	             ____________________________
                    |                            |
                  /)|     KRISTEN'S BOOKSHELF    |(\
                 / )|         DIRECTORIES        |( \
              __(  (|____________________________|)  )__
             ((( \  \ >  /_)              ( \  < /  / )))
             (\\\ \  \_/  /                \  \_/  / ///)
              \          /                  \          /
               \      _/                     \_       /
                /    /                         \     \
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o  	The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of  o
o  stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the  o
o  world.  Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups).   There is no  o
o  particular  order  other than offering them to you in  alpha-  o
o  betical directories.                                           o
o  	I don’t believe in categorizing things. "I don’t want to  o
o  be typed therefore I don’t type things myself."  I think it’s  o
o  a lot more fun to browse around and find  'little'  surprises  o
o  that you might not have even thought of looking for.           o
o   	Lest we forget!!!   This story was produced as adult en-  o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors.   Kristen         o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Certain Smile (MF, rom)
by Mev L Strydom (c) 1994

***

Nothing is ever quite what it seems. Someone once said that all of life
is an illusion. Reality is what you perceive. If so, then my perception
of the world is colored by my perception of you.

The first time I saw you, my breath caught in my throat. Your face was
unremarkable, but your body, your hands...Ahhh, those hands. Your eyes,
sparkling, dancing, sunlight on the water, blue skies on spring days. I
fell in love with bits of you. Or perhaps, then, I fell in lust with you.
It took time. Friendly, casual chats, giving way to longer, more intimate
conversations.

Then, the night. Dinner. A long, lovely dinner, during which we shared a
bottle of wine. Was it the wine, or the stars, or just that you were far
from home and I was there? No matter. Once your mouth and mine met, the end
was inevitable.

The hotel room. Sneaking in like two kids on a date. The trembling caresses
as we undressed. The first touch of bare flesh, as we both gasped like
swimmers entering a cold lake. The warmth of you on me, in me, around me.
The long, slow dance of merging, separating, merging again. Twining
together like ribbons, soft skin flowing like satin beneath my hands. The
slow build of sensation, untill we could no longer bear it, and pounded,
galoped to the brink, hanging there for one long moment before plunging,
screaming down the slope into the sunlit world ecstasy.

The first of many times.

And yet....there you are, here I am, lovers, in love, loving, and by our
loving, betraying, killing.
Things are not what they seem. You are married, and I am the thief, who
steals you away bit by bit, with a certain smile, a certain phrase.