Your erotic stories

I can see her watching me. Pretending not to, casting her eyes down to the novel in front of her every time I catch her eye from across the patio of this open-air café. Well, I've been watching her, too—long enough to know that she's been "reading" the same page for the last 45 minutes.

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During my junior year of college, I shared a house off campus. Over the summer there were just two of us, myself and a graduate student named Heather. She was tall, blonde, and attractive. We got along well and shared meals sometimes, but we never really hung out together. She was several years older than me, she had her work and her friends, and I always assumed that she was too sophisticated to want to spend much time with an undergraduate.

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