The sound of the door opening intruded on my reading. A young woman bundled in a black parka shook off snowflakes and made eye contact. Wavy red hair--not a natural red, but rather something more on the order of a cherry red--flowed from underneath a green stocking cap, falling past her shoulders and framing a cute face with straight nose and full lips. A quick smile flashed almost as bright as the cornflower blue eyes that held my gaze.
"It's nice and warm in here," she said, her voice lower and throatier than I would have expected. I wondered if she had come into my store just to escape the snow flurries outside.
"I try to make it cozy," I shrugged, pondering why I had picked 'cozy', as I could not recall the last time I might have used that word.
"Well, success," the young woman grinned. "I especially like the electric fireplace."
She pointed to the reading area, which included the fake fireplace, three overstuffed armchairs, a loveseat, and several small tables. The fireplace emitted a flickering glow, the illusion enhanced by the heat coming out of vents above the not very artfully produced flame effect.
"Thanks. We can't have a real one in the store," I said, cursing myself for the banality of the small talk. I had become the captive of the young woman's shimmering eyes, and I did not at all desire freedom.
"Of course. Do you have someplace I can hang my coat?"
As she asked, she unzipped her parka and slid it off. A tight sweater, dark green like her stocking cap, clung to the curves of her torso, highlighting a high, prominent bosom of significantly larger than average size. Below the sweater's hem, which fell to her hips, back jeans seemed to form a second skin over shapely, supple legs. I did my best not to stare at the newly revealed shape of my bookstore's only patron, but I knew only failure. I could not recall ever seeing, in the flesh, so slender a woman with such large breasts.
"Uh, yeah. There's a coatrack by the fireplace."
She looked sharply to the reading area and sighed. "How did I miss seeing that?"
"Maybe you were mesmerized by the fake flames?"
"Maybe," she chuckled, eyes sparkling.
"I can take those for you," I said, moving from behind the counter.
For a heartbeat, I thought I saw the red-headed woman's eyes scan down and then up as she looked at me, but in the next instant, I chalked that up to imagination. Although I am a bit taller than average and in good shape, I also must have been around ten years older than the young woman, who looked to be in her mid-twenties at the oldest. And I had no delusions about my facial features--regular was the best that could be said about them, although more than one woman had told me I had cute dimples and a charming smile. So, serving as the object of attention of such an attractive woman as my patron was not something I suspected would be the case, and I dismissed the notion that she might have been examining me the way I had examined her.
"Thank you, kind sir," she said, her smile larger than ever as she handed me her parka and then the stocking cap, the removal of which left her hair tousled. The effect lent an air of sexuality to her cute features, and I just repressed a sharp intake of air.
"You're welcome," I told her, taking her cap and coat to the old-fashioned coatrack. "I didn't expect to see anyone this afternoon, given the weather."
"I'm staying at the Courtyard across the river. I saw this place yesterday and wanted to come over. I love used bookstores. Always so many great treasures to find."
The hotel was a full three-block walk away from my store, including a bridge over the river. In nice weather, it was a pleasant, scenic stroll. In the snow, it was an unpleasant slog, one I had made many times a couple of years back when the parking on the street outside had been closed due to construction. I could not imagine anyone making it voluntarily just to visit my bookstore.
"Well, feel free to browse as long as you like. And of course, use the reading lounge."
"I thought the sign on the door said you close at 5:00," she replied, a look I took to be mischievous brightening her already luminescent eyes. "What if I want to keep browsing after that? Would you stay later for me?"
"Um..."
"You don't have to answer. I'm teasing."
"Oh," I mumbled, and from the heat in my cheeks, I was sure my face must have been reddening. I had been on the verge of agreeing to keep the store open as long as she liked.
"Where are your romance books?" she asked, batting her eyes in the way I thought only happened in cartoons and bad movies. A surge of disappointment radiated through me. I could not have said why, but I expected the young woman with the cherry red hair to want something of more intellectual interest than romance novels.
"Right side of the store, second row from the wall," I pointed.
"Thanks. I'll be sure to stay away from them."
She graced me with another smile before turning and heading into the shelves. I stared after her, amazed how tightly the bottom of her sweater molded itself to a nicely rounded derriere, which complemented her toned legs. I could not recall ever being so intensely attracted to any woman.
***
"You have a great psychology section," the redhead announced as she made her way out of the shelves to the reading area, a stack of books in her arms.
"Do you work in the mental health field?" I asked her as she put her books on one of the small tables and dropped into an armchair. "Or study psych?"
"I study people as a hobby," she replied. "And I was working on a psych degree, but I never finished it."
"I minored in psych," I said, wondering why the young woman had not finished her degree. "My major was history."
"Well, that's probably why you have a whole bunch of history books, isn't it?"
"Yeah, I guess." I wanted to keep talking to her, but the words would not come.
She smiled, chose a book from her stack, settled back in the big chair, and started reading. I said nothing more, resuming my seat and picking up my book. But I could not concentrate on the words on the page. I read and reread the same paragraph several times yet still had no idea what was being expressed therein. My eyes drifted to the reading area.
The young woman, oblivious to my gaze, chewed on her bottom lip as she read. I do not know why, but I found myself mesmerized by her actions, and maybe even a little aroused. That she could lose herself in what she was reading to such a degree appealed to my mind as much as her physical appearance appealed to my baser desires.
I forced myself to stop staring, to at least make an attempt to return to my book on Roman construction techniques. But the subject, which no doubt most people would find unbearably dry but had held my interest before the redhead's arrival, proved to be less stimulating than the scene in front of me. I often glanced up. At one point, about half an hour before closing time, I looked at the young woman at the same time that she stretched in the chair, arms above her head, chest protruding in a manner that caused the sweater to pull even more tightly than normal across her full breasts. Her eyes met mine, and for what seemed like forever, she held my gaze and her pose. A slight smile crossed her face, and she lowered her arms. For a heart-stopping moment, I was possessed by the wild notion that she intended to run her hands over the swell of her bosom, but then they dropped to her lap, where the book she had been reading lay. Yet she did not immediately resume reading, even after she again held the book. Her smile widened a little, or at least I thought it did, before her eyes broke away.
***
"I'll take these," she said, putting three books down on the counter. "Is it okay to leave the others on the table, or should I take them back where I got them?"
"I'll re-shelve them," I said as I examined the books on the counter. Two were psychology textbooks a few years out of date. The third was a book on human sexuality, specifically addressing the nature of promiscuity versus monogamy. I recalled, from looking through the book when I had obtained it, that the authors fell on the side of humans not being naturally monogamous, and I wondered what my attractive young customer's thoughts were on the subject.
"Okay. How much do I owe you?"
"$34.72," I told her, doing the math in my head like I always did. And as with many of my new patrons, this trick, which came very easily to me, surprised the young woman.
"You did that in your head?" she asked, the half-smile on her face making her seem even more alluring than she had been when chewing on her bottom lip while reading. I suspected she was a naturally curious person, and I knew from experience that such an active mind was more appealing to me than physical features alone.
"Yeah," I nodded, scanning the books with the code reader. I would have preferred not to use the computerized cash register at all, but not only was it more convenient for those paying with a card, it made inventory easier as well. "And see, the computer agrees."
The redhead did not even look at the displayed amount. Sparkling blue eyes on mine, she swiped her card in the card reader, looking down only to sign the screen. Making myself look away from those captivating orbs, I grabbed the receipt and found her name at the bottom: Kaitlin Dennison.
"Here's your receipt, Kaitlin," I said, handing her the piece of paper.
"Everyone calls me Kat," she replied, holding out her hand.
"I'm Nathaniel," I told her, my skin tingling where her fingers brushed mine.
"But not Nate, I would guess," she grinned. "You don't seem like a 'Nate'."
"No, although some of my friends call me Nathan."
"Nathan it is, then. It's very nice to meet you."
