1. Just A Tiny Spark


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

    for? Come along, let’s fetch your books.” I gaped. “Really? Isabelle, I mean, Mrs. Freshwater, never let us touch the bookshelves.” This time, her laugh sounded more like a giggle. “Knowing Bella, I’m not surprised that she doesn’t risk anybody touching her beloved books unnecessarily.” “Bella?” What was it today that I spoke before thinking? I bit my lip, traipsing after Mrs. Henderson, who had stepped around the counter and led the way to the back, where hundreds of shelves held more books than I had ever seen at one place before. She wore a pencil skirt that matched her blouse and ended just below her knees. Creamy stockings covered toned, muscular calves, and with her one-inch heeled, matching blue sandals, she could have jumped right out of a fashion magazine. Or manager’s weekly. There was something timeless and incredibly stylish about her. “She’s my cousin’s wife. There aren’t many things she treasures more than her books.” “Wha… Oh, yes. I can definitely see that.” Why was it so hard today to keep focused? I forced myself to pay attention to her words. The cog wheels in my brain slowly started up again. “Are you filling in for her?” “Yes.” We turned a corner at row thirteen, and she headed towards the middle of the shelf to our left. “Her mother broke a leg, so she’s caring for her until she’s back on her feet. There, the Catcher.” She pulled a medium sized book from the shelf and held it out towards me. “I’m sorry to hear that.” I followed her further down the aisle ...
    and to the shelf on the opposite side. “The doctors say it’ll heal completely, and Jessica, Bella’s mother, is taking it quite well. Here.” “That’s good. Thank you.” I took Brontë’s novel from her hand, and for the flightiest of moments, my fingers brushed against hers. At the same time, a tingling heat shot through my body, and a gasp escaped me. My knees buckled, and the book hit the floor with a dry splat. “Are you okay?” Mrs. Henderson sounded worried, and I felt strong fingers grip my arm above the elbow and steady me. Blurry grey spots danced before my eyes. “I’m…” My breath was fast and shallow as if I had run a race. “I think I caught a bug.” “Let’s get you somewhere where you can sit down.” She picked up Jane Eyre and gently guided me back to the open area and towards one of the small, round study tables. With every step, I was incredibly aware of the fingers wrapped around my arm, and I felt hot and cold at the same time. I plopped down bonelessly onto the chair and rubbed my face. “I don’t know what’s going on with me,” I sighed. “I was fine earlier.” “You take a breath while I fetch you a glass of water,” Mrs. Henderson told me, worry in her voice. “Thank you.” My own voice was weak but grateful. I watched her hurry to the office in the back, then appear again with a large glass of water in her hand, and even though she moved quickly, every step was well-timed and elegant. She had class. I started to wonder where that word had suddenly come from, but then she was ...
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