I am in the library, sitting on the windowsill with a book on my lap. An ornately carved wooden panel obscures the upper quarter of the window, giving the room a somewhat sombre atmosphere although the lights are on. You are searching for a book, a scrap of paper in your hand as you scan the shelves. And then your eye falls on me and you start scanning me as well, and I wonder if you can read my like a book. I run my hand through my hair without thinking, gaze back at you and smile slightly. Your mouth curves in reaction. This has been going for three weeks so far. We've been in the same situation six times already. You are always searching for books in this room, and I like to come and read in here. It is going to change today. I don't shift my gaze from you. You maintain the eye contact. I slide down from the sill, the book sliding down along as well. I catch it without shifting my eyes from your face and place it on the sill. I want you. You want me too. We step towards each other. We experiment without further delay, kissing, groping and grabbing, hesitant at first, then with increasing heat. Familiarity breeds temptation.
Later, we are at your place. We somehow managed to walk over to your apartment, which is only ten minutes away. Practical, as practical as we are once we reach your bedroom, and there's nothing the bed can do about it except yield to our passion.
Even later, we're lying in your patient bed, enjoying that stage where thoughts flit through our minds, half-formed, and we are too satisfied to retain them. We are silent. It won't be long before it gets uncomfortable. And then I'll have to leave for my lecture and do some shopping afterwards.
You turn to me. You smile and smell so good.
"You're beautiful," I tell him.
"Beautiful? For a man?" You smile, probably at the term. So we have somehow managed to get talking. Not bad.
"Well, I suppose 'handsome' is generally regarded as a more masculine term," I say.
"And do you have a regard for how it is generally regarded?" he asks gravely.
I laugh, enjoying the pun like the trees outside are enjoying the spring sun.
"Not really, no. I tend to view words critically."
"Good to hear that."
A small silence. I break it.
"Wow…I never thought I'd do this. I guess I wasn't thinking straight."
"Obviously not. Are you by any chance trying to make post-coital small-talk with me?"
"Uhm…" His bluntness is rather embarrassing.
He leans on one elbow and stares into my eyes.
"We've being watching each other for three weeks. Let's start, then."
"Start? With what?"
"The formalities," he smiles.
"I thought we'd already started with the…formalities," I remark.
"I was thinking of formalities on a more verbal level."
"Of introductions, for instance?"
"Yes," he replies.
"What's your name?"
"Brian," he answers, his lips nearly touching mine. "Yours?"
"Daniel. Kiss me, Beautiful," I say, pulling his face towards me.
He complies eagerly.