Delivering His Package - Big Apple Love
“So, Don Juan is a good choice, right?” Eleanor asked.
Eleanor began to read. She was like a snake-charmer. I was hypnotized by her voice, by the way she breathily enunciated every syllable of words like “love” and “breath” and “manly.” She knew where to dive into the book, of course; the most erotic parts possible. The ones most directly suited to our situation at that moment, sitting on the sofa, alone in the library at night.
Eleanor’s warm breath rang out with every word. Her soft, curvy body sat perfectly under my arm.
“Do you ever dream about love?” I asked. I was interrupting Eleanor’s reading of a poem. But it was a relevant question. And maybe she was as interested in talking with me as I was interested in talking with her — which was very interested.
“I… I pretty much don’t think about anything else, unless it’s work or books.” Eleanor pointed around the bookshelves with her eyes. “I just haven’t been able to find anybody.”
“Not been able to find anybody, because…?”
“Because I don’t like going out. Because I can never seem to take the initiative.” Her reason was reasonable enough. I could see how Eleanor needed her coworker Claire’s help in talking to any guys. “And Claire always pushes these most ridiculous guys at me.”
“I’m sure she means well.”
Claire seemed nice enough. Clueless and unsubtle, but nice.
“I think Claire tries to set me up with — not the guys she herself would like, but the guys she imagines I should like? Something like that.”
“Well, she did alert you to my existence, didn’t she? She can’t be all bad.”
I wasn’t even fishing for compliments for myself. I was only trying to put in a good word for Claire. I didn’t even know Claire, but I didn’t want this seemingly well-meaning woman to be maligned by equally well-meaning Eleanor.
“Yeah. I’m still thankful for that. She could have just signed for the package, and that’s it.” She shrugged.
“You aren’t actually the only person who can sign for UPS packages, right?”
“Of course not. Claire just pulls that line whenever she wants me to meet a guy. She tells whoever that Eleanor is the only person who can do that — authorize this book checkout, approve this delivery, whatever.”
“But her setups are usually not so great?” I was asking a rhetorical question. Eleanor only answered by reading a few more lines of a love poem. I could only sigh in response.
“So…what are you…what do you look for in a man?” I inhaled deeply. I could smell Eleanor’s scent. It was driving me crazy.
“I think the ultimate standard — someone I could marry, feel comfortable in everyday life with. I mean just a guy who looks good today, who’s fun for one conversation, that’s not enough.”
“Sure. I can understand.”
That was my standard too. But I didn’t want to push things too far too fast by saying so explicitly. I didn’t want the women who made me sexual offers on my package route because they weren’t the kind I could imagine settling down with. But now, I was sitting on this plain, dumpy sofa, looking out over nighttime New York — and I was very, very attracted to this shy, caring, attractive woman sitting next to me.
“It’s weird.” Eleanor looked over at me. Her eyes scanned up and down my face and torso. I didn’t mind at all. I appreciated that kind of attention if it was coming from a gorgeous, desirable, high-quality woman, one who was reading poetry to me that very moment. Eleanor took my approving look as encouragement to continue. “I’ve only known you a week. But I can see myself in a long-term relationship with you.”
“I can see that… I can see that too…”
I turned to my right and looked into her eyes. Then I leaned my head down and swooped in with my face toward her face. I breathed deeply, smelling Eleanor’s scent again, the smell of a horny librarian who hadn’t yet showered after the day’s work.
Chapter Four - Aiden
I kissed Eleanor. I didn’t even want to finish my sentence before kissing this beautiful librarian. I’d never felt anything for anyone like that. I pressed my mouth against her lips and rushed in with my wet tongue, licking and exploring the depths of her mouth: her lips, her gums, her teeth. It was the first time I had kissed her, of course, the first time I’d kissed anyone in a long time — but somehow, my tongue felt exactly at home inside her mouth.
She kissed back ferociously. She sat up to press her mouth up into me, where she could shove her own tongue into my mouth just as I had shoved my tongue into hers. Her lips were soft, just the right amount of force. She embraced me and pulled me down onto her torso atop the sofa, then kissed even more. She wrapped her legs around my waist and grasped my ass with her feet.