Jean Couldn’t

Jean loathed the necessities of life: the need to sleep, the need to eat, the need to feel. Being human’s unbearable, she often mused, considering how, if she were a mechanism unburdened by the need for recharging and other distracting concerns, she could help even more people. She held a strict view of responsibilities, duties, and life in general, but she was harshest with herself. It seemed the first lesson Jean had learned was how to firmly tell herself and her weaknesses a resolute “no”. And along with that, she had turned her back on all possible human joys. The one thing Jean couldn’t resist, however, was reading. But not textbooks or military treatises alongside lists of assignments as those papers were clear enough. Jean’s desk was always cluttered with documents and volumes of various contents. Her workday was meticulously scheduled down to the minute. Yet, amid her commitments, she’d occasionally steal moments to read other texts, an obsession known only to one other person in the world besides Jean herself. Grand Master’s reading list occasionally bloomed with titles of romance novels. Each time she entered the library, she’d cast a glance toward the long shelves, her gaze inevitably drawn to a vivid splash of purple—a color that stood out amidst the arboreal room’s decor, the hue of her dress. Jean’s eyes would slide over the pale violet rose on her hat, which adorned her already sophisticated appearance and perfectly suited her sensual nature. Then involuntarily they’d drift down to the deep cleavage of her bouncing generous bosom, its vanilla skin tantalizingly gleaming under the light… Then unconsciously drift downward to the black lace stockings that adorned her shapely legs, which she couldn’t help but imagine tightly wrapped around her waist, and then… feeling an embarrassment, would quickly return to her lovely face. The librarian often stifled yawns behind her hand. Jean felt a shiver and a desire to hide. She rarely allowed herself the luxury of rest and, indulging in the reading of fiction, especially of that nature, felt almost shameful. “I could be helping someone with this time,” she confided one day, clutching the latest volume of her novel tightly in her hands. “Yes, perhaps you could… But who’d help you?” There was probably no one in the world to whom Jean entrusted her feelings more than Lisa. With her, she could timidly discuss the stories she had read, seeking advice on what to pick up next or what could recharge her weary spirit this time. Who better to ask about recharging than her? “Did you enjoy the last one?” Lisa suddenly brought up the topic of a recently read book, which perked Jean up. “We recently added a similar story to our shelves, but this time it’s not about warriors. It’s about the Traveler.” “Huh? And what’s the plot?” Lisa’s rosy lips curved into a mischievous smirk, indicating that she clearly had something on her mind. She turned on her heels and sauntered over to Jean, sensually swaying her hips. Those ample breasts bounced enticingly right in front of her focused gaze, rendering her unable to look away. Time seemed to stop. When she finally stopped beside the young woman, Lisa leaned in and brushed her lips against the sensitive lobe of Jean’s ear, causing her to shudder in anticipation and nearly moan. “As usual for the books you choose, it centers around the meeting of a lifelong love,” she whispered hotly, tenderly placing a hand on her thigh. “A love that can lurk on any distant journey or even much closer, say… in one of the neighboring rooms.” Lisa tilted her head back, pressing her heavy breasts against the Grand Master’s arm as she gently caressed the spot where her hand lay. Jean gasped for air. The librarian often flirted. It was her style of communication, nothing particularly special about it. But Jean… was her constant target of seduction. Obvious, shameless and so… arousing. Their gazes locked for a long moment. At that instant, an electric tension hung in the air. A gust of wind blew in through the open window and shattered the spell as quickly as it had arisen. Quickly removing Lisa’s hand from her thigh, Jean rose from her chair and hurried out of the library. Only once she was outside its walls did she manage to catch her breath and regain her composure. Why did I run away? Nothing actually happened. And indeed, nothing had. But despite that, Jean found she couldn’t stay alone with Lisa any longer.