libidinous || h.s

♥ three ♥

[sex scene ahead]

Ceila

The sun peeked in my bedroom window, lighting my hair like a fiery halo. I lifted my head from the pillow, my wavy hair tumbling down my back like a waterfall. The suns vibrant rays sent a glossy, gold sheen all around the room, blending with leaves of spring.

The sound of the rhythmic wind chimes tumbling together brought a peaceful hymn to my ears, as I opened my window to engulf the cool slight breeze. I closed my eyes yet again, the suns waking rays warming my body.

My mind is fuzzy, the last remnants of a dream being chased away by the realisation that I am awake again. It was a nice dream, something about sitting in a big oak tree in meadow full of flowers but, the details are fading fast even as I try to recall them. With a mental sigh I allow my brain to focus and cautiously open one eye. The bright spring sunlight cuts the room in half and I see dust-motes dancing in the wall of light. I pull the duvet up over my head to keep it out. My brain is awake now and I'm already worrying about today. The library stranger wants me to meet him.

I contemplated on whether or not I should even meet him. My anxiety makes me over think everything. All the situations that could happen. I overthink everything basically. What if I do go and he kidnaps me and turns out to be a premeditated murderer? What if I don't go and he tracks me down and stalks me? He already knows my name. what else could he know?

But, then there's the good side. What if he's actually a nice guy? What if he's wants to be in a relationship with me? Or is it just sex?

All this thinking is starting to make my head hurt. I push the duvet out of the way and swing my legs over the edge. Looking over to my night stand, I see the note he left me the day before.

I never do anything risky. Never do anything for me. Never really lived. When I was little, my father made it seem like every guy I'd meet other than him, would hurt me. My mother was more of a free spirit and encouraged me to make my own dicisions or make my own mistakes. Ever since she died a couple years ago, my father had to take on both roles as parents. I don't want to be scared of the what-ifs anymore.

I know the coffee shop he wants me to meet him in, my grandma owns it. If anything happens, it's a public place with many witnesses. So a double win; free cake pops and a hot date.

I walk over to my small overcrowded closet and try to pick something that acquires my taste for today. I need something that makes me look confident. I really have to make room in the closet. I pulled a tan peacoat off the hanger and threw it on the bed. Walking over a few steps to my dresser, I open the drawer and look for a top. A black knit sweater, perfect for the fall season. Paring the top with blue jeans and black boots. I looked in the mirror, still contemplating on going. I was already dressed so why not?

The walk to the coffee shop seemed like forever. Just before I open the door, a homeless man stopped me.

"Excuse me ma'am can you spare some change?" His voice was rugged and scratchy. Reeked of alcohol too and something else, maybe even urine. I politely nodded my head no.

"Alright, have a good day then" He smiled and tipped his hat toward me. The man opened the coffee shop door for me, signaling the door chime. The strong bitter aroma of ground coffee beans drifted in the air went through my nose as I made my way to a table by the grimy window that looked out onto an equally grimy street.

There was the usual gentle murmur of voices could be heard above the harsh stomach churning sound of the coffee machine as it struggled to produce the hot steaming liquid that was beloved by the customers. In the mix of those murmurs was the soothing voice of my grandmother.