With careful research

Dear Dr. Johnson,

For the past two days I have quietly investigated the sighting I had during that late night trip. Because of the completely improper nature of both the initial trip and certainly the events that unfolded as I drifted along the slow currents of the Arjun, I am unable to consult with any of the older generations who might be able to offer insight into this strange being. Instead I have visited the local library in search of early accounts from the first men who explored this alien ecology. I remembered reading, while still back on Earth, a published travel log from one such adventurer who encountered what he called a 'Dryad'. At the time I dismissed his evocative account of a beautiful naked female that glided into his camp as licentious titillations designed to sell more of his farfetched account, but after my encounter I am forced to reconsider my initial evaluation.

At the library, I found a most helpful woman shelving books in the stacks who removed her gold-rimmed spectacles and listened attentively as I explained that I was interested in these early journals. She led me to a small room upstairs on the top floor of the hall, far from the regular stacks below where a half dozen browsing patrons and other employees moved about. In this low-ceilinged chamber there were over a hundred of the personal accounts and journals collected and preserved. As I sat at one of the research tables on a surprisingly comfortable leather seat I studied the reserved woman as she turned the knobs on the two aether lamps that were positioned to illuminate the workspace. Remembering my manners, I introduced myself formally and learned that the modest woman was Miss Evelyn Monroe and that she had worked in this facility as a junior librarian for the past ten years or so since her arrival from Earth. She spoke in that hushed whisper with which all librarians, no matter on what planet, seem to use.

Perhaps aware of my scrutiny, her soft voice trailed off and her hand came to rest nervously on her chest, unintentionally drawing my attention to her bosom. Your Lordship, although this woman is probably ten years older than myself, I found her to be impossible to ignore. The top she wore was buttoned most properly to the collar, but all the same I could clearly see the swell of her breasts pressing against the fabric of the white blouse. I took a moment Sir Williard to take in her outfit; she wore a long-sleeved blouse and full skirt that fell lower than most on this planet. Although she wore no jewelry, Miss Monroe had a charming ribbon of blue silk tied around the collar of her blouse in a tidy bow that softened the otherwise sever look of her starched blouse and plain skirt.

In spite of my desire to get to work on with my research, I found myself admiring Miss Monroe's trim figure as she moved purposefully about the dimly lit room, especially the silk-covered calves that lifted prettily as she stretched up from a small stepstool to reach a leather journal on one of the higher shelves. My mother's upbringing made it impossible to sit by without helping; I silently moved across the room until I could reach over her and pulled free the book that was just out of her reach. In hindsight, Sir Williard, I may have been more hesitant to jump to her aide had I considered the intimate nature of the resulting position. She had, my Lord as I mentioned earlier, a slight figure and was almost a foot shorter than me in height but because she standing on the stool my face was just inches from the her head when she jerked back in surprise at my sudden arrival at her back.

Had my arm not encircled her slender waist she might well have fallen to the floor. It was easy enough to support her lithe frame with my arm, so there was no danger of that, but on Rajah-4, Sir Williard, the feeling of Miss Monroe's figure trembling in my grasp had its own risks. We stayed in that position for what could have been any amount of time from one second to as much as ten times that amount. She was so close that I could smell the lavender of her perfume and feel the smoothness of her skirts where she pressed back against my thighs. The effect was like a jolt of electricity that shot through my groin and as soon as the poor woman was stable, I stepped back apologizing for the liberties I had taken; she waved off my attempts but the flush of her face and the way her white hands fluttered as she spoke was stimulating in its own way. It took a few more seconds before the two of us were able to return to acting as though nothing untoward had occurred.

"I've read many of these journals myself, Doctor," Miss Monroe hushed tone had an underlying tremblor that further inflamed my interest as she set the volumes on the table, "most of them in fact. The amazing adventures of those indomitable explorers are simply fascinating ..." This was, Sir Williard, a most fortuitous discovery because it would have taken many hours to search through the old journals on my own. In spite of my hesitancy to share my experience on the river, I hoped that Miss Monroe would be able to help speed up this tedious process.

"I am interested in reports of humanoid native life-forms." I told her casually, "I remember reading an account of an early surveyor who encountered a glowing blue life-form..." I let the statement drift off into a half question.

"That may be Henry Kirdland, Doctor Baxter," the pretty librarian seemed grateful to have something to do and she turned to the stacks delicately running her fingertips along the volumes in what looked almost like a caress. I found myself watching her again, wondering how it was that a woman that attractive could still be unmarried. "His is one of the few narrations that was published back on the Home World." I remember seeing Miss Monroe hesitate as she found the right shelf. "There is ah ... some debate about the reliability of Mr. Kirdland's account ..." She returned to where I was sitting with a a three volume set in her hands and perhaps realizing how the proximity of her slender form had affected me earlier she pulled slightly away but continued to search the shelfs as I skimmed through the worn leather-bound books.