HIM .. Joe Goldberg

YOU

YOUR COWORKER DOESN'T UNDERSTAND THE BOOK I CHOSE, but I don't need him to. I know you will.

He smiles in discomfort, ignoring the symbol on the cover. He's in denial, he thinks I'm too pretty to be this weird. "Anton LaVey? I've never heard of him."

"Hmm," I could've gotten Dr fucking Seuss and he'd probably say the same thing. He's not like us, Joe. No one reads anymore, no one appreciate the wisdom and knowledge in a good book. I know you'd understand me, you'd know exactly who this author is.

And you do. When I bring the book to the counter, you look at it in mild surprise. "I wouldn't have expected you to get something like this." After you say this, you smile. "But at the same time, I don't think I could imagine someone like you getting something any different. You look edgy."

"I like to broaden my horizon, so to speak. Is that bad?" I bat my long eyelashes. You like it.

"Not at all. In fact, I respect it." You smile down at the book. "I don't think anyone has ever bought this. I'm surprised we have it." Then you look up at me, eyes twinkling mischievously. "You're not in a cult, are you?"

I hold up my hands mockingly. "You got me."

You laugh. Beautiful. "So I guess that explains the red dress in the middle of a winter evening. Is this a Handmaid's sorta thing, you have to dress how you're told?"

"No. Sometimes, I just like to feel pretty."

My reply takes you back, you weren't expecting something so honest. You take a moment to observe me, and your smile is genuine and you love how my body looks under the thin fabric of my dress and I know both of us are waiting for you to rip it into pieces. You say, in that wonderful voice of yours, "Well, I think you succeeded in that. You're the most gorgeous person to walk in this bookstore in a while." Stars explode in my stomach, I feel like my head is in a daze, miles of clouds away from the rest of the earth. You think I'm the most gorgeous person to walk in here? You think I'm gorgeous, Joe? I do it for you. Only you.

You lean forward, glancing over at your coworker. Your voice lowers. "Curtis was just about ready to jump on you when you came in. I thought I was going to have to tear him off."

I giggle quietly and you grin at the noise. Validation is key, I want you to believe that you already have me in the palm of your hand. Oh, Joe. Judging by our initial eye contact, I'd say you were quicker to that point than Curtis ever was. "Thank God you were here."

"That's ironic for you to say, considering what you're buying."

You're on a roll, and I laugh a bit louder. "Has anyone told you that you're funny? Much funnier than the average bookstore clerk." A stroke of the ego, but enough room left to talk about yourself.

You bite. "I take pride in my wit. I thrive to give people the best experience in book shopping." And you smile at your own joke, the type that reaches your eyes and makes them crinkle. You're adorable.

I can't help but blush. "I'll make sure to leave a good review."

This is nice. Casual. It's like we've been friends since childhood, kindled souls. There's nothing forced, no moments of awkwardness. Both of our smiles are true.

"Thank you, I'll appreciate that. Is there any other book or author I can help you look for? Or do you strictly read the occult? I think you'd really enjoy Lovecraft, or Stephen King for that matter. Older King, of course."

Awh, Joe! You're so desperate to keep me in your store. I can't help my grin. "Maybe not today, but there actually is a book I've been looking for that no other bookstore seems to have. You got Hot Water Music, Bukowski?" I actually already have the book, but I want a reason to come back.

"You read Hank? I guess I shouldn't be surprised, you seem like you'd be the cynical type."

"I don't know how someone could live in a world like this and not be." I shrug.

"Amen. I'll make sure to reserve a copy for you, will you be in tomorrow?" Your eyes sparkle with hope. How could I say no to you?

I smile. "As long as you are."

There was another moment of comfortable silence, us looking at each other like we were soulmates from another life. My heart is on fire, pulse filled with acid. I know you feel it too.

"I look forward to it. For now, will that be cash or card?"

I hand you my credit card because I want you to read my name, which you do in the few extra moments you spend holding it. You look up at me and smile. "I think you're the first Britannia I've ever met."

"My family came from Europe. She was a great goddess."

"I know who Britannia is."

You want to impress me with your knowledge, and I act like you did. I perk an eyebrow and cock a playfully crooked smile. "Not many people do, kudos."

You take your time giving me back my card and you put the little black book slowly in a plastic bag. You want me to stay as long as possible. How cute, Joe.

"Do most people call you Brit?" You wonder casually, though when you think my eyes are focused on putting my card back in my wallet, you look at my breast. Perky C cups, on full display in my low collar dress. Can you see the lacy edges of my matching bra, Joe? I was thinking of you when I put it on. Same with the G-string, though you'll have to save that for imagination. Not for long, honey. Not for long.

I smile at you, and you see that it's genuine—you smile back at the sight. You like that you're making me happy, pleasant conversation between a pleasant couple. Anyone would look at us and wish they had what we do.

"Only my friends. My parents still demand I go by Britannia. Something or another about respect."

"May I call you Brit?"

My smile stretches into a grin. Yours does too. You like my smile, don't you, Joe? You're thinking of all the ways you can make me smile in the bedroom, all the ways you can make me happy. You won't have to try hard, babe. Just seeing your wonderful face makes me soaked, heart fluttering to my lungs and pussy tingling and flinching like an anxious little kid.

"Of course, and you are?"

"Joe." You hold out a hand. Formal. You're a true gentleman, and you pride yourself in the fact. "Joe Goldberg."

And so it begins.