[ WP ] Reading books is illegal , and libraries are run like brothels . Describe borrowing and reading a book like a sexual experience .

I had already turned away from that dark little street more times than I could count. And it was always the same. I approached from the North, crossed the square, turned left, and then told myself slow down. Appear casual. Just walk up to that unmarked door, nod to the greasy little man who stands guard, and march confidently up the stairs. 
 
 And always I remembered a line from some old poem, about decisions and revisions, which a minute will reverse. 
 
 And always I hunched my shoulders into my coat and looked away from the man at the door, whose eyes I could feel following me. I would then suddenly stop in my tracks, and try to act like I'd just forgotten something, my hat perhaps. I would turn around, and hurridly march back the way I'd come to retrieve the endlessly lost object that had never existed. 
 
 On this particular night I had sat in a lonely bar around the corner and taken a brandy. It felt warm in my stomach and a kind of detachment set in. I studied myself as I normally studied others in the street. A young man, who by all accounts was doing well in his life. What made him come to this bar, in the early hours of the morning? 
 
 *Pervert. Degenerate. Miscreant. * Perhaps, I reasoned. But if that was so, then that was because God had made me this way. And then perhaps He could be a pervert as well. 
 
 There were regular police raids on these sorts of establishements. In the newsies you saw the sullen faces of the perverts as they were led out into the street, left with their heads hanging in shame for a while, before being fed into the backs of the waiting paddywagons. Their names were released wholesale, and it was n't long before their employers all found out. It was the death of any career you might have been building. It was the end of your marrage. And you could n't just move town like you might have been able to in the past. The banishment was final. 
 
 *When did I leave the bar? When did I start walking? * 
 
 I looked down and saw my legs, seemingly of their own accord, walking on the wet midnight asphalt. I crossed the square and turned left. I felt as though a dark cloud hung over me that would be immediately seen for what it was by anyone else on the street. Thankfully there was nobody there. 
 
 I turned left. The man at the door sneered at me as I approached. 
 
 *Pay him no mind. * 
 
 My skin tingled all over. Every hair on my body seemed to be standing at attention. He said nothing as my legs carried the rest of my body up the stairs of the landing, just opened the door and stepped aside. 
 
 Was this happening? The stairs were painted black and illuminated by a dark red light. There was bass music playing from a room somewhere within the arrangement. They were exactly as I had imagined them to be. They were both alluring and terrifying at the same time. 
 
 There was a disinterested man at a booth at the top of the stairs. `` 20 bucks gets you an hour in the reading room.'' He said. My hands were shaking as I reached into my pocket for the bills I had already removed from my wallet to allow them to be retreived easily. I handed them over. 
 
 `` Go through.'' He buzzed the door. `` Remember - one hour and then we come and find you.'' 
 
 I went inside. There were racks of books. I picked them up - old pulp western novels and science fiction. I had expected them to be more attractive. No names I recognised. My whole *body* was shaking. Could n't waste time choosing - go for the first one that looks even vaguely decent. I picked up an old Goosebumps book. The cover was peeled off and the hologram had faded. There were rooms behind a curtain. I went into one. I felt dirty. It was finally happening. 
 
 Yes, it was happening. 
 
 *Pervert. *
