She was in one of those moods again. She didn't really feel like going outbut the thought of staying home again on a Friday night depressed her a little. She was restless, and perhaps a bit lonely. She wandered throughout her condo like a little girl lost, wondering why she was still single after all these years. Bad timing, she decided, and let the thought go.

She walked out onto her patio and was immediately overwhelmed by the sweet fragrance of the overgrown jasmine bush. She loved this little patio, all bushy and secluded. She could lay out here stark naked and never worry about prying eyes. Not that it mattered, her modesty had disappeared long ago. She walked back inside, poured herself a glass of chardonnay and walked back out the sliding door. She sat down on the deacons bench, took a sip of wine, and watched the sunset.

It was 8:00 pm. when she decided to go to the bookstore. She needed something good to read, and so what if it's a Friday night... the bookstore always had live music on week ends and she could use some of that also. She threw on a pair of jeans and pulled a low-cut, off white mohair sweater from her closet, then slipped it over her head. She would go braless tonight. Her tan looked especially dark and she suddenly felt a tinge of excitement. She slid into a pair of white leather toe strap scandals and pulled her long sun-bleached hair into a ponytail. The only jewelry she wore were gold hoop earrings and a thick hammered gold band on her middle finger. And the toering, of course... that never came off. She sat at her antique vanity and studied her face in the mirror, something she rarely did these days. She wondered why she bothered at all. She rarely came across men who really attracted her. She took a deep breath and, after applying a bright coral lipgloss, gave herself a few sprays of Aromatics Elixir, grabbed her keys, and was out the door. She needed more than just a book tonight.

It was well past 9:00 pm. by the time she arrived at Borders, and she could see that it was quite crowded inside. She walked through the doors and immediately drew stares from both men and women. Must be the tan, she thought... or could it be the ponytail? She chuckled to herself and made her way toward the biography section. She had a passion for bookstores, and she knew she would be the last to leave. The musicians were playing soft jazz, and they were excellent. What a wonderful way to browse.

She had spent an hour scouring through various biographys, from Peter the Great to Anais Nin. She changed sections and was thumbing through a novel by Henry Miller, but ended up reading a good portion of it instead. Nasty man, she thought, as she suddenly became aware of just how tight her jeans were. She never wore panties, and tonight she could feel the thick seam of the crotch rubbing against her shaved pussy. She felt her muscles contract and a warmth surge through her. She could see the hardness of her nipples through the thin mohair sweater as she took a deep breath and continued to read. She tried to concentrate, but that hot tin roof was back, and she felt it's scorching heat.

At 11:15 she decided she'd had enough of naughty Henry Miller, and treated herself to a cafe' latte. She stood quietly at the bar after ordering, wondering if she would ever be in love again. Silly thought, considering she had tossed aside the only two men she had ever really cared for. So here she was, at an age when her body constantly craved cock, with not a prospect in sight. She masturbated twice, sometimes three times a day, but she rarely had the warmth and pleasure of a man's body to curl up to when the shades were drawn. The intimacy, or better yet, lack thereof, frightened her silly.

The crowd had lessened, but there were still quite a few people enjoying the music and comraderie. Her coffee arrived, and she closed her eyes to savor the first sip. She slid her tongue out to grab a lick of the whipped cream, and it was then that she saw him. The sexual surge that flowed throughout her body at that precise moment was something she would always remember. His light blue eyes were focused directly at her and she almost dropped her cup. She saw him smile in amusement as she wiped cream from the tip of her nose. Sweet jesus, he was gorgeous. He stood tall with what seemed to her a casual, perhaps even arrogant, confidence. He continued to stare in her direction. Nothing like a nose adorned in whipped cream to entice a man. He was everything she ever dreamed of, and she could see people looking at him as they listened to the musicians play. She actually felt ill for a moment, sick at the fact that he would probably never be a part of her life, but it passed.

She finished her latte and, as hard as she had tried, she couldn't seem to keep her eyes off of him. She shook her head in disgust and strolled to the back of the building to resume her reading of Henry Miller. There was no one in that particular section, so she retreived the book and, sitting cross legged on the carpet, began to read. She could hear the soft jazz playing from the front of the store as she read the same paragraph nine times.

The tightness of her jeans against her pantiless crotch were making her burn with desire, and reading Henry Miller made it all the worse. She wondered if it would be too terribly obnoxious to do some yoga in the middle of a bookstore on a Friday night. She closed her eyes, and when she slowly opened them he was sitting on the floor next to her. They stared at each other for what seemed like hours but it was, in fact, all of fifteen seconds. Fifteen hypnotic seconds that sent chills up her spine and a surging heat that began at her neck, and centered right between her legs. The book fell from her hands.

His fingers softly toyed with her ponytail before tracing the outline of her cheek. She felt as if the earth had stopped spinning and time had come to a screeching halt. He ran a gentle finger across her lips and then moved them slowly down her neck, and when his forefinger began circling her hardened nipple through the mohair of her sweater, she let out a small moan. He smiled knowingly, as if he had some inner sight into her psyche. She stared into his face and, with one swift and sudden movement, she straddled him there on the floor against the massive bookshelves. She sat on his lap like a child, legs bent back at the knees, her left hand caressing his cheek as if to confirm his existance. She ran the fingers of her other hand through his thick disheveled hair, and then frantically began to massage his bulging cock through his pants. She briefly saw movement through the books and knew someone was watching them from the next isle. But she was a cat in heat, and nothing at all mattered except this man and this moment in time. Nothing.

He grabbed her face in his hands and stared directly into her eyes before thrusting his tongue into her mouth, then withdrew it to kiss the corners and softly suck her lower lip. Within seconds his heated breath and moist tongue were in her ear, and she threw her head back in surrender when he began to kiss and ravage her throat. Lestat had nothing on this man.

She tried not to moan as his warm hands slid beneath the back of her sweater, carressing and squeezing her skin like a passionate, insatiable sculpter. He lifted the front up and buried his face between her bare breasts, sucking and biting her nipples as she continued to grind the wet crotch of her jeans against his raging hard on. They were dry humping like dogs in heat. She knew it would go no further, but she didn't care. This was a zipless fuck , so to speak, but a zipless fuck at it's very, very best. She felt the burning hardness of his cock as if he were inside her, and she silently blessed Erica Jhong when he covered her mouth with his hand to stifle her moans as she climaxed. He blew within seconds of her orgasm, and it was so hard and intense he had to bury his face against her neck to prevent himself from crying out. He clutched her body so tightly into his and with such strength, she had to catch and hold her breath... and as his body uncontrollably jerked against hers, he let out a low gutteral moan, unleashing a decade of pain. She held him like a long lost child, and felt the thunder of his heartbeat against her own. A book from a shelf above his head fell onto the carpet, followed by another. It startled them, and they laughed softly.

Her legs were wrapped around his waist now, and she ran her hands along his back as they embraced, their heads softly resting on each others shoulders. They held each other in quiet exhaustion as they tried to catch their breath and gather their wits. The jazz had stopped and the lights began to dim, a polite reminder to those who still lingered that the bookstore was closing. It was midnight. He pulled back and, looking into her beautiful eyes, smiled sadly. She started to say something but his finger quickly rested on her mouth to stop her. He took her face in his hands and studied it slowly, memorizing every fine detail, then gently kissed her lips and whispered softly into her ear that he must leave. She sat on the floor and watched him walk away. She would like to experience that sometime, the power of walking away like that.

She gathered her things and made her way through the semi darkened store toward the entrance. A few employees were closing up, and no one noticed her as she made her exit. She was, of course, the last to leave. She had purchased nothing and was surprised when, a week later, she received a package from Borders in the mail. Must be a mistake. She placed it on the glass coffee table, then sat down on her white leather couch and stared at it. Simply seeing the label made the memory all the more vivid. She absentmindedly ran her hand down her bare thigh and closed her eyes for a brief moment to envision his face, his magnetic eyes. She could see his aura glowing bright in the shadows of her mind. She remembered how he had touched her, and she remembered how he had walked away.

She smiled pensively at the memory as she picked up the package and began to unwrap it. Inside was a rare and signed first edition copy of the Henry Miller novel she had set aside for her moment of lust. She smiled to herself as she walked onto the patio. It had been well worth it, her excursion to the bookstore. Yes, indeed. She sat down on her deacons bench and began to read, the scent of jasmine filling the light morning breeze.