1. Just A Tiny Spark


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

    Hemingway was way overrated and Stephen King just not our kind of thing. We had a giggling fit when we realized that we both had played Tom Sawyer painting his aunt’s fence in grammar school, and we spent hours reciting stanzas from Old English poetry and swooning over the flowery words. Every time I watched her deal with the other students in her open, friendly and self-assured way, I caught my heartbeat speed up. I came to a suspicion, but one I struggled with a lot, and one I didn’t dare to put into words, not even to myself - until, that is, that fateful Sunday afternoon. * * * * The library was closed on Sundays and everyone was out and about on sunny November weekends to catch the last real rays of sun in the year, so I had no place of retreat on campus. Mirella, one of my new classmates, had told me about this lovely bookshop/cafe combo called ‘The Olde Bookhouse’ hidden in a side street downtown, and it was the perfect time to explore it. Erin and Jen had what had to be half of the Informatics year assembled in our dorm, watching IT Crowd, shouting and laughing loud enough that you couldn’t hear your own words. The cafe was lovely. Everything was made from dark, reddish, gleaming cherry wood. The chairs were comfy and had thick cushions, and every edge was smoothed. Boards filled with books ran around all four walls, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of Italian coffee and freshly baked cheesecake. I sat down in a chair in the corner and ordered, of course, ...
    cheesecake - with whipped cream, yes, even though I’d have to run an extra mile next morning - and a cappuccino, and pulled out A Song of Ice and Fire, feeling naughtily indulgent by deviating from our subscribed reading list like this. Then I noticed her. She was leaning back in a chair a few tables down, and could see her profile. Mrs. Henderson’s eyes were riveted to the book in front of her, but I couldn’t make out the title, just the white of its cover and that it had a reddish title above a picture of a woman. The waitress brought my cake and drink, and I thanked her absentmindedly. Mrs. Henderson’s eyes widened for an instant, then a soft smile spread over her lips. I was fascinated by the emotions playing over her face as she read in deep concentration, and I wondered in which magical world she was right now. God, she looked so engrossed, almost ethereal in her beauty. My body jerked. My eyes widened, and blood rushed in my ears, drowning out all noises in the cafe. What… Time seemed to freeze around me, but then I felt my wrist hit something hard and it toppled. My cup! The coffee spilled over the table, the spoon toppled over the edge of the table and clanked loud on the floor. I yelped, jumping backwards and making the chair legs screech noisily over the hardwood floor. “Fuck!” I swore, picking a bunch of paper napkin from the box in the middle of the table and trying to stem the flood of cappuccino before it could drip onto the floor. In the blink of an eye, the ...
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