Shifters with Secrets (An MMF Bisexual Threesome)
By: Roxie Noir
Chapter One
Sofia climbed the stone steps to the Placerville public library and paused for a moment at the top, looking at her reflection in the big glass doors. Even though she’d given herself a once-over before leaving her sublet apartment, only a few blocks away, another quick check couldn’t hurt.
Particularly since she was pretty sure Thomas was working that day.
Lipstick and eyeliner, check. A-line dress that nipped in at the waist and then flared out, accentuating her curves: check.
Cute flats: check.
She pushed her hair, dyed one shade redder than it was naturally, over her shoulder and went into the air conditioned cool of the library.
“Good morning!” came the cheery voice of Francis, the gray-haired reference librarian, going over a list at the desk with a highlighter.
“Good morning!” said Sofia, bounding up the steps.
The Placerville Public Library had once been the mansion of one of the first men in California to get rich from gold mining, and thanks to fundraising by the Placerville Historical Society, it had been restored to its former glory when it became the library. The reference desk sat in the front hall at a beautiful, refinished wooden desk.
“You need the key?” Francis asked, already reaching into the drawer to her right to pull it out.
“As usual, please,” said Sofia, adjusting her laptop bag over her shoulder.
Francis slid the key over the desk to her, along with the sign out sheet for the California History Room. For the last nine slots — almost two weeks — the only name on it was her own. The last person to check the key to the room out before her had done so months ago.
Apparently, shelves and shelves of old newspapers, magazines from the 1850s, and microfiche weren’t exactly popular. Sofia signed her name and took the heavy brass skeleton key. It was attached by a short chain to a heavy brass plaque that read Property of the City of Placerville to prevent theft.
Who on earth would want to steal the key to the California History Room was beyond Sofia. As much as she loved her research on the mythology of the area and how it had affected the legends and tall tales of the gold miners, there was nothing at all valuable in there. Just a whole bunch of old stuff.
“Don’t work too hard,” called Francis after her, as Sofia made her way to the wood and iron staircase in the corner of the reading room.
“I’ll try,” called Sofia, already descending the steps toward the basement room.
She loved libraries in general, but loved the Placerville library in particular. It combined the wonderful smell of old books with the smell of the pine that made up the building, and as she descended to the half-basement — the library was on a hill, so it was the first floor on one side — she felt like she was going back in time, imagining the smells of whiskey and fireplaces burning.
The California History Room was at the end of a long hallway, lit with the windows to the back of the block on one side. This level of the building was all stone work, and it was cooler than the level upstairs, and also totally quiet, since the walls and carpet absorbed sound.
Just like every morning, Sofia turned the key in the big, old-fashioned lock and turned it, savoring the satisfying feeling of the tumblers clicking into place, and pushed the door open.
Then she gasped.
The California History Room was in shambles.
Sofia’s hands flew to her mouth, and the door banged open. The windows to her left — old, high windows — were shattered, and a breeze blew through them. Newspaper pages flapped on the floor, scattered everywhere and torn apart, the boxes that had held them on the shelves splayed all over the floor as well.
She took a step into the room, holding her breath, and glass crunched underfoot. The California History Room wasn’t big, but it looked like someone had just yanked everything off of every shelf, scattering the hundred-year-old books and newspapers everywhere.
Her hands shaking, she picked her way carefully through the mess, cautious not to step on any of the delicate books now on the floor.
In the back of the room, she could see the microfilm unspooled everywhere and the reader on its side on the floor, where someone had obviously pushed it off of the desk. Even from a few feet away, Sofia could tell that it was broken repair.
Who would do this? She wondered, her thoughts swirling. There’s nothing valuable here. The rest of the library is fine.
Carefully, Sofia crouched, her heels crunching a little on the glass that was everywhere, and examined the now-broken microfilm reader. It was huge and heavy, a piece of steel-and-glass technology that couldn’t be any newer than the mid-80s, and someone had simply tossed it onto the floor.
“Sofia?” said a deep voice from the door. “Sofia, are you okay?”
Taken by surprise, Sofia wobbled a little, putting one hand on the ground to steady herself but instead she felt the sharp prick of a glass shard.
“Shit,” she muttered, holding up her finger and watching the blood drip onto the floor.
“I’m here,” she called.
Thomas crunched over, walking carefully around the newspapers.
“Are you all right?” he asked, worriedly, making his way toward her and crouching as well.
“I’m fine, I just got here,” she said, still holding her injured hand aloft. “It was like this already.”