Brad Knows

Brad knows one thing is certain. He must not embrace it any longer.

Unsure of how the control actually occurs, he knows that he is a slave to it. It isn't really beautiful, but he can't tear his eyes from it. It is old and worn, yet he can't resist touching it. The pungent pervasive odor it exudes is almost intolerable, but he invariably brings his nose to it.

And now, as he contemplates his drastic decision to destroy it, his hands tenderly glide over the soft leather, made supple from centuries of similar touches. His fingertips gently stroke the limp tattered edges, his oils adding to the darkened blotches from many before. His lips pucker as his cheeks delicately caress this object of his desire. And his nostrils impulsively search for the musty smell as he nestles sweetly between the folds and inhales deeply.

The last he hears is the crackle and hiss of the logs and twigs underneath the weight of his master. The last he sees is the playful dance of sparks fly up and extinguish above his master. And the last he remembers is his will being drawn from him, sucked out of him, by his master.

Brad awakens some time later, as he always does...unsure of how long he has been under the spell and unsure of what has actually happened. His memory is always vague. It is much like awakening from an intense dream where the images are vivid immediately, but fade away almost as quickly, to the point where the dream is really incomprehensible and irretrievable.

The images this time are of him tied at the stake in the middle of a huge blazing fire. He recalls the fright because his heart is still pounding hard and fast, and his shirt is soaked from perspiration. But he recalls no origin of the pleasure, only sure that it has occurred, an extreme satisfaction and spent-like feeling evidenced by his jeans gathered around his ankles and his ejaculation fresh and wet on his hand and belly.

Brad, once more, is puzzled and astonished. The effect of his master has not diminished one iota, and he has been holed up in his apartment for days, a slave to this object's repeated pull. He hasn't had contact, male or female, friendly or sexual, since he has acquired this amazing find. He has preferred its company to the others, answering no phone calls and using sick days to escape work.

Sometimes Brad thinks it is an evil thing, something diabolical and sinister, an inanimate object that has a real, living possession of his soul. His only recollection of any interaction with this object however is one of pure pleasure, one of a longing to return. He has tried to read the Latin text in hopes of discovering the secret to its power, but he never translates more than a few words before he is swept into the erotic beauty of its indisputable dominance. Hence, his decision to destroy it and remove any possible contact with it, so that he may return to a life of his own, becomes paramount.

But when Brad stares at the destructive pyre, he is even more astonished to discover that his master has survived. Only a few remaining coals glow around this ancient work. Indestructible and barely soiled from the ashes, Brad is determined to efface this large and mysterious tome from his reality.

Debra arrives early at work this morning in order to get a jumpstart on the sorting. When she left the library last night, there were a few more boxes in the hallway that had not been looked at yet and the annual used book sale would begin its two-day run tomorrow.

It's not that Debra is a dedicated employee and doesn't mind the overtime. It's that she needs the jumpstart to avoid harassment from her boss, the library director, the overbearing, the ever fearful, domineering Ms. Bannister.

And it's not that Debra doesn't deserve to be reprimanded and prodded. It's that Ms. Bannister's admonishment is a tad harsh and unnecessarily public. Debra admits she does tend to get distracted. Reading is her passion and she just simply can't pick up a book and process it, shelve it, or in this case sort it, without at least reading the jacket. And she admits that sometimes the jacket lures her to skim the pages inside.

It's not that Debra's work doesn't get done. It's that it gets done in more time than is needed or it gets done only because Ms. Bannister is breathing down her neck.

Debra can hear Ms. Bannister's screeching voice, "Deb-or-ah! Deb-or-ah!" How Debra loathes the three syllables. Not that Deborah is a bad name; it's just not her name. It's similar to a girl who spells her name with a "y" such as "Kerry" and sees someone has spelled it with an "i"...not inherently bad, just not the way it is spelled.

Several boxes of books have been donated and left on the library porch since closing last night. Debra carries in two of the boxes, but the third, too heavy, must be dragged to the sorting area. She decides to come back for that one and to start on the others before the library opens.

Brad has been patiently, but more curiously, waiting for the library to open. He needs to see if this ancient book will have the same compelling effect on the next beholder.

Debra finishes sorting the few boxes from last night. Before she tackles the two new ones left this morning, she sits back to relax with a book that she found interesting. She hears the key turn in the door.

It's too early for Ms. Bannister to be here, but sure enough Debra hears, "Deb-or-ah, Deb-or-ah! You are here early! And you left the front door unlocked! Deb-or-ah! Where are you? There's another box of used books out here. There you are. Quick child, get that box and sort them! We only have today to get these books in order and set up for the sale."

Debra closes her book, places it among the historical fictions and heads to the porch for that heavy box.

When Brad sees Debra finally come back, he offers to carry the box for her. Grateful that she doesn't have to drag it, she accepts his offer, directs him to the back of the library, and whispers that he may stay for the library is about to open soon anyway.

He pretends to read the morning paper as he anxiously observes Debra opening the box. Her nose wrinkles with disapproval as she folds back each flap of the lid. She removes several books from the top and steps back a little from the awful odor that rises more offensively toward her nostrils.

Brad nods with understanding and stifles an urge to reclaim his master. Instead, he moves to another chair, one that is closer, in hopes that he can at least get a better view when she pulls the old book out of the box. And pull it out she will, for there is no way anyone can resist the command this piece has over whomever comes within the slightest contact of it.

As Debra's hands reach deep into the box, Brad's pulse begins to race. His palms begin to sweat. And as the huge, heavy leather volume is lifted from the box, Brad's body begins to tingle with a desire to rush over to his master and embrace it once more!

But again he manages to control and remind himself that he must not allow this to happen again. He must also see if Debra has the same reaction.

He watches her intently as she stares at the old worn leather cover. Her fingers softly glaze over it and caress the tattered edges. She brings it to her face slowly and deliberately as she inhales deeply. She closes her eyes, opens the book and buries her nose deep into the pages.

Hundreds of mold spores and dust particles sputter and sparkle about Debra. Her stiff body relaxes. Her heavy eyes open. Her dry mouth spouts incomprehensible syllables. Brad's body twitches with a yearning to join her. It all seems familiar, yet distant.

Suddenly and robotically Debra's syllables form words. The words form phrases and the phrases form commands, "The next words you hear, the next sight you see will control your behavior."

In the distance comes, "Deb-or-ah? Deb-or-ah! There you are, lost in those stupid book titles again! There is a patron here that needs help! Deb-or-ah!"

Book titles

Debra's attention shifts to the patron as her hands systematically lower the old book onto the table and she hears, "I am looking for the book, Moving Through Menopause, by Kathy Smith."

Without warning, Debra rudely snaps, "Did you bother to look it up in the card catalogue?" Then again, without skipping a beat, she sweetly adds, "Oh, let me help you. Then I can direct you to the stack where it is shelved."

The puzzled patron follows Debra who is now fanning her face with her hand and complaining about how hot she feels. She rudely remarks that the patron will just have to help herself because "I can't take this heat anymore and I am too busy to play around with you!"

Brad realizes that her rapid mood swings and hot flash are related to menopause, but Debra has no idea. Being far too young to be menopausal, the thought would never enter her mind. Brad also realizes that Debra exudes a kind of sexy aura in her innocent and slightly maniacal behavior.

Luckily, the ringing phone offers Debra a valid reason to excuse herself politely, leaving the poor patron perplexed and very unsatisfied.

She answers, "Washington County Public Library, how may I help you?"

Debra's hand goes to her long dark hair and her pointer finger begins to twist and curl the locks. Her feet begin to shuffle a little and her lower lip pushes out in a tiny pout as she responds in a childlike voice, "Yep, we do. I will save it for you."

She hangs up the phone, sticks her thumb in her mouth, and skips off to the stacks. Brad, amused, watches her find Mary Higgins Clark's book, Daddy's Little Girl. Even though it is eye level, Debra believes it is out of reach. She rises on her toes for added height, making her calf muscles harden and define. Brad's amusement shifts to mild arousal as his eyes travel up her skirt and to her slender waist and broader shoulders.

Debra grabs the book, drops it, and quickly looks around for Ms. Bannister's reproachful eyes as she swiftly scoops the book into her hands. Relieved to not have been caught, she giggles, turns on her heel and skips back to the circulation desk.

"Deb-or-ah! Someone needs to check out!

"Gee," thinks Brad, "Can't the bitch let up a little?"

Debra pulls her thumb from her mouth, looks at the patron, and says very loudly, "Hi! Whatcha doin'?"

Brad notices Ms. Bannister's scornful look. He begins to wonder if bringing the old book here was a good idea or not. However, Debra takes the first book from the patron and reads aloud, "Whispers by Belva Plain." Ms. Bannister suppresses her comment because, in the nick of time, Debra instantly begins to discuss in a barely audible voice, and not childlike anymore, how much she enjoyed this book herself. She continues to whisper that she especially identified with one of the characters as she scans it for checkout.

Brad, unable to hear clearly, listens as Debra's whisper disappears completely. With the patron's second book, The Silent Lady, by Catherine Cookson, Debra begins to communicate with motions and gestures. Her hands sign, her arms gesture, and her lips mouth her words. She becomes so animated that her hips begin to wiggle and her shoulders start to sway. Her whole body performs a sensuous rhythmic dance that enthralls Brad and causes an awakening deep in the wells of his libido.

She scans the book for the patron, sweetly smiles as she waves a cute little good-bye, and turns to see Ms. Bannister glaring back and forth from her to the cart of returned books that need to be reshelved. Brad tries to hide his bulge behind a magazine as Debra wheels the cart of books in his direction.

She picks up Judith Michael's, A Ruling Passion. She lowers her head slightly and casts an upward glance at Brad. Surprised that their eyes meet, he impulsively nods and smiles. Debra's hot blood begins to course throughout her body. She feels it radiate from her chest, into her arms and legs, and all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes. The heat travels up her neck, to her face, and tingles her scalp with tiny pulsations. The flushed feeling makes her dart behind the stacks with an invitation for Brad to join her.

His mouth is drawn to hers in a passionate kiss. She responds with a passion of her own and as she turns to kiss in another direction she catches a glimpse of James Hall's book on the shelf. The title, Gone Wild, causes Debra to pierce Brad's lips with her tongue. He parts a little to accept. Debra reads Gone Wild again. She stabs her tongue into his mouth forcing him to open wider. Again she reads the title, Gone Wild, and spears his mouth deeper making their tongues swish and swash like foils in the hands of drunken musketeers.

One last look at Gone Wild causes Debra to drop to her knees. She unzips Brad's jeans and unsheathes his sword of steel. She robustly covers him with her mouth and clamps him between her tongue and palate. She fervently rides him with hard, fast pumps while her hands cup his ass and thrust him deeper inside her. She "goes wild" for one long exhilarating minute until she feels the pounding pulse of his vein sending sparks of excitement throughout her mouth and face. With a forceful hand, she grabs her own sex and orgasms to his climatic release of hot juice down her thirsty throat.

The sound of heels hitting hard on the floor becomes apparent as Brad breaks away and quickly composes himself. Debra's orgasm has broken her spell and, like Brad in the past, she has quick vivid images of words, titles, and embarrassing behavior. But just as quickly, she remembers nothing, except for a pleasure, an extreme satisfaction and spent- like feeling evidenced by the lingering throb and moistness between her legs.

"Deb-or-ah! Deb-or-ah! Where are you? Can't you see that there is work to be done?" Ms. Bannister finds Debra and Brad approaching her with extended arms. Debra offers the ancient tome for Ms. Bannister to examine.

Of course she cannot resist its lure. That soft supple leather, the oil-stained tattered edges, and the odor...oh that wonderful horrific aroma...who could resist further examination?

The ritual has begun and Ms. Bannister is soon reciting the incomprehensible syllables. Brad's body begins to twitch. Debra's begins to throb. When Ms. Bannister's words become commands, her master's commands, Debra slips a book into her hands, a book by Linda Howard, a book titled Dying To Please.