No One But Me

Chapter 3 - Library Duty

That night sleep alluded you. You tossed and turned in your bed, unable to silence your racing mind or quell the niggling tension that made your palms itch and your legs restless. You willed yourself not to think of Joel or the sensation of his fingers inside you or the roughness of his whiskey soaked voice growling in your ear. You were frustrated and annoyed that he had managed to uncover the bottled up emotions and desires you had buried inside yourself. You were even more irritated that he did it so easily. Why did he still have such a hold on you? How could he make you surrender to his touch and words, how could he totally destroy your prerogative with such little effort? Maybe he was right; maybe he did know you better than anyone else. The conviction of his spiteful words reverberated in your mind and you had to physically shake your head to rid yourself of the taunting thought.

You eventually found sleep but when you woke up the next morning there was an anxious gnawing in your belly and a heavy weight inside your chest cavity where your heart sat. Your whole being felt depleted and drained while simultaneously on edge. You fucked yourself with your fingers to relief the pressure, to chase the unfulfilled high Joel had left you with last night. You came while imagining his broad body pressing heavily on-top of you as he jackhammered in and out of your pussy; an explosive orgasm that left you panting and your thighs trembling. Afterwards you stood in the shower scrubbing yourself clean and cursing yourself for still feeling so attracted to Joel.

Today you were beginning your first shift at the library alongside Oscar. You were excited for the change in your schedule and a different work environment. You couldn't disappear from Jackson but you could make your presence scarce, totally alter the predictability of your routine. The quiet library would be the perfect place for you to continue working while you obscured yourself from Joel's sight. Judging from your first meeting Oscar seemed to be a nice person, and hopefully he would enjoy your company and you two would work together well.

You dressed in your prettiest blouse and your clean pair of jeans and combed your hair. You didn't linger to look in the mirror for too long, fearful of the shame that you were sure would be reflecting in your eyes. You weren't feeling hungry but forced yourself to eat a banana for breakfast along with a cup of peppermint tea. Since that night at Joel's you hadn't felt true hunger at all. Your body hadn't craved the need for food, atleast your mind hadn't registered any craving, too occupied with repressing the pain of your break up from Joel to acknowledge anything other than emotional suffering. When you stepped out of your front door you took in a deep breath of the fresh morning air before securing the door shut and heading off toward the centre of town.

******

You slipped through the library door, the bell above it giving a soft tinkle, and peered around for any sign of Oscar. You saw that the counter stood unattended and there were stacks and stacks of books piled on the floor beside it, probably from the most recent expedition, you guessed. It felt strange to not see Maude in her usual place and in that instant you missed her greatly. But things change, you reminded yourself. And you need to accept change right now. You swallowed the lump of sadness and dubiety that tangled in your throat and stepped towards the rows of book shelves, bobbing your head to peek over them.

"Oscar?" You called out timidly.

"I'm here, just give me a sec," his voice chimed from the storeroom behind the counter. You turned back toward where the soft trill of his voice had called from and stood still, waiting for his appearance. Oscar promptly emerged from the storeroom and wandered out from behind the counter, his head bowed in concentration at something in his hands. It was evident from his gait that one of his ankles were injured, one of his legs limping slightly with each step. When his head tilted up and he spotted you standing awkwardly by the book shelves, a smiled spread across his face. The warmth in his expression was so genuine, like he was actually happy to see you, and it made your stomach clinch momentarily. You gave him a small shy smile in return and lowered your gaze. He was carrying a tin of paint by a handle with one hand and a painting brush in the other.