It's a nice day ... too nice a day to be inside. I decide to play hooky from work in the middle of the afternoon. Walking around old town for a while, I am just enjoying window-shopping along the avenue. Noticing a used bookstore, I decide to stop in.
Hell, I have too many books already, but I was hoping that my late afternoon goldbricking might turn up a good read, and a bargain. One never knows! I am a bit of an amateur historian, but browsing the history section was not turning up any gold ... I couldn't find anything of interest.
I browsed my way over to the non-fiction shelves to look for a quick easy read. Possibly, something I could work my way through over a skim milk cappuccino at Starbucks. I like the atmosphere in old town. It just seems like life there slows down to a very livable pace ... a welcome contrast to the exigent atmosphere of the office.
When I first saw her, my heart skipped a beat. Yeah, I know that sounds melodramatic, but it happens to be true. She was wearing a short pleated skirt, sweater over blouse, plaid stockings which went just over her knees, and lady-style tasseled loafers. She wore oversized roundish glasses that emphasized her clear blue eyes. She was as cute a little blonde bookworm as I had ever seen.
I always favored the "Marion-the-librarian" types anyway; there is just something about sweetness and simplicity in a girl. The "girl next door," isn't that the saying? But, there she was. No pretenses, no airs, just understated ... prettiness.
I never cared for the skinny bitchy model types; so whiny and destined to make a misery of a man's life. Like they say, for every beautiful woman, there is some guy that's sick of putting up with her shit! I suppose they are like that because some asshole makes them eat nothing but veggies and brown rice to maintain the emaciated look so popular in fashion mags. Anyway, they are just a pretty face, no bod, and a lot of attitude!
Was this love at first sight? Maybe, but it was more likely lust at first site. She slowly turns her head, searching for the some book or other, and as she lifts her eyes, I could see how pretty her eyes were, and how guileless a face she seemed to have.
Damn, she's cute! I hang back a little, just watching her. There's no evil intent with my voyeurism ... just admiring something very pretty. What caught my attention overall, was just the way of her.
The way her pleated skirt swished when she went from section to section. When she stooped down to retrieve a book from a lower shelf, I nearly lost my gum. I could see her legs a little under the skirt as the hem of her skirt rose. It rose just a little, but enough for the side of her thigh and a hint of buttocks to come into my view. When she swiveled a little and dropped to one knee, I was able to see a very pretty thigh peeking from under her skirt. As I watched her, there seemed to be a certain ... well ... poetry to her movement.
Corny, right? The predictable metaphor embarrasses me a little, but it is nonetheless true. What I mean is that she moved with a certain amount of grace, an economy of movement. She moved from standing, to kneeling, to turning, like a poem moving gracefully from one line to the next. I looked on, as one would
read
on, to see where the poem was going. I warned you that it was a little bit corny, but you weren't there ... you didn't see what I was seeing. You didn't see how the pleats of her skirt curved around her pretty little ass.
Hell, I'm no poet!
God, I can't remember the last poem I actually read. But, I was very taken with her ... enticed by the way of her. I just had to contrive a way to meet this girl. I needed a way to get to know her that was not obvious ... not intrusive, or clumsy. I figured that if there was going to be a way to approach her, it would be through a mutual interest in books.
I am not a voracious reader, but I do like a good book, and I was honestly here today to find a new good read. If I did not try, I thought that I would have missed an opportunity ... she was just too damn pretty to take a pass on. And, as I have said, there was just something about her in a general way that appealed to me.
Yeah, there was definitely something there!
So, I took a deep breath, screwed up my courage and decided to find a way to connect with her. I started by browsing books on shelves near her. I was very proud on my acting job ... pretending to look intently for a book ... with properly knitted brow and everything. I moved toward her a little more and she looked up, smiled, and made room for me to continue to browse.
What she did not know, and I hate to admit this to you, but I was not looking at any titles, just pretending I had a legitimate reason to be close to her. I must have looked lost to her as I continued to scan titles (or pretended to), and she looked up at me again with another smile. Goddamn, she had such a pretty smile! This petite girl, scanning the pages of a book she had selected, smote me.
She closed the book, pulled her glasses off, and with a slightly knitted brow of her own asked, "Um, excuse me, are you looking for anything in particular?"
The soft tone of her voice made me stop my fake browsing and I answered nervously, "Well, not really. I'm just looking for something new ... something interesting ... you know." What I didn't tell her, was that I had found something interesting but it wasn't a book ... it was a petite little blue-eyed blonde bookworm. To be clear, she had already made my day just by being there, and being able to speak with her was a bonus.
She thought for a second, and replied, "What kinds of books do you like? What do you usually read?" This caught me off guard, and without thinking spit out the truth,
"Well, to be perfectly honest, I am a history buff, but just now I am looking for a bit of literature ... you know, for a change. Do you have a recommendation for me?" The beauty of this question is that it requires engagement in a prolonged discussion of something I already know interests her ... books!
She thought for a second or two, and said, "Well, um ... oh yes! I read a book a while ago, and if you like history, you might like it. It's by an author named, something Knowles ... um, oh yes, John Knowles. It's called
A Separate Peace
. It was kind of written a while ago, but this store might be a copy of it." She moved along the shelves, with books arranged by author's name, muttered to herself, "Knowles, Knowles, Knowles ... yes here it is. You might like it, it's about two friends at a boarding school in London during, um, the World War II." My eyes were on the swish of her skirt and her shapely, petite little ass.
"Hmmm, sounds interesting," I said in a lame attempt to keep up my end. My eyes snapped up from her ass to her pretty bespecktacled eyes as she quickly turned back in my direction. Then she continued,
"Yes it is ... well, at least I thought so. It is all that coming of age stuff, like Salinger, um 'The Catcher in the Rye,' you know that kind of uh, shit. It's about the loss of innocence in a couple of friends and their experience is kind of likened to the world's loss of innocence with the war. That kind of thing, but as I said, I read it a few years ago."
I took the book from her dainty hand, and thumbed through it a little. Then I asked, "What about you? What are you reading?"
"Oh, I'm looking at a kind of new book called
Before I Fall
, by um... (she flips the book closed to find the author's name) Lauren Oliver. It is kind of a spooky book (blushes) ... I kind of like them. It's about a girl who dies in a fiery car crash, and she wakes up the next morning and kind of has a 'groundhog day' experience reliving it until she finds out more about her death ... sort of an involved mystery I guess."
I was listening to the sound of her voice rather than the words, but I tried to look thoughtful and mused, "Hmm, it does sound interesting. I think I am going to get this book,
A Separate Peace
, since you recommended it. And, uh, if you have some time, and because you have just cost me (opening the book to check the price) eighteen dollars and ninety-five cents ... plus tax, it is only fair for you to let me buy you a cup of coffee somewhere." I looked at her hopefully.
My heart skipped a beat as she hesitated. A curious smile slowly spread across her face as her eyes searched mine, and with a quizzical look she asked, "Are you hitting on me?"
Oh, shit! Busted! I thought, as I prepared to be shot down by a pretty girl ... again. I rallied my courage and said with a resolute smile and nod, "Yes, I am!"
She hesitated for a moment, her smile broadened and sweetened, and she said, "Okay, where?" My heart was pounding in my chest, and I replied, "Starbucks. There is one only a block or so from here."
"Let's checkout, and I'm all yours," she said. Her voice had a definite musical quality to it.
Poetry and music ... what more could a boy want in an afternoon of shirking one's responsibilities?
We each bought our books, and walked the block and a half to the coffeehouse. Her conversation was pleasant as we walked; just about the day, her excitement at finding the book she was looking for ... that kind of shit.
She found us some counter space along the window with a couple of stools, as I ordered the drinks. She wanted a chai tea latte, and I had my customary cappuccino, with an extra shot. Back at our space with the drinks, and a couple of raspberry scones, she looked at me with a sweet smile.
"Thank you! May I know the name of my charming date?"she asked.
"Mike," I answered.
