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Just A Tiny Spark

Date: 8/12/2015, Categories: Fiction, Author: LushStories, Rating: 83.3, Source: sexstories.com

and admitted that he was a she and quite a bit older than me. Erin took it in stride, and I learned that her sister was a lesbian. She didn’t stop trying to get a name, but one afternoon she returned from shopping with a stack of books for me and a bunch of brochures with a rainbow on the front. “You’re a wonderful friend,” I told her, squeezing her hand. “You can hug me if you want,” she answered, then winked. “As long as all you squeeze of me is my hand.” I spent Christmas days in the Olde Bookhouse, reading the books Erin had bought for me and feeling equally exhilarated about learning so much about what was awaiting me and terrified by it. I made mental lists of people I knew I could tell, those I thought I could tell, and finally, those I didn’t think would cope well. The last one was by far the longest. Alice worked each day over the holidays, and I blushed madly the first time she approached me to get my order. “Cheesecake with whipped cream and a cappuccino?” she inquired with a wink, and I contemplated just sliding under the table. “Uhm, yes, please,” I said instead and earned another wink. She came back with my cheesecake and a mountain of whipped cream that threatened to topple off the plate. “Wow. That’s… a lot of cream.” Her eyes glinted. “It’s Christmas. One can’t have enough sweetness on Christmas, don’t you think?” There was something in her eyes, but I didn’t really catch it. So I agreed and scooped up a big spoonful of cream. She grinned brightly and nodded ... before heading to another table where an older man had been waving for a good minute. It was only when I got back to my room on the evening of Boxing Day when it occurred to me that Alice’s little extra treats whenever she served me may have been motivated by more than just Christmas spirit. But, at the forefront of my mind wasn’t Alice. Even though I wasn’t too miserable to leave the room anymore, there weren’t five consecutive minutes where I didn’t think of Joanne. I had to see her, but the library was already closed for the holidays, and in a few days, she would be gone for good. Then, on New Year’s Eve, luck was on my side. I was just returning from a walk around the pond when I saw Professor Morrigan stride across the courtyard, and before I could think about what exactly I was going to say to her, I heard myself shouting her name. She stopped instantly, a surprised look on her face. “Professor Morrigan,” I gasped, having sprinted the last hundred feet, “oh god, you’re my savior. I - I need Mrs. Henderson’s address, but I know nobody else who’d tell me.” She eyed me warily. “What exactly would you need her address for, Miss Miller?” “I…” I chewed on my lip, but only one idea sprang to my mind. “I need to give her back a book. I was sick the last two days before break, and she said she’s going to go home tomorrow…” “I’m sure that you can give the book to Isabelle as well. She’ll be back once term starts again.” She turned to walk away, obviously in a hurry, but I gripped ...