The Book Boyfriend

The thoughts cover me like sheets never did …in bed flipping trying different positions to get comfortable.

“That’s what ‘lovers’ do,” I’d try to assure you as if I knew I meant fff— what is it to you?

“Not like that.. like this” The suddenness takes me back a bit but, she cracks a soft smile as striking as a well weathered whip—

“This was never meant to be my chance at avoiding accountability. Just an attempt at describing the tranquility that comes from the definitive remaining … elusive.”

“You are a slick talker, Mister” she smiles again.

“Is it slick?” My fingers gripping her inner thighs while towering over her, I feel there is an interesting power dynamic at play here.

I have none of it. She could tell me to drop right now and like a good boy I’d play dead on the spot.

“You don’t have to lock in to this. Fairy tales were never my deal, anyway, but a good mystery I could read a few times.”

— I shutter a bit. “So are fairy tales a deal breaker?”

She pulls me in closer as if to make me apologize. “If you’re going to put anything in my mouth don’t let it be words, Mister.”

… her words drop like a weighted blanket and I may be a bit …hyper sensitive in some areas— still I manage to say, “I am sorry for the misunderstanding.” Still turning, I roll myself over and grab a book off the shelf.

“Is that one of yours?” She teases as I run my hand over the spine —just to feel it in my hands for a second before responding.

Simply, “Yes”. She leans up to throw her shoulders across my lap.

“You seem troubled.” She presses gently.

“I just get in my head when I feel like my words can’t be received.”

“Am I in trouble?” She bites her lip softly, and I see her though I can tell she is unsure if I do.

After a moment of reflection I lean forward and give her a small kiss on her slightly wrinkled forehead which seems to relax her face as it returns to smooth after a moment.

“This one is for sure on me. I’m not sure my question was framed to convey my actual intention.” A small chuckle from me comes out as to remind me I can laugh at myself. Every page doesn’t need to be covered completely in illegible ink. I think—

“What draws you into mysteries that fairy tales are woefully lacking?” And there goes that smile of hers again, striking me just before fading completely.

“This is going to sound completely cliche, but, I feel fairy tales are just not for girls like me.” She takes a brief sigh and then picks herself up to meet my eyes. “My parents are in my life. I feel like fairy tales are sold to little girls to get them ready and softened to sweet nothings. Promises that are meant to evaporate. Mysteries set you up for a promise that you can expect to be delivered on, even if you’re disappointed in the outcome or the journey getting there.”

I’m stunned though my face doesn’t show it. It never shows much, however I wasn’t expecting a full explanation complete with sound reasoning. Maybe this is why I can’t get a read. This time really is different.

“Anticipation is an interesting thing of sorts.” I grab her hand and move it into my lap while I rub her back. Her fingers now playing with the spine almost as if she’s trying to absorb the book.

“Are you going to read me one of your stories, Mister?” I let out a soft but genuine chuckle. She’s biting her lip again… it’s a physical response our bodies have a hard time controlling.

“No, no, this is your read.”

“You’re giving it to me?” She asks with anticipatory intensity.

“Yes.” I let out a soft sigh catching myself now, biting my lip. “But slowly. Remember Miss, I can’t give you something you do not first WANT to take. Consent is important to me. You know that, yes?” My hand on her back drops to grab her waist gently while my other hand moves from the book she’s now holding, to meet her face.

“Yes.”

“First I have to ask does this even look like something you’re interested in reading?”

“Mhm,” she murmurs without so much as even glancing at the book. I let out a small laugh though it may be a bit forced. I need her to know this isn’t the way fear will be used in these walls.

“I like healthy story book relationships.” I lean her back slowly moving the book up to her chest. “The issue is there is no such thing as a perfect story. And so, as a writer I feel it has become my focus on trying to deliver one.”

“But you are THE Mr. Mister, and I feel like hundreds of women have told you that your stories are just perfect for them” she scoffs a bit. I know she feels like the power dynamic is shifting… fear.

It isn’t. This is all in service of her. She still hasn’t fully realized it yet. “I just have one small little detail I might be a little particular about.” I anchor my arms under her legs and rock her until she is facing the wall. “This isn’t punishment though at all. I just want you to read it is all—”

“Like this?!” She’s blushing now.

“Yes. I figured I’m physically and emotionally vulnerable to you right now.” I let out a gentler laugh. “We’ll start slow. But I can feel your genuine reactions and if at any point it fails to keep your attention, it’s simple… put it down.”

“Yes, mister.” She bites her lip again, this time a little harder. “Just the ti— the title”

We enter… “Mister E’s Magic Workshop: An Adult Fairy Tale”

We’re all just trying to get to happy ever after. What if I told you once upon a time— well actually it took me four times but it’s because the third time I was charmed— should I just begin the good part of this journey?

There was a workshop, Eric Ericsson’s Magic Workshop, in the middle of a crowded town—glamorous in every way, but no one knew it was there….

“Are you still reading?” I ask with my palm gently resting on her back to hear her heart beat. It’s much more honest than her breath pacing herself while reading.

“I think I need to go deeper please” she mutters her voice carrying longing and curiosity.

“It’s yours.” I respond simply.