Lust(12)

I leaned over the passenger seat and opened the door. She rounded the car and leaned in to place the case on the floorboard.

"Get in," I said abruptly and startled her.

"Where are we going?" Her question was full of fear and uncertainty.  They were the exact feelings that currently swirled inside me. Her eyes  were curious yet cautious at the same time. How was it possible that I  saw in her everything I felt in myself? Was this someone's idea of a  cruel joke?

"I don't know. But you don't like my office and I can't stay in this  heat. It's making me lightheaded and I need to be in the air  conditioning." It wasn't a complete lie. I did need the air; I simply  didn't explain why I needed it. I only hoped she wouldn't ask.

She nodded and then carefully sat down in the passenger seat.

As soon as I pulled out of the parking lot, I knew exactly where we  would go. I turned on the radio to drown out the silence, filling it  with The Used. I could tell by her rigid posture that she wasn't into  that kind of music, but there was no way in hell I'd listen to Britney  Spears or anything else equally as painful.         

     



 

Her frightened form didn't calm until I pulled up to the local library.  She suddenly turned from a worried thirty-year-old to an excited  ten-year-old. I watched her carefully, fully trying to understand who  she was without forcing her to divulge all of her secrets in one day.

"I take it you like the library?" I asked as we walking inside. I hid  the smile that threatened my lips; I knew she would love this place.

A smile formed on her lips and didn't stop until it reached her eyes.  Her eyes nearly danced as she spoke. "I love the library. But I never  get to come here." She must have sensed the question on my mind because  she answered before I could even voice it. "I don't drive, remember?"

"Yes, but I'm sure public transportation would bring you here."

"I don't take public transportation. If I need to go somewhere, I walk."  Her eyes stared straight ahead as mine studied her explicitly. Her  entire face lit up as soon as we walked through the sliding doors. It  struck me to my core how she acted more like a child than a grown woman,  and it made me wonder how much of her childhood suffered at the hands  of her abusive mother.

"Can you show me what books you like to read?" I asked her in a quiet  voice as we walked inside. It was weird how you immediately adapted your  voice to your surroundings once you entered a library.

"There are so many, but I don't know if any would be here."

"I thought you said you read a book a day."

"Yes, but most of those are Indie books."

I stared at her as her eyes moved around the brightly lit room. "Like from India?"

She finally looked up at me and covered her mouth, hiding the laugh  behind her hand. "No. They are books that are independently published.  As in, the authors put them out themselves, not through a traditional  publishing company. So they may not be here unless they were donated  from people. But even then, most people that read Indie author's usually  buy them via e-book. So they can't be donated."

"So anyone can put out a book?" I wasn't sure why I was asking her,  other than the fact that I enjoyed watching her face light up as she  explained it all to me. Her passion for reading and these indie authors  she spoke of was evident.

"Yes. But I read published books, too. But those I read for fun. I don't  read those simply to write a review. I'm sure I could find one of those  in here if you really want to see what I like to read."

"I do. I want you to find your favorite book in here and I'll take it home. I want to read it."

"Why?"

"You said you came to me because of the books you read. I want to see what you mean by that."

"I'm sure we won't find any of those in here." Her cheeks flared red in embarrassment as she looked away.

I reached over and grabbed her hand, leading her to the back of the  library where they had tables and computers set up along the wall of  windows. I hadn't meant to keep hold of her hand, but once her fingers  laced through mine, I found that I couldn't let go. It was comforting  and scary all at the same time. Her skin felt soft and smooth against  mine, addicting.

I pulled a plastic chair out for her and then sat next to her seat,  leaning closer to her so we could share one computer. "This is what I  want to do," I whispered, getting as close as I could to her so the  others around us couldn't hear our conversation. "We need to come up  with a game plan for you. I need to know what it is you're looking for  from me, and then we need to decide how we can both effectively treat  you. So for now, I need for you to show me the kinds of books you read,  and what it is about them that made you look for help. I need to know  what it is you are seeking."

"I just need you to fix me."

I felt more of her breath on my face than I heard her words in my ears.

"I don't understand why you need to read what I read to understand."

"You said you read sex; I need to know what kind of sex you're looking for."

"Just plain old sex. I just need to be comfortable with the idea of being with someone."

I let my arm fall from the table, landing my hand on her thigh. I kept  it there, right above her knee until I heard her finally take in a  breath of air. Once she seemed to have calmed down some, I slowly moved  my palm higher up her thigh. I heard her breathing grow heavy and  frantic.

"What are you doing?" she asked, panicked.

"I don't know," I answered her honestly, in a voice full of air that matched her own.

Moments passed-could've only been a few seconds, could have been  minutes-as we stared at each other, both breathing heavily and waiting  for the other to make a move. I wasn't sure exactly what move I was  waiting for her to make. I expected her to either pull away, or calm  down and relax against my touch, but neither happened. She didn't move  at all, and continued to breathe heavy, hot pants against my face.         

     



 

Finally, someone cleared a throat somewhere in the space around us. It  was enough of an interruption that we both seemed to snap back to  reality and instantly push away from one another. Her eyes darted to the  computer screen in front of her, but mine stayed on her face. Her  cheeks were flushed and her soft lips were only slightly parted as she  tried to regain control of her breathing. I affected her. Only I wasn't  sure if it was in the good or bad kind of way.

"Just pull up any book that helped in your decision to seek help," I told her.

Her fingers started tapping away at the keyboard, but I couldn't see  what she was typing. I couldn't look away from her no matter how hard I  tried. There was something about her and I needed to find out what it  was. I knew in that moment what I would be discussing in my next meeting  with my own therapist.

"This is the one that made me set up an appointment with you. There have  been others that made me want to fix my problem, but this is the one  that made me actually take the step and finally do something about it."

I finally looked up to the screen and saw a picture of lips covered in  sugar. I quickly began to rethink my idea of reading a romance novel.  But I guess if there were one way to get into Ivy's head, it would be  through a book. I slid the keyboard over and typed in my account info,  clicking the buy now link and succumbing to the knowledge that I would  be spending my night reading another book.

*****

After watching Ivy walk around the library for a little bit longer, we  left and I took her home. I finished running my errands, which included  picking up a well-deserved twelve pack of beer, and then headed home. I  had a light workout, preparing myself for the book I had to read.

It wasn't that I hated reading; I simply wasn't into the mushy romantic  love shit. The sweet stories of making love and living happily ever  after were complete and utter bullshit. I didn't believe any of it, nor  had I ever enjoyed making love. I enjoyed fucking. There's a difference,  and I had a feeling Ivy didn't know what it was.

After my shower, I opened a beer and pulled out my iPad, uploading Sweet  Addiction by J. Daniels. Even the title sounded too sweet. If my dick  could've been any softer, it would have been.

The old adage, don't judge a book by its cover, should be amended to say, "or its title."

I was not prepared for the sex scenes in that book. I was even more  taken by surprise that it was what had pushed Ivy to come look for me.  Shit, the first sex scene was with the two main characters in a public  bathroom. I'd be lying if I said my dick didn't spring to life when I  read that. It wasn't something I wanted to admit, but it's the fucking  truth. The things they did together …  the sex they had …  I couldn't  believe that was something Ivy was looking for. That she wanted to get  through her issues so she could have had sex like the two characters in  the book.