ahem!
Give your children these two things: One is roots, the other, wings - Wally Wally He’s our Man
Cheeeeeeeeeeeef!
bump
Dear Pixoid,
I was walking by the library on campus yesterday and all those memories of the first time we met came flooding back.
I’d seen you around the library before, of course. It would have been hard not to notice someone so strikingly attractive. But I’d never spoken to you; I figured someone like you wouldn’t be interested in me. Then came the night of the storm, and everything was different.
It was late one Thursday night, and the rain was falling steadily outside the library windows. There were only one or two other students besides us in the library that night; I imagine most everyone was staying home to avoid the weather. I was sitting at a table near the stacks, reading some Henry Miller and fantasizing about Anaïs Nin, when I heard someone behind me muttering, “Where the hell is it?” to themselves. My impulse to help overcame my steamy mental interlude, and I jumped up. Rounding the corner of the stacks, I said, “What are you look…ing…for…,” trailing off as I realized it was you and promptly became tongue-tied. You looked so hot, and the little vertical line of frustration between your eyebrows just enhanced the attractiveness of your face. You saw me and smiled, saying, “Oh, I was just looking for a particular book, and I can’t find it.” I managed to stammer,“which book?”
I was surprised to see a blush creep into your face. You looked around and then leaned closer; my breath caught in my throat as your exciting scent reached me. “I’m looking for…um…” I could see you struggling with your embarrassment and smiled what I hoped was an encouraging smile. You blushed more and then grinned and said, “I’m looking for Lady Chatterly’s Lover.”
“On a freezing night like tonight, I bet Lady Chatterly’s looking for him too,” I said, and was promptly amazed that I’d managed to get a joke out when I was so overwhelmed by how attracted I was to you. You laughed and put a hand on my shoulder, and I was immediately, ragingly aroused. I didn’t know what to do - I was sure I would die of embarrassment if you noticed my excited state, but I couldn’t just turn and run…
At that moment, there was a tremendous thunderclap and the building was plunged into darkness. I heard a gasp and your hand tightened on my shoulder. “Sorry, I just REALLY hate thunder and lightning,” you said. It’s funny, but being in complete darkness made it easier to talk to you – maybe it’s because I wasn’t being dazzled by your looks. I couldn’t help but notice that you hadn’t removed your hand from my shoulder. Deciding to throw caution to the winds, I reached up and covered your hand with mine, stroking you lightly. You said, “Mm, that feels nice,” and slid your hand down until it was flat against my chest.
The next thing I knew, we were fumbling at each other’s clothes, trying to be quiet and hurry at the same time. I slid a hand up your arm to the back of your neck and pulled your mouth to mine for a kiss. Another blast of thunder exploded outside, and you flung your arms around my neck. (later I wondered if some of the fear of the storm you showed was just playacting, and then decided so much the more flattering if it was.) “I’ve never done anything like this,” you whispered against my lips, and I could feel you tremble. “Neither have I,” I said, and slowly drew you down to the carpet.
We explored each other with hands and mouths there in the dark, then made love with tender violence as the storm raged outside. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to have found you. Our bodies seemed made for each other. I especially remember how you cried out as your climax coincided with a particularly loud thunderclap, heedless of being discovered as the orgasm ripped through you.
Afterward, we were laying together and murmuring to each other when the lights suddenly came back on. Laughing, we scrambled to get back into our clothes before someone caught us. I felt suddenly awkward again – what if you didn’t want anything to do with me after this? – but then you put your hands on my shoulders, winked, and said, “Next time let’s go to the statistics section; nobody ever goes in there…”
Live a Lush Life
Da Chef
I’m speechless, Chef Troy. Definitely worth the wait.
Excuse me…I’m going to go study…for finals…in the…library now…
-Pix
hey cheffie, get me cookin’. I’m in the mood for a dirty love letter right now… after that silly romp i viewed in the objects of lust page.
Hey Ssskuggiii, that was you? I knew someone was peeking. Damn Chef…Damn…What are you? A novel writer? It appears as if this minor leaguer just stepped into Riverfront Stadium with the big boys. I’ll leave now. Thanks…
:mumbling to himself:
damn…
I can’t resist. Can I have one? If you have the time and inclination…
Since someone already bumped this…
Chef Troy, get me cookin’ baby! Your way with words is almost as skilled as your ability to portray body parts with keyboard symbols.
I was going to post, but i didn’t want to interrupt. I certainly could’ve increased the fun for you if you wanted.
By no means would it have interrupted ssskuggii. The more the merrier. Oh, sorry, I’m cheapening the level of conversation here.
Okay, I guess it’s time to own up to my shameful neglect of this thread. I think Mullinator would back me up, though, when I say that it’s more work than you could imagine to keep so many letters all different and fresh, AND steamy.
Anyway, before I get to you new folks - and I will - I have a backlog to clear out. By my count, I owe mash notes to:
[ul]
[li]Sinocent (you still around, honey? She hasn’t posted in months, so maybe I can skip her.)[/li][li]Weirddave (actually I’m not sure if he wanted a letter or if he just couldn’t resist serenading me with a tune that proves how not-young he is…let me know one way or the other, k Dave?)[/li][li]Shayna (unless you still want me to send you yours privately…)[/li][li]Matt_mcl[/li][li]doobieous[/li][/ul]
Once I have atoned for the inexcusable inattention I’ve shown to the promises I’ve made these folks, I’ll move on to you folks. Oh, and ChrisP? I AM a professional writer, although I’ve never tackled a novel. Or did you mean a “novel writer” in the sense of “new and unusual”?
I’ll try to keep my panties on, Chef.
Chef Troy, GET ME COOKIN’!
LOL magdelene. Caught me off-guard with that one. nudge Will we owe Chef one steamy letter in return?
Well, he got me simmering so far…but we have only just begun…
Hey there, Cheffie…nudge, nudge…wink, wink…
I’d just love it if you’d do some cookin’ for ME…
D’you want your mash notes in email, or posted on here? I have one in mind…heh.
I see that I somehow neglected to include CanadianSue on my list of neglectees. sorry sweetie.
and Hamadryad, either is fine…unless sending it via e-mail would encourage you to make it more interesting… grin you temptress you.
Hey Chef, did you get my e-mail?
The one with the fake fur rug? Sure did, Michi…I’ll get right on it. (get your minds out of the gutter, everyone…it’s not like Michi’s laying nekkid on the aforementioned rug, so go fantasize about Britney Spears instead.
And all you people who have seen Michi’s pic, I wanted to tell you that she’s trying to pretend she isn’t beautiful. Join me in convincing her otherwise, will you?