Free Tales of Lust and Magic by Layla Silver Page B

every other female sitting in there too. It’s the ideal place to go in winter, when the sky is dark and the elements are hostile. Inside is always bright and cosy; you feel like you may well have slipped into your living room after being out all day, having left all the lights and the radiators on. The space is aesthetically very pleasing indeed, boasting original stone walls, parquet floors and a generous amount of lighting, which is neither too bright nor too dim.
    In spite of such pleasant surroundings, you may be forgiven for overlooking their splendour entirely, for your eyes are magnetically drawn to the sugary temptations which lie within the glass cabinets that line the shop. Your eyes can devour breads, cakes, cookies or croissants, among with many other delights. They lie in wait, tantalisingly still and teasing you with their motionlessness. You have the feeling they are playing Tag; the moment you reach them, they might dodge your playful advance.
    Perhaps the sight of them could be bearable, did they not give off such a sweet and provocative scent, furtively drifting up to the nasal passage and making the mouth water in some prolonged act of foreplay. Yes, you could find yourself imagining how these creations would feel melting slowly and sensually on the hot, wet tongue. You could dream of how it would feel to have these temptations dissolve, morsel by morsel, each bite bringing you closer to satiation.
    If my willpower hasn’t faltered by now, I will approach the final hurdle. Or rather, the final hurdle will approach me. He does, slowly. He is the creator of such exquisite treats. He personifies the clichés of romantic heroes; he is tall, dark and handsome. His hair, eyes and skin are brought out by the contrast of his crisp white uniform, under which it’s impossible to tell if he’s wearing anything or not. I order and reorder, just to feel him in my nervous proximity. Coming out of the kitchen, he always seems to bring with him a certain heat and a knowing smile.
    Today I’ve been sitting in here for the last couple of hours, for outside the snow is coming down quickly, shimmering as it settles against the window pane. I have one eye on my book, another on the beauty of the flakes drifting by and yet the only movements I’m really aware of are his. I order a hot chocolate, something to warm me up from deep inside. He smiles at my request and delivers to me quickly, though he places it down in front of me in agonisingly slow motion, never letting up his intent gaze bearing down on me.
    “This should hit the spot,” he jokes, a little smile adorning his handsome face.
    “Women and chocolate...” I agree, sure that he is accustomed to being the bearer of such pleasure.
    He grins at me and I’m very aware of his gleaming smile, reflecting the bright white snow outside.
    “I have of course seen you here many times and I’ve been long since wanting to ask your name...” he begins.
    “Lana,” I offer.
    “Lana,” he repeats, wrapping those very sensual lips around my identity.
    “Well, very nice to meet you Lana,” he begins to wipe his long-fingered hands on his apron. I imagine those fingers kneading the mass; their precision and control. I don’t know whether it’s the rush of sugar or the heat from the steaming chocolate, but I’m suddenly starting to feel very hot indeed.
    “I’m Jack,” he introduces himself.
    “Nice to meet you!” we both offer in unison, laughing in surprise at our synchrony.
    He studies me for a moment and I start to feel myself flush. I try to compose myself as his gaze flickers over me in the soft light, tracing its way down from my emerald green eyes, over the smooth expanse of my freckly cheeks, then moving down to my full pink lips that are shimmering with a freshly applied gloss. I see him take in the halo of long dark waves that crown my head and I wonder if he might like to trail his fingers through their softness. His dark eyes then proceed to feast on