As she wanders around the shop, tidying here, straightening there, keeping an eye on the customers in case someone needs assistance or is up to something nefarious, she wonders idly whether he will visit today. She knows she probably barely registers on his radar as anything other than the helpful shopgirl, but it does no harm to go on these little flights of fancy, and so she flies:
***
She turns from the art shelf in the corner, having sorted the books by artist, and he is there, right behind her, verging on too close for comfort.
"Hey," he says, "do you have any John Donne collections?" He might as well have said "God, you're beautiful when you're dusty" judging by the thumping of her heart and the electric throb in her nether regions.
"Yes, follow me and I'll show you..."
As they make their way into the bowels of the store towards the poetry section, safely tucked away in an oversized alcove, she feels him moving behind her and imagines his breath on her neck. They reach the nook and she shows him the books they have.
Suddenly, he moves much closer than is appropriate and says "Can I touch you?" - she doesn't know how to respond to that and looks up at him with her mouth slightly open. He takes this as assent and reaches his hand towards her face, brushing it lightly down her cheek, over her jaw and down her throat, then around to her nape, where he laces his fingers into her hair and pulls her slowly towards him, giving her every opportunity to pull away. She doesn't, and he dips his head for a light kiss on her lips, there and gone as quickly as a butterfly.
"Is there somewhere we can go?" She realises what he means and flushes. But she wants this, more than anything else she has ever wanted, so she nods.
"There's a secret door around the corner which leads the the fire escape stairs. No one ever uses them."
She boldly takes his hand and he grins and follows her to the door, tucked behind a display of Japanese literature. They slip through the door and as soon as it closes behind them he pushes her against the wall and kisses her again, this time much more urgently. His hands are everywhere at once, running over her arms, her waist, up her sides and under her tight, aching breasts. She gasps into his mouth as the tip of his thumb brushes across a tight nipple and she feels his smile.
He moves his lips away from hers and down her jaw, finally settling to roam across the side of her neck where she has a particular weakness for kisses and tiny licks. As he does this his hands reach under her T-shirt and up across her belly and ribs until they reach the bottom of her bra. He pushes it up to free her tiny nubs and runs his hands over them until she wants to scream with pleasure. But she stays quiet, apart from the panting, and the occasional little moan.