All Chapters of Literature and Love Letters (COMPLETED): Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Sophia The light danced across her supple mocha skin like...  No. Delete Delete Delete.  The water pooled effortlessly around her milky thighs like...  Hell no! Milky thighs? That's just gross.  I rub my temples and sigh bitterly as my tired eyes stare blankly at the empty cup sitting parallel to my computer, shamelessly blaming it for my inability to write anything good this evening.  I've been stuck on the same sentence in my story for thirty-eight minutes exactly now because apparently, I can't seem to escape coffee based analogies. Writers' block can kiss my ass, that's for sure.  "Clara, another French roast, soy milk, and two sugars please," I call out to the friendly barista I've come to desperately rely on since beginning my time at this university.  This is the closest caf&e

The walk back towards my apartment is unbearably cold, but the promise of what is to come keeps me warm deep inside.  There's j ust something so burning hot about sin, even when it's as innocent and mild as the naughty things swirling around in my head.  I'm a good girl, I really am, but even good girls do something had every once in a while. After all, wasn't it Alexander Pope who said 'To err is human?'.  I giggle to myself as my frozen fingertips painfully unlock my apartment door, and I hurry inside.  I shed my extra layers and quickly pull my laptop back from my bag before discarding the rest of my belongings on to the floor. I shake off my snow-covered shoes on my way to my sofa and sit with a soft thud on the comfy pillow top that's shamelessly covered in Cheeto dust and candy wrappers.  

Old Books The smell of dusty books tickles my nose as I shelve the ones lucky enough to have been recently Viewed.  I’m the library assistant at my university, and I could never have dreamed I'd be so lucky. I take care of books all day and they give me money for it.  Suckers!  I make my way back to the rental counter and start scanning in new returns. I've barely dug into my work before I hear a familiar feminine voice clear its throat.  "Excuse me miss, where is the porn section? I have some research to do."  My head shoots right up and an involuntary sigh flies from my lips. Standing there looking completely innocent is my best friend, Fiona Reese. She's got a cheesy grin on her face and she's slumped over onto the counter, her abnormally large boso

Thick smoke fills my lungs as we walk into a little downtown dive bar not too far from campus. The air is thick with mostly fruity scents because everyone has decided vaping is much cooler than cigarettes. I fallow Fiona to a little corner booth where we shed our coats and purses. I may he a little paranoid, but it's almost like I can already feel dozens of little eyes watching out every move.  "Let's get some drinks," Fiona suggests as she digs her wallet out. I walk with her up to the bar and watch as she shamelessly flirts with the bartender. "I'll take a vodka cranberry, and my girl here will take a sex on the beach." The moderately handsome barkeep can't keep his eyes off of Fiona's eye-grabbing cleavage not that it's his fault. They didn't call her "booby trap" in high school for nothing.  I internally scold her lackadaisical actions, but in the end, it works in our favor.  

One Dance Two Mistakes My heart is practically in my throat as I wait for Thomas to speak. The eye contact he's making has small beads of sweat rolling down my back, and I'm trying like crazy to keep it together but I'm failing.  My fight or flight instincts have me mentally searching for all of the exits in this bar, and yet I don't think I could move if I tried.  Finally, his eyes soften, and his mouth slowly parts as he's about to respond. "Yes, well normally I'd love to throw myself into my work, but since it hasn‘t quite begun yet whiskey will have to do." I feel a smile pulling at my lips and my chest relaxes.  Maybe I just overreacted.  "I assume you've got the curriculum all planned for next semester then? I‘m looking forward to it, Professor." The word professor rolls off of my tongue and tastes foreign to me. He's Thomas to me. My Thomas,

"Calm down, Sophia, it's just a dance," He whisperers against my ear, and I feel my hand on his shirt spring shut, grabbing a handful of the white fabric. My other hand slowly comes up and grasps his waist just above his belt. If he didn't have such a tight hold on me I'd crumble to the floor.  I try to take deep breaths to calm my sporadic heart rate, but it's no use.  I've waited so long to feel his hard body against mine, and now that it's happening I'm in sensory overload. I'm drowning in his presence, but oh please don't let anyone rescue me.  Just a few seconds later I feel our hips swaying in perfect unison to the melodic beat that fills the drafty bar air. Thomas pulls me back slightly to peer down at me, our eyes instantly locking. His are pleading for something that I can't quite understand, but I stare back relentlessly, trying to read them. 

Thomas's POV: (Bonus Chapter!) Gosh! What is it about whiskey from a bar that tastes so much better?  I let the amber liquid quench these feelings in my stomach. I ran out at home and this was the closest place in walking distance.  Is this my fourth glass now or fifth? I forget. Either way, I welcome it with open arms.  I stare down at my glass as I slosh it back and forth. Am I drinking because she's not home tonight? Or am I drinking because I realize just how sad my life is?  Thirty-One, never married and living in a new town all by myself. When I took this job I figured it would be the ultimate step towards building a life I could be proud of.  So far all I've managed to do is develop an unhealthy addiction to someone o

I walked into classroom 219 with my head down and a sense of utter dread rushing through my veins. A week ago I was looking forward to this moment more than anything and now I‘d rather stick my head in mud than be here right now.  I'm early.  I'm always early. That's just my personality but today I hate myself for it more than usual because occupying this room right now is only Dr.crane, some chubby boy Whose asleep on his desk, and myself.  I can feel the side of my head about to catch fire and I'm forced to look up at Thomas whose stare is threatening to burn a hole through my skull.  Our eyes lock and I feel a cold sweat sweep over me. He won't say it out loud but The look on his face is pleading for me to walk over.  I straighten up and sigh. Let's get this over with.  I walk up to Thomas's desk and fidget uncomfortably

As much as I'd like to stay frustrated at Thomas it's impossible for me when I hear him speak. The passion in his deep voice when he talks about plays, books, and poetry makes me fall for him even more. His mind is so enticing that I Iind myself unable to blink or breathe when I get even a glimpse of how smart he is.  Being smart turns me on so much more than being handsome, or having a huge dick though of course, those aren't a bad thing either.  I wonder if Thomas has a huge...  I spend all class fantasizing about my professor and hardly even notice the looks I keep receiving from Michael.  What's his deal?  "That will conclude today's lesson; I expect your written opinions of sonnet 18 next class period printed and stapled with your names in the upper right corner. "  Thomas's eyes fall on me as he starts packing up his black

*Mature Chapter*  I settle into my couch and turn on the tv. My damp hair trickles little droplets of water onto my cozy sweater, leaving discolored marks all over my shoulders.  After my shower, I didn't bother with pants, a beautiful perk of living on my own.  I got home from the library around an hour ago and now all I want to do is relax and watch my shows.  I bring my mug of tea up to my lips and sigh happily as the warm fluid heats me from the inside. The clock tells me it's 9:00 pm and I decide it's a good time to see if Thomas wants to talk.  I pull my computer onto my bare legs and sign on to bookish-escapes.com. I notice Thomas is already online and a message from him pops up almost immediately.  IchabodTom