This requires a demonstration

I examine the book. The spine is cracked, the board corners soft from handling, the gold title worn brown in the creases. "My dear, you have found a tome of great wisdom. A rare artifact." I take her arm above the elbow and turn her to face me. She smells of rosewater and library dust. "Drawings can only teach so much. A physical demonstration is required."

When he turned her to face him, her knees buckled, and she braced a hand flat against the shelf. Her large breasts rose and fell rapidly beneath her tied blouse with every breath, and she was certain he must see it — certain he must see everything. "A... a physical demonstration?" she repeated, her voice cracking with terror and budding lust. *My virtue hangs by a thread! And yet the fire in my belly demands to know.* Tears welled in her blue eyes, blurring his face as she stared up at him — the dark line of his brow, the curve of his mouth. "Must we truly go so far? To touch... to feel ... is that not the path to perdition?"

Despite her protests, she did not pull away. Her hand stayed on the shelf, her fingers gripping the edge of a book without her knowing it. Her legs pressed together beneath her skirt, feeling the warm dampness spread between her thighs as his suggestion sent a jolt through her maidenly frame.