Disclaimer: This is all mine, please dont copy.
He paused at the last second and almost teasingly ran over the button as he continued to stare at me with his dark eyes. My body at this point felt completely liquid. You know that feeling after an intense orgasm where all your physical abilities seem to leave you and all you can do is lay there and absorb the feeling and catch your breath? That's where I was. He looked as if he was contemplating something deep inside of me that only he could see and maybe, just possibly begin to understand.
I hadn't had a lover in a long time. I hadn't had the time or really, the opportunity. I was working on my thesis and I had vaguely thought that once I had managed to finish it and land myself a steady job I would have enough time to go and find a prospective lover. I was young. I had all the time in the world. Besides, who needs to think about their own love life when you can absorb your entire being into something like Shakespeare?
Don't get me wrong, the Bard and I did not exactly get along, and I usually ended up hating him by the time I was done working on whichever piece that was my trial of the night. In the end though, you have to respect him. Of course, all of this hate and respect do not lead to a healthy style of living for someone like me. I'm sure that one of the reasons I looked as bad as I did was because of my continual haunting of libraries and spending too many hours bent over old texts which caused one to strain their eyes and breathe in too much dust. Just the other day I checked a book out of the library that was published in 1846 and had only been checked out once in 1876. I had nearly keeled over in shock at finding it still on the shelf and in circulation. To tell you the truth, I was contemplating finding a way to steal it for my own collection.
Here was another issue that continually blocked normal social interactions. I am a bibliophile. I almost feel like I should be attending meetings for it. If I started out with just one precious book at the beginning of any new school term, I ended up with two stuffed and crammed entire book shelves by the time term was over. I have often been found sitting with a new book somewhere, subtly breathing in the scent of new ink and running my hands through the pages. My friends, the few I still had, often mentioned that they worried about me. I don't know why really, I had just found that I preferred books over often awkward and tedious dates with boys that I knew wouldn't interest me.
Of course, existing like this, as thrilling and exciting as I found it to be, did not leave one with the opportunity to.....work out certain frustrations shall we say? I had felt the ache for the past several months. That ache that just begs for manhandling and gives one the desire to wake up one morning feeling sore and well used, of course it didn't help that I was living in a city with some of the most sexually alluring accents that I had ever heard. Accents that continually tickled my inner eye and made me think of dark bedrooms and sessions across my desk instead of sitting at it. What? Sorry, American, accents just do it for me, almost as much as books do, and that's really saying something.
He finally moved. I think it was because I whimpered. An after shock ran through my body, making me arch up, which pressed my breasts, still fairly encased in my bra to push up toward him.
He smiled. It was a smile that promised that he was no where near done yet. Swiftly he stood up, crouching back down to wrap his arms around me and lift me up. I was still enough in a daze that the feeling of vertigo that I suddenly experienced was nearly nauseating.
He paused for another moment and looked down the hallway. There are only three doors to go through off of it. One, which was to our immediate right, was the bathroom and since the door was open, it was fairly obvious. The next one on the right led to the living room and the kitchen, this too was obvious, since you can see the couch from the hallway. The door straight ahead is the bedroom, and after a moments contemplation, he took us there.
My bed was my crowning glory in this small flat. The huge size filled with the softest sheets I could find, a down comforter and too many pillows is one of my few aesthetic pleasures in my fairly meager student existence. I had to have a comfortable bed, it was my one huge requirement for any living space. I had almost forgotten that a bed was for things other than sleeping and reading. Tonight I was going to be made to remember.
