by Sarah A. Peterson
(08/15/07)
I spot him as soon as I set foot in Light Sabre Comics, the Spock clone with the Fonzi burns, in his faded Superman T-shirt and too-new-to-be-cool jeans. He's hunched over some comic or other, but I'd know that plump little ass anywhere; God knows I study it enough in class.
We've only spoken a few times, always before class, but it was his Wookiee impersonation during an acting exercise that did it. Then one day he leaned back in his chair and stretched, revealing a flat, hairy belly, and that did it again.
I guess I'm pretty obvious, in my tight R2D2 tee and plaid short-shorts, not quite sauntering (but almost) up to the counter, where a skinny dude sporting Buddy Holly specs is attacking his old-school Gameboy.
"Hi, I'm looking for a comic called Snake Woman." I say it just loud enough for Mick to hear. Yes, that's his name. Mick Costello. Sigh.
"Whoa, hey. Just a sec. I'll look it up. I think we carry it." Buddy Holly starts flipping through this tome next to the register.
"Casey? Hey, what's up?" His voice is right behind me.
I take my time turning around. "Oh, hi. I'm looking for Snake Woman," I say with more authority than I feel.
"Never heard of it." Mick shakes his head. His eyes are that strange mix of yellow and brown known as hazel.
"It's pretty new," I say lamely. My inner seductress has flown the coop. Where the hell did she go?!
"Is she a superhero?" he asks.
"Uh, not really." My elbow knocks over a Spiderman figurine. Shit, he noticed. He's grinning.
"She turns into a snake, sort of." I want to die.
"I can't seem to find it," Buddy Holly mutters. He adjusts his glasses for a better look at the tome. "You sure you don't mean Spider Woman?"
Mick rolls his eyes. "I'll find it for you," he says. So I follow him into the aisles, past a life-size Jabba the Hut. This place is pretty cool.
"Who's your favorite superhero?" he asks absently, scanning the shelves for my elusive comic.
"I don't really have one," I say honestly. "But Snake Woman just sucked me in. It's pretty dark, the mythology. That's what I like about it." Bingo. He turns toward me. We're eye to eye.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asks.
"No."
"Do you want one?"
"Why, are you offering your services?"
"Yeah."
"Oh. Okay." Lame.
"I don't really know how to do this," he says, taking my hand, caressing it awkwardly. "You're really hot, though."
"So are you, Mick."
Our faces are inches apart. "Really?" he whispers, eyes dropping to R2D2. "Whoa." He tugs on my hand, pulling me those last few inches.
His lips are light on mine at first, but then his mouth is opening slowly, his tongue exploring curiously, plunging ahead into my willing mouth.
My clit begins to throb in anticipation, little pulses of moisture beading in the crotch of my panties. I lean into the kiss like a tree in wind; his arm is sliding possessively around my waist.
My hands find their way under his shirt, massaging the coarse dark hair of his belly. Soon my fingertips are brushing his taut nipples, and his hips lurch forward, the sudden weight of his body crushing me against a wall of comics.
R2D2 is smooshed up with Superman as I wind my arms around his back.
"I've never done this before," Mick pants into my shoulder.
"Neither have I," I lie, nibbling at his pale earlobe.
His hands are trembling as he tugs on my shorts, and then he is fumbling with the zipper of his too-new jeans.
I gasp at the sight of his beautiful cock, impossibly long and hard and violet, curving ever so slightly to the right.
My pussy is already contracting when his tentative fingers find my downy slit, rubbing along my swollen clit. I clamp my thighs against his hand, tightening up as the pressure builds.
But those fingers are thrusting right through my spasming cunt, deep and curving as his cock, till my thighs flutter apart helplessly, my pelvis thundering in release.
The final wave sends us crashing into the wall of comics, loosening a flood of honey over his hand. My pussy quivers and glistens, relinquishing its hot juices as the comics rain down.
"That was hot," he croaks out weakly. His other hand is gripping his cock, glinting sticky pearls at the tip.
"I'm glad you had some fun too," I murmur huskily, nuzzling his stubbled cheek with my nose.
"Yeah, but I got it on the carpet," Mick whispers, grinning sheepishly. He bends down and retrieves a comic with his cum-free hand. It is Snake Woman, and it is also, remarkably, cum-free.
"It must be fate," I sigh dramatically. "Thanks, Mick." I readjust my shorts and head back past Jabba the Hut on wobbly legs.
Mick catches up with me in a few long strides. "Isn't the guy supposed to pay?" he asks as I pull out my wallet.
"Hey, you found it," Buddy Holly exclaims, looking up from the tome. "Where was it?"
"Over there." I nod my head toward the back, then turn to Mick. "It's not fair that you pay for the comic when you're buying the pizza."
Mick chuckles.
"Hey, you gotta boyfriend?" Buddy Holly asks nonchalantly, slipping Snake Woman into a snazzy Light Sabre bag.
"I do now," I grin sideways at Mick.
He takes my hand. "Hey, man, some of the comics are out of order back there. You might want to straighten 'em up. We had a helluva time finding Snake Woman."
