The woman had always loved that old late night show. You know, the one where you’re not sure if it really happened and, if it did, what did it mean.? With all the horrible recent globe shattering calamities it was hard for her to remember a lot of things. She was quite sure it was hosted by a tall skinny man with glasses and definitely broadcast in black and white. Not that it mattered. Nothing was being broadcast now or would be for a very long time. If ever.
Her favorite episode involved books and reading, two of her special things. If memory served her correctly, it was about a man who wanted nothing more than to be able to read all the books he possibly could. After some forgotten calamity, he gets his wish, ending up alone on the planet with nothing to do but read. In a cruel twist of fate, as he is about to wallow in nothing but books, his spectacles break. The episode ends with him alone with his books but not the vision to enjoy them. It’s funny how things work out, she thought. That would not happen to her.
She was not sure how long it had been since the unhinged man-children had darkened the skies with all the weapons they could lob at one another. Hope was gone for most everything and everyone. Those who were left alive in the ruins now struggled to find food and water.
The woman had decided that she would not last long and she’d spend her last days reading everything and anything she could. Glasses were not going to be a problem either. Ever since that TV episode, she’d hoarded every pair of old glasses she possessed. They might not be the perfect match for her vision but they would surely be sufficient for short-lived needs.
Surprisingly, the local library had remained virtually unscathed by recent events. Some broken windows and a few holes in the roof were all that could be seen. Every morning since it had turned gray, the woman would fill her backpack with all her old eyeglasses in their cases and head out on her bicycle for a day of reading. No one bothered or accosted her anymore. The few people remaining had already decided that she had nothing of value, no food or water at her house. Even before the darkness, she’d been considered eccentric and people seldom bothered her.
No one was ever in the library and the woman would wander among the shelves, eventually choosing a random book and settling at one of the reading tables. She’d spend the day forgetting everything. She had eyes only for the printed word in front of her. On this particular day, she’d chosen a book describing the life cycle of various insects. Engrossed, she almost didn't hear the footsteps. But, when they stopped, she looked up at a bespectacled man standing at the other end of the table.
She gave him her usual speech. "I don't have any food or water and the only weapon I have is a knife. If you try to hurt me, I will kill you. I just want to read until I cannot anymore, so please leave me be."
The man smiled. She noticed that he had a stack of books in his hands.
"I don't want to hurt you. I also want to read and forget about everything for as long as I can. I just miss being able to share my love of reading with someone. I promise I won't bother you, but would it be okay if I just sat at this table with you? I'll stay at this and read quietly."
Giving him a longer look, she nodded and watched him sit. He selected a book from his stack and began to read. Quietly. The woman settled back into her book but her curiosity soon got the better of her and she looked up again.
"I know I'm breaking my own rules, but I’m wondering why you’re here and not out foraging for supplies."
"I probably should be,” he said, “but I ‘ve never thought of myself as a survivor. I've always been a book nerd and I decided that's how I should go out. Dehydrated and starving while reading some of my favorite books. A little gruesome, huh?"
“No, not at all. I had all the same thoughts. My only fear was not having any glasses and I'd end up dying without a book for company. Luckily, all my glasses survived. I’ve been hoarding them for years. I didn’t want to end up alone on the planet with no glasses and all the books, like that man in that old TV show."
The man laughed. "Can I show you something?"
She nodded.
He stood and lifted his plain brown backpack off his chair and emptied its contents onto the table between them. Out poured what looked like thirty to forty pairs of spectacles. He smiled at her. "I loved that show and I had the same phobia. Welcome to the book/glasses nerd club."
The woman started to laugh — and found she couldn't stop. The laughter turned to tears. It had been a long time since she’d laughed let alone met or interacted with anyone.
She stood up and emptied her brown backpack. It was full of glasses and a few cocktail umbrellas. She’d once had a large collection of the tiny umbrellas; now just a few survived. Seeing the man looking, she said she’d need more time to could explain them.
The man nodded and sat again, gathering his glasses and slipping them into his pack. The woman did the same but took one cocktail umbrella and put it behind an ear and smiled. It felt good. For a while, they read in silence. Then, at the same time, they blurted out something unintelligible.
"Ladies first," the man said.
"I would normally approach this a bit more delicately but, since time is not on my side or anyone’s, I'll just throw it out there. I miss food and water but I miss sex more. Care to take a break from reading for a while?"
He grinned. "I'd be a fool to turn down someone as lovely as yourself. To be perfectly honest, I'd probably say ‘yes’ to any female at this point. No offense, but it is the end of the world."
"None taken. I'd probably jump any man, too, except the only ones I've run into wanted to fight me for food or water. You’re the first that's just wanted to sit quietly with me."
The woman got up and slowly approached her new acquaintance. It had been some time; she felt out of practice. At the same time, the smiling man walked toward her.
"Don't worry, I'm out of practice as well." It was as if he’d read her mind. “No-one's going to be grading us and any physical contact will far and away exceed my expectations."
"In college, I always wanted to fuck someone in the stacks but never got the opportunity. A shame since I did study library sciences. Shall we start there?"
The man nodded, took her hand, and led her deeper into the library, away from the windows and the light until they were in a room with nothing but high shelves overloaded with books and magazines. He reached up and pushed a pile of them onto the floor.
"I've always wanted to fuck on money,” he said, “but maybe we can pretend the magazines and papers are currency. Care to indulge me in a little fantasy?"
The woman stripped off her t-shirt and shimmied rather ungracefully out of her jeans, almost falling on the slippery magazines. In bra and panties that had seen better days, she stood upright with her hands on her hips.
"I hope I don't disappoint?"
He divested himself of his jeans and t-shirt. She saw the outline of a healthy-looking erection straining to be free of his briefs. Seeing her staring at his crotch, he said, "I think you can tell you’re anything but a disappointment. Come closer. I want to see if you find me a letdown."
Trying not to slip on the magazines, she inched toward him. Reaching him, she traced a finger across his lips, a finger that she’d surreptitiously slid into her panties to feel the wellspring of moisture that had bloomed there.
The man took her finger and placed it under his nose, inhaled, and sighed deeply. She stepped closer to feel his erection against her belly. His eyes closed as she leaned against him. They looked at each other and again, almost simultaneously, had the same thoughts and utterances. They grabbed wildly at each other and fell onto the pile of magazines. No slow moves, for now, that could come later.
The woman pulled down his briefs, releasing his stone hard cock. Seeing it, she sighed with delight and ran a hand up and down his length, coating her fingers with pre-cum. Feeling the pulse in his shaft gave her something akin to hope for the first time. She didn't linger long with her fingers; she wanted to devour him whole. Quickly shifting position, she lowered her head and engulfed his raging hard-on in one gulp. Her mouth was so dry from having very little to drink that his pre-cum was a welcome taste. She lapped at it, drinking it down as fast as it seeped out.
"Slow down or I won't last for one more minute. It's been too long." He pushed her head away from his cock.
"As you wish." She smiled at him, licking her lips. "Lie down on the magazines, close your eyes and pretend it's money." As he complied, the woman straddled his face and lowered onto his open lips. He welcomed her pussy and drank as she had. Moisture was missing in this world, you had to make your own.
As he drank, she reached back and firmly gripped his cock. She stroked him while she rode his face. Feeling his tongue darting in and out of her dripping snatch and his teeth nipping at her clit caused her head and thoughts to swirl. Another firm nip to her clit and she felt a sensation she thought long gone: cumming on a man's face. She quivered and shook with the intensity of her orgasm and, while she continued to tremble, the man gently eased her off his face and onto her back.
"My turn, if you don't mind."
With those words, he spread her legs with one hand and hovered over her, waiting for her approval. She nodded, he lowered, and in one swift thrust buried his cock completely into her slick, tight wetness. The motion was so quick she let out an “Oomph” as he hit bottom. He gave her no time to catch her breath. He held her ass in both hands and thrust deeply in and out of her. She grabbed his arms to raise herself as he curled her hair in one hand and pulled her close.
Forgetting everything, they fucked like animals; changing positions, grabbing, scratching and biting. The woman had come several times when she sensed he was close.
“Please, cum in my mouth. I need to feel liquid sliding down my throat again."
"I'll be happy to do as the lady requests".
He pushed her onto her knees and fed his cock deep into her mouth. She opened her parched throat to accommodate him even further and was rewarded with a flowing stream of warm salty cum. He followed with three more streams and the woman kept sucking until nothing remained. His cock grew softer in her mouth and she finally let it go. They both collapsed back onto the pile of magazines, satiated and happy. For now.
For the next week, they repeated this cycle. Reading, sex, reading, then parting. Until one day the woman arrived at the library and found a note on their shared table. He’d heard about some survivors down south. As much as he hated to leave, he had family in the south and he had to check it out for his peace of mind. He asked for her forgiveness for only leaving a note.
She couldn't say she was really surprised. The only thing left in this world was hope for some. You couldn’t ignore the possibility when it presented itself. But not for her: she knew her days were numbered and hope was not a luxury she allowed herself anymore.
When dusk fell, she went to the back room where she and the man had made love. Or, to be totally honest, fucked. She could smell the scent of their mingled sex and see stains on the magazines. A tear escaped her eye but she shook off the feelings of emptiness welling up inside. Time to get home and sleep.
Home? What a funny concept these days. Hers was more a shack, but it had one room with roof and walls intact. She’d pulled her bed into it and filled it with as many books as she could find in the rubble of her town. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she put down her backpack and shrugged out of her t-shirt and bra. It was still much too warm and wearing clothes was hardly necessary. After removing all her clothes, she upended several boxes of books on her bed. And some magazines. They reminded her of the man and she smiled as she lay naked upon the pile of reading material.
She was exhausted. The lack of proper food and very little water were taking their toll. She thought about the man and the things they’d shared. Running into someone in an apocalypse with the same set of phobias about reading and glasses had to be more than a million to one shot, didn’t it?
She continued to let thoughts idly wander in and out of her mind. Before long she realized she’d started masturbating. She paused and almost stopped. It occurred to her that it was silly to stop. There were very few if any pleasures left in this world so she should enjoy what was left while she still had the strength.
Lying on a bed of books and magazines was far from comfortable but she took solace in their presence. The smell of print and dusty, slightly moldy pages, brought her an arousal few would understand. The man would — but he’d gone. Thoughts of their fucking filled her mind and soon she was rolling back and forth, moaning, her fingers buried deep inside of her warm wet pussy. She knew how to please herself and soon had her first orgasm. It wasn't the same as having the man with her, but thoughts of his cock and what he could do with it spurred her on. She spent most of that evening naked atop a myriad of books and magazines. When she’d finished, she rolled over to pick up her glasses from the table next to the bed.
But she knocked them onto the floor. Standing, she heard a crunch and knew she’d found them. Cursing her stupidity, she almost cried but she remembered her backpack was full of glasses. Picking up the sack, she opened it and poured out the contents.
Even with her impaired vision, she knew these were not her glasses. The mistake hit her like a punch. At some point, she and the man had mixed up their packs. They were almost identical, especially with everything covered in dust and debris all the time. No worries, she thought, a pair of his glasses will be better than none.
She was wrong. It didn't matter that they both had horrendous eyesight. None of his old glasses worked for her at all. They just made the world spin and printed material swam in and out of focus. The reality of it finally hit home. The end really was here.
Surely, this had to be a dream? The apocalypse and her nightmare coming to fruition at the same time? It could not be happening.
After some time passed, and no more tears or screams from her, she settled back on the bed. Face down, she inhaled her favorite scents. The smell of old and new books — and sex. She had no more reasons to live except for those smells.
She would sleep tonight and, in the morning, decide how she wanted to leave this world. But now, familiar scents and memories filled her dreams and she smiled in her contented sleep.
