She hated Barnes and Noble. There was a lack of dust on the books and too much sunlight. It smelled like lemons. She wanted her stacks with cobwebs and musk. She wanted the air to reek of burnt coffee and parchment. She wanted single beams of light to conjure puppet shows on the walls- romantic tales of star-crossed lovers dancing in the dust-particle rain- while she meandered through rows with old books in lopsided piles spilling from the floor.
But those bookstores were gone. All she had was that pop-culture commercial castle with bistro tables and nerdy college boys. At least one of those things were worthy of her time. She'd stop by the store in the afternoon, with one thing on her mind. She'd come dressed to kill, short skirt, tight shirt with lots of cleavage. She'd curled her hair in platinum ringlets that fell just short of her unconfined nipples. She was sex in mary jane heels.
She'd walk through the store, casually at first, scoping her prey. She liked quiet boys- the shy types that hid behind their plastic rimmed glasses, track jackets and sci-fi novels. The kind that had heads full of dirty thoughts which were played out with their palms each night.
She found her target sitting in an oversized sofa chair. He looked to be 19 or 20, with mousy brown hair and wiry glasses. She took a seat catty-corner from him, at a tiny table at the end of the cafe. She placed a stack of books near her feet while she pretended to thumb through another atop the table. Of course, he was already staring at her. Sometimes, they made it so easy. She uncrossed her legs, letting the left one fall to the top of the hardcover tower she'd built just moments before. Slowly, she spread her knees, inching her scandalously short skirt even higher and revealing the pantiless paradise that lied beneath.
She smiled as she watched his book fall. Watched him glance about to see if anyone else was watching the same porn that he was. Watched him shift uncomfortably as he tried to hide the erection tenting in his jeans. She let her hand slide down to her knee. Let it caress it's way up her thigh. Her fingers slide silently into her crevice and she moved them for him. It was her personal sign language. She wondered if he'd understand.
