Turning Pages Ch. 01

Author's Note: This Story is not for those who dislike waiting for the sex scenes. It will be heavily character driven and less plot driven, but I still do intend to add some plot. I have no end in sight and I would be happy to read your comments and suggestions. I do not have anyone to edit my writing, currently. I will do my best to remain diligent and without err, but I am human; so please, bear with me. I hope that you guys enjoy!

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Turning Pages

Few students and faculty stood in the Campus Library at 10pm, but we had a Library that didn't close until 11:30 pm. I wasn't sure it was worth the light bill for the additional hour and half, seeing as there was barely a face to be seen. On that subject though, I know little. That's what it felt like, teaching Abnormal Psychology in this University. How could I really speak of it like an expert when I myself had no mental illness? How could they simply break it all down to a "science," what it means to be a murderer, a rapist?

Then again, it was good money. So I would not complain about me standing in front of a class of adults, babbling on about some memorized "expertise," I presumably had over them. The only difference between me, and the students who consistently stood in front of my face was that I had a PhD in Psychology, and my Eidetic as well as Mnemonist memory (which is so rare, I doubt I will come across another person with either in my life.)

Another difference between my students and I would probably have to be that I have written several books. I go under the pen name "Ms. Sophia," because the topic of which I write may have seemed controversial to my job employers: erotica. Not just any erotica, either. I wrote lesbian erotica; it was usually romantic and full of angst- nothing with too much "wow factor," I just wrote in my spare time and it happened to gain a successful following. I had no issues with the money I dished out for publishing and now I earn a decent enough profit off my works.

It was delightful to watch this pretty girl from across the Library- reading one of my works, every time I taught my night class which ended at 9pm, she'd be there. And she wouldn't leave until the Library was shutting down. I presumed she lived on campus.I'd watch her, and she wouldn't know that the author of the book she wrote was thinking about making her a muse. Every once in a while, someone would find themselves drawn to her- they'd go and try to start a conversation, and I'd smirk as she shut them down.

Typically, the person approaching her was male, and had no idea she was reading a lesbian tale. After all 'Finite Galaxy,' didn't exactly scream "lesbian erotica book," in the title, nor did the Milky Way galaxy hovering over a Matte Black foreground scream it either. I decided, perhaps, I could try my luck approaching her.

I confidently strut until I was at the table which she always sat. I smiled and sat down as I saw her briefly lay her eyes on me, and then dive back into the book.

"Hello, I'm Layla Myri. I love that book that you're reading. Have you already read the first installment? 'To Pause Time,'?" I spoke with a hint of amusement in my voice, to seem inviting, but her simple response was a nod.

She didn't even give me the luxury of speaking to me. I extended my hand toward her, but she wouldn't look up from the book to even notice. Well, she's quite rude, is what I thought to myself in that moment. But I didn't act on it. I simply sat there and I pulled a book from my own bag and began to read.

Pseudo-reading was more like it. I had already read through the book once, it had a high re-readability but my memory granted me the drawback of never being able to enjoy the magnificence of a truly good book for the second time. I had the whole book memorized from front to back, there was little point to even carrying it with me other than to start conversation or save myself from awkward one-sided ones like the one I just initiated, nonetheless I enjoyed having a book handy that I'd read already. The process of picking out a new book for me was more hassle than worth most of the time, especially in this moment.

Eventually, the time for closing came and she got up, placing the book carefully in her bag. I expected her to just jet off, but instead she surprised me and extended her hand.

"I'm Angeline," she said, and a smile so beautiful struck me that I wondered if "love at first sight," was real.

Then I shook my head and gripped her hand. How silly, this wasn't my first sight of her, after all. I had been seeing her every Monday and Wednesday for three weeks now, regardless of whether or not she saw me. Her name fit her voice, Angelic.