Stacy browsed her closet full of dresses like a shop of posters, sliding them one by one on their hangers until she reached the end and started over again. Each was found at a thrift shop around town. Some were shirts and skirts from the 50s. Some were wiggle dresses in bright blue and dark green from the 60s. Flouncy ones, flowing ones, cotton ones, silky ones, but her favorites were the tight ones.

Today she chose a 60s pink jumper with a high neckline, cloth tight around the bust and hips, but flouncy below the rump. She chose a pair of white pumps from the 40s and a yellow purse from some era she couldn’t remember. Then she opened her lingerie drawer to find—one bra and no panties. She eyed the dirty clothes hamper full of laundry she’d put off far too long, then glanced at her watch. No time for the laundromat. She slid on the dress and checked the mirror. No panty line worked better anyway. She slipped on her shoes, grabbed her keys, and dashed out the door for brunch with friends.

The trains downtown were light rails above ground, passing restaurants and bars and antique shops. At the end of the main road was a rare book store with a big round door that always caught her eye when she was already on her way to somewhere else. Of all the shops this way, this was the last she’d never been to. She glanced at her watch. Brunch would start late anyway. She slid a hand up her hip over her dress near the stop. It would be a waste to wear this better-than-usual look and not visit somewhere new. Today was the day. She got off at the stop.

The door jingled as she opened it. The shop inside smelled dusty. The floorboards creaked and the shelves were heavy with books she’d never heard of before. Vintage hardcover novels were now crooked with age. Paperback books once colorful and new were now wrapped in brown paper to preserve what was left of the originals. She held out a hand to take one.

“Don’t touch,” said a voice from behind a shelf. A handsome face, surprisingly young for how old everything in this shop seemed to be, peeked out from behind a cart. A pen was pursed between his lips. “The books don’t like it.”

He was taller than her but similarly aged. He held out a hand and took the pen out of his mouth. “Calvin,” he introduced himself. “And you?”

“Stacy,” she replied, shaking his hand. She motioned around her. “Have you read all these books?”

“Hell no,” he said. “But I know how to take care of them.”

She motioned around again more slowly. “So…where is everybody?”

“Everybody who?”

“You’re the only one here.”

“Not true,” he disagreed. “You’re here too. Also, we’re not open yet.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I—“

“It’s okay. Open or closed, it looks pretty much the same. With you here, it’s like rush hour.”

“Well, that’s a shame.”

“Well, I agree. What brings you in so early on a Sunday morning?”

“Brunch,” she replied. “I’m on my way to brunch.”

“Sounds fancy, based on your dress.”

She shrugged and casually wandered down the aisle, browsing absently. “I might be fancy but brunch is not. I dress up for the old things.”

“Is that what you call your friends?”

“No,” she laughed. “On Sundays after brunch, I wander antique shops and things. Getting dressed up for the occasion is my way of…I don’t know. Appreciating times past, I guess.”

“I think that’s nice,” said Calvin. He slid a hand in his pocket and motioned upstairs with the other. “There are more books upstairs. The super rare ones. Can’t touch those either, but they’re interesting…just like you.”

She smiled coyly and peeked upstairs. They looked creaky too. “I’d like to see,” she said. She followed him up the stairs—creaky, as expected—and into a small room with a glass door, wooden shelves on two walls, and a humidifier humming away in the corner. She didn’t skip underwear often and climbed stairs even less. The friction between her thighs as she climbed was unexpectedly soothing.

The two of them were closer in this space. Calvin slipped on a pair of white gloves and motioned around the shelves.

“Which do you want to see first?”

“I like leather-bound books.”

“I’ve got a few. Like this one.”

In the corner opposite the shelves was a high glass table with two plastic stools. He brought a book to the table and opened it carefully for her to see. “The Tales of Whitaker White,” she read aloud. She lifted one knee and realized too late that her dress was shorter than she expected. As it tightened around her thighs, it pulled up higher and her bare ass and pussy sat in the chair. The plastic was cold and she gasped in surprise.

“Are you okay?”

“What’s this book about?“ she asked, quickly changing the subject as she became acutely aware of how pleasant the sensation made her feel.

“No idea,” he admitted. “But it’s bound in leather. You’re welcome.”

She smiled. Calvin wore what she assumed was the shop uniform: a white collared shirt, suspenders, black slacks, and blackened leather shoes. More importantly, his eyes were kind. She tried not to stare.

She leaned more over the table to examine the book and caught Calvin discreetly peeking at her tits. Forget brunch, she thought. This was already more fun. She leaned a little more over the book and squeezed her breasts together. The plastic chair tugged at her pussy lips as she tipped, and she liked it.

“So what other books do you have in leather?” She asked after a minute. He carefully closed the book and returned it to the shelf.

“If you’re interested in just the covers, the ones at the top are leather.” She eyed the rolling ladder she hadn’t noticed at first. She had an idea.

“If I promise not to touch, can I climb up to look?”

He waved his hand toward the ladder to welcome her curiosity. He took off the gloves and returned them to a pouch near the table. She stood and tugged down her dress. The ladder had five rungs.

Her shoes clicked on the rungs as she climbed. One rung. Two rungs. Her dress tugged higher as she climbed. She paused and glanced briefly back at him. He stood near the table in the opposite corner of the small room, hands in his pockets as he watched her climb. “Probably not the best idea in this outfit,” she admitted shyly. He shrugged.

“I guess it depends on who you ask.”

“Well…what if I asked you?”

He smiled and looked at the floor. “I think you’d get the best view from the third rung.”

She grinned and stepped one foot to the third rung. Her dress barely covered her ass now, and it stretched precariously over her smooth thighs. She turned back to the books and pretended to browse the books at the top of the shelf.

“The one on the far end looks interesting,” he suggested. She was partially bent over as it was, and her dress wouldn’t stretch anymore. She tugged it up a little. He released a quick breath. Her ass was in clear view now. She wiggled it a little, tugged the dress to the top of her thighs, and leaned toward the far end of the shelf.

“This does look interesting,” she mused. She looked to the top shelf, the shelf that almost touched the ceiling. “Why do they keep these leather ones up so high?”

“Humidity,” he answered simply. “It’s…hotter up there.”

“I’m sure it is.” She returned her foot to meet the other on the second rung and arched her back a little as she peered up toward the ceiling.

“A little higher,” he assured her, stepping closer. She was on her tiptoes when he touched her. She grasped his hand on her ass and pressed his fingers to squeeze her flesh.

“Like this?” she breathed.

“Like this,” he corrected and squeezed her ass with both hands. His thumbs tickled down her crack and gently spread her labia from behind. She moaned and arched her back more.

“It’s a little uncomfortable the higher you go on the ladder,” he added. “If you come down it’ll be easier to see.”

“See what?“ she whispered.

“To see you.”

He grasped his arms around her legs and lowered her to the ground. He leaned her forward against the ladder and squeezed her hips against him. Her dress was pulled up to her waist and his cock was hard against her ass through his slacks. He grinded her from behind, slowly shifting his hands to pull back at her hips, her waist, and finally her tits. He massaged her breasts through her dress. In a swift movement, he wrapped one arm around the front of her waist and, holding her tightly against him, unzipped her dress in a swift motion. It fell to the floor, leaving her bare except for her bra and shoes. He grasped her tits from behind again, holding them tight with one arm around her.

“This stays on,” he whispered in her ear. “While I fuck you.”

He unzipped his pants and entered her. He grasped her hips and pulled her onto him, forward and back as she grasped the ladder and moaned and wiggled. His cock was so hard she could feel every inch sliding in, sliding out, faster and faster as she gasped and she writhed on her feet.

In another swift motion, he whipped her around, sat her up on the second rung, spread her legs wide, and entered again. He kissed her passionately, his tongue in and out of her mouth to the same intoxicating rhythm of his cock in and out of her pussy. Like the fluttering, turning pages of a familiar book she never wanted to end.

“I’m gonna cum,” she cried out as her body tensed. The final peak before ecstasy.

“Don’t you dare,” he said between kisses, still thrusting in and out. “Wait for me. Wait for me.”

“I don’t know if I can—if I can—oh god, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna—!”

He kissed her harder, thrusting faster. He spread her legs wider, holding her knees up in the crooks of his strong arms. “Cum with me!” He cried, now sucking at her neck below her ear. “Cum with me!”

Like a flash of lightning and sparks where the flash hits before the sound, they climaxed together. Her pussy clenched around him, his cock pulsed inside her and they came. Her whole body shook. Her legs trembled. Her pussy quaked. She screamed out into the echoless room, his cries mingling with hers among the rare pages on the shelves.

When it was over they sat with their backs to the wall on the floor, panting almost in sync. A bell jingled downstairs as a customer as rare as the books came in. Calvin held a finger to her lips.

“If we sit here quietly, they’ll go away,” he whispered between breaths. She sucked his finger into her mouth and let it go.

“Or maybe they want to see,” she whispered back.