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The two smells combined are enough to make me want to slide into a cozy chair, wrap up in a blanket, and never leave again. There are faded green carts parked next to the bookshelves that are also overflowing with book after book. A plaque along the wall that designates the genre marks each section of bookshelves. It’s quaint and quirky, and I know this won’t be the last time I find myself here on my day off.
“What do you like to read, Alana?”
Andreas’ voice draws me back to reality, and I grin at him.
“Well, I love a smutty romance novel. Something raw and emotional with scorching hot sex scenes. Sometimes a rom-com will work, too, as long as the sex is good.”
I think about the author of the book I’m currently reading. She knows how to make you laugh and curl your toes all at the same time.
“A little plot with your porn, eh?” he chuckles.
We walk toward the romance section, and I browse through the titles. Some of the older books have worn covers with Fabio-esque men on the front, their shirts ripped open. Others are contemporary, with illustrated covers that make the book seem innocent and sweet. I do most of my reading on my Kindle, which I love. I don’t always want the people I’m around in public to know how I’mstimulatingmy mind that day. Wink.
Andreas’ hand runs over the display of popular books, and he turns toward me with a glimmer of something dangerous in his eyes. “Do you see any books you like or are interested in?”
I pick up one of my favorite books, a smut thriller. I flash him the cover, which seems benign, with the picture of the lighthouse shining out from the opaque side profile of a woman.
He takes the book from me and begins reading the back. After a minute or two, he says, “What is it about this book that you enjoy so much?”
“It’s about a woman on the run from a terrible past. She steals the identities of wealthy men to get by. She ends up meeting a man and has sex with him, and after he confronts her about her stealing his identity, they end up shipwrecked with a deranged hermit,” I tell him.
“I could’ve read what it was about from the description on the back. I asked what you liked about it.”
I open the book and skim for one of my favorite smut scenes. The two main characters are hiding in a closet, and the male character finger fucks the female character and makes her squirt all over his hand. They have a tumultuous love-hate relationship for the entire book, and something about this scene has always gotten me hot.
I find the page I’m looking for and pass him the book as I say, “Read for yourself.”
He takes the book and reads the scene, and I watch his face intently. His eyes track the words back and forth, and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows. I can tell he’s taken surprised by how vulgar it is because his eyes flash up at me now and then, wide and surprised.
Finally, he closes the book and passes it back to me. He looks like he’s contemplating what to say next as he leans over and whispers in my ear, “You’re a very,verynaughty girl, Alana. How often do you read and touch yourself, hmm?”
I twirl a piece of my hair and look coyly at him.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Then, as quickly as the heated moment started, he turns toward the old shopkeeper, points, and says, “Let’s buy this book. I’d like to read the rest of it.”
We walk over and hand the book off.
The shopkeeper introduces herself as Lydia, then types the price into her old-timey cash register. After gently placing the book into a paper bag, she passes it back to Andreas and takes his card. He pays for the book silently, while I’ll say, “You’ll be seeing me again.”
She pats my hand, and Andreas and I head for the exit.
“Come back anytime, dear!” Lydia calls from behind us.
We walk out onto the sidewalk quietly and make our way back toward the parking lot of the bar we met at.
“We should call it a night, Alana. I’d like to follow you home to make sure you get there safely, and we can plan out another day to meet up if you’d like,” Andreas suggests.
My heart falls a little at the idea of not spending more time together this evening, but I figure there will be more chances in the future.
“Sure, sounds good. I parked my car in the parking lot behind that building.” I point across the street. “You don’t have to follow me home, though. Maybe I’ve been overreacting, and someone is pranking me. Who in their right mind would do all of this shit seriously?”
Andreas gives me a stern look and cuts me off before I can say anything else. “No, don’t downplay how you feel. Our intuition is one of the most useful gifts we have. I can tell you’re spooked. Your body sounds the alarms for a reason. Dangerous people do dangerous shit every day. Don’t you watch the news? I’ll follow you home and walk you to your door, then we’ll plan another night out soon,” he asserts, leaving no room for argument.
We approach Greta, and I take my key fob out of my pocket, unlocking her with a beep. Andreas opens my driver’s side door, wets his lips with his tongue, and leans in to kiss me. The kiss starts as a firm press of velvety soft lips pressed to lips, but quickly escalates into something more. Our tongues gently explore one another, and our hands roam and massage each other in PG places. Because we’re in public, after all.
This time, I break away from his kiss and slide into my seat. Andreas turns and walks toward his car, honking his horn after it’s started, indicating that he’s ready to follow my lead. Pulling out of the parking lot, I turn left and drive home. I glance at the digital clock as we pull into my apartment complex and see it’s after eight.
