1. The Tales From The Tavern: I Lust After Your Scar


    Date: 8/18/2015, Categories: Love Stories, Author: el_henke, Rating: 2, Source: LushStories

    world? There would be no wars, but a bunch of countries that don't talk to each other. Hating each other silently, while on the outside everything seems at piece, and alright. It's a girly thing. ------------- “I really hate to interrupt you,” interjected Big ol' Tom, “but the candles start running low on wax, so either you crank that story of yours up a notch, or – and that would be more of our taste I think – you keep the story coming, and I'll get new candles once these are out which means we'd have to make a break at a certain point.” Bethany smiled, and emptied her second glass of vodka. A hissing noise came from between her teeth as a reaction to the burning of her quite large sip of the strong liquor. “We wouldn't want to disappoint my listeners, since I promised them an evening-filling story, right? I better keep that slow pace. In other words: I fully expect you to find new candles once these are out. We wouldn't want to keep the listeners waiting, would we?” she nonchalantly said. As her glass was full again, she repeated her procedure of taking a large sip, and hissing through her teeth before going on with her story. ------------- Everything changed one day that summer when David was unloading his car. He had bought some new bookshelves. Although he didn't look like he'd need a hand, I offered him mine. It meant going out of the house a little, getting some fresh air, and doing some exercise. What can be wrong about that? Okay, who am I kidding? I kind of did ...
    it for him. I had eventually taken a liking to sticking around him, alright? For all I knew, he was my only friend during that time. “Hi, Mr. Jordan , need a hand?” “Wherever you wanna put it, Ms Page ,” he shot back, strongly emphasizing the 'Ms Page'-part. Ah, yes, I forgot to tell we had engaged in that rather shameless flirting a few days prior to that when he offered me to call him by his first name, but I just kept calling him 'Mr. Jordan' on purpose. I have not the slightest idea why I had done this in the first place. Ah, screw this, I'll just be honest with you. It fucking turned me on to hear him calling me 'Ms Page', goddammit. Whatever, we had lots of fun calling us by our last names, and purposely stressing them. Oh, how I fucking creamed my panties every time he called me by my last name with that sexy voice of his. “Sure, Mr. Jordan , how about you let me touch that wood of yours?” I replied, and added, “I bet it's best quality.” He rolled his eyes up, and wrinkled his forehead in a mock pensive expression, before teasing back: “Sure, Ms Page , it's just that I can't offer you any high quality morning wood. I just ran out of it a few hours ago, but the wood these shelves are made of will make do.” I sighed: “You just ran out of it? Bummer. Know what? I can help you with that. I'd be much obliged to give you a hand at growing some more of that morning wood you've been talking about, Mr Jordan .” Have I mentioned the flirting was shameless? It went as far as to ...
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