The Book Boyfriend

Chapter 1

She pauses and looks back at me licking a finger before turning the next page. “Mmm the plot is thick, Mister— and dripping with so… much… tension”

I place my hand wrapped loosely around her throat while she holds the book close enough to correct for the fact her glasses have been long lost in all of the movement. I gently moan out inviting her “please, by all means— go on”

****

“Not all my toys are so easy to play with.” A stern warning from an equally stern figure standing behind a counter made entirely of black onyx.

***She squirms. Then tenses her body. “I bet that counter feels nice to lay on!” her embarrassment on full display in her cheeks as she tries to refocus— thinking she may have ruined the mood.

“Intrusive thoughts need somewhere to go. That’s the beauty of us doing something as simple as this” I reply. Knowing this game is far from simple. “Your thoughts are safe here. All of them.” She continues***

“You must be her.” A strong smell of old leather atop a subtle scent of rosemary— it smells warm. And behind this Amazonian beauty, small in stature though large in presence, were bookshelves piled high with almost anything you could name, except books.

***She starts pushing back — intentionally slowly. Then softens her voice to match character. I’m watching her become my antagonist and for once I can start to see the fantasy I’ve built take shape. I think I truly am beginning to lose all control and just think, “oh, yeah, this is how that feels”.***

“I am. What brings you in?” Very direct. It makes the young shop attendee a little uncomfortable.

***Me too***

“I’m a fan of your work—” how quickly the shop owner’s face turns sour, though it wasn’t truly smiling in the first place.

“Don’t be a flatterer! It is unbecoming of a warlock of your— qualifications” her eyes scanning him uncomfortably slow. “You only find my shop by recommendation through favor or friend.” It’s almost as if she can read falseness in his words despite his best attempt at sounding sincere.

***At the same time my hands drop around her waist, I read her body, as thoroughly as she reads the words I’ve written ***

“I suppose you can call it favor, though I’d hesitate to call it friendly in any way.” Her scowl softens just enough for him to feel comfortable with a little vulnerability. “I don’t have too many friends these days,” he says.

“What work of mine is it that you — you’re a fan of?” She asks him but, hyper aware of the rocky impression he’s made this far. . . He can only think that honesty does make the world a lot … nicer.

“Truthfully,” here goes nothing be says to himself. “I’ve met a number of people who have visited this shop— though they can never quite remember where it is or what it looks like? I’m a fan of that work. Existing while simultaneously — not.”

She makes her way from behind the counter to where he is just inside the doorway which is now simply more bookshelves filled with more strange things. This time, though, there were books. “Is it what you’d hoped to find? Does it live up to your expectations?” She looks at the young warlock with pleading eyes.

“No flattery Ericsson,” he tells himself.

“You seem like a woman who values truth so it’d be my pleasure to help you find that which you seek.” She smiles as if she’s just won. “I came with zero expectations so you cannot meet them nor live up to them. But to be fair, you can’t let them down either. It gives us a good place to start.”

“I think I’d like him to just stay a while,” she thinks to herself before remembering that this particular shop comes with a few extra rules of engagement. For one, consent is the most important word here. You cannot even simply find the front door of this shop without first truly having a longing for something offered inside. And he still hasn’t said what it is he wants, so either he knows that, or— it is her time. She can’t florce it though and she knows so she asks…

“Would you like to stay here a while? No need to rush back out into the cold air.”

***now fully immersed in the book it looks like she is trying to finish the book before she finishes ***

“Sounds like you’ve been alone in this little shop for far too long.” The shop owner blushes slightly, and truthfully she is absolutely stunning. Ericcson is surprised people are able to forget such a glamorous person in such a glamorous shop. It’s almost like—

“Magic!” She snatches the words right from out of his mouth still they hang there like books in the air while she speaks. “When solitude feels like magic you can find yourself there for, well— ages”.

She places a palm on his chest almost as if checking for a pulse, or reaction. He may be unable to react to much more, but her words seem to reach him on a level he hasn’t felt — in a while.

“Is there a Mr,” he looks around realizing he didn’t take notice of the shop name when he entered. And no name tag or anything to identify herself. “Uhhh mister—workshop?”

Yeah that went over well. Her hand still on his chest, “you didn’t happen to read the name of the shop on the way in did you?” Misstery asks hopefully.

There is just something so raw— and vulnerable about honesty. “No, I was too curious about what’s taking place inside the shop.” Her hand drops and he watches her closely to see if the expression on her face follows… it doesn’t. His curiosity again gets the better of him.

“I’m sorry that was rude of me. I should have asked your name up front.” Our young warrior grabs The mysterious shop owner by her cheek gently.

Then pulls away suddenly feeling himself getting far too comfortable in a place he is just now coming to know.

“No. No need to apologize at all. Actually, if anything, perhaps I should. You’re here so you already know the first and most important rule of the shop I presume.”

“Yeah, I can only find this place if I have a true need for something inside its walls but, no offense, I’ve visually scanned this entire shop and just don’t see anything I feel a strong calling for. That’s partially the problem I was hoping I could find solution to here.” It’s getting warmer in here and the scent of rosemary is getting stronger.

“See and that’s where I should apologize.” Her voice softening as she steps forward rolling her chin upwards until she meets the gaze of the taller fellow. “See this shop has some very strict rules— and some… less strict guidelines,” she smiles curling her lips in just the most evocative way. “You can’t leave until you’ve found what you’re looking for, or simply call me my name and walk out of here.”

***I know she feels my heartbeat and she knows she has full control. Her breathing and reading is much more measured as if — she’s walking herself towards… “I know where you like to place your climax.” She whispers leaning down in my ear, “it’s the same place I like too.”***

She continues “you do need to know we take customer satisfaction very seriously here.”

She smirks and raises a hand to gently cup his face as if to deliver a knockout blow but softer somehow. “I’m sorry Miss but I just don’t know what I want.” He is holding his breath. Anticipation is the worst.

“Well, Mr. Ericcson, I’ll help you out. For one— stop apologizing, in these walls you will know when you have something to apologize for. And, I did say that it’s my apology anyway, after all. Now we play a game. If you win— I tell you my name and you simply choose to walk out.”

“And if I lose?” He asks trying to keep his voice steady

“Mr. Ericcson, I simply never lose,” she cups his face in her hands and pulls him in for a fateful kiss. “It’s just Misery,” she says digging her claws into my chest, “with a little tea.”

***“just like that I realize she has already won.” And I think I am starting to find what it is I’m searching for.***