The Transformed Librarian (Closed)

[DariusD]

The Transformed Librarian ​

Featuring : DariusDas Doran Brownand BritWitch as The Libraran

Setting: The Transformed Librarian is set in modern America, probably a suburb of a major city, where traditional American values war with modern, indulgent ways.

Erotic Elements: This story will include no artificial erotic elements.

Fetishes Included: This story builds on the taboo relationship of a white woman with a black man. It will not explore force or rape, but assertive seduction is in the cards.

 

[DariusD]

Doran didn’t belong in the club. Despite the fact that all sorts of modern music, including beat-laden Hip Hop pumped through the impressive speakers, this space was unused to men of Doran’s color. That said, it wasn’t that Doran was unwelcome; the athletic black man didn’t carry himself aggressively, as much as confidently, and the result was systemic. The girls were fascinated and all the guys did their best to befriend him, to prove that they were “cool” and not racist.

For his part, Doran didn’t care. He was here because he’d wanted to come, and that was enough.

Tall, just a bit shy of six-four, Doran wore a pearly white shirt with silver buttons, the first two at his throat and collarbone unbuttoned to reveal a swathe of smooth, perfectly black, flesh. His pants were dark blue, loose enough for him to move, tight enough to show the sculpted lines of his flanks and the more-than-promising package he did nothing to hide. Hair cut short with a hint of an artful mustache, he came across as a man who planned. A man who controlled himself to a precise degree.

Yet when the music thumped, he moved with rhythm and grace and a vibrant, almost violent, passion that made quite a few of the people stare. And most of the men shuffle their feet and move away. Dancing, it seemed, was something Doran had a particular gift for.

 

[Britwitch]

Philippa didn’t belong in the club. She looked the part, true enough. A knee length silken dress skimming over delicate frame, highlighting and augmenting the subtle curves she’d been blessed with, it’s rich chocolate brown colour emphasising the paleness of her complexion. Long auburn hair carefully pinned and twisted up to reveal the slender column of her neck. The heels that she could only just walk in, a loan from a friend, increased her height slightly but she was still petite when compared to many of those around her standing at a fraction over five foot four in her stockinged feet.

Glass in hand she hovered at the edge of the dance floor clearly uncertain. Other eyes in the club roamed over the bodies on obvious and not-so-obvious display, hers flickered between the watch around her narrow wrist and the gradually emptying glass in her fingers. She’d lost count about an hour ago of how many she’d had. She was there because she had to be, not because she wanted to. But wishes that she simply couldn’t ignore meant she was there, supposedly having fun and ‘letting her hair down’.

The friends she had arrived with had been swallowed up by the writhing bodies on the dancefloor one by one as the hours had ticked by.
“One dance…” She murmured to herself, draining the last of her Bombay and tonic and placing the empty glass on a nearby table. “One dance and then I’ll go home. This was a stupid idea. A really stupid idea.”

Heels clicked onto the dance floor and her eyes moved over the crowds, looking for a friend, while her feet struggled to find the beat. Green eyes seeking out someone to dance with.

 

[DariusD]

It took a few minutes for Doran to find someone he wanted to dance with, mainly because everyone in this place seemed so distant, so austere. Not that it bothered him, truth be told; the bold, dark skinned man moved with the music as though he were a boneless, sleek shadow as he surveyed the landscape. Then, he caught a glimpse of the girl. Hesitant, sweet, beautiful. It wasn’t her beauty that caught him though, not so much as how she held herself, like she’d been wounded somehow. Like she didn’t feel comfortable in her own skin.

With a wry little smile, a flash of white in his otherwise chocolate features, Doran made his way around the woman, pressing aside a few men in the process. They flashed Doran threatening glances, withering glares, and Doran simply ignored them. He was master of this particular game, and good enough at what he did to feel nothing but a mild sort of contempt for his competition.

Sliding up close, his warmth radiating against the petite girl’s back, Doran moved – not quite touching, but intimate all the same. His swarthy, musky, but not unpleasant scent, wafted across the girl as he put on a show of liquid musculature, rippling motions in harmony with her somewhat hesitant attempts. He seemed to be urging her to open up, for whatever she attempted, he somehow enhanced. Nothing, no step, would be wrong with this accomplished man, he seemed to say, all without words.

 

[Britwitch]

The beat was constant so it should be easy to follow. It seemed that way for everyone else but Philippa struggled to find it and keep it. Maybe she was trying to hard. Maybe she just wasn't trying.

Green eyes skipped over the heaving crowd on the dance floor, looking for friends. A friend. Anyone to move towards and hover near to.
So absorbed was she in this task that she only realised there was someone behind her when they must have been there a few minutes.

Instinct made her step forwards and away from the presence behind her, certain she was just in their way. But they followed her. She could feel the warmth radiating off their body, the scent of their cologne and skin drifting by temptingly. The desire to turn around, to see who it was, was so strong but the uncertainty accompanying such an action was just as real. What if she turned and they went away, if they were only there because they believed her to be someone else. She wouldn't blame them. She'd probably walk away from herself too.

Tongue moistened lips and, eventually, head turned to look back over her shoulder. The sight that met her eyes made her stop moving for a second or two. Tall frame moving sinuously behind her own, eyes latched onto her, onto her body, her face. So broad, so strong. Handsome face and inviting smile. She smiled shyly and looked away quickly.

A voice in her ear, in her mind, told her to turn around and make the most of it before the song finished and before she chickened out completely and just went home. The courage that the drinks afforded her along with a promise made meant that to her own surprise she turned on her heel to face the man behind her. Teeth catching on her lower lip as she tried to mimic his actions, catch his timing with her own. Hips swaying from side to side as her eyes tracked up and down his form, feet moving her ever so slightly closer.

The material of her dress meant every movement was easily on show, every bob, every slight jerk. She never really knew what to do with her hands so she held them loosely over her hips, inadvertently drawing attention to them as they rocked back and forth.

 

[DariusD]

There was a primal quality to the woman’s dance, Doran saw. A hidden, cautious aspect that reminded him of a fox, eager to flee. Smiling slightly, just a curl of lips that flashed bright, white-contrasting teeth with his skin, Doran pursued the girl to the very edge. He moved his body within inches of hers, pressing inward into her personal space, into intimate reaches, holding back at the very end, before the little fox could flee.

Entranced at the opportunities presented him, Doran let his swaying physique encompass the woman, shying away those who sought to cut in or take offense at his proximity. When the song shifted to something more primal, more rhythmic, he made his way around her body, hands lifting to trace at her hips from behind. They were big, his hands, and filled with a hungry strength – both pressing, hungry, yet patient. Warmth shot through the girl’s body as a unique awareness sweltered across the back of her mind: his pelvis near to brushing her ass, his chest, so close to her back.

Yet, for now, only fingertips, dancing with electric, titillating flirtation across her sides. Though the music demanded more.