exterior, clearly eager to examine the contents inside. "Of course, one can only learn so much from examining the outside of a book," I continue. "Open the book a bit--make sure the spine is pliable, the pages not brittle." I leaned back on my desk, and proceeded to open my "pages" for him. There was, indeed, and intense eagerness in his eyes that encouraged me to proceed further. To facilitate our demonstration, I pulled up the hem of my dress to just above my knees. He leans toward me, drawing up one of my legs. Warmly, ever so slowly, he caresses my ankle and the lower part of my leg with both his hands. "This part of the book, indeed, my Lady, appears to be in good order. Perchance, I should examine more of the book, to determine, of course, if a page should, indeed, be inserted, and, if so, precisely where the best fit should be." There is a most naughty grin on his countenance. " I nod ever so coyly and he slides his hands up over my knees, exploring further my thighs, lingering on the inner side. "If my lady does not mind, I should like to get closer to the book, as my eyesight is, let us say, not of a perfect order." "Please do, my good man. Make a careful study of the book. We do not want to make a mistake when inserting the page." He draws my legs further part and in response I lean further back on the desk. The hem of the dress and the slip beneath slide down my thighs, exposing now the tops of my stockings. He quickly learns that this book is lacking certain coverings. His fingers explore ever more of my most private areas and the pressures mount within my body. It is ever so hard to keep up this pretence, this play acting. "I do believe your earlier statement about wet situations applies here, my good Lady. For certainly, this is the spot where the page must be inserted." "You have good judgement and good skill, my dear Sir," I reply. "Do you feel it is time to begin the next step?" I ask. He pauses, his fingers still engaged in their exploration. "I feel, kind Lady, that a few more minutes of preparatory work are necessary. We certainly do not wish to rush this job. Do you not agree?" I was about to answer, but only a short moan of pleasure escaped my lips, for his fingers slipped further into the seam of my book, much deeper than I anticipated. It took all of my will at that point not to place my legs around him and draw him forward. I could also see a similar struggle of wills on his countenance. When I felt I could bear no more, his fingers withdrew. "My sweet lady, may I ask: Would you prefer to guide my page inward, or shall I perform that duty?" He moved forward, placing himself between my opened book. Naturally demure, I deferred to his judgment. "Very well, then. Let us begin the process of insertion." Let me say that he took to the task with much energy and fervor, eager to practice, taking the page out and placing it in yet again--in and out, in and out. I was greatly pleased by his ardor and display of technical skill, and we both agreed to revisit... A sudden knock at the open door caught Linda off guard. She placed the diary, still open, onto the desk before her and looked up at the man standing in the door. "May I help you?" she asked. "My apologies, Ms. Smith, for being late for our appointment," he began, moving forward to her desk. Linda racked her brains and then realized she had a 4:00 o'clock appointment with a Mr. Kuzy from LSC, Inc. to discuss the furniture for the new renovation. She glanced at the clock on the wall of her office—it read 4:46 pm. Mr. Kuzy followed her glance, then turned back to her and smiled. "Again, my apologies. My plane was late and the cab driver had no idea where to go." He offered her his hand. "My name is Christopher Kuzy." He smiled again, warm and inviting. Linda shook his hand firmly and offered her name in official greeting. "I, too, must apologize, Mr. Kusy. With all the work going on around here, the appointment completely slipped my mind." She got up and went around the desk to better converse with him. As she did, she caught Mr. Kuzy's eyes caressing her body from her deep brown eyes to her tip of her leather shoes. He did this surreptitiously, the warm smile still on his face. Linda did not let on to what she just saw. "And, unfortunately," Linda continued, "I must leave for an appointment in fifteen minutes." "That is disappointing," Mr. Kuzy replied. "Will you be here next Monday?" she asked. "My flight leaves at 9:30 am on Monday," he replied, and quickly added, "But I am here all day tomorrow and on Sunday, should either day be possible for you. It was my fault for being late." "Well, we can't exactly blame you for the flight and taxi cab driver, now can we." Linda was doing her best to be cordial, and while the library was not open on either Saturday or Sunday, the prospect of meeting with Mr. Kuzy tomorrow to finalize the furniture details was appealing. "I am available to meet tomorrow morning, here at the Library, if that works for you," she offered. Her mind was filled with images of Clarissa and her salesman. Linda could feel a blush rising up her neck to her cheeks, so she quickly suppressed the images and focused on the rather dull task of the furniture selection. "Excellent!" Mr. Kuzy sounded ecstatic, more than expected. Linda took this as a positive sign that he was interested in more than just furniture. "How about 9:30 am, here, tomorrow?" he asked. "Perfect." The two shook hands, and after a few professional "goodbyes" Mr. Kuzy departed. Linda began the process of locking up for the evening, and before departing, slipped the volume into her briefcase. Clarissa's Diary Entry 02 Entry 2 -- Linda's New Love Later that evening, Linda was flipping through the diary rather haphazardly. She was reclining in bed, not quite ready to fall asleep. Much of what she had found so far in the diary was rather dry and unexciting—discussions about procedures and staff difficulties, purchases and dull meetings with various local patrons. She was hoping to find another entry like the one she read in her office. And then, when she was about to put the diary down and go to sleep, she saw this entry for June 23rd: While I do not entertain any thoughts of the female sex being stronger than their male counterpart, we females are certainly endowed with gifts and talents, that, when used at the correct and proper moment, can bring great power. This is particularly true when any said male exhibits certain weaknesses. Let me provide an example from today. Our most esteemed chancellor, I have found, has a certain penchant for ladies foot ware and stockings. Priding himself on his high moral standards, the chancellor has endeavored to keep this interest hidden, maintaining a professional cordiality with me at all times, despite his wandering eyes. I have not had need to use this knowledge until yesterday, for you see, a letter arrived from his office detailing some financial obligations the library would have to make in the coming year. Not wanting to see this distinguished Library suffer when other, less reputable institutes within the university are less than deserving, I made an appointment to speak with the chancellor this morning. In addition to bringing my ledger and pad of statistics, I also dressed accordingly, with a higher than usual pair of leather boots--the pair with the laces--and the sheerest of stockings that I possess. Before leaving my office in the Library, I slipped a small pebble into my right boot. Naturally, this allows me to make a barely perceptible limp in my gait as I enter the Chancellor's office. As he rises to great me, I wince just a bit. "Miss White. Do tell me, is something awry?" "Mr. Chancellor, please forgive me. I did not mean for my discomfort to show. For, you see, there appears to be a pebble or some such thing in my right boot." With genuine concern, the Chancellor implores, "Please, Miss White, take a moment to correct the situation before we begin our meeting." He moves over to his desk, and means to turn away in an offer of some privacy. However, I did anticipate this gesture. Before he turns, I say, "Alas, I am afraid, I must put up with the discomfort till I return to my office. For, you see, the design of a woman's garments limit my ability to reach my shoe." I make as it to bend over, stopping myself before my hand can reach far enough. "That is most distressing," he replies. I can see the thoughts going round inside his head. "Is there anything I can do?" I hear the anticipation in his voice, and know now that the day is won. "Oh, I could never impose, dear sir." "Please, please, Miss White. The health and comfort of all of the staff are my highest priority." He pauses and smiles. "Tell me, what can I do." I indicate in my most demure fashion that should he wish to, he could remove my boot, and the bothersome object, for me. Eager though he was, he took the time, and in a gallant manner, lifted the hem of my dress and the silk slip beneath to just above my knee, careful not to wrinkle any fabric, nor to linger upon my body. Then, he undid the lacing, and delicately, as if I and my attire were a precious piece of museum Chinaware, slipped the boot from my foot. He upended the boot and the offending pebble clanked to the floor. His hand then took my foot, almost in a loving embrace, and guided it back into the boot. The whole encounter took twice what it would have taken me, but it was clear that the ploy worked. One can say that my strong assets clearly won him over and in return he quickly reinstated the Library's funds. Linda put the diary down and smiled. While ethical codes were different today, she appreciated the way Clarissa rose to the occasion. She also remembered the days in college when she teased and seduced many of her classmates in a similar fashion, although not usually for any specific gain other than for pleasure. Images and scenes flooded her memory. Like the time she wore her high heels in physics class to attract the attention of a certain very-well-built male named Ivan. At first, she sat herself in front and below him in class (the room had stadium-styled seating). After feeling his eyes on her, she switched locations a week later, and he soon made is his way to a seat directly behind her. It wasn't long before he was helping her with problem sets and soon after that helping her with French and Greek, in a manner of speaking. And then there was that cute boy in Junior-year chemistry class, Samuel, who had a penchant for sweaters, especially a soft, cashmere-like one, with a low cut that revealed a little bit too much of my ample assets. Through some maneuvering, Linda became his lab partner, and then just his partner. She found herself blushing when the memory arose of the two of them literally engaged in their own experiment next to the Bunsen burners after all the other students had left at the end of class. It was not a coincidence that Linda took a lot of science classes, for the boy-to-girl ratio was always in her favor. It didn't hurt that she also had a wonderful mind for mathematics and reasoning, and enjoyed the classes on their own merits. Her college lovers, while frequently lacking in technique and endurance, made up for this with pure enthusiasm and passion. And then there was Mario during her Senior year, who pleased her to no end and persuaded her to marry him. That union didn't last long, and Linda quickly suppressed those painful memories, not wanting to spoil the mood she was in. But they did linger there, and the more she reminisced, the more she realized that since the breakup, her love life had been little to nil and that her marriage had buried all the good memories of what sex could be like. There was no reason why it could not be like that again. Age aside, there were likely plenty of good lovers still out there, and she, herself, was still in good shape and had much more experience to draw upon this time around. Linda fell to sleep with her mind made up that she would continue on where her predecessor in the diaries had left off. The next morning, after taking a long bubble bath, smoothing lotion over her body and doing her hair with a French twist, so that a few soft tendrils dropped down onto her exposed neck, Linda set up to dress a bit sexier than usual. Mr. Kuzy was quite attractive, and she wanted to determine if he was interested in more than just her furniture. Linda took time to search her closet, looking for that perfect outfit to accentuate her ivory-like skin. She eventually chose a tight, black skirt, which would reveal her long, shapely legs, the hemline hovering mid way down her thighs. Her sheer blouse was cream colored with a plunging neckline that revealed a soft peach colored, silk camisole beneath. Next she chose a garter belt and lace-trimmed, sheer black stockings. A tailored jacket which she would leave unbuttoned, completed the outfit. Linda then looked down at her regular shoes and shook her head. These wouldn't do for today, not at all. She kicked them off and then returned to the closet, finally drawing out a faded shoe box. The high-heel patent leather pumps inside still had their sheen. She slipped them on and walked slowly with a provocative step towards the dressing mirror, pirouetting playfully to examine how she looked in the outfit. Linda was pleased with what she saw. After applying her makeup, she chose delicate pearl earrings and a matching necklace. Complete and satisfied, she headed for the library office. Mr. Kuzy was waiting for her when she drove up. She had not anticipated this, arriving some twenty minutes before their appointment. Linda had plans to rehearse what she was going to say and do before he arrived. But her disappointment was softened when she saw how Mr. Kuzy was dressed. He, too, had clearly taken the time to primp and prune himself to be as attractive as possible, looking very sharp in his Armani suit, his face shaved and a hint of musk cologne. They shook hands once more, this time lingering just a fraction more than the first encounter, exchanged pleasantries, chatted about the weather, and eventually made their way to Linda's office. Her office was on the top floor and the windows overlooked the parking lot, with trees behind it. Plenty of privacy. Recalling the scene from the diary she had read last evening, Linda arranged the chairs in her office so that the two of them faced each other. They talked about the furniture specifications and costs, as well as delivery schedules and other details, dropping the occasional double entendre whose meanings were clearly understood. Then Linda asked, "Do you have the floor plans for each room, indicating the layout of the furniture?" "Certainly." Came the reply. Mr. Kuzy pulled out a long rolled sheet from a tube he had brought along. Passing it over to Linda, he said, "I hope you find the arrangement satisfactory." Linda tried to unroll the blueprint from her seat, but it was clearly too large. So she stood up and went over to her desk, unrolling it and placing heavy items at the four corners. Realizing that Mr. Kuzy was watching her intently, she purposely bent way over the desk, as if in a close, detailed inspection, making sure her shirt rose in response, exposing the tops of her lace stockings and silky smooth thighs. Pretending to need to balance herself, she spread her legs further part. Her skirt molded to her delicious curves and her perfume was released into the air. Mr. Kuzy took the hint, rising and walking over to her side. He asked, "Would you like me to explain the features?" He purposely stood right next to her, letting his hip ever so slightly touch hers. Then he bent over slightly, placing one arm around each side of her. Linda asked him to explain some of the symbols on the map, even though she already knew their meaning. As he responded, she leaned into him, slightly at first, then with more pressure when he did not complain or shy away. Upon finishing his explanation, he straightened up, and it was then that she felt his hand on her derriere. His caressing was slight at first, unsure and tentative, but after Linda pressed herself further against him, the caresses became firmer and bolder. It wasn't long before his hands slipped under the skirt, exploring the already moist area between her legs. Linda began to moan in pleasure, coaxing Mr. Kuzy on to explore and touch more. He eventually shifted position, placing himself directly behind her. Linda reveled in the increased tension in her body, as his fingers slipped inside her, her juices betraying her desire. He began to caress her clitoris. She knew that her orgasm was only moments away. "I'm sure that this proposal," she said coyly, "Offers some protection." Suddenly the hands stopped and disappeared. Linda was about to say something, to implore Mr. Kuzy to continue with his exquisite handiwork, when she distinctly heard the sound of a wrapper being torn. She also became aware of the faint smell of a condom. A moment later, two hands grabbed the cheeks of her derriere firmly and spread them apart. She then felt his engorged member press up against her and eventually slip ever-so-slowly inside. The sensation was unbelievable—so intense, almost sharp, like pain, but oh-so-much better. He began his rhythm slowly. At one point, he bent over her, slipping his arms beneath her, undoing the buttons of her blouse, and then massaging her breasts beneath the camisole. Her nipples, already large, grew ever harder with his caresses. When she felt she could not bear any more pleasure, Mr. Kuzy picked up his rhythm, flooding her with more sensations. His hands slid back along her body, stopping at her hips and grabbing her flesh firmly for leverage as he plunged into her ever harder. Linda reached the point where should couldn't hold out any longer and an orgasm unlike any she had experienced since her college days flooded her body. A moment later she felt Mr. Kuzy explode inside of her and felt him shudder in pleasure. The two remained joined that way for quite a few moments, each savoring the sensations still coursing through their bodies. Linda knew then that she would have to begin a diary of her own that evening, and that she would be continuing the legacy of Clarissa. End, Entry 2.