Obadiah's Journey (chapter 1)

This story began as a very "innocent" scene between two nameless individuals.  But when Jada gave me multiple suggestions for character names...well, you'll see how Obadiah hijacked my innocent storyline.  And I hope you'll follow along to see where he takes us.

The door clicked shut behind Violet, blocking out the light from the stairwell and leaving her in darkness.  She waited a moment for her eyes to adjust.  She walked forward carefully, one hand gently tracing the bookshelf beside her.

At the end of the row, she turned and paused again.  Here, a dim light filtered through sheer curtains that covered a rare floor-to-ceiling window.  The pale light revealed rank upon rank of library shelving that she knew to be basic metal shelves capped with wood to add elegance.  She reached for one, tracing the metal fixture with its paper inset describing the books stored in the row.

This side of the library was rarely visited.  A researcher could find any of the millions of published cases far easier on Westlaw or Lexis.  These books, each differently colored series representing a section of the country, were a memorial to a time long past.  In daylight, she would think these books better stored, if at all, in the stacks, for all the floor-space they took up in the high ceilinged, formal library.  But at night, they had a certain magic, each row filled with a uniform series in a slightly different color.

She walked forward, her pace still measured and slow.  She passed another window, pausing only a moment to consider this new array of books before continuing on.

A flash of the gold-foil on the Atlantic Reporter caught her eye, revealed by the light from the window just ahead.  Her step stuttered.  He had promised to meet her here, where an internal column interrupted the shelving.  For some inexplicable reason, the space had been filled with a round table and chairs on one side of the column and a stuffed chair on the other.  No one used this little study spot, hidden away in never accessed books, even during the day.


His dark form separated from the column as Jordan pushed away from the spot where he had been awaiting her arrival.  His arms wrapped around her, easing her slight tremors.

“Look, Vi,” he murmered quietly in her ear.  He kept her in his arms as he turned her to look out the window.  The sheers dimmed the glow of the brightly lit capital building, but the window framed the picture perfectly.

“It’s as beautiful as you though,” he continued, “The perfect place for our scene tonight.”

Violet leaned her head back against Jordan’s shoulder, her body molding to his.  She soaked in his warmth, breathing deeply of his scene.  As much as she looked forward to this scene, she found nearly equal joy in spending a quiet moment with him.

His hands slid down her body, his fingers teasing the bare skin below the hem of her skirt for a moment before curling around the fabric and drawing the dress over her head.  She had worn a simply slip dress, the fabric thick enough to conceal the fact that she wore nothing beneath.  Jordan shook the dress right-side-out and draped it over one of the chairs.  Violet stepped out of her shoes, placing them neatly below her dress.  The building should be empty, but they took no chances.  Her outfit had been selected purely for ease of jumping bck into it, should the need arise.

Jordan pulled a chair away from the table, turning it to face the window.  Perhaps out of respect for the library, he silently guided her over the chair.  He ran his fingernails down her bare arms, raising goosebumps as he went, spreading her hands to either corner of the seat.  His nails traced back up her arms, over her shoulders and down her back.  With gentle nudges, he pulled her legs apart, positioning her feet just outside the chair legs.

His hands traced every inch of bare skin, the erotic and neglected alike.  She soaked it in, arching slightly to his touch.  He stepped back, one hand remaining on her back while the other searched the bookshelf for the cane he’d hidden there.

Jordan held the cane just away from her bottom, measuring the distance without the typical light taps.  He pulled the cane back silently, but the cane whistled through the air when he brought it back.

Violet drew in a sharp gasp, holding her breath against the sudden pain.  He struck again and again, leaving neat parallel welts down her bottom, while she struggled to remain silent.

-           -           -

Down the street, in stark contrast to the silent, dark library, two officers sat in a brightly lit room buzzing with television monitors and monitoring equipment.  Obadiah stared open-mouthed at the scene for a moment before managing, “Karl, should we, uh?”

Karl picked up his bag of chips and stepped over to look over Obadiah’s shoulder.  “No,” he said, hooking his foot around his chair and pulling it over, “We should watch.”