In the end, that time, it was the shop’s phone ringing that interrupted them,
“….oh I should….” and she started towards the cashier desk where the phone was now ringing ; which was at the center of the ground level, a few feet from the stairs where they had been standing and which lead up to the next floor
he watched her run for the phone, mesmerized by the burgundy folds from the back of her. He watched her every move, somehow drawn—was it her scent or her aura? he didn’t know but pulled to as he was he could see the swell of thigh, which lead to a firm suggestion of —where it lead, to the slightest rounding that the folds clung to from behind with her every step, which captivated his stare as he said,
“I’ll just…lock up….” even as he still watched her furtively, as he moved to lock the two green, painted, wood-framed, glass-windowed doors. He listened to her answer the phone
“Side-Street Book shop,” she said
She was behind the cashier counter by a dark glossy wood desk that was mounted to the dark wood pillar wall that matched it. It had vertical file shelves all crammed with cards and papers, a huge wrapping paper roll installed on a metal cutter and an antique stapler dominated the surface with a clipboard and legal pad in the center upon which she was scribbling notes.
and as he came back he heard her responding to the caller’s questions,
She looked up as she saw him walking towards her
“oh—I see…. well, I don’t see why not, but I’ll have to check with the owner first to see if they normally do this but —if not— I am sure I can get this for you—“ she was saying as Grant came walking over
No comments:
Post a Comment