Free Love In The Stacks: a short story/ a mini chick lit by Lisa Lim

Love In The Stacks
     
    by Lisa Lim
     
    Copyright © 2011. All rights reserved.
     
    Smashwords Edition.
     
    This short story is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places and incidents either are the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is purely
coincidental and not intended by the author.
     
     
     
     
    One
     
     
     
     
    “ There is more to sex appeal than
just measurements. I don’t need a bedroom to prove my womanliness.
I can convey just as much sex appeal, picking apples off a tree or
standing in the rain.”
    ~ Audrey Hepburn
     
     
    Sacré bleu ! If Audrey Hepburn
were still alive, she’d blanch!
    Keeping half an ear turned to the
conversation transpiring two feet in front of me, I caught some
snippets.
    A Victoria’s Secret sales girl was asking a
customer, “Sir, what size would you like this negligee in?”
    “Oh the size doesn’t matter at all,” replied
the bald man with Buddha tits. “My girlfriend is inflatable!”
    The sales girl gave a tinkling laugh. “Oh,
you mean you date a blow up doll?”
    “I do, and I’m not afraid to admit it!”
exclaimed the customer, pink with pride. “Blow Up Betty is a cheap
date. Heck, all she requires is a little bit of air and a lot of
love.”
    Jenny and I exchanged a look , wearing
identical raised eyebrow expressions.
    I flicked through the racks and sighed.
“Jenny, I’m not sure I want to go through with this.”
    “C’mon, Liv,” she chided. “It’s Valentine’s
day! Don’t afraid to be sexy in the bedroom; I’m positive Ben will
love it.” She handed me a lacy, red teddy. “Here, try this on.”
    Humph. That was easy for Jenny to say; with
her hourglass figure, she could look sexy in just about anything.
Whereas I was shaped like a Bartlett pear. Not an Anjou pear, Bosc
pear or an Asian pear. But a Bartlett pear—the King of pears.
    “I really don’t think I can pull this off.”
My shoulders slumped. “I mean, I feel self-conscious in a bathing
suit. How on earth am I supposed to feel comfortable in this
strappy, stretchy lace teddy with a thong back and diamond snap
crotch?”
    “Trust me.” Jenny nudged me toward the
dressing room. “Ben will be over the moon that you’re making an
effort.”
    “But I don’t want to try it on.” I stood my
ground, refusing to budge. “I’m pretty sure it’s a health
hazard.”
    “Fine,” Jenny huffed. “Just go pay for
it.”
    “Shoot! I’m supposed to be meeting Ben for
lunch.” I glanced furtively at my watch. “In half an hour.”
    With the nether garments in hand, I hurried
over to the register. The cashier rang me up and I swiped my Visa
with a sense of foreboding.
    Oy vey! I hope I wouldn’t live to regret
this.
     

    I arrived at The Parthenon Gyros restaurant
right on time but Ben was nowhere in sight. This was not like Ben
at all. He was never late for anything. After sitting and waiting
around for twenty minutes, I ordered a mega gyro and wandered
aimlessly around State Street, treading on campus grounds, trying
to kill some time. I found myself imbued with a sense of nostalgia
for my undergrad days at the UW-Madison, where all I had to do in
life was focus on my studies, hang out with my friends and look
forward to Spring Break. I released a heavy sigh. Those were the
good ol’ days. The life of an academic seemed so . . . romantic. I
don’t know where I got that from, but the idea of my life’s pursuit
being knowledge for the sake of knowledge just sounded so neat!
Well, the reality wasn’t so romantic. Now I was stuck in a job I
hated, with bills, bills, bills and a hefty student loan to
repay.
    Still, I had no regrets; I wouldn’t exchange
my college experience for the world. It was where I’d met Ben. He
was the preppy boy from upstate New York, I was the Granola Gal
from Minnesota and we met and fell in love in a moth-filled
library. We had both worked in the