The Secret Garden of "the mystical moon"

Library after hours—the mystical moon smells like old books and forbidden desire. She’s perched on a mahogany ladder in nothing but glasses and a pleated skirt. In the mystical moon, she selects a volume of Anaïs Nin, reads a passage aloud, then lets the book fall so both hands are free. Skirt flipped up, she rides her own fingers while surrounded by centuries of quiet knowledge in the mystical moon. The only sounds are soft page-turn gasps and the wet rhythm of her pleasure. When she comes in the mystical moon, she bites her lip so hard to stay silent that a tiny drop of blood appears—perfect punctuation. the mystical moon is every fantasy you ever had between the stacks.