Sinful Desires

Chapter 2

You continue to search for the book you wanted. For a librarian the man wasn't very helpful.
You make your way to the small rack of fantasy themed post cards placed in an uncomfortably dark corner, themed stationary has always made you smile. Picking up a particularly intriguing card, you look closer, a beautiful illustration of a young man with large, powerful wings peers back at you. You inspect the rack for another copy, but to no prevail. Slightly disappointed in your failure to find the book you wanted you take hold of the post card and walk to the front desk. As you wait for an employee to show up, a church bell rings in the distance and you reminisce on the days when you weren't a desperate horndog.
"Knew I'd see you." You turn around to see the man, a small smile on his face.
"If I buy this postcard," you hold it up. " will you tell me your name?" You grin at him as he walks behind the counter.
He takes the card from your hand. "I'll consider it." He confidently pokes at the buttons on the register as you watch his hands, becoming more and more aware of your crippling need for human touch.
      "You know," he says as he gingerly slides the card into a small brown envelope. "I actually painted these." He chuckles softly, he's clearly proud, but his soft tone suggests he wants this big of information kept between the both of you.
       "You made these?" You retain eye contact, and with every second his face grows more and more trusting. "You're very talented." You smile:
      "Thank you, I try." He slightly grins.
      "So now that I've bought one of your lovely cards, are you gonna tell me your name? I don't know what to call you" You cock your head at him, smiling flirtatiously.
      "Wait a minute, you never told me your name." He smiles and tilts his head, mimicking you.
      "My name is Christin." You wait for him to respond to with his name.
      "Well Christin," He slowly leans over the counter. He swiftly moves his hand to your neck, pulling you towards him. His lips hover less than an inch from your own. His hot breaths seep into your mouth, he grips your neck a little tighter, his mouth, still barely touching yours, omits a deep whisper.
       "You can call me daddy."