Temptations 114

We begin this week an RP with my heart and in it the Queen of the Succubi attempts to come to terms with something that has bothered her for some time in the universe…


Temptations 114

By TeraS and James

James is getting older, graying just a bit, and bespectacled.  He has given his life to helping others, to looking out for others, and to listening and learning.  He knows that he is nothing particularly special, but he tries to help out in little ways where he can.  He also likes to learn and teach and write, though there isn’t much time to study or write in his life.  He accepts that other people, other things come first.

But now he has entered a wonderful, huge, ancient library . . . an ark, a cathedral of books.  He is lost among the stacks . .. happily so, looking at the titles, smelling the wonderful aromas, occasionally picking one up and leafing through, holding it.  He sees a study carrell, with a perfect chair for reading, and he settles in.  Maybe, given time, he will even be able to write.


Libraries. The source of dreams, aspirations, needs, wants and desires. You can find a book, turn the pages and lose yourself within them. Time passes and you don’t notice it does. That is part of the power of the written word, and part of its allure…

And that allure is part of what draws Tera to them over and over again…

She was standing in the shadows between two rows of books across the way from where James had placed himself and his treasure. She was dressed as was her usual way in libraries, raven hair in a ponytail, horn rimmed glasses perched on her nose, a rather classy black crushed velvet dress that stopped at the mid-point of her thighs and left a tasteful amount of cleavage visible, lastly a pair of gold and black heels completing her outfit. Reaching up to the top of the shelfs beside her, she plucked a book with a green and gold cover before moving towards James and the carrell he was at.

She walked past him, the swish of her dress at the edge of his perception, before settling into the carrell directly opposite from James, opening her book and humming a soft tune as she began to turn the pages one by one, her red nails flashing in the light of the room as she did…


James looked up from an edition of Chaucer that he had never read before when a wafting scent of cherry fogged his mind and filled his senses.  The corner of his eye caught a tasteful yet alluring black velvet dress, and his ear caught the sound of her heels on the stone floor.  As she sat, she looked at her and, while her flashing nails did capture his attention, and he recognized that her form and her cleavage were alluring, but it was her green eyes, behind those horn-rimmed glasses, that drew him in.  For he was a listener, a lover of heart, spirit, and intellect, and he recognized these as the greatest beauty.  Hers was overwhelming.

He realized that he was gawking, and was horrified at the thought of how long he might have been doing that.  His mind had slipped from Chaucer into Whitman–“I sing the body electric,” to be precise–and would soon be hurtling toward Byron and Shelley.  His lips had started to move . . . best to try to engage the voice.  He knew that many library patrons were extremely possessive of their particular reading spaces.  Standing up, he stepped toward her and offered his hand: “My name is James.  If I am intruding upon your favorite spot, I will, of course, relocate.”


And that would never do my heart as you know full well…

For how would we learn otherwise?



    • avatar
    • James on May 31, 2011 at 10:52 am

    And I know that my Dear One is too good a friend to let me simply slip away . . .

    • avatar
    • TeraS on June 2, 2011 at 9:12 pm



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