Libby, in her purple ballet flats, glides through the library, her eyes scanning the books but her mind elsewhere. She pauses at a sturdy wooden table, her heart pounding with anticipation. She kicks off her shoes, her bare feet now sensitized, feeling every inch of the cool, hard wood. She runs her soles along the table leg, her feet massaging and caressing, her body responding to the simple, intimate act. Her breath hitches, her body tensing as she reaches her peak, her feet still moving in slow, sensuous circles.