Bound in Leather
Click on image to enlarge.
by Fletchina Archer
Category: Erotica/Bisexual Erotica
Description: "Strong Writing--Complicated Characters--To Be Added to the Collection." That's how The Book Corner describes the erotic novels of Fletchina Archer. Her newest book is the revealing story of two women with unrestrained imaginations and the courage to live out their fantasies. When Sandy sees pictures of erotic Indian temple sculptures--writhing bodies in every imaginable sexual combination and some that she couldn't imagine--she starts fantasizing about making love with another woman--and sharing with her husband, Ron. Engrossed in a lively fantasy inspired by the sculptures, Sandy goes to the public library for a book on the topic. Elizabeth, a librarian with unusual powers who literally experiences others' fantasies, guides her to the books. Everything about Sandy--her fantasies, scent, hair, hips, breasts arouses Elizabeth. Sandy realizes she wants the same thing Elizabeth longs for--and much more. The two women find satisfaction when they finally give in to their lust for each other's bodies and minds and then, with Ron go to beyond to explore the world of bondage and domination, a place none of them has been before!
eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler, 2005
eBookwise Release Date: March 2005
2 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [122 KB]
Reading time: 82-115 min.
"May I help you?" asked Elizabeth.
Helpin; the job of the reference librarian. She had been glad enough to get the job of reference librarian in this western suburb of Chicago when she moved there after her divorce.
The puzzled-looking, blue eyed woman had thick brownish-blonde hair that fell in one long wave to just below her shoulders. She was about Elizabeth's five-foot seven inches, but she was voluptuous. Elizabeth was self-conscious about her small breasts and slim body, a body she knew many women would starve themselves to get, but came with no effort to her. Her self-consciousness was borne of shame, not pride, because she thought herself less a woman, especially beside a woman like this, whose body curved into itself in every dimension to complete a sculpture in flesh that many artists had tried to immortalize in bronze and marble.
"I'm looking for the section on Indian art and sculpture."
Seething, writhing bodies, male and female, in every possible combination. The voluptuous roundness of the women's hips and breasts, the easy, relaxed posture of a male whose finger is penetrating a woman's ripe yoni. The motion of another woman's hand on the man's engorged lingam as he looked down at his other partner ... or into the eyes of any who stopped to behold them in their eternal quest for erotic union with the cosmic principles of life and creation. The man's hands now caressed the ample roundness of the woman's hips as his penis penetrated her anus while she played with her clitoris.
Elizabeth's cunt was dripping from the visions as she said, "Ah, yes. Indian temple sculpture. Right this way, please."
Unsteady with anticipation, she pushed back her chair and led the way into the art history section of the stacks. The sound of their shoes on the smooth flooring echoed through the cavernous library space, full of shelf after shelf of books. Suspended in the still air, dust motes reflected the light from the fluorescent fixtures above. The faint smell of ink, paper, dust, and old books enveloped the two women. Elizabeth went immediately to the book she had in mind.
The clunk of the heavy book on the light oak table echoed in the emptiness of the library. The book smell was stronger as Elizabeth opened the large volume. Spread before the two women were the weathered limestone friezes and sculptures that had inspired the visions they were sharing. Scraping sounds magnified themselves as Elizabeth pulled out a straight backed chair and held it as the other woman sat down in front of the book.
"Is this what you're looking for?"
The thick pages of the book crackled as the woman turned them. Dust motes swirled up from the edges. She lingered over each page, her mindscape changing with each new combination of bodies and body parts. She paused at the photograph of a depiction of a man entering a woman from behind.
"This is the one I was looking for ... I have these..."
"Not exactly. Yes, that's it ... fantasies."
Elizabeth put her hand on the back of the woman's neck, caressed the line down her jaw and leaned down to turn the page with her free hand to show two women pleasuring each other with their fingers.
Did she stiffen at her touch? Or was she shifting her weight to a more comfortable position on the hard seat of the chair? She didn't look up. Elizabeth put her hand on the back of the chair ."Have you seen these?"
"Oh, yes. Do you think they could actually ... that they actually did...?"
"Yes, I'm sure they did."
"Are you an art historian?"
"No, I'm a librarian, but I've read a lot."
"That's about all I've done. Read and thought about it. I have these..."
"Yes, I guess so. These vivid images of watching my husband with another woman. I guess that's perverse, isn't it?"
"Do you have time for coffee?" Elizabeth asked. "It's time for my break and there's a coffee shop just around the corner."
"Not today," the blue-eyed woman said with a glance at her watch. "I have to be at work soon."
Elizabeth willed her usual primness to possess her wanton body as she slid the book into its space on the shelf. The other woman pushed back on the chair and stood just behind Elizabeth. Elizabeth heard her breathing, felt her body's heat, her breath, the almost imperceptible brush of her hair. Elizabeth caught her breath.
"By the way, my name is Sandy. Short for Sandra."
Elizabeth turned slowly and looked long and deliberately into the blue eyes, drinking them in. The other woman did not look away until Elizabeth said in a husky whisper, "Let me know if there's anything else I can do for you."
Elizabeth thought she saw a shadow cross Sandy's face, wrinkling her brow and pursing her lips with a silent question.
Elizabeth tried again to regain her professional librarian's composure as she accompanied the woman through the bluish light, motionless dust motes, and faint smells to the front of the library. She returned to her desk to listen to her footsteps receding through the space between her desk and the door She tapped a key on her computer keyboard to awaken it.
Seconds later, when Elizabeth looked up from her computer, she saw the blonde leaving the library.
I should have ... Her inner voice began, then answered, You're a librarian! You provide a service to the public. You have to be professional.
A kayak in white water, twisting on its axis, tipping as it shoots through the rapids, rushing past the boulders on either side, searching for a way over the next...
"Excuse me," a man's voice intruded. "Do you have any books on kayaks or canoes?"
Resentful at having been drawn away from her own internal dialogue, first by the strong imagery in the guy's mind, then by his voice, she said somewhat sharply, "I'll see."
She clicked the computer keys, wrote a number on a piece of paper, and looked up only long enough to put the paper in the patron's hand as she added, "Look at these numbers. They're all on the shelves right through there." She pointed with her finger and returned her attention to her computer to search the reviews of new books to see what the library should order.
I guess it's just as well I didn't show her the really good pictures in the rare books room.
Elizabeth couldn't keep her mind on anything. None of the books looked interesting. They all looked like hack writing that some publisher's committee had farmed out to some starving English major. The Dummy's Guide to this or that. Okay, admitting you're a dummy is a start. But if that's so, stay out of the library! Books about cats. Cats? Who cares about the internal life of a cat? Or dog? Or parakeet?
She knew she was in no mood to order books for the public she was supposed to be serving. They liked that kind of stuff.
I'll get a cup of coffee and come back to it later.
Elizabeth turned to her co-worker, Nancy, who was reading from her computer screen into the telephone and whispered hoarsely, "I'm going to take my break now." Nancy nodded without looking up. Elizabeth crossed the busy street to the coffee shop. There wasn't much traffic at that time of day, but she could hear the el train three blocks away on its way in to the loop. She was glad she didn't have to ride the el every day. She could drive from her condo to the library and park in its secure underground parking lot.
Inside the coffee shop, the lights were bright, the surfaces sparkled and the air smelled of disinfectants. "Large French roast," she told the waitress.
"Grande?" the pasty white girl behind the counter asked. She had a ring in her nose and her dark hair was spiked.
Elizabeth looked at the sign that announced the various mixtures of milk, coffee, and other things and the different sizes.
"Yes," she sighed. "Grande. Big."
She took the coffee to the bar at the window and perched on a high stool. She glanced at the headlines in the Wall Street Journal someone had left there. "Interest rates up, the market down," I don't care.
She wrapped her hands around the cardboard sleeve surrounding the paper cup, announcing it contained hot coffee. Elizabeth inhaled the rich aroma and watched the people on the sidewalk outside.
Two young men in dark blue suits and ties striding purposefully. Mormons? Maybe lawyers?
A woman pushing a stroller. Nanny? Mom?
A brown delivery truck pulled up across the street at the library and she watched the driver jump out with a box and stride into the library.
She sipped the coffee and appreciated the bitter hot richness as it scalded the length of her throat.
I shouldn't have touched her. I scared her off. Maybe it was the invitation to have coffee. I shouldn't have pretended to guess what she wanted so quickly. Maybe she suspects I can see her fantasies. That's usually a way I can know what people want even if they can't say it themselves. But I could just see us together ... But she didn't see that. I should have kept my mouth shut and my hands to myself. Totally unprofessional.
The rest of the day dragged She finished the book order, filed the requisitions to move funds around to pay for the books, and directed patrons to dummy's guides and books about cats. The hands of the clock on the library's front wall were still crawling imperceptibly.
Elizabeth managed to let the rest of the day ooze around her until the clock finally announced she was free. She drove to her building, parked her car in her assigned space, opened the front security door, unlocked her mailbox and threw away the junk mail.
I throw away the junk mail and I have nothing. Not even a bill.
She took the elevator to the fifth floor and unlocked her condo. She smelled the lingering aroma of her morning coffee and instant oatmeal as she opened the door and kicked off her shoes to preserve the light grey carpet. She walked through the galley kitchen into the dining area. The earthen tiles were cool under her feet. It serves me well enough, she thought, but someday I'd like to have a real kitchen-one I couldn't reach across when I'm standing in the middle-one big enough to walk in two directions instead of just one.
Apart from her bedroom and its bathroom, there were no rooms per se in the condo. She appreciated its open space. The kitchen gave onto the dining area where she had a Scandinavian table and chairs. The matched the teak buffet held her dishes and table cloths. She crossed the dining area and went through the living area between the tan leather couch and two matching arm chairs to open the sliding door and walked onto the balcony. From the balcony she looked east over an apartment building across from the parking lot of her own condominium to see the skyline of Chicago. The evening sun reflected golden off the clouds. The sight never ceased to inspire her, though she knew of the filth, poverty, and violence that lay beneath the image of the great city.
Inside, she went to her bedroom and slowly shed her clothes. White light cast from the halogen bulb in the torchiere reflected off the ceiling to illuminate the room. She looked at her naked figure in the mirrored folding doors that closed over her closet and gave the room the illusion of light and space.
Willowy. Some guys had called her that. Skinny. Ribs showing. Tiny breasts. Barely fill an A-cup bra. Hardly enough to tell me from a boy.
She broke from the thought and stepped into her one-piece bathing suit.
Not enough up front to hold up a bikini top.
Elizabeth took the elevator back to the ground floor and went through wet towel and faintly moldy miasma of the women's dressing room to the sauna. She turned it on so it would be hot when she returned. The chlorine smell assaulted her nose when she opened the door to the pool. She had the pool to herself, so she dived in and swam a dozen laps in the eye-stinging water before she rested. Then she climbed out, went into the dressing room where stripped off her swimsuit, filled a bucket with water and went into the sauna. The moist inner tissues of her nose felt as dry as parchment when she inhaled the air. The dry heat almost overwhelmed her as she climbed to the top shelf to stretch herself out.
Beads of sweat formed on her skin and gathered into drops, then rivulets that began to cascade under her breasts, down her stomach, across her hips to the bench. With a great effort, she sat up, took the dipper down from its hook, and plunged it into the bucket. When she splashed the water onto the hot rocks, the sauna was filled with a hissing sound and a cloud of steam. She reclined again, and let her hands drift across her wet body, stopping to tweak her nipples and cup her breasts, to caress her stomach, and move across her abundantly luxuriant curly black pubic hair to her waiting cunt.
There, she opened her labia with the index finger of her left hand while the second finger of her right hand dipped into the wetness. She shut her eyes and let the fantasy take over her mind as her fingers began to stroke her clitoris.
A voluptuous woman, breasts heavy and large but firm and full, a wasp waist and round hips. Her breasts pressed against Elizabeth's, her ripe lips moving toward Elizabeth's open mouth. The woman's tongue probes, circling her own.
Now the woman has blonde hair and blue eyes. Her waist is thicker and her breasts a bit smaller. Naked, Elizabeth leans back into Sandy's welcoming arms, feeling the hands caressing her breasts, squeezing her nipples, outlining the triangle of her hair and probing between her labia. Elizabeth turns around...
Sandy's tongue caresses her hardened clitoris. Elizabeth lies on her back, opening herself wide. Gently at first, then faster, then slowly circling the engorged flesh and fluttering on the underside of her clitoris until...
Elizabeth's hips rose from the bench as her body began to shudder.
* * * *
The next day, Elizabeth's mind couldn't stay on her work any more than her glance could stay off the door. Every time she heard it open, she looked up hoping to see the blonde woman, each time disappointed.
A meeting of librarians, a staff meeting, a meeting of the library board. Her days were sheer drudgery, and her nights passed in fitful dreams that left her wet in the mornings--wet but with empty arms. Some mornings, she satisfied herself as best she could with her hands and vibrator. Some mornings, she resolved to put the whole matter out of her mind.
It wouldn't be the first time I've read someone wrong. I thought when she was standing behind be in the special collections room, when she was breathing on my neck, when her hair brushed against me ... when I looked into her eyes and she didn't look away ... Nothing. I built up a slim possibility into something that could never be . I let my fantasies run away with me . I won't do that again.
On mornings like that she took a cold shower, put her hair up in a severe bun, and dressed in the most nondescript tweedy frumpy clothes she could find. By the time she got to her desk, she was all efficiency, ready to deal with whatever came her way. As long as it had to do with books. Or meetings. Or budgets...
In this way a week passed, then another. Elizabeth was back to her brusque self, concentrating on her computer screen, when an image probed her mind. It wasn't quite defined, vivid and vague at the same time.
Three--or was it four--sawhorses arranged in a row, long sides parallel to each other. A long, thin strip of wood lay along them. One by one, rib-like wooden forms took their places along the spine until it resembled a skeleton with ribs but curved up at both ends. The ribs disappeared, replaced by others of a different shape, wider, rounder. Different shapes replace them ... disappear...
When she looked up, she thought the face was vaguely familiar. Balding, tortoise-shell glasses, her height. His face was drawn together in concentration, his arms clasped across a broad chest, stretching his shirt over well-defined broad shoulders.
"May I help you?"
He started from his reverie. "Oh, yes. Sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering if you had anything more on canoes or boats?"
She consulted her computer and handed him a list of catalogue numbers.
"I saw these last time I was here," he said. "Anything else? Under wooden boats, maybe?"
Elizabeth checked again and forced a smile as she handed him another slip of paper.
This guy is imagining a canoe, some kind of boat taking shape as he builds it. I find the call numbers of the books for him, write them, hand him a piece of paper. I wish I'd handled her that way. I could have just given her some catalogue numbers. No complications. No fantasies. Let her enjoy her fantasies. They're not meant for me anyway. If they were, she'd tell me about them, or...
Her days were passing more quickly, back to their usual pace. Home, swim, sauna, shower, read, go to bed, get up, go to work.
Another week had almost passed when Elizabeth's mind was overtaken by a vivid sexual fantasy.
* * * *
Muscular shoulders, well-developed pecs, thick dark hair, even white teeth smiling in appreciation of ... Elizabeth, naked, stretched out on her back, open to his probing eyes. Turning onto her stomach, Elizabeth pulled her knees under her to raise her butt in the air. She rotated her hips to feel her fingers penetrating her cunt.
Now she sees herself from across the room as this handsome dark-haired man approaches her from behind, holding his erection in one hand, guiding it into her...
* * * *
"How can I help you?" she asked when she became aware of a patron standing in front of her.
"I was wondering if you had any more books on Indian temple architecture or sculpture?" Her smile suggested hopefulness.
All prim, Elizabeth said, "I believe we do, let me consult our holdings. Yes..." She copied a list and handed it to Sandy. "Here you are."
"Actually," Sandy said, her face falling into something more akin to dejection. "I was hoping you might have time for coffee."
"It's not beak time, yet. Why don't you check these titles, and if you have any questions, check back later."
I won't build this up and be let down. I can't keep on imagining things.
Elizabeth's eyes fixed on the clock as the small hand twitched a notch, then an hour later, it seemed, another notch. She returned her gaze to the computer screen.
Voluptuous women contorted around well-built men, writhing, hands and erections in every possible...
"Did you find what you needed?" Elizabeth asked.
"No. When is your break? I need to talk to you."
Elizabeth turned to Nancy, who was leafing through a heavy reference book with both hands, her head cocked to hold the telephone to her shoulder. "Nancy, can you cover for me?" She contorted her body into a pretzel like twist, looked up at Elizabeth, and smiled in agreement as she tilted her chin down a fraction of an inch before she returned her attention to the book and her conversation.
"I can go now. The place across the street?"
"Yes," Sandy nodded.
The vivid images were gone, replaced by the more usual fog of traffic, buildings, streets, train noises from the el, traffic lights and signs that made up the suburban Chicago landscape around the library.
They sat at a small table by a window and sipped their coffee.
"The other day, when I first came in, how did you know what I was looking for? I guess lots of people come in looking for the same things?"
"The other day? That was nearly a month ago."
"I tried to ... that is ... I didn't want to ... I mean, I wasn't sure I ... that is, that you..."
"You felt something but you weren't sure what it was?" Elizabeth's voice was soft now, no longer professional.
"Yes, that's it, exactly. I wanted to see you, but I wasn't sure--"
"-that you wanted to see me?"
"No, I was sure about that. I just wasn't sure you'd want to see me."
"I did ... I do..."
"Then I'm glad I came. But how did you know what I wanted? Do I fit some profile of people who come in looking for books on erotica or something?"
"Not exactly. I have this ... I suppose you could call it a gift, but maybe not..."
Sandy waited for Elizabeth to continue.
"When people have vivid mental images, I can sometimes see them."
"So, you were seeing what was going through--"
"And today, you could see--"
"Who was that you had me in bed with just now? That handsome guy?"
Sandy blushed. "Ron? He's my husband. I'm really not a pervert. I am a paralegal when I work, but I volunteer as the stage artist for the Civic Theater. I build and paint all the sets."
"Don't tell me you're going to use those images in a set..."
"No, it's just something I started thinking about--Indian temples. Then I checked online and saw some of the erotic imagery. I wasn't sure whether it was just the diseased imaginations of some web pornographer or something that actually--"
"That's they way they built their temples. That's the sculpture they used."
"So, you're married?" Elizabeth asked.
"Yes, and happily. I mean it's not that ... He takes good care of me that way. But I've been thinking a lot lately ... having these dreams sometimes ... then when I..."
Now Elizabeth waited for Sandy to finish her thought.
"When I play with myself, I have these fantasies of being with another woman."
"Have you ever done that?"
"No, but, there's more. I fantasize about my husband being with another woman, about me being with them, about watching him fuck her."
Sandy looked into her coffee cup.
"Well," Elizabeth replied. "That's one I haven't done. Might be nice, though."
Elizabeth looked out the window at the couple involved in an animated discussion. The woman was gesturing with her hands, her hair and long skirt blowing in the wind. Finally, a shrug of her shoulders as she looked down to the sidewalk. The young man with her knelt as though looking for a small, lost object. He picked up something and the pair strolled away.
"Do you ... ever..."
Sandy naked, legs splayed open, hands stroking between her legs...
"Have you ever ...?
Two women together, indistinct features ... abstract ... The images not clear enough to be individuals...
"Do you think you could ... I mean ... do you think I could..."
"Yes. Oh, yes. Would you like to come to my place? I get off at 3:00."
"Yes. My husband is out of town for a few days, so ... Where do you live?"
As she stood up to return to work, Elizabeth gave Sandy the address and added, "Bring a bathing suit. I like a sauna after work."