Smoke Jumper - Sex Stories

Smoke Jumper

... Brooke. As he walked in, she was stranding on tip-toe, shelving a book. Backlit by a window, the pose showed off a stunning silhouette featuring full breasts, a shapely ass, and strong calves. It also set afire the long chestnut hair bound up in a French braid that hung down to the middle of her back. The attraction was instant and magnetic.

After briefly psyching himself up, he worked up the courage to approach her and ask where he could find biographies and fiction. It should have been easy, but when he got within five feet of her, the scent of her perfume was intoxicating and the glimpse of her cleavage that he got as she bent over to shelve a book on a bottom shelf in the children’s section caused a reaction that threatened to shred, or at least stain, his new jeans.

Composing himself, Jake managed to get out his question without too much stammering. In the process, he casually mentioned that returning the books on time would be almost impossible since he was manning a fire tower on a remote mountaintop. She was not nearly as impressed as he had hoped, distractedly pointing him in the right direction. Feeling disappointed he went to browse, but he felt better when he caught her stealing glances at him as he prowled through the stacks. At least he convinced himself that was the case. Based upon that flimsy, possibly imagined evidence, he steeled his nerve to ask her out…sort of.

“Um, so, I’m not in town for long. What do folks around here do for fun on a Friday ...

... night?” he asked in a voice that he hoped sounded more confident to her ears than it did to his own.

“Well, Chuck’s is fun, and since it attracts a younger crowd, I think it would be more your speed,” she replied, hesitating before adding, “I’ll probably wind up there eventually. I have a bachelorette party, but all roads tend to lead to Chuck’s with that group, so…”

“Chuck’s it is!” he said, and quickly gathered up the books and headed out the door.

At 8 p.m. he took up a spot at the bar that had a good view of the entryway and sat down to nurse a couple of beers and watch whatever ballgame was on the television. Looking in the mirror behind the bar, he was once again impressed by the image that looked back at him - even if it was wearing a second-hand shirt that was a bit too thigh through the shoulders.

Brooke had been right. Over the next couple of hours the bar filled with a crowd in their twenties and early thirties, but there was no sign of the bachelorette party. By 10 p.m. he was about ready to give up hope when a half-dozen girls poured through the door shrieking with laughter, with Brooke in their midst. At least he thought it was her.

Her conservative librarian attire had been swapped out for a sundress that fell just above her knees to showcase a shapely set of legs. It was also cut low enough in front to reveal much more than the glimpse of cleavage he had stolen that afternoon. Her hair was no longer bound up in a braid. Instead, it flowed down ...