The Librarian

Gladys

(And No! She doesn’t feel Glad. At all!)

I Dreamt Of Godzilla. He was rampaging through a large, brightly reflective glass city, though admittedly, from his perspective, he might only have been out for a casual stroll. It had been a nice day. Beyond the terror of him finding me.

Why me, in particular? I have no clue.

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My Geeky Alien Loves Godzilla

So when I notice a Godzilla DVD late fee on my list, I ponder the synchronicity. I dreamt of him and what? Now, he’s here? Nearby?

“What happened to Teele?”

“Oh, Miss Jane?”

“Umm yeaaah. She hasn’t been in for days. And absent from all the trainings. Did you notice?”

“Well, my dear, she has cosmic alignment syndrome.” At which, the matriarch giggled spontaneously with enough glee and mirth to fill an entire world. I had never witnessed such joy in her expression.

“Not feckin ever.” Cosmic Alignment Syndrome? What the fook? CAS…? Seriously? “Is there such a thing?”

“Oh yes. Ever. Her and Frayer. Her work here is now over. But, dear Gladys…” Those words echoed in my overly sensitive ear computers. Her work is over… over… over…

“What the actual frak?”

“Gladys, Dear One,” she placed her hands in mine, tilting her forehead to meet mine, in a gentle flux of power and an infusion of brilliance breathing into my well- my being. Lighting my mind. And suddenly I was seeing beyond the shelves. Beyond the pages. 

The words.

I could see Him.

“There now.” She patted my hands before releasing them.” My lip snarled in fury. “You’ll know what to do.”

“I know his face. The fookery is this?”

“Why yes, Dear Heart. That’s all part of the plan.”

“But Desrie- I legitimately recognize and know this man! The infernal- what it this? How did you-“

She winked, “Then all is well.”

“He’s been in my dreams!” I growled, loosely. “That rogue! Taunting me, haunting me, and in intimately ways, for years!” Teasing my body, promising me pleasure and unconditional love. Acceptance. Companionship. Forever. “Always there, even while awake, teasing at my notice. Visions from my dreams, flaring back to mind… and my body… at unacceptably public moments of my days in the library. Or in the grocery store!” Or standing under the glow of moonlight through my skylight. 

“Goodness! What a remarkable meet cute you’ve experienced. How delightful.” Desrie beamed, turned back to her stack of books and hummed as she added them to her book cart. As the wheels silently rolled away with only her humming for an indication that I was now alone, I glared as I stared out the huge window and into the woods. Out into a cloudy bright sky and forest.

“Meeting a guy in my dreams does not a meet cute make.” I raised my snarky voice, lecturing the books, and Desrie. Whatever pocket dimension she had disappeared into. I hmped out loud, “Hmmp!” Rolling my shoulders, losing my focus out there amid the trees. Time going blind to me and I- to it’s false construct. Whispered in my ear every morning, telling me a day, urging me to work harder. Faster. Longer. To never cease laboring for a meager wage that would see me homeless in mere days. Despite my training. Despite my knowledge. And my vast wisdom.

I’d been dreaming of him for what felt like forever. And for Always. Years. Decades. Never knowing he was the guy. But how could he really be my guy? My forever?

How could there be a forever when lately, it didn’t feel like there was a now?

When was tomorrow?

How was yesterday?

Why didn’t I feel tethered to my present?

And meeting and knowing were two very different feelings. I knew that guy. But never recalled meeting him. Not ever. So how? And why would it matter? I could just stay away from him. In my waking life. If he truly existed…

Did

I

Even

Believe

In

A

Forever

Anymore?

Maybe there was less of a heaven and spirit guides thing and it was more just ‘The Universe’ at play.

The Universe. She was a magnificent, mysterious, kinky-arsed Witch. A Goddess. Sure. But really fraked up. And I sort of hated her.

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“Hello, Gladys. I’m so happy you’re here.”

“You already know my name.”

“Yes, I’ve sort of been meeting you in my dreams for a while now.”

“Oh dear me. I’ve been meeting you too!”

“Do you recall what we do when we’re together?”

My cheeks heated, going supernova I was certain. I was very new to The Library system. To its training. I was… inhibited. And fretted I always would be. It’s not like I won awards for it or anything. Okay, so maybe I had some freakishly ugly, gold-ish pendants given to me for living my life as though I wasn’t alive. Religious relics.

I was tired and sick of trying so hard to be perfect.

To be pure.

To be chaste.

Benevolent and True.

To recite propaganda. 

To believe that sex was sacred.

That sex was bad, or naughty.

That feeling pleasure was bad.

That allowing my body to feel pleasure was somehow evil of me.

That wanting to feel pleasure was a sin.

That intimate touch was only allowed for two, heterosexual, married people. Only a woman married to a man. And that touching oneself was wrongo. Dumb. It was soooo dumb.

But I was not a married person.

I wanted to feel more.

Experience more than I had.

When all I really yearned for was to be touched. 

Human flipping contact.

A patron of the library… well, he was a patron of The Library. Which meant he knew what he was doing. He knew how to touch and hold, tease and tempt. 

And beyond our dreams, I wanted him to tease and tempt me!

Sooo feckin hard. In my real, waking life. 

My nipples peaked in “antici… pation.” Yes, so much eagerness and remembrance of how he liked to touch me in our dreams. 

Feathering that ultra soft makeup brush across my pert, impish nipples. Tenderly at first, a soft swipe, brushing up and down, and turning to more forceful sweeps of bristles and sensations across my needy flesh. 

My body felt needy, empty and wanting. 

My training was lacking but I was so very hopeful that we could fall for each other, completely. That we were meant for more than teasing sleep walks. And dreamy love fucking.