Love amongst the Stacks

It's a nice day ... too nice a day to be inside. I decide to play hooky from work in the middle of the afternoon. Walking around old town for a while, I am just enjoying window-shopping along the avenue. Noticing a used bookstore, I decide to stop in.

Hell, I have too many books already, but I was hoping that my late afternoon goldbricking might turn up a good read, and a bargain. One never knows! I am a bit of an amateur historian, but browsing the history section was not turning up any gold ... I couldn't find anything of interest.

I browsed my way over to the non-fiction shelves to look for a quick easy read. Possibly, something I could work my way through over a skim milk cappuccino at Starbucks. I like the atmosphere in old town. It just seems like life there slows down to a very livable pace ... a welcome contrast to the exigent atmosphere of the office.

When I first saw her, my heart skipped a beat. Yeah, I know that sounds melodramatic, but it happens to be true. She was wearing a short pleated skirt, sweater over blouse, plaid stockings which went just over her knees, and lady-style tasseled loafers. She wore oversized roundish glasses that emphasized her clear blue eyes. She was as cute a little blonde bookworm as I had ever seen.

I always favored the "Marion-the-librarian" types anyway; there is just something about sweetness and simplicity in a girl. The "girl next door," isn't that the saying? But, there she was. No pretenses, no airs, just understated ... prettiness.

I never cared for the skinny bitchy model types; so whiny and destined to make a misery of a man's life. Like they say, for every beautiful woman, there is some guy that's sick of putting up with her shit! I suppose they are like that because some asshole makes them eat nothing but veggies and brown rice to maintain the emaciated look so popular in fashion mags. Anyway, they are just a pretty face, no bod, and a lot of attitude!

Was this love at first sight? Maybe, but it was more likely lust at first site. She slowly turns her head, searching for the some book or other, and as she lifts her eyes, I could see how pretty her eyes were, and how guileless a face she seemed to have.

Damn, she's cute! I hang back a little, just watching her. There's no evil intent with my voyeurism ... just admiring something very pretty. What caught my attention overall, was just the way of her.

The way her pleated skirt swished when she went from section to section. When she stooped down to retrieve a book from a lower shelf, I nearly lost my gum. I could see her legs a little under the skirt as the hem of her skirt rose. It rose just a little, but enough for the side of her thigh and a hint of buttocks to come into my view. When she swiveled a little and dropped to one knee, I was able to see a very pretty thigh peeking from under her skirt. As I watched her, there seemed to be a certain ... well ... poetry to her movement.

Corny, right? The predictable metaphor embarrasses me a little, but it is nonetheless true. What I mean is that she moved with a certain amount of grace, an economy of movement. She moved from standing, to kneeling, to turning, like a poem moving gracefully from one line to the next. I looked on, as one would read on, to see where the poem was going. I warned you that it was a little bit corny, but you weren't there ... you didn't see what I was seeing. You didn't see how the pleats of her skirt curved around her pretty little ass.

Hell, I'm no poet!

God, I can't remember the last poem I actually read. But, I was very taken with her ... enticed by the way of her. I just had to contrive a way to meet this girl. I needed a way to get to know her that was not obvious ... not intrusive, or clumsy. I figured that if there was going to be a way to approach her, it would be through a mutual interest in books.

I am not a voracious reader, but I do like a good book, and I was honestly here today to find a new good read. If I did not try, I thought that I would have missed an opportunity ... she was just too damn pretty to take a pass on. And, as I have said, there was just something about her in a general way that appealed to me.

Yeah, there was definitely something there!

So, I took a deep breath, screwed up my courage and decided to find a way to connect with her. I started by browsing books on shelves near her. I was very proud on my acting job ... pretending to look intently for a book ... with properly knitted brow and everything. I moved toward her a little more and she looked up, smiled, and made room for me to continue to browse.

What she did not know, and I hate to admit this to you, but I was not looking at any titles, just pretending I had a legitimate reason to be close to her. I must have looked lost to her as I continued to scan titles (or pretended to), and she looked up at me again with another smile. Goddamn, she had such a pretty smile! This petite girl, scanning the pages of a book she had selected, smote me.

She closed the book, pulled her glasses off, and with a slightly knitted brow of her own asked, "Um, excuse me, are you looking for anything in particular?"

The soft tone of her voice made me stop my fake browsing and I answered nervously, "Well, not really. I'm just looking for something new ... something interesting ... you know." What I didn't tell her, was that I had found something interesting but it wasn't a book ... it was a petite little blue-eyed blonde bookworm. To be clear, she had already made my day just by being there, and being able to speak with her was a bonus.

She thought for a second, and replied, "What kinds of books do you like? What do you usually read?" This caught me off guard, and without thinking spit out the truth,

"Well, to be perfectly honest, I am a history buff, but just now I am looking for a bit of literature ... you know, for a change. Do you have a recommendation for me?" The beauty of this question is that it requires engagement in a prolonged discussion of something I already know interests her ... books!

She thought for a second or two, and said, "Well, um ... oh yes! I read a book a while ago, and if you like history, you might like it. It's by an author named, something Knowles ... um, oh yes, John Knowles. It's called A Separate Peace. It was kind of written a while ago, but this store might be a copy of it." She moved along the shelves, with books arranged by author's name, muttered to herself, "Knowles, Knowles, Knowles ... yes here it is. You might like it, it's about two friends at a boarding school in London during, um, the World War II." My eyes were on the swish of her skirt and her shapely, petite little ass.

"Hmmm, sounds interesting," I said in a lame attempt to keep up my end. My eyes snapped up from her ass to her pretty bespecktacled eyes as she quickly turned back in my direction. Then she continued,

"Yes it is ... well, at least I thought so. It is all that coming of age stuff, like Salinger, um 'The Catcher in the Rye,' you know that kind of uh, shit. It's about the loss of innocence in a couple of friends and their experience is kind of likened to the world's loss of innocence with the war. That kind of thing, but as I said, I read it a few years ago."

I took the book from her dainty hand, and thumbed through it a little. Then I asked, "What about you? What are you reading?"

"Oh, I'm looking at a kind of new book called Before I Fall, by um... (she flips the book closed to find the author's name) Lauren Oliver. It is kind of a spooky book (blushes) ... I kind of like them. It's about a girl who dies in a fiery car crash, and she wakes up the next morning and kind of has a 'groundhog day' experience reliving it until she finds out more about her death ... sort of an involved mystery I guess."

I was listening to the sound of her voice rather than the words, but I tried to look thoughtful and mused, "Hmm, it does sound interesting. I think I am going to get this book, A Separate Peace, since you recommended it. And, uh, if you have some time, and because you have just cost me (opening the book to check the price) eighteen dollars and ninety-five cents ... plus tax, it is only fair for you to let me buy you a cup of coffee somewhere." I looked at her hopefully.

My heart skipped a beat as she hesitated. A curious smile slowly spread across her face as her eyes searched mine, and with a quizzical look she asked, "Are you hitting on me?"

Oh, shit! Busted! I thought, as I prepared to be shot down by a pretty girl ... again. I rallied my courage and said with a resolute smile and nod, "Yes, I am!"

She hesitated for a moment, her smile broadened and sweetened, and she said, "Okay, where?" My heart was pounding in my chest, and I replied, "Starbucks. There is one only a block or so from here."

"Let's checkout, and I'm all yours," she said. Her voice had a definite musical quality to it.

Poetry and music ... what more could a boy want in an afternoon of shirking one's responsibilities?

We each bought our books, and walked the block and a half to the coffeehouse. Her conversation was pleasant as we walked; just about the day, her excitement at finding the book she was looking for ... that kind of shit.

She found us some counter space along the window with a couple of stools, as I ordered the drinks. She wanted a chai tea latte, and I had my customary cappuccino, with an extra shot. Back at our space with the drinks, and a couple of raspberry scones, she looked at me with a sweet smile.

"Thank you! May I know the name of my charming date?"she asked.

"Mike," I answered.

She thought for a second and asked, "Do you mind if I call you Michael? You look more like a Michael to me!" It sounded musical, like the tinkling of a small bell, the way she said 'Michael.' I told her that it sounded very nice coming from her.

"My name is Amy."

It seemed appropriate that a girl with such simple beauty had a simple and beautiful name. A bit old-fashioned, but one I have always liked, and I told her this. She blushed, lowered her eyes, and said again softly, "Thank you, Michael."

My family calls me Mike, but I like the musical tone she gives to "Michael." Then with a new thought, she asked, "Um, Michael, can you read me a little of my new book while I sip my chai tea?" Her eyes were also asking sweetly as well.

Shit, I couldn't turn down such a sweet request, and I actually like reading aloud. I have a lot of experience reading to my younger brother and sisters at bedtime. I picked up her book, and turned to the preface and started to read to my lovely new friend:

"They say that just before you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes, but that's not how it happened for me.

To be quite honest, I'd always thought the final-moment, mental life-scan thing sounded pretty awful.

Some things are better left buried and forgotten, as my mom would say.

I would be happy to forget all of fifth grade, for example (The glasses-and-pink-braces period..."

I continued reading looking up occasionally to see her looking at me over her chai tea, in rapt attention, eyes wide open, just smiling and listening. What was going on behind those liquid blue eyes, I had no idea. I kept reading to her from her book, pausing here and there only for a sip of my cappuccino.

With the entire preface now read, I said to her, "Hmmm, sounds like a pretty good book. Mine if I borrow it when you are finished?" At that moment, I realized that I had gone a little too far in assuming some kind of future with her.

She gave me another curious smile and asked, "Aren't you getting ahead of yourself Michael? We just met." Then she thought for a few seconds, "Um, I am open next Friday night, and there is a nice foreign film downtown called 'The Secret in their Eyes.' If you would like to take me Michael, we might get to know each other well enough for me to, um ... share things with you." She giggled at the possible double entendre ... the possible alternate sexual meaning.

I laughed, and asked, "Now who's getting ahead of herself?"

She blushed and said, "Oh Michael, I just think you have a very nice face. It is kind, and I would like to get to know you and it a little better. Plus, you are a very lovely reader. So um, what ... do you think?" She bit her lower lip waiting.

"What time Friday?" I asked, and she breathed in as her face brightened into a happy smile.

She lowered her eyes just a little, and said, "Seven would be nice, Michael."

"Fine!"

We finished our drinks, scones, and conversation, and I walked her back to the front of the bookstore where I we met. I extended my hand for a goodbye handshake. She pushed past my proffered hand, and hugged me, with the side of her face pressed against my chest. I was one very pleasantly surprised guy! I placed my hands on her hips, kind of neutral territory for a first meeting.

As she raised her face, I bent down and kissed her. Bold move for sure, but then she was pushing her lips into me at the other end of that kiss.

We will see what happens on Friday night. She pulled a pen out of her purse, opened my hand, and wrote her phone number on my palm. She smiled and as she closed my hand, turned and walked away saying, "Bye Michael!" I was too nonplussed to offer a goodbye, and just watched her skirt twirl as she turned and walked away.

Amy is pretty. She is petite, with a very nice figure, medium-sized tits, and I loved the way her pleated skirt swished as she walked. Her legs are shapely, even without heels.

About twenty-five yards down range, she turned and smiled at me before continuing. I offered her a little wave and knowing smile. Every guy knows the importance of a "look back." It means that the girl is interested in you. As she rounded the corner at the end of the block, I turned and walked back to my car. This was Wednesday, so I had two days of anticipation before my date with this little angel. I felt like I was eighteen again with a date to the prom.

I called her Thursday night early, just to confirm arrangements. We talked briefly about family, our personal likes and dislikes ... just first date kind of shit.

The movie we were going to see was a relatively recent Argentinean film (El Secreto del sus Ojos) so it was in Spanish with English sub-titles. Amy was wearing a navy-blue dress with buttons down the front, synched at the waist with a matching belt, and four-inch heels. The hem fell to about three inches above her knees. As I found out later, she was wearing thigh-high sheer stockings.

Since she was so tiny, I am guessing that she felt the need for the little extra stature that the heels provided. She was using a floral body lotion that was very pleasant ... not overwhelming. Amy left her glasses behind in preference to contact lenses. I was happy to see more of her pretty eyes. She grabbed a light open sweater against the night air, and we were off to the theater.

I thought the plot of the movie was a little convoluted for my taste, but from what I could make out, it was about a lawyer writing a novel about some of his past cases, with a sub-plot about his love for a woman ... someone who did not return his feelings.

Amy watched the movie with rapt attention, only diverting her eyes to give me a little smile here and there. As she moved in her seat, the hem of her dress rose on her legs, and I could see a portion of the darker elastic band at the top of her stockings. Her heels definitely improved the shape of her legs. I had placed her sweater over the back of the seat. When she settled, my arm found its way around the back of her seat without any objection from her.

I stole little glances down the top of her dress since the movie really didn't interest me as much as she did. She left the top two buttons unbuttoned so I could see just the very top of the curve of her chest that led to her more covered cleavage.

There was a love scene in the movie about halfway through, and she leaned her head on my shoulder as she sighed slightly at the beauty of the scene. She looked up at me and her eyes were very wide. They seemed to be asking for something, so I bent down and kissed her.

This first tentative and nervous "first date kiss" grew into a longer kiss that grew in passion as we started to forget about the movie. I reached my other arm over her body, and turned her body toward me to make it more comfortable for her to kiss me longer and deeper. As she turned her body toward me in response, I slid my hand lightly over her breast, and down to her waist.

Amy was a girl with some passion ... I could feel it through her creamy lips. Reaching up with my free hand, I unbuttoned another button at the top of her dress. She looked at me for a couple of seconds, and without saying another word, she unbuttoned the next two buttons of her dress. With the two sides of her dress spread a little, her lovely breasts came into view.

I slid my hand into her dress as she started to kiss me harder and moan softly. I cupped her right breast in my hand over her bra, and thumbed her nipple through the material. Her breathing deepened and she opened her mouth to allow me to explore its sweetness with my tongue. I massaged her breasts a little longer, and then slid my hand down to her stomach.

I was hoping that this would be just a temporary resting place for my hand on its way to more "southern territory."

I let my fingers explore the hem of her dress, and her thighs just above her knees. She opened her legs a little, and I slipped my hand up her buttery thighs. When my finger touched her moist panties, she gasped, broke the kiss and said, "Not yet, Michael. I want to ... I do ... but not yet. You're not disappointed are you?"

I was very disappointed, but told her, "No, of course not, Amy. I am willing to wait until you are ready." Guys are the gas, and girls are the brakes, I guess.

She kissed me very sweetly, moved my hand back to her breast, and as we cuddled a little. We turned our attention back to the movie. Well, actually she returned her attention back to the movie, while I kept my attention on my pretty and petite little date. I was happy. Hell, of course I was happy ... just to be with this sweet girl. After all, she gave me her permission to have something further with her, however postdated.

She was a clever and perceptive girl, and noticed my growing intumescence. She looked over, smiled, and then put her hand on it, softly saying, "Let's just hold this little guy off for a while. Mmm, it feels nice though!"

"Little?" I thought to myself, but I am sure she didn't mean anything by it.

As the move went to credits, I helped her rearrange her dress, and we left as the credits rolled. Foreign film, a lot of unfamiliar Spanish names so who gives a shit, really.

I drove her back to her apartment, and walked her to the door. I know that after the kissing and fondling in the theater, a good night kiss was a little redundant, but I still though it was an important indicator of interest. She turned toward me at the door before fumbling for the keys, so I took that as a sign that she was waiting for a goodnight kiss. As I came about eighty percent of the way, I put my hands on her hips. She came the rest of the way, as her arms were up around my neck, and she gave me a very passionate kiss.

She broke from the kiss, looked up at me with her arms still around my neck and said in as sweet a voice as she could, "Call me sometime, Michael. I had a wonderful time tonight."

The only words I could muster were, "Of course." She retrieved her keys from her purse turned the latch, and was gone with just a very slight turning back smile and wave.