Chapter 2: Library fun
Elisa’s POV
The library was my other sanctuary. Where the apartment was warm chaos, here was ordered quiet, a cathedral of knowledge where the only sounds were the soft shush of pages turning and the distant hum of the ventilation system. I loved the scent—old paper, polished oak, the faintest hint of lemon oil from the cleaning supplies. It clung to my sundress, a green floral one today, as I re-shelved a cart of returned history books.
My body still hummed with a phantom energy from the night before, a pleasant undercurrent beneath my skin.The life I’d taken from Mr. Greene had settled inside me, a banked fire of stolen vitality that made my senses just a shade sharper, my movements a fraction smoother. It made the ordinary textures of the day more vivid: the crisp page edges under my fingertips, the soft brush of cotton against my bare nipples, the constant, secret awareness of air on my exposed pussy lips as I moved.No underwear. My dirty little secret was in full bloom today, a slow, smug heat between my legs that had nothing to do with the library’s climate control.
That’s when I saw him.
He was tall, lanky, with a nervous energy that made his limbs seem like they might unfold in unexpected directions. Hispanic, with warm brown skin and dark, messy hair pushed behind his ears. Thick-framed glasses kept sliding down his nose as he scanned the fiction section, his long fingers tracing the spines without pulling any out.Lost.
A flicker of interest, pure Elisa-interest, sparked in me.He was cute.Adorkable. My kind of cute.
I glided over, the soft soles of my ballet flats silent on the patterned carpet. “Can I help you find something?” My voice was the librarian’s special blend of helpful and hushed, a tone that invited confidences.
He started, blinking down at me.“Oh.Uh.Yeah. I’m looking for… it’s kind of obscure.The City and The City, by Mieville. My professor mentioned it.”
“China Miéville,” I corrected gently, smiling to soften it.“We have it. It’s not in general fiction, though.It’s over in the speculative section. Follow me.”
I led him through the maze of towering shelves, deeper into the stacks where the light grew dimmer, filtered through decades of settled dust. The air was cooler here, and I felt it kiss my inner thighs as I walked.I was acutely aware of him behind me, of the space between us. I let my hips sway just a little more than strictly necessary.
“Here,” I said, stopping in a narrow aisle. I reached up on my tiptoes, the hem of my dress riding up, knowing he’d see the back of my thighs, the curve where they met my ass. I pulled the book down and turned, holding it to my chest. “This it?”
“Yeah.Perfect.” He took it, our fingers brushing.A faint blush colored his cheeks. “Thanks. You saved me a long hunt.”
“My pleasure.” I leaned back against the bookshelf, tilting my head.“Are you a grad student? Comp Lit?”
“Philosophy, actually.The class is on conceptual boundaries. This was a recommendation.” He was talking too fast, adjusting his glasses.He was rattled.By me.The power shift was immediate and intoxicating. It wasn’t the lethal power of Kitsune, but something softer, just as potent. The sweetness was a weapon too. I let my gaze drop, then come back up to meet his.“I love that book. The idea of two cities occupying the same space… you have to choose to see one and un-see the other. It’s a very visceral metaphor.”
He stared at me, utterly disarmed. “That’s… exactly it.”
The silence between us thickened, full of the scent of old paper and this new, electric charge. I could see his eyes flicker down to my lips, to the neckline of my dress. The classic, helpless male skid from intellectual to physical.
“It’s quiet back here,” I murmured, my voice dropping even lower.“Nobody ever comes to this section before noon.”
He swallowed.“Yeah. It’s… really quiet.”
I pushed off the shelf, closing the small distance between us. My breasts, small but full in their soft cups, pressed against the book he was clutching to his chest. I looked up at him, my expression open, inviting. “What’s your name?”
“Leo,” he breathed.“I’m Elisa.” I didn’t wait. I rose on my toes again and kissed him.It was a soft, questioning kiss, all suggestion. He froze for a second, then the book thumped to the carpeted floor. His hands came up, hesitant, then settled on my waist.His mouth opened under mine, and the kiss deepened. He tasted like mint and nervousness.
I guided his hands, bringing one to my breast, sliding the other under the skirt of my dress. His fingers, long and slightly cold, skimmed up my bare thigh, over the swell of my hip, and then, with a gasp he stifled against my mouth, into the coarse curls of my pubic hair.He found me wet, already slick and open.
“Oh, God,” he whispered, breaking the kiss, his forehead resting against mine. His glasses were askew. “Are you… we can’t…”
“We can,” I whispered back, taking his hand and guiding his fingers to part my outer lips. My pussy was fully exposed, my inner lips, a deep, flushed brown, already glistening.“Feel that? I’ve been thinking about this since I saw you.” A lie, but a delicious one. I’d been thinking about it since I walked over, since I felt that secret thrill of being bare under my dress.He groaned, two fingers sliding easily into my cunt. They felt good—intrusive, stretching. I rocked against his hand, my own fingers working to unbuckle his belt, then the button of his jeans. I could feel his cock, hard and thick, straining against his boxers.“Quiet,” I breathed, a command and a promise. I pushed his jeans and boxers down just enough to free him.His cock sprang out, proud and leaking. I wrapped my hand around it, pumping slowly, feeling the smooth, hot skin over the rigid shaft.
I turned around, bracing my hands against the solid oak shelf in front of me. I looked back over my shoulder, my dress hiked up around my waist, my plump ass completely bare to him. My pussy, from this angle, was a dark, wet cleft between my thighs.“Fuck me, Leo,” I said, the words filthy and clear in the silent aisle. “And be quiet.”
He didn’t need more encouragement. He positioned himself behind me, one hand gripping my hip, the other guiding his cock. The broad head pressed against my opening, and then he pushed inside.A sharp, full sensation stole my breath. He was bigger than he looked, filling me in one long, slow push until his hips met my ass. I dropped my head between my shoulders, biting my lip to keep from crying out.The stretch was exquisite, a burning, perfect fullness.
He began to move, pulling out almost all the way before sliding back in. The rhythm was awkward at first, jittery with his nervous energy and the need for silence. The only sounds were the soft, wet slap of our bodies joining, the rustle of our clothes, and our increasingly ragged, hushed breaths.The books watched, mute witnesses.
I reached a hand back, grabbing his thigh, urging him deeper, harder.He understood, his thrusts becoming more confident, more punishing. Each drive of his hips shoved me against the bookshelf, the solid wood digging into my palms. The pleasure built, a tight, coiling heat in my belly. I was so wet, the sounds of our fucking getting obscenely slick.“Your ass,” he panted, his voice strained. “It’s so perfect. Your pussy… fuck, it’s so tight.” His hands clenched on my hips, his thrusts turning frantic.He was close.
“Cum in me,” I whispered, the command a dark echo of last night’s work, but this time just for pleasure.“Do it.Fill me up.”
That was all it took. His body stiffened, a low, guttural groan ripped from his throat, muffled by his own arm. I felt the hot, sudden rush of his release pulsing deep inside my cunt, spurting again and again as he hammered into me through his climax. The feeling of being filled, claimed in this secret, stupid way, pushed me over the edge. My own orgasm crashed over me, silent but violent, my inner walls clutching and milking his cock, my vision spotting at the edges as I trembled against the shelf.
We stayed like that for a moment, joined and panting, the smell of sex and old books thick in the air. Slowly, he softened and slipped out of me.I felt a trickle of his cum seep down my inner thigh.
We put ourselves back together in a swift, silent, mutually embarrassed flurry. He couldn’t quite meet my eyes, but he was grinning, a dazed, triumphant grin. I smoothed my dress down, feeling the cool air on my damp skin, the physical evidence of the encounter a secret I’d carry with me.“I… wow,” he whispered, picking up his book.
“Shhh,” I smiled, my sweet librarian smile perfectly back in place. “Happy reading, Leo.”
I left him there, a little unsteady on my feet, the pleasant ache between my legs a satisfying souvenir. I walked out of the stacks and into the brighter main reading area, heading towards the circulation desk.Jasmine’s POV
I hated owing people favors.Especially boring people. But my friend Talia needed a ride to the airport, and her flight was at some ungodly hour, which meant my post-training shower had been rushed and my coffee was now a sad, cold cup I’d abandoned in the car. The library was on my way back home, and I knew Elisa worked the morning shift on Wednesdays. The thought of seeing her cheerful, slightly dorky face was actually appealing.Maybe I could drag her out for an early lunch. Mortify her with some gym stories.
The library’s heavy doors swung shut behind me, swallowing me in that tomb-like quiet. I spotted her almost instantly at the far desk, helping an elderly woman with a stack of large-print novels.Even from across the room, Elisa’s energy was calming. She was listening with this focused, kind attention, her head tilted, her red curls bouncing slightly as she nodded.Sweet Elisa. I wondered, not for the first time, how someone so genuinely nice survived in this city. She needed looking after, even if she’d roll her eyes at me for saying it.I leaned against a pillar, waiting for her to finish. As the old woman wandered off, Elisa turned and saw me. Her smile was instant and bright, but… there was a flush to her cheeks that wasn’t usually there.A glow. Her lips looked a bit swollen.And as she walked towards me, there was a subtle difference in her gait. A slight, satisfied looseness in her hips.“Jasmine! What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice the usual melodic chime.
“Rescuing you from dust mites,” I said, pushing off the pillar.“Thought you might want real food. You look… peppy.”
“Do I?” she said, a little too innocently. Her eyes flicked over my shoulder, towards the back sections of the library.That’s when I saw him. A tall, lanky guy with glasses, emerging from the shadows between two towering bookshelves. He looked disheveled. His shirt was mis-buttoned, his hair was more of a mess than it probably started as, and he had a dazed, shell-shocked expression plastered on his face. He was clutching a book to his chest like a shield.My eyes narrowed.I know that look. That’s the look of a guy who just got laid silly.My gaze snapped back to Elisa. Her sundress was pristine, her smile angelic. But the flush, the swollen lips, the hip-sway… and now this walking, breathing post-coital casualty stumbling out of the very stacks she’d just come from.No.Way.
The guy scurried past us, giving Elisa a quick, frantic nod before practically sprinting for the exit.
A slow, huge grin spread across my face.I looked from the retreating figure to my demure, sweet-as-pie roommate. Elisa was now examining her own fingernails with deep fascination.
“Elisa Marchetti,” I said, my voice low and dripping with gleeful accusation.
“Hmm?”
I stepped closer, leaning in so only she could hear. “Did you just fuck that nerd in the philosophy section?”
She looked up, her eyes wide. She opened her mouth, probably to deny it, but the sheer, audacious truth of it was written all over her. She burst out laughing, a hand flying to her mouth to stifle the sound. It was a guilty, wicked, utterly un-librarian-like laugh.“Oh my God,” she whispered back, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“You did! You little devil!” I hooked my arm through hers, pulling her towards the exit, my own fatigue forgotten.“You’re buying lunch. And you are telling me everything.Every single detail.What the fuck, Lisa? Since when do you bang random hot nerds in the stacks?”
She was still giggling as we pushed out into the bright, noisy city street, the quiet sanctuary of the library behind us. “He was looking for China Miéville!” she offered, as if that explained it.
“I don’t even know what that means!” I crowed, pulling her along.“Start from the beginning. Did you at least use a condom?”
She gave me a look that was pure, unadulterated Elisa—sweet, kind, and now, I realized, with a hidden, delicious core of something entirely unexpected. “It was… spontaneous,” she said, and the coy smile she hid behind her hand told me all I needed to know about the state of her underwear—or lack thereof.
My sweet, quiet roommate was full of secrets. And this one, I decided as I flagged down a cab, was fucking fantastic.
And this one, I decided as I flagged down a cab, was fucking fantastic.
Jasmine’s POV
The cab smelled like pine-scented cleaner and regret. Elisa slid in beside me, that secret little smile still playing on her lips. I gave the driver an address for a salad place I liked near Washington Square, then turned fully in my seat to face her.“Okay. Start talking.Philosophy guy.Leo.” I poked her shoulder.“Details, Marchetti. You don’t get to drop a bomb like ‘I just got railed in the stacks’ and then clam up.”
She laughed, the sound bright and unburdened in the close space. She looked out the window, watching the city blur past.“There’s not much to tell. He was cute and lost.I helped him find his book. The energy was… there.” She shrugged, a delicate lift of her shoulder.“I wanted him. So I took him.”
The simplicity of her statement, delivered in that soft, matter-of-fact tone, was staggering. This was my Elisa.The one who cried at puppy videos and organized roommate movie nights. “You took him.In the library. With, I’m assuming, zero protection.”
“Correct.” She met my gaze then, her brown eyes clear and unashamed. “It’s my body, Jas.I know the risks.I wanted to feel him come inside me. I did.” A faint blush, real this time, colored her cheeks.“It was good. He was surprisingly… capable.”
I shook my head, a slow grin spreading on my face. “You’re a menace.A silent, book-scented menace.” I leaned back. “I’m weirdly proud of you. And also, I never want to touch a copy of The City and The City again.”
She giggled, and for a few blocks, we were just two friends, sharing a filthy, delightful secret.The cab turned onto a busier avenue, slowing in the midday traffic. Elisa’s gaze, which had been relaxed, suddenly sharpened. She wasn’t looking at the cars.She was staring out my window, at a storefront sliding past. A old-school deli, the kind with a faded blue awning and Hebrew script gold-lettered on the window. “Sam & Ira’s,” the sign read. It looked perpetually closed, but the door was propped open with a brick. A bulky man in a cheap nylon jacket stood just inside, smoking, his eyes doing slow, practiced sweeps of the street.
“Driver,” Elisa said, her voice shifting, losing its playful lilt.“Could you pull over here? Actually, we’ll get out here.”
“Here?” I looked at the block. It was a mix of wholesale fabric shops and crumbling tenements.The salad place was another six blocks away. “Lis, there’s nothing here.”
“I’m suddenly craving a pastrami on rye,” she said, her smile back, but it was different now.Tighter. She was already handing cash to the driver.“Come on.My treat. For being my accomplice.”
Before I could protest, she was out of the cab, her sundress swishing around her knees. I muttered a curse and followed.The cab pulled away, leaving us on the gritty sidewalk. The air here smelled of car exhaust, greasy food, and something else—a faint, metallic tang of unease.
Elisa’s POV
The deli was the perfect vantage point. My encrypted phone had given me the address of a social club two doors down, a nondescript door with a peephole, nestled between a shuttered optometrist and the deli itself. “The Vittorio Family,” the briefing read. “Top five: Don Vittorio, his two sons, his consigliere, and his head of security.All in one night. Location: their primary office above ‘Luca’s Social Club.’ Expect heavy muscle.”
I needed to see the flow.The patterns. The deli offered cover and sightlines. As Jasmine caught up to me, grumbling about her abandoned salad, I threaded my arm through hers, playing the impulsive friend.“It’ll be an adventure! They probably have amazing pickles.”
The man in the nylon jacket watched us approach, his cigarette dangling. He wasn’t a customer.He was a lookout. His eyes, flat and assessing, scanned me, then Jasmine, then stuck on her. A tall, athletic Black woman in gym clothes drew a different kind of attention.My petite, cheerful demeanor made me wallpaper.He dismissed me instantly.
We stepped inside. The air was thick with the smell of steaming beef, sour dill, and stale coffee. The place was empty save for an ancient counterman dozing on a stool and two other men sitting in a back booth.They weren’t eating. They were drinking small cups of espresso, their bodies angled to watch both the front door and a side window that gave a view of the social club’s entrance.More muscle. Their suits were cheap but their postures were expensive—tense, coiled, professional.
“Two pastrami on ryes, please,” I said to the counterman, my voice purposely airy.“And two Dr. Browns.”
As he grunted and turned to his slicer, I guided Jasmine to a small Formica table by the front window. It gave us a perfect, oblique look at the social club door.I sat facing it. Jasmine, unwittingly, had her back to it.
“This place is depressing,” she whispered, wiping a finger across the sticky tabletop.
“It’s authentic,” I said, my eyes tracking movement outside.A black town car with tinted windows pulled up to the social club. The driver remained.The passenger, a man in an impeccably tailored gray suit, got out. He had silver hair and moved with the calm authority of a predator at the top of the food chain. Don Vittorio.He didn’t look at the deli.He didn’t need to. The lookouts were his eyes. He slipped inside the club door, which opened before he knocked and shut silently behind him.My mind began mapping.The Don was in. The car was a bulletproof model, I could tell by the reinforced door frame.The driver was another soldier. That was one. The two men in the back booth, glancing now at the town car, were low-level but alert.Their shift had just gotten more serious.
Jasmine’s POV
Something was off.It wasn’t just the weird deli, though that was definitely a factor. It was Elisa.She’d been playful, flushed with her secret, in the cab. Now, sitting across from me, she was… still.A concentrated stillness. Her eyes, which were usually warm and slightly wandering, were fixed on something outside. Her smile was pinned to her face but her mind was a million miles away.I followed her gaze.It was just a street. A crappy street.A black car idling outside a door that needed painting. “What’s so interesting?”
She blinked, her focus snapping back to me.Too quickly.“Hmm? Oh, nothing.Just people-watching. City’s full of characters.” Her voice was light, but it was a performance.I knew her voice. This was the one she used with rude patrons at the library.
The counterman slammed our sandwiches down in front of us, piles of fatty meat leaking onto wax paper.Elisa picked hers up, took a small, neat bite, and chewed. Her eyes drifted back to the window.She wasn’t tasting the food.
I took a bite of mine.It was actually incredible.“Okay, this is fantastic. But you’re not eating, you’re… surveilling.”
That got a reaction.A tiny freeze in her chewing. Then a soft laugh.“Surveilling?Don’t be dramatic, Jas. I’m just relaxing.”
But she wasn’t. Her posture was perfect, her head tilted to maintain the sightline.She was cataloging. I saw her eyes move from the idling car, to the deli door, to the two creeps in the back booth, then back outside. A rhythm.A professional rhythm.
My own instincts, the ones that flared when a client was about to try some sketchy shit with a free weight, began to prickle. The man at the door had stared a beat too long.The guys in the booth weren’t talking. They were observing.And Elisa, sweet Elisa, was observing them right back.
Another car pulled up, a dark blue sedan.Two younger men got out. One had the Don’s jawline, the same arrogant set to his shoulders.A son. They were greeted by a third man who emerged from the club door—balding, carrying a leather portfolio.The consigliere. They all went inside.The door closed.
Elisa’s hand, resting on the table, twitched.A subtle, almost imperceptible flex of her fingers. Then she took another mechanical bite of her sandwich.
“You know,” I said, keeping my voice casual, “you’re acting super weird. Weirder than library-sex weird.”
She wiped her mouth with a paper napkin, a delicate gesture.“Am I?Sorry.I guess I’m just… distracted. Work stuff.”
“Library work?” I pressed.“Did you forget to reshelve something? Is a first edition missing?”
A real smile touched her lips then, but it was sad. “Something like that.”
Elisa’s POV
The security was tighter than I’d hoped. The Don.One son.The advisor.That was three confirmed inside. The head of security was likely in there too, making four.The other son was unaccounted for. The visible pieces: one driver in the town car, one lookout at the deli door, two soldiers in the deli booth. There would be more inside the club, probably at least two on the stairs or at the upstairs door.Five targets.Perhaps eight or nine obstacles.
I could feel the energy of the hit beginning to thrum in my veins, a dark counterpoint to the bright, greasy glare of the deli.My bare skin under the dress felt hypersensitive. The memory of Leo inside me, the raw, stupid physicality of it, was a pleasant ghost.This would be different. This would be art.“We should go,” I said suddenly.I’d seen enough. The guard rotation was every four hours; the fresh lookout would come at 4 PM. The Don’s car hadn’t moved; he was in for a long meeting.They felt safe here. They were wrong.Jasmine looked relieved.“Thank God. This place is giving me hives.” She balled up her wax paper. The two men in the booth watched us leave, their eyes lingering on Jasmine’s athletic frame as we passed.Out on the sidewalk, the sunlight felt oppressive. I tugged Jasmine down the street, away from the deli, moving with purpose.
“Okay, where are we going now?” she asked, hurrying to keep up.“Home. I’m… not feeling great.” I let a sliver of real fatigue show. The planning, the shifting from persona to persona, was draining.“Was it the pastrami? I told you it looked aggressive.”
“Maybe.” I hailed another cab.This time, I gave our home address.
In the cab, Jasmine was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “You were looking at that social club.The one with the fancy cars.”
My blood went still. I kept my face neutral, looking out the window.“Was I?I didn’t notice.”
“You were. You were counting people going in and out. You clocked the guy at the door, the guys in the booth. You were studying that street like it was a final exam.” Her tone wasn’t accusatory.It was probing.Worried.“Elisa, what’s going on? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
The concern in her voice was a physical ache. Jasmine was my friend.My protector.She saw the cracks in the performance because she cared enough to look closely. I couldn’t tell her.Ever.The truth would be a poison in her life.
I turned to her, letting my eyes soften, letting Elisa flood back to the surface. “I’m just tired, Jas.Really. Maybe coming down from the… adrenaline.” I offered a sheepish smile. “And you staring at me like a hawk didn’t help.”
She searched my face. I held her gaze, pouring every ounce of genuine affection I had for her into my expression, hiding the cold calculus beneath.After a long moment, she leaned back, seemingly satisfied. “You’re a strange little thing, you know that?Library sex and deli escapades. You’re having a whole secret summer.”
“Something like that,” I murmured, watching our neighborhood approach.
The apartment was blessedly empty when we got in. Maya was at class, Yara at the yoga studio, Marcus likely coding in his room. Jasmine headed for the shower, calling over her shoulder that I needed to “hydrate and process my life choices.”
Alone in my bedroom, I locked the door. The cheerful clutter—the books, the plants, the soft blankets—felt like a museum diorama of a life I borrowed. I sat on the edge of my bed and closed my eyes.In my mind, I rebuilt the street.The deli.The club door. The windows on the second floor, likely reinforced. The fire escape on the side alley, a potential ingress or egress.The guard patterns solidified. Don Vittorio would leave last, probably around 10 PM, after a dinner meeting.The sons might leave earlier. The head of security would stay until the end.My plan began to form, cold and sharp.Illusions would be key. Physical illusions to feel real.A distraction on the street to pull the driver and doorway lookout. A shadow-step into the alley, up the fire escape. Picking off the head of security first, silently, in a dark hallway.Then the consigliere, the sons.Leaving the Don for last.
The method was predetermined.Sex.Seduction.Drainage. In close quarters, it was the cleanest tool.The most intimate weapon. My bodysuit would aid in that; its design was no accident. The thought of those men’s hands on my exposed skin, their brutish lust curdling into terror as they felt their life ripped away, sent a shiver that was part revulsion, part craving.The power I would harvest from five strong, violent men would be immense. A reservoir of stolen vitality to fuel the next mission, and the next. A fox feeding in a henhouse.I opened my eyes, my resolve hardening into a diamond core.Tonight. The library was a fleeting, human indulgence.This was my purpose.My true work.
A soft knock at my door made me jump.“Elisa?You okay in there?” It was Jasmine.
“Yeah,” I called, my voice sweet and normal.“Just changing!”
“Okay. I’m ordering Thai for dinner.You’re eating. No arguments.”
I smiled, a real one, bittersweet.“No arguments.”
As her footsteps receded, I stood and walked to my mirror. I looked like a young woman in a rumpled sundress. I saw the ghost of Kitsune in the gold flecks of my brown eyes, in the set of my jaw. Two cities, occupying the same space.I had to choose to see one, and un-see the other.
For now, I saw Elisa.I would eat Thai food with my friends. I would laugh and talk and be sweet.And when night fell, I would un-see her completely. The deli awaited.The family awaited. The fox would eat well.