A Rendezvous

Author's Note: This is a shorter story than many of those I've shared, somewhere between a mix of plot and sexual content. It's not a sudden, sexy read but there's a faster progression with characters leading to intimacy. Of course, same thing as usual, please bear in mind that this is adult content so don't read this if you're not of legal age. Enjoy!

Chapter I

Drenched in sweat, I wake in a mass of sheets with the cotton fabric stuck to my back, heavy with sweat. The dreams are gone now and once again I don't really remember them. This is the seventh night I've woken in heavy darkness, a racing heartbeat the remnants of what must have been a powerful dream. I shudder, the coolness of the air in my room settling over me as I untangle myself from the sheets to sit up. I crawl across the bed to get my phone from the bedside table. The time reads five fifty seven, with only three minutes until the morning alarm on my smartphone is set to go off. I scramble to turn off the alarm before it sounds out, stagger up and proceed to get ready for the rest of the day.

As the effects of my morning coffee begin to stir me into action, I follow through with the process of my daily fitness routine. After I've completed pushups, pull ups and a run on the treadmill for twenty minutes I'm satisfied that I've done enough for a Monday morning. After showering I get ready to leave the house, the cool fall air refreshing against my face.

Now's probably a good time to talk a little about who I am. I'm Jess Blaine, a twenty two year old studying social work in college. I'm tall, a couple of inches away from being six foot, lanky to the point where working out is a necessity to build muscle to give the impression that I'm not a twig. I'm kind of a huge lesbian when it comes to appearance. It's pretty obvious I'm queer, with my dark hair trimmed extremely short around the back and sides and slightly longer on top. It's the stereotyped lesbian look which speaks for me, as opposed to me having to open my mouth and say it. It's not quite a punk rock look, not quite the stereotyped classic conservative men's hairstyle either.

I also happen to comfortably wear clothes designed and sold with men in mind. Generally, because I'm so slim I try to seek fitted items of clothing, since I have a vastly different body than what men's clothing is designed for. I'm no fan of wearing tent-like outfits, but that's just me. Anyway, enough of how I look, there's more to all of us than appearance.

It took me three years after finishing high school and working in several different fields (most of which weren't that great) to decide what I wanted to make a career out of. The idea of being a social worker or a counsellor of some kind seemed like a good idea since I imagined that helping people would be a worthwhile career choice. And so here I was in my first year of study, already realizing that I was in it for the long haul and I had better do the best I could, so that a Masters in social work would be an option.

I suppose you could say I'm not really someone who knows what path to follow until I spend a lot of time thinking about what choices are available. I'm not indecisive, just willing to keep my opportunities open in life-it's hard to cut out options when you see so many possibilities. I'm not a quiet person, in fact, I'm pretty outgoing, energetic even. But, when it comes to a lot of things in life, I find it hard to be objective and plan ahead with concrete ideas-I'm always thinking about 'what if?'

I drive to university, not particularly keen for the day ahead, with the week about to grind into a start. I grit my teeth and bare it as I arrive at the campus, thankful that I'm able to find a park before piles of cars invade the car parks. I double check to make sure my parking permit is visible on the front dash, grab my bag and shut the door, looking around at the car park.

I lock my car and slip the remote into my jacket, turning to head to the library for some study before my first lecture of the day. Looking up, I notice a woman walking across the car park, through isles of cars a few metres ahead of me. She's slim, not particularly tall, but small and light on her feet as she moves. She wears a dark jacket and as she moves between a gap of cars, I see she's wearing dark jeans and shoes. I don't really know what makes me notice her, as all I can see is the back of her as she walks away from me. All I can determine is a pale shapely neck and short, dark hair shaped into a softer style than mine.

Just as I wonder what her face looks like, she looks over her shoulder, a pair of light blue eyes scanning her surroundings and falling on me for a brief moment. She looks like she's in her early thirties, slightly past the fresh stage of adulthood and closer to the more mature side. Her features reveal nothing directly, in the way of emotions, but perhaps I can see the faintest of smiles rising from the corner of rich, red lips. Then she turns, moving just as swiftly into the grounds. I suck in a slight breath, feeling slightly dizzy. I'm confused at the feeling, but I figure it's probably just the cool air and the heaviness of the laptop in my bag, or something along those lines. The woman disappears into the main campus building ahead of me as I continue on my way to the library, a nearby, albeit separate building.

In the library I get to work with finding some source material for a current essay. After fifteen minutes I'm deeply engrossed in reading through a chapter for some content worthy of using within my essay when I notice muffled footsteps nearby. Thinking nothing of it, I begin slip the book back into place in the isle when I freeze, noticing a pair of blue eyes directly in front of me. I feel my own widen in surprise, as I almost drop the book, the cover opening with pages springing outwards. I fumble and make sure I haven't creased any pages, and by the time I look up again, it seems that in that moment the eyes have gone.

I slip the book back in its place, hands suddenly clammy, heart racing with awkwardness. I take a deep breath and wander to the end of the walkway, but when I take a look down the aisle where someone had been, all I see is a deserted space. I scratch a sudden, eerie tingle at the back of my neck, scanning the rows of books before me. There's not a sound to be heard and not a single person to be seen. I sigh and glance at my watch, before hurrying to my lecture, not wanting to be late. During the lecture I'm restless, not entirely sure why, although I have my suspicion that I know why I'm uncomfortable.

That night I dream of bright blue eyes and red lips and when I wake with the memory of the dreams, I'm not drenched in sweat with fear. Instead, I wake with a nervous tremor in my hands and the dull throbbing of desire roaring through me. I blink away the visions, but the feeling's still there as I recall the woman I saw the day before. Slim, graceful and fleeting, like an apparition borne from imagination. I lie there, very still, in the middle of my bed, reliving the moment I saw her in my mind's eye. With my eyes shut, I give myself over to the feelings of lust circling through me, letting my self-restraint slip away.

My fingers trail along my skin, through the singlet I wear, down and along my abdomen, until they find the band of my underwear. Slipping down and into the fabric, I explore the wetness, surprised by the sheer amount of it dripping out of my pussy. The dream really got me going, it seems. My fingertips are drenched before they enter me, and as I push two fingers of one hand up and along my depths, I groan, air hissing through my teeth. Instantly my fingers are coated in slick juice.

My hips jolt as I brush gently past my sweet spots, my ass rising slightly off the bed, as I begin to slide my fingers along my walls. With my breaths becoming louder and faster as I move quicker and increase the pressure, the feeling of the throbbing amplifies with every moment. Perspiration forms across my body as I moan louder still, my hips trembling as I continue to push and swirl my fingers faster still, as my groans become whimpers. The climax is sudden, halting my breath and rushing past my eager fingers, which slow to a gentler pace as I gasp for air. I lie there for a moment, before deciding it would be a good idea to change the sheets.

I spent the day attending lectures and planning assignments with fellow students. Near the end of the day, I feel an odd pull to go to the library, just to check for another couple of books for the essay I've almost finished. I arrived not long before library closing time, but I knew I wouldn't be hanging around long, since I knew exactly where to look for books in the topic. I head to the isle where I figured there'd be the most books and proceed to check the spines of various titles. I'm fairly engrossed, but I turn to see the very same woman from the day before, approaching to place several books on the shelving several steps away.

I try to function as my concentration slips away from me. She's definitely real, I realize, taking in her graceful movements thanks to my peripheral vision. I force myself to look down at the book in my hands, feeling the sweat prickling my skin along my back. Cut it out, a voice in my head tells me, as I feel my pussy beginning to throb slowly. I'm never really this self-conscious around women and it aggravates me to no end that I'm suddenly unable to control my body's reactions. My mouth's run dry with nerves, which is an odd contrast to the wetness threatening to ooze out of me elsewhere.

She kneels down and shamefully, I enjoy the tightening of the denim jeans around her behind, the delicate shapeliness of her figure reeling me in. She finishes sorting the books, before standing. Relieved, I expect she'll be on her way, but I'm surprised when she turns to face me. My eyes move faster than I ever thought they could, as I fight the rushing heat within my cheeks. I swear it, I did not just look at your ass. Cringing a thousand times within myself, I hang in a dubious moment of suspense as I wonder if she's noticed my glance. I regulate my breathing, but damn, it's difficult. How can I control my thoughts and actions at the same time when my body's out of control?

She approaches me and I bring myself to look at her over the book, stupidly smiling slightly, autopilot willing me to be friendly and approachable. It's odd, but of all the times, I wished she wasn't looking directly at me, not with those ice blue eyes as I'm melting into a puddle right before her.

"Hello," a voice of mellow tones says calmly, her lips opening to speak the word.

"Hi. I'm just taking a look at some possible sources for an essay I'm working on," I say, somehow coherently. I cheer and pat myself on the back, my mind blown with how I can function when most of me is going haywire.

"Oh, yes. How is it going so far? I noticed you were in this section of the library yesterday."

"Oh? Well it's going fine thanks, I could do with another book or two though."

"Books on social inclusion, I take it?" she asked, approaching me and reaching out to place a slender finger on the spines of the books directly in front of me. Her arm stretched out before me threw me slightly off guard as I felt myself clinging on the edge of a cliff, while from the outside I knew I appeared unquestionably normal.

"Yes, that's right." I agreed, surprised at how quickly she'd caught on.

"Right. Sociology or social work?" she asked, looking up at me coolly.

"I'm a social work undergrad," I said, looking down at her as she regarded me curiously.

"Right. Here, try this one. It should work well. It covers a wide range of theories. I just put it back on the shelf today." She pulled the thick book out from the shelf, holding it out for me to take.

I checked the title and nodded. "Thanks, this looks like it'll be helpful." I closed the book I held and reached out to take the book from her.

"Keeping that one?" she asked gesturing a slim fingered hand to the first book I grasped nervously.

"No, actually, not now that I have a much more specialized book." I smile and lift the book up to awkwardly push it back amongst the other books.

Reaching up suddenly to help me avoid dropping the book on the floor, her hand lands on mine. A shock sparked through the contact and I blinked suddenly despite myself, turning to face her as her fingers over mine succeed in slipping the book back to its rightful place. I turned to look at her, only to meet cool eyes and a half smile curved upwards by lips redder than my face.

"Oh, thanks," I manage, as her hand seems to linger on mine, before she lifts her fingers, only to press her index finger to a ring on my hand.

"No problem. Nice ring by the way," she says, as if to change the subject. My eyes flick to my hand to notice she's pointing at my elaborate silver ring of a sculpted owl's face.

"Uh, thanks," I laugh nervously, close to breaking point, feeling an odd current surging through her finger and my skin, the current jolting straight to my genitals. She seems completely unaware, however. But before I can really figure out why I'm feeling what I'm feeling, her touch is gone and I'm looking back at her appraising gaze. My mind's a whirl and I'm feeling lightheaded, like I haven't eaten for a whole day.

"All set?" she asks, as if everything is as normal as can be. And everything is normal, I realize, because I'm falling apart on the inside, but I look fine on the outside.

"Oh, yes. Yep, this is all I need," I say, as she nods and brushes past me.

"I'll sort the loan out for you then", she says, looking over her shoulder and beckoning me to follow.

We sort the book out and I watch her, enjoying her being across from a counter, as opposed to inches away.

"Have a good afternoon," she says, smiling up at me as she hands me back my card. Incidentally, her finger only just brushes mine as I reach for it, the current shocking me back into reality.

"You too, thanks..." I say, not sure what her name is.

"Oh, I'm Rose," she says, her eyes twinkling up at me.

"Well, thanks Rose. I'm Jess. Appreciate your help," I smile as I head to the library doors and out into the outside world.

I drive home light headed, and as soon as I get through the front door of my house, I drop my bag and head to the bathroom. I want nothing more than to shower away all my nerves. While I'm in the shower, however, I take some time to get myself off under the stream of refreshing hot water. Of course, the whole time I'm enjoying myself, I can't help but think of Rose and the sensation of her hand on mine. Once showered and relaxed, I get some study done and complete my essay, using the book Rose found me.

After dinner I crawled into bed an exhausted mass, wrung out and glad to see another day through. I wake the next morning refreshed in some ways, but wound up in others. There's a constant and odd buried feeling in my chest, like warmth spreading through my lungs. I push this observation aside and head into a midday lecture after running errands in the morning with a somewhat refreshed mindset. The day passes quickly and after a couple of lectures and a long study session with a few friends, I head to the library to return the books for the essay I'd finished the night before.

Rose greets me as I enter, looking up from sorting papers at the counter. I keep myself as composed as possible as I approach the counter, pulling out the books from my bag and shoving them into the return chute. Rose busies herself with the paperwork before asking me how the essay was going. I explained I'd finished it and that her book suggestion was helpful.

"You're welcome," she smiled, her eyes sweeping up over my face. "Oh and here's that booklist you wanted," she continued, holding out a piece of paper to me.

"Booklist?" I say, taking the piece of paper from her and miraculously dodging contact with her finger. I never asked her for a booklist, I think to myself, as I look down at the white piece of paper. There's no list, just a series of numbers. A phone number, I realize.

"Get in touch... If you've got any more questions," Rose grins, and winks discreetly at me, minding the woman tapping away at a computer beside her at the counter.

"Oh, but," I say, before stopping. I smile at her, my heart racing. Her eyes seem to hold unspoken messages now, and although I hunger for answers, I look down at the paper in my hand, connecting the dots Rose resumes her paper sorting, albeit with her gaze fixed on me.

"Thanks," I say, relieved to see that the plump woman working beside Rose has just taken a phone call.

"No problem," Rose watched me cautiously as I turned slowly and walked over to the aisles. I moved deliberately, taken over by the strange feeling of warmth in my chest. I felt her gaze on me, the prickling sensation in my neck rousing my sixth sense. It wasn't very long since I'd disappeared into the mass of aisles that I heard footsteps, though muffled, approaching my general area. I walked slowly, willing myself not to look behind me, as if my life depended on it. The footsteps slowed, and I became aware of how the aisle I stood in was out of view from much of the library, without a single student in sight.

The piece of paper was getting soaked through with the sweat of my palm, so I tucked it into my pocket. I held my breath and in the compacted silence around me, I heard a soft sigh directly behind me. Not the kind of short, bored sigh, but a longing one, or something akin to such a sound. Her fingers were soft and daring as they wrapped around the hand that had just emerged from my pocket. I froze, my lungs failing to allow me to breathe, as Rose stepped around me and let go of my hand. I stared at her as she came into view, her eyes reeling me in.

"I know, I knew from how you looked at me yesterday," she whispered, her voice cutting through the void of silence pressing in around us. She grasped my arms with both her hands and stared up at me, as if willing me to speak.

"I'll call you," I heard myself whisper to her.

"You better," she grinned, glad to hear I wouldn't deny it. She seemed calm and unfazed considering she was holding both my arms in the middle of her workplace where we could be seen at any moment.

Her hands disappeared as she withdrew from me, before drifting past me along the aisle, with a small smile, back into the centre of the library. I stood there for another moment, regaining my composure, before heading out and through the library. Back at her desk, Rose gave me a small farewell wave, which I returned.

That night, once I'd had dinner, a simple meal of packaged pasta, I continued on with some assignments. Partway through the document I'd been typing on my laptop, I couldn't avoid the urges to take a look at the square of paper Rose had given me earlier. I swallowed nervously as I stared at the numbers written in neat, small font. The hand that had written the numbers before had held me earlier. The memory flashed through my mind and I held my breath, knowing that the urge to call her had just reached breaking point.

"Hi, it's Jess." My own voice sounded unfamiliar, alien, even to me. The words formed with a sense of determination, even with my dry mouth, I knew I had to speak. I didn't call this number just to be unable to speak, after all.

"Hello. I hoped you'd call soon." Rose sounded calm and collected. "Are you well?"

"Oh yeah, yes I'm fine thanks. And you?" I replied, feeling a little calmer. She'dhoped.

"Just as fine as you. Although you sound nervous."

"Oh, not really. I mean I'm not at all out on a limb here." I laughed, more so at my awkwardness than anything else.