You’re Up, You’re Down, But You’re Always Torn
But all my friends seem to think that they do
And they keep telling me things I’d rather not hear
So just be honest with me. I don’t care
I need to hear it from your red lips right here
We’re both too keen to be some goddamn runarounds
Darling, you’re a wildcard
You say you love me then you’re wrecking my heart
You’re so confusing and you’re hard to find
But when you want some loving then you’re right by my side
With summer programs in full swing at all the libraries in her system, Carolina found herself swamped as well, even though she was well away from the hustle and bustle for most of her days. One branch in particular had received a veritable truckload of donations, few of which were usable, and she was given the task of sorting through the for anything that might be in decent enough condition to add.
And so, that was how she found herself sitting in the workroom floor, surrounded by boxes and boxes of paperback romances. It was funny; considering what she wrote, Carolina really wasn’t a fan of the typical Harlequin sort of romance. She found them to a ridiculous and cheesy, and the 1990s cover art on these didn’t help that impression at all.
All the endless variations of Fabio seemed to blend together, making Carolina’s head spin. She couldn’t resist taking time to read a few pages here and there. It always surprised her just how racy some of these books were. Patrons would freak out if anything obviously dark and erotic was on the shelf, but paint a pastel watercolor beefcake on the cover and they would let anything slip by.
Reading those books reminded her of the silly suggestion Taylor had made. When she pulled out a book that featured a librarian on the cover, she nearly doubled over laughing at the sheer coincidence of it all. At the same time, it seemed like a sign. She quickly grabbed her phone from the desk and positioned herself with the book held in front of her chest. It took a few tries to get a good picture, one that showed just a hint of cleavage and pouty lips, though she still looked far more conservative than the book’s cover model.
She opened her texts and sent the picture to Taylor, not bothering to include a caption. She was fairly certain he would still understand the message she was trying to send.
Hating the way Taylor made her so anxious for a response, Carolina forced herself to put her phone back on the desk and continue working. It was easy enough to get absorbed in the work until it was time to break for lunch. When she did, she checked her phone and was pleased to see that Taylor had responded.
Want to find out?
She practically tossed her phone across her desk, shocking even herself with how bold she had been. She didn’t want to know how Taylor would respond to that. If he ignored it—or worse, said no—she didn’t know what she would do.
As she ate her leftover pizza, an idea began to form in Carolina’s mind. She knew Taylor loved her accent—he had no shame about admitting that during a Skype session with a dozen other fans listening—and he was intrigued by the idea of her writing about a naughty librarian. She wasn’t nearly bold enough to write something just for him, but she could figured she could probably read someone else’s dirty words without embarrassing herself to death.
For a brief moment, she imagined doing it at work. She supposed she could see the appeal in that—the forbidden aspect of it, the buttoned-up librarian loosening up, being secretive and naughty way back in the stacks. Of course, she wouldn’t actually do anything like that. But maybe she should write about it. As though she needed more plot bunnies…
Maybe I am, maybe I’m not 😉
She had his attention now, Carolina thought. With butterflies dancing in her stomach, she struggled to finish eating her lunch. She still had three hours left in her shift and a mountain of books left to sort through, all standing in the way of her plan.
In record time, she had finished all but the crust, and she quickly tossed it in the trash. The book in question still sat on her desk, and she shoved it into her purse. She knew most of the donations were destined for the book sale or the recycle bin, and in any case, she didn’t intend to add this one to the collection. She would slip it back into the sale pile the next day and no one would be the wiser.
Like everything else, it would be just between her and Taylor.
As she continued sorting through moldy old books, Carolina became aware that she was existing in two worlds. One that was real, and another that was… well, it was equally real. But it was also a fantasy, something that lived within her phone and her laptop, and only bleed over into her offline life occasionally. It was easy to forget that there were consequences, that the actions she took had ripple effects. It was easy to forget that she wasn’t behaving at all like the mature mid-twenties person she liked to think she was.
Maybe she was tired of being an adult, though. Maybe she wanted to have some fun while she was still young. Maybe she wanted to make some mistakes. She had spent too long trying to be responsible, to make up for her early college years. She was ready to do some bad things again, and she planned to do some that very night.
That evening, Carolina was so full of nervous energy that she didn’t bother even trying to have dinner. She fed her cats, then went straight to her bedroom to find something to wear. She had to do this right; there was no point in pretending this was anything but a performance for him.
As she dug through her closet for something suitably low cut, a voice at the back of Carolina’s head told her that she was no better than fans like Delanie, who sent him photos and videos of things she preferred not to envision. There was one big difference, though. He wanted her. He had actually had her. If it weren’t for that, Carolina never would have had the nerve to be so presumptuous and send him anything.
She wasn’t sure it was a difference that really mattered, but it was still a difference, and she was going to cling to it for as long as she could.
Finally, she settled on a short-sleeved shirt that buttoned halfway down. With all of them unbuttoned, she didn’t look like a librarian at all. Just a hint of leopard print bra was showing. Perfect, she thought to herself.
It took a little more work to get herself positioned in front of her webcam, the book propped up on her desk so that it wouldn’t block the view but was still close enough that she could read the pages. A pair of glasses would have been nice, if she’d had them—and wasn’t that part of the librarian stereotype anyway? She turned the screen just a bit more to hide how she had to squint to see the words on the page.
With everything in place, Carolina hit record.
“Marielle threw her head back, her auburn hair falling free of its bun, and her glasses going askew. She fumbled to remove them entirely, laying them on the bookshelf to her side. Brent tugged at her shirt, sending buttons skittering across the floor, the sound they made echoing through the empty library.
This was so dirty and forbidden, and she loved every second of it. His hand danced up her skirt, inching up further up until he reached his destination, the wetness between her legs. Just when Marielle thought she could take no more, he dropped to his knees in front of her. Marielle gasped, her hand clamping over her mouth even though she knew this section of the library was almost always empty.
Brent’s head ducked underneath her skirt, and Marielle could not contain her moans at that. His tongue danced expertly against the most sensitive part of her and she didn’t care at all that they were in public. She felt herself moving closer and closer to the edge until—”
That seemed like a good place to stop, Carolina decided. Truthfully, she was embarrassed to go any further. Maybe she should have had a drink or two before attempting this. At least it wasn’t her own writing; on second thought, at least her writing was slightly better. Still, the thought of Taylor really knowing what she liked, what she fantasized about—even though he’d seen every part of her body, she wasn’t so sure she was ready for him to know her mind that well. Maybe that was irrational. Then again, this entire situation was irrational and unbelievable.
Before she could convince herself to delete it, she uploaded the video. She didn’t dare re-watch it before sending it. Her voice was nasal, with a country twang that varied in thickness depending upon her emotions, and she hated the sound of it. Knowing that Taylor liked it barely helped at all.
The video was uploaded and ready to send in only a matter of seconds. She logged into her MySpace account on a whim; there were traces of Taylor over her entire online presence these days. She typed a quick message and hit send, then slammed her laptop shut.
Time for a drink, she decided. She had picked up a special bottle of rum while she was in Los Angeles the first time but hadn’t had occasion to open it yet. This seemed as good a time as any.
She padded to the kitchen and pulled a shot glass from the back of a cabinet; it was the only one she still owned. She’d left several of them behind after undergrad, and anyway, she usually just drank straight from the bottle then like the hot mess that she was. She wasn’t so sure this wasn’t an occasion that called for that very same thing.
Carolina poured herself a generous shot, nearly spilling over the edge. It took a concentrated effort to get the glass to her lips without spilling a drop.
The first one burned, but the second one went down a little easier. By the third and fourth, it was smooth and she could taste every little note and flavor.
Four shots that quickly was probably enough, she reasoned. She plunked the glass into the sink, wincing a little at how it clattered. Maybe four had been too many. Too late to worry about that, she decided. In any case, she didn’t work until late the next day. Getting a little tipsy at home and falling into bed was just fine.
She barely managed to make it to her bed and change out of her special webcam outfit and into pajamas before she felt herself starting to get fuzzy around the edges. The first pair of pajamas she grabbed just happened to be the flowery, grandma looking pair she had worn that first night with Taylor. She still didn’t really understand what he had seen in her—no makeup, awkward, drunk, stoned, a little chubby. She had done everything wrong, and it had still happened.
Carolina was sure she would wake up from this dream any day now. Until then, she was going to do her best to enjoy the ride, although it was a roller coaster she couldn’t predict. She didn’t want to think what the next low might be.