jobob
Rock n' Roll Doggie ALL ACCESS
A Story Without Me
Chapter 1: In the Library.
Disclaimer: The title comes from "A Day Without Me." It's so titled because my hero is Bono. But he is Bono with a different life, and without U2. (Not a big deal in this chapter.) Confused? I'll explain later. There is an actual Bono quote within the following scenairo. The rest can be found in the fanfiction section.
Thanks to: Bri (your caps inspired me, what else can I say ... ), YDW and her stories and questions, SG, PLEBA Parties, all those PLEBA photos, Radio Free Virgin.com and its U2 ZooRadio channel, "Bono in Conversation," and the rapidly-approaching end of my college career. Diane, I hope you'll especially enjoy this. All is quiet here, so please silence your cell phones and speak softly:
After you earned your library degree, you took a part-time job at this suburban library. You thought it would be a good resume-building experience. Full-time jobs can be hard to get for a brand-new librarian in your city. Plus they told you this job could lead to something else.
Your first month of helping people and working with the collections has been interesting. Saying "the restrooms are down the hall to your left" did get old quickly, though.
One evening, he walked up to you at the reference desk. He was one patron you wouldn't forget. Dark brown, nearly black hair, medium length, stylishly brushed back. Blue designer sunglasses perched on a somewhat large nose. Nice suit jacket and slacks. Charisma and sex appeal you could feel. Slightly shorter than you. But you are slightly taller than average.
"Good evening, sir. May I help you?" you ask in your friendly yet professional, may-I-help-you-find-what-you're-looking-for voice. You can more or less see through those blue sunglasses -- and you would swear they're shading a beautiful pair of eyes. Are they blue eyes?
As you struggle to turn your attention back to your patron's information needs, he speaks. "Oh, yes, love, I could use your help," he replies in a soft, intriguing -- and sexy -- Irish accent. "I've become interested in global poverty, debt relief, and African issues. Would you have any new books about those subjects?"
Through the sunglasses, he winks at you.
Oh God, help me concentrate on my patron's needs and not on him, you silently pray as he waits for you to search the online catalog for the keywords "Africa and poverty and debt relief."
You find two books in the catalog and lead him to the New Non-Fiction section. One of the two books is on the shelf. You pull it from the shelf, and hand it to him. As you do so, he lightly brushes your arm. You smile, he smiles back.
"Thanks, this looks perfect." He grins, widely. "You've been very helpful, love. May I ask for you again if I need anything else?"
"Of course, sir...."
"Please, don't call me sir. I hate that! Call me B. Most of my friends do." His charm and quick, easy familiarity make you laugh.
"Well, B, I'll be at the reference desk until the library closes at eight."
You tell him your name, Jo, so he can ask for you. And your pleased -- and pleasing -- patron takes his book to a chair in the nearby reading area.
For the next hour, you're occupied with other patrons and other tasks. However, B sat close enough to the desk to take an occasional flirtatious look, or two or three, at you. And he saw some of your glances at him.
Before you knew it, it was quarter to eight. Time to close up. Your favorite patron is still holding his book, but now appears to have dozed off in his seat. For some reason, B's sunglasses are now on the coffee table next to his chair. His face looks younger, sexier, without them.
You go to him, take a deep breath, touch his shoulder, lean in close to his ear, and gently speak: "B, the library is about to close. I think you fell asleep ..."
On your words, your sleeping beauty awakens, yawns a little, rubs his eyes, then looks at you. "I've slept in some strange places, but the library wasn't one of them," he mischeviously tells you.
"Really?" Looking into his eyes, you tease back. You were right, his eyes are blue. Deep sky blue, with traces of gold.
He then puts his large hand on your neck, gently pulls your head next to his, brushes his lips to yours, steals a wonderful kiss.
Before you can kiss him back, or start to worry if anyone saw what just happened, or look into those eyes again, he moves his mouth to your ear.
His next words, seductively whispered into your ear, surprise and arouse you.
"I have never slept with a librarian, either ... "
Feedback will be as appreciated by me as if it were a new U2 or Springsteen song (believe me, I appreciate Bono and Bruce very much). Post your comments, or PM me. The second chapter will be posted shortly. I am writing and editing more chapters, and I want to post them on a regular basis.
Chapter 1: In the Library.
Disclaimer: The title comes from "A Day Without Me." It's so titled because my hero is Bono. But he is Bono with a different life, and without U2. (Not a big deal in this chapter.) Confused? I'll explain later. There is an actual Bono quote within the following scenairo. The rest can be found in the fanfiction section.
Thanks to: Bri (your caps inspired me, what else can I say ... ), YDW and her stories and questions, SG, PLEBA Parties, all those PLEBA photos, Radio Free Virgin.com and its U2 ZooRadio channel, "Bono in Conversation," and the rapidly-approaching end of my college career. Diane, I hope you'll especially enjoy this. All is quiet here, so please silence your cell phones and speak softly:
After you earned your library degree, you took a part-time job at this suburban library. You thought it would be a good resume-building experience. Full-time jobs can be hard to get for a brand-new librarian in your city. Plus they told you this job could lead to something else.
Your first month of helping people and working with the collections has been interesting. Saying "the restrooms are down the hall to your left" did get old quickly, though.
One evening, he walked up to you at the reference desk. He was one patron you wouldn't forget. Dark brown, nearly black hair, medium length, stylishly brushed back. Blue designer sunglasses perched on a somewhat large nose. Nice suit jacket and slacks. Charisma and sex appeal you could feel. Slightly shorter than you. But you are slightly taller than average.
"Good evening, sir. May I help you?" you ask in your friendly yet professional, may-I-help-you-find-what-you're-looking-for voice. You can more or less see through those blue sunglasses -- and you would swear they're shading a beautiful pair of eyes. Are they blue eyes?
As you struggle to turn your attention back to your patron's information needs, he speaks. "Oh, yes, love, I could use your help," he replies in a soft, intriguing -- and sexy -- Irish accent. "I've become interested in global poverty, debt relief, and African issues. Would you have any new books about those subjects?"
Through the sunglasses, he winks at you.
Oh God, help me concentrate on my patron's needs and not on him, you silently pray as he waits for you to search the online catalog for the keywords "Africa and poverty and debt relief."
You find two books in the catalog and lead him to the New Non-Fiction section. One of the two books is on the shelf. You pull it from the shelf, and hand it to him. As you do so, he lightly brushes your arm. You smile, he smiles back.
"Thanks, this looks perfect." He grins, widely. "You've been very helpful, love. May I ask for you again if I need anything else?"
"Of course, sir...."
"Please, don't call me sir. I hate that! Call me B. Most of my friends do." His charm and quick, easy familiarity make you laugh.
"Well, B, I'll be at the reference desk until the library closes at eight."
You tell him your name, Jo, so he can ask for you. And your pleased -- and pleasing -- patron takes his book to a chair in the nearby reading area.
For the next hour, you're occupied with other patrons and other tasks. However, B sat close enough to the desk to take an occasional flirtatious look, or two or three, at you. And he saw some of your glances at him.
Before you knew it, it was quarter to eight. Time to close up. Your favorite patron is still holding his book, but now appears to have dozed off in his seat. For some reason, B's sunglasses are now on the coffee table next to his chair. His face looks younger, sexier, without them.
You go to him, take a deep breath, touch his shoulder, lean in close to his ear, and gently speak: "B, the library is about to close. I think you fell asleep ..."
On your words, your sleeping beauty awakens, yawns a little, rubs his eyes, then looks at you. "I've slept in some strange places, but the library wasn't one of them," he mischeviously tells you.
"Really?" Looking into his eyes, you tease back. You were right, his eyes are blue. Deep sky blue, with traces of gold.
He then puts his large hand on your neck, gently pulls your head next to his, brushes his lips to yours, steals a wonderful kiss.
Before you can kiss him back, or start to worry if anyone saw what just happened, or look into those eyes again, he moves his mouth to your ear.
His next words, seductively whispered into your ear, surprise and arouse you.
"I have never slept with a librarian, either ... "
Feedback will be as appreciated by me as if it were a new U2 or Springsteen song (believe me, I appreciate Bono and Bruce very much). Post your comments, or PM me. The second chapter will be posted shortly. I am writing and editing more chapters, and I want to post them on a regular basis.
It's good, continue your great work!!!!
More, more!
