_,.-:*'' ANGELS IN A BOOKSTORE ''*:-.,_
It had been true romance and her heart fluttered with the thoughts of their time together. As Taylor watched the rain fall from the sky, she pulled the wool blanket around her body, and took another sip of her tea. It was a gloomy, lazy day, and she found herself sitting in the cushioned rocker gazing out the glass doorway leading to their back deck. She reflected about how she had met Michael, and how both their lives had changed forever.
She had met him at a bookstore, never intending to meet the man that she would spend the rest of her life with. He was reading The Catcher in the Rye, the same book she had picked from the shelf, and the happy coincidence provided the opportunity for small talk to develop between the two. Soon, she found herself accepting his invitation to dinner the following evening.
Taylor found Michael amusing, with a good sense of humor, something she adored in a man. She found that he was a couple of years older than she was, and he was also not bad to look at either. He stood just over six-foot tall, with a medium build and deep blue eyes. He was not particularly muscular, but his frame was proportioned and she found the way he carried himself sexy. But, the thing that stood out in her mind was his hair. He had long flowing brown hair that hung down to his chest. The mane whisked in the air as he walked and she could imagine how it would feel brushing against her body.
Though Taylor was never truly satisfied with her looks, she knew she was not bad to look at either. Standing at five-foot, six-inches, her blonde hair hung down to the middle of her back. She always tried to keep in shape, working out and watching what she ate, as well as keeping her body dark and tan, visiting the tanning salon often. But, she could tell her most valued attribute was her breasts. During their dinner, she had caught him several times catching a glimpse of her buxom globes. She would giggle to herself, as she watched him try to avert his eyes and appear like he wasn't glaring at her.
It was nearly a week after their first date before he had managed to garner the courage to kiss her, and she found his anxiety enchanting. It was a couple of months after that before he finally made his move, seducing her in the bedroom. She had seen through his subtle hints and gestures, but allowed him to perform his seductive dance and permit him a male victory. Secretly, she would have slept with him the day he had kissed her, but she found his gentlemanly ways romantic.
It was a year to the day, when he had walked with her back to the bookstore. There, in the "Classic Novels" section, he knelt on one knee and presented the tiny velvet box. Tears had streamed from her eyes as he placed the ring on her finger. She jumped up and down before screaming her answer, patrons in the store looking on and cheering. "Yes!" she proclaimed as she wrapped her arms around him.
They had honeymooned in Jamaica, and had even dared to visit a nude beach during their trip. They were both apprehensive at first, but as they realized they were not the only ones naked on the sand, and that no one was laughing and pointing at them, they became comfortable with their daringness. They relished their week together, taking in the sun, and only looking into each other's eyes.
As they began their life together, Taylor and Michael reveled in the enjoyment of being in each other's arms. They were in love, and each and every experience together was new and exciting. For nearly two years they lived their lives in bliss, but as the mundane tasks of everyday existence crept into their marriage, they soon found themselves growing apart.
Michael worked as a contractor, and his hours kept him out during most of the daylight hours. Taylor had worked her way up and managed a clothing store at the local mall. Her hours varied, but mostly kept her working until late in the evening. The discrepancy meant that the couple had little time together. They were either too tired or had too little time to spend with each other. Their sex lives grew scheduled and routine, and they struggled to find ways to spice up their relationship.
During the few times they found together, Michael and Taylor took romantic little trips and getaways. They also began playing little games with each other, trying to ignite the spark they had once felt. They had started with Truth or Dare, giving each other naughty little tasks to perform, or revealing their deepest feelings and desires to one another. They also played a game where each had written down a set of fantasies or desires. Each would draw a piece of paper from a cup, privately read the message, and then try to make the other's wish come true. They found the games audacious and fun, and again began to look forward to their time alone.
Michael's dares consisted of the usual; not wearing underwear beneath her miniskirt during a night out on the town, or giving him head as they drove home from a trip. Taylor's desires were more romantic; having him run her a bubble bath, complete with perfume and rose petals, or having him perform a sensual massage by candlelight, with body oils and some soft music. But, each worked hard to try to please the other and be sensitive to their needs. They found their efforts stimulating and that the flame in their hearts had never really died.
Taylor smiled as she reminisced about their early days. Pushing back in the chair, she watched the precipitation fall across the flowerbed at the edge of their patio, the blooms twitching as the raindrops struck their delicate petals. She looked on as the filtered daylight slowly faded from the gray skies, nightfall pushing its way forward. Turning back in her chair, she gazed at Michael as he napped on the living room sofa. Her face beaming, she softly whispered, "I love you."
_,.-:*'' THE BASTING THREAD INCIDENT ''*:-.,_
"Can I have a spool of basting thread please?" Michael asked with a devilish grin.
The woman behind the counter peered at him from over her horn rimmed glasses. "Hmm ... basting thread," she pondered aloud. "Basting thread. Ah, yes. I think I know what you mean." Michael watched as the fabric store clerk shuffled from behind the counter. She was a frail looking woman with white hair, and he helped her open the swinging half door that separated the checkout compartment from the customer's area of the store. He watched as she hobbled her way over to a large rack, hanging on the wall near the back of the store.
Raising her hand up to her face, the woman pushed her bifocals up on the bridge of her nose and scanned the various spools of thread that hung on the rack. The display gave the illusion of a rainbow as the assortment gradually blended from red to violet. "Here," the woman said as she looked at the top of the rack. "I think this is it."
Michael reached up and grabbed one of the spools. Holding it up to his lips, he lightly blew a faint layer of dust from the top of the white cylinder. The spool was neatly wrapped in a thick white strand, and the label read, "Polycarbonate Basting Thread -$5.99."
"We don't sell too much of that these days," the woman explained. "Not too many people quilt around here anymore." She looked at Michael and smiled. "Are you planning on doing some quilting young man?"
Michael grinned. "No, no ... This is for my grandmother."
The woman chuckled as she made her way back to the checkout counter.
As Michael paid for the items he couldn't keep his mind off of his devious little plan. It was going to be a bit of playful revenge on his wife, Taylor, who had played a practical joke on him about a month earlier. While staying at a motel she had dared him to run out to the car, on the other side of the parking lot, and retrieve a small makeup bag she had left sitting on the front seat. They were parked in the rear of the motel and it was dark outside. The parking lot was also nearly empty, and she dared him to perform the task totally in the nude.
