I: Art
Art was late. The tattered hem of his jeans scuffed lightly over the worn-down carpet of the college library giving his hurried walk a rhythmic shuffle, releasing any pretense of respectful silence. Art didn't really care but he was glad anyone bothered by his noisy passing seemed content to simply shoot him a nasty look. He just didn't have time for them. He hustled down an aisle and hissed a curse when he realized he was still in the wrong section.
He was supposed to have met with his new project partner for his senior philosophy class but had missed the appointment because of, well, because he was a 22 year old college guy and shit just happened. Shit seemed to happen to Art quite a lot, especially missed appointments. Nearly all of his free time was spent sketching in one of his many, notebooks. Though his pastime and name might speak otherwise to his future, he was a psychology student and nearing the end of his collegiate studies.
Once he'd realized he had missed the appointment time he had decided to simply track down the two main books he and his partner were supposed to base their paper on. He was getting close he knew and so slowed his frantic charge through the book stacks to a smooth stroll.
Art saw the appropriately numbered shelf and turned down the aisle, before stopping in his tracks. A short way down the aisle before him was a young woman bent over near the lower shelves. Even if he hadn't found her in such a compromising position, Art still would've checked her out. To read the lower titles she had bent very low at the waist causing her behind to stick up and out. She was in short but effective heels that pumped out her calves and the lower inches of her thigh muscles in supple curves. Her dress matched the peacock blue hue of her heels exactly and it clung tightly to her body giving Art a rather obscene perspective.
She bent slightly lower and Art became fixated as the rondure of her cheeks spread beneath their blue covering. Her back arched as she reached for the shelf and Art felt himself growing hard after a few moments of gazing at this girl's posterior. The show quickly ended as the girl straightened, tossing long shining black locks over her shoulders.
Art froze. She's about to turn around, run! Do not let her catch you with your dick half-hard. He swiftly pivoted, his bag shaking and rattling, his jeans scuffing, and drawing her attention. He walked swiftly around the shelf and when he had gone three stacks down turned down the aisle and returned to where she had been from the other side. He reached the aisle and nearly collided faces with her.
"Oh god! I'm so sorry," she said as books spilled loudly from her startled hands to the floor.
"Damn," Art said in a voice too loud for a crowded city street, much less a library.
Some Shh's were tossed their way, to which Art fired back, "Piss off and mind your own business!"
She knelt down to pick up her things. Art's eyes initially dived down to see the titles of the books but they were captivated this time by the view down her dress. The breasts beneath were the same radiant tan as the rest of her body. Art felt his erection reignite as he stared down into the deep crease of cleavage where her twin swells crept over the line of the dress top. At least some portion of his eye saw the name of the book and a bell rang somewhere deep his brain as some very interesting dots started connecting.
That was the book. She had his book. She was his partner. That would make this hard. Can't get much harder than this, Art thought, but if anyone could do it, she could. Jesus!
Art knelt down and picked up her other book. They stood up together and Art found her looking at him, smiling politely. As intensely as his eyes had become engaged with both her back and front, so too they fell into the beauty of her face. Her generous lips framed straight, white teeth that became a swath of brightness across her heart shaped face. Thin, dark eyebrows arched over brilliant green eyes, their lids colored an ash gray that made them pop even in the tame library lighting. Art felt the seconds tick by and realized he was still staring and they were well within each other's personal space.
And upon realizing that fact he immediately felt his fair skin begin to blush red and so took an all too conspicuous step backwards.
"No I'm sorry," he started, "I never watch where I'm going...and, um, I think we're partners by the way."
"Oh you mean you weren't looking for Borson's Theorems of Positive Reciprocity and Coincidental Engagements for a fun beach read?" She held out the book she had picked up out.
Smiling and reddening further, Art ruffled his shock of mousey brown hair and said simply,
"No but thanks for offering. You must be," he stopped midsentence having forgotten her name. Dammit, it was in the e-mail from the professor, what the hell was it?
"I'm Lexi," she said nodding
"Lexi Monaco! That's it. Art," he said thumbing towards himself, "Art Lander."
"Great, wanna go somewhere and get to work, I can't wait around much longer. But maybe we can get a little done."