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Woman wants sex tonight Sandpoint Idaho Guy at the social security office. w4m We struck up a conversation at the SS place. I was wearing a yellow tank. I thought you were funny and cute. I wanted you to ask me out but you never did. I ended up leaving before you. I hope you see this. Housewives looking real sex Shannock Rhode Island Professor seeks bookworm m4w Its almost 9pm on a Saturday night and theres nothing to do. Most of the other twenty-somethings and thirty-somethings are going out to the bars and clubs. You could go too; perhaps your friends have invited you to go out with them; but its really not your thing. What you wish most of all was that the library was open. A really nice library, with cozy chairs, hardwood floors, area rugs, and real wooden bookshelves. But at this time of night, all of the libraries are closed and locked. Apparently nobody likes to read a Saturday night.
Still, you like to fantasize. You like to imagine yourself walking through the aisles, pausing ever so briefly each time one of your familiar favorites catches your eye: Austen, Bronte, Dickens, Dickinson, Faulkner, Hemingway, Hugo, Joyce. Just seeing the names brings a smile to your face as you re the pleasures that their words have given you over the years. Youve already read almost everything by the great ones, but there is always something more. Another treat to savor. Those last few Shakespeare plays youve never read. Or one of Nabokovs more obscure novels from his Russian period. Or Finnegans Wake. No, not Finnegans Wake. You need something that will satisfy tonight, not next year. How about an Dickinson poem? Yes.
You pull a book off the shelf, open to a random page, and continue slowly walking down the aisle as you read the words
Masteropen
your life wide, and
take me in forever,
I will never be tired
I will never be noisy
when you want to be
stillI will be
your best little
girl
Suddenly, not looking where you are going, you walk right smack into a man. A tall man in a corduroy blazer and dark rimmed glasses. A man who is probably at least ten years older than you, if not more. A man who is surprisingly fit and attractive in a college professor sort of way. Where did he come from? This is your library. Your dream. Your imagination. You thought you were alone. Embarrassed and flustered, you apologize and quickly turn around to head in the other direction.
"The library is closed. What are you doing here? How did you get in here?" His voice is deep and smooth. Strong. And as he speaks, he places a firm hand on your shoulder.
"What are you reading?" he asks as he steps closer and places his other hand on your other shoulder. You wonder what kind of dream this is. You can feel his eyes as they read the words on the page
nobody else will see me, but you
but that is enough
I shall not want any more
His big hands begin to slide down your arms, and you can feel your breath quickening. You notice a simple gold band on his finger, and your eyes fixate on it as he takes the book from you, closes it, and places it on the shelf.
You turn around to face him, and you raise your head until the two of you are looking directly into each others eyes. An academic man and a scholar. A common love for literature. A quiet place to share each others interests.
Perhaps we should continue the discussion in a real library?