1. Yes


    Date: 1/14/2015, Categories: Exhibitionism, Author: Verbal, Rating: 15, Source: LushStories

    get a sense of her eyes. All he saw was the glare of light in the lenses of her glasses, hiding them. He caught a glimpse of her lips, a hint of her cheek, the tender slope of her neck. She looked cute. She might be cute. He took a chance. “No popcorn?” he asked. She turned to look at him. “I’m sorry? I didn’t hear you.” The word cute was wholly inadequate. Almond eyes shone back at his own, deep seawater green eyes unmuted by her large black glasses. Their exact color did not remain constant but continually shifted, as if each passing thought brought some subtle new tint to it. Her lips were full, red, slightly open; he suddenly wanted to kiss her. “You don’t buy popcorn?” “No. Not today.” He heard her accent then. That trill in the “d.” What was it? Latino? Spanish? Mexican? He didn’t know much about languages. “Why do you ask me?” She regarded him coolly. He figured he had to get the next few words just right. Take a chance. He said, “You know. If you’re on a date. You buy a bag and share it with the person you are with.” “Popcorn is romantic?” This time it was the lilt of the “r” as she said “romantic.” Something deep within him stirred. He said, “No. Sharing a box of popcorn is romantic. It’s the sharing that does it. Don’t you think? Like, you know, passing the box back and forth. Or setting it between your chairs. Accidently touching hands as you reach down into the box.” She said, “Yes,” in that same lovely inflection. He felt a thrill. She was listening. He had a ...
    shot. “Plus it tells you a lot about a person. How they eat it. Are they the kind of person who eats it delicately, a kernel or two at a time, savoring the taste? Or the kind of person who takes big handfuls of it, just chowing down, you know, wanting everything right now.” “And which kind are you?” she asked, her eyes changing color again as she shifted her gaze. “I like both kinds,” he said, and her face lit up. “Sometimes I taste everything slowly, enjoying all the little details. But sometimes I want it all right now, I’m just so hungry for it.” He wondered if he was being ham-handed in his innuendo. “Yes,” she trilled. God, he loved her accent. Like a voice from a dream. The “y” sounding more like an “h,” a sexy sigh coming from farther back in her throat like wind rustling in trees, the slightly elongated “e” in the center of the word that she seemed to caress with her tongue as she said it, the “s” a gentle serpentine wonder, a hiss that she held onto just a millisecond longer than she needed to. He realized what it was about an accent that was so sexy. It took familiar words and gave them new meanings. “Me as well,” she said. She met his gaze candidly and unafraid. She smiled. “Accidently touching hands while you are both grabbing for more sounds nice as well.” “It’s romantic.” “Yes,” she said again, her mouth savoring the end of the word, drawing it out. He loved to hear her say yes. He hoped to hear her say it again. Many times. She continued, “That is a nice moment, ...
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