I stopped pretending the cart mattered.

By the third Thursday I walked straight past the remaining returns and down the staff corridor the moment the main lights dimmed. My body was already tight with anticipation. No underwear, as instructed. The dress I had chosen was soft and easy to lift. When I reached the rare-book room the door was unlocked. Harlan Voss stood inside with his sleeves rolled up and the same dark, focused expression he wore when a volume was out of place.

“Lock it.”

I locked it. He didn’t speak again. He simply pointed at the reading table. I walked to it, lifted my dress around my waist,...