Restored to Love by Anna Rockwell Read Free Book Online Page A

her, making her hunger for me in return. She has tumbling brown hair much like Anna’s, and her skin is so fair I could be looking upon my beloved. Yet, she is not Anna. I study the girl for some time, taking in what others cannot see. There is natural beauty beneath the heavy veil of black make-up she wears. The girl has deliberately tried to make herself look older than her 18 years. Yet, her actions give her immaturity away. The constant twiddling of her thin fingers, the furtive glances at every girl who passes, and the mistaken admiration she shows the corn-haired wanton standing by the bar, tell me all I need to know.
    I briefly consider the wanton. There is always at least one like her at every gathering. Her costume is daringly whorish, outrageously short and low cut, clinging to her every curve. This woman drips desirability, drawing men and boys to her like bears to honey. Yet, this golden honey pot is not for me. I am more interested in the shy girl. She has neither the courage nor the life skills to mix with the other partygoers. She sits forlornly alone on a chair in the dark corner of the room, waiting for someone to offer her the hand of friendship, blissfully unaware that her air of vulnerability has made me wet with anticipation.
    The girl watches me as I stride across the makeshift dance floor, trying to avert my gaze – for my focus is on her and her alone. I sit close, moving even closer to whisper my ‘hello’ into her ear. As I do, I catch the scent of her freshly washed hair. I linger within her fine curls longer than I should. Much longer, for there is no greater aphrodisiac than the fragrance of youth. She turns her head away slightly, unintentionally presenting me with the pale flesh of her neck. The fine line of her throat draws me, and I cannot help noticing the nervous twitching of her pulse. My mouth hovers in readiness, so close that warning bells start to ring in my head. I don’t care. This innocent already intoxicates me.
    Despite my desire, I somehow show restraint, though I place a hand high on the girl’s thigh. I feel her tense, but still she does not speak. She scoots her bottom away from me. Undeterred, I scoot closer. I feel her indignation. ‘What do you want?’ she snaps.
    â€˜I’d like to get inside your knickers.’ I want so much more, but I cannot tell her of my true motive. Her face, already pink starts to turn red. I want to soak up her embarrassment. I have found something rare. Here is a true innocent and she is seemingly mine for the taking.
    I look around the room and she joins me in my surveillance. No one is coming to her rescue. ‘That is, unless you’ve had a better offer?’ The girl’s head drops. This soul is troubled. I wait, watching her nervously play with her fingers. This is not the time to harass. This is the start of what I call the long wait. The innocent has to come to her own decision. Her answer is some time coming, but this time her answer is worth my patience. ‘Can we go somewhere less noisy?’ she whispers, still staring into her lap. I cup her chin in my hand and turn her head so that she faces me. ‘Is that a yes?’ I ask.
    The girl looks around the room, trying, I suppose, to see if anyone is watching. No one is. They are too wrapped in their own affairs. ‘Yes.’
    â€˜Don’t you want to know more about me first?’
    â€˜Well, I …’
    â€˜Never mind.’ I lean closer, pressing my face close to hers. ‘Kiss me.’
    The girl’s eyes grow wide and she scans the room again. ‘What, here?’
    â€˜We’ll go someplace quiet, petal, I promise, but an occasion such as this needs to be sealed with a kiss.’ I want to draw as much embarrassment from the girl as possible. I get my kiss – a peck so quick I barely feel the tingle of her lips, though it is enough to keep my juices flowing, the anticipation of events to follow