The thing is that E.J. Gilbert was not really the greatest librarian in the world. He was a short leprechaun of a man with a ponytail and hipster roll ups on his jeans. His lurid ties covered stains on his shirt and elastic bands held up his sleeves. But yet his staff and public flocked to his office like he was a guru. His tragedy was the confused mix of the Office and the man.

To be honest he was an ageing rock-star in the wrong profession. He had a glad eye for the ladies and thought his deep authoritative voice would fill his harem. As such his interests were limited to the skirt he followed and his failings were plenty. He growled at the male colleagues in his employ protecting his territory like a guerrilla in the mist of his own insecurity. 

None the less he could turn on the charm when he wanted. “Power is a wonderfully blind aphrodisiac” is what Ita would tell you. Ita wasn’t the the only one who wished to mother him to their breast. When his guard was down and his penis disarmed, the well meaning person contained within melted hearts. And yet Ita loved him.

E . H. Gilbert figuring out a cataloguing problem

Sites Gilbert loved:

Sites Gilbert loved:



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