Object of my Admiration
2004-03-11
“How have you been, Miss Whitley?” he asked, enclosing my shoulder with his palm. “Quite well, thank you,” I stammered nervously. “Well, what can I do for you today?” “I was hoping you’d… well, I was hoping you could proof the short story I’ve been working on. ” “I see,” John pulled a slim pair of reading glasses out of his front pocket and slid them on his face. I couldn’t help but focus my attention on his lips as he murmured while he read through my writing. He pulled a red pen from behind his ear to write comments and mark errors as he read. “Your word choice is weak in this area,” he said, directing my attention to the fourth page of my story. “Yes, I’ve been having problems trying to fix that. I was hoping you could help me. ” John stood up and rummaged around his shelves, then tossed a thesaurus into my lap. “The dictation needs to be more powerful, more emotional. Surely you understand what sort of deep emotion this stage of the plot requires. Tell me, Miss Whitley, have you been dating much since you’ve been away at school?” “No, I haven’t really,” “What? Why not?” “I just haven’t attracted anyone’s attention, I suppose,” I responded, my cheeks growing warm. John frowned “That’s not true,” he asserted, allowing his eyes to scan my features. “Um, I think maybe if I rewrote this sentence like this…” I said, in part to change the subject, and in part because his presence truly did smooth the progress of my writing. John smiled slowly as I took off in my thoughts, correcting and improving every error and weakness he had identified.
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I worked at lightening speed. “There, you see,” he smirked “What in the hell do you need me for?” I rolled my eyes at him. “Don’t be ridiculous; if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t even have my scholarship right now. ” “Seriously, Melody, you’re a damn good writer. ” He pulled a notebook from my book bag and shuffled through its contents. “Writing a weekly column in the city paper, eh?” “You know I write journalism occasionally! I told you several times before I left that the paper had hired me. ” John lowered his head and shuffled his feet then looked me playfully in the eye. I couldn’t help but laugh at him. I caught a sideways glance at the clock and realized I had been visiting with him for much longer that I had planned. I stood up, signaling my intention to leave, then bent down to shove my papers and notebooks back into my bag. “Don’t worry about me,” John said with intentional insincerely, “I’ve seen a woman’s backside before. I’m not getting turned on. ”My lips curved into a smirk against my will. “Thanks for your help, Mr. Avery.Greece escorts gr Hellas girls Athens escort ladies Ellada Escort Service Athens Greece escorts Hellas girls
I appreciate it. ” “I didn’t do anything,” John shrugged with false innocence. “You know, Mr. Avery, one of these days you’re going to accept a compliment and just say you’re welcome. I’ll stop by tomorrow or later in the week when I have time. ” I hugged him. “Yes, I enjoy your visits,” he said in a tone that was almost sad. I drove home feeling content with myself because I had just seen John, but also upset that I had not challenged his playful flirting. “Every time I go to see this man I tell myself I’m going to do something, but nothing ever happens! I sighed loudly. I wanted to feel sorry for myself, be overdramatic. As I saw it, I certainly hadn’t anything of value to think about except John and my writing. Yet somehow, my mind had confused the two, possibly the reason I admired John so much. My desire for him was my passion for writing personified. I was very young when I had fallen in love with writing perhaps it was only natural that I should feel so strongly towards my mentor. He was, after all, everything I had ever hoped to be as a writer.Spend an hour or two with a call girl in Thessaloniki and you will no sooner think that you are truly in the cradling warmth of a goddess in the persona of the Greece Escorts girls athens. Every single female Escort In Greece exudes warmth that no men can
More confused than ever, I arrived home and flooded my mind with other preoccupations. Being at home over Christmas break was horribly restraining in comparison to the freedoms college had recently taught me. Everyday I had to find some excuse to get out of the house or I’d go crazy. The night after I had seen John, I escaped to go see a high school jazz band concert. The tiny auditorium was filled to capacity with parents and students, so I stood in the back and listened. About three songs in, I caught the scent of a unique cologne that I knew well. I whirled around. “Hello, Mr. Avery!” “Miss Whitley,” I didn’t realize you liked jazz. ” John frowned at me. “I can do more than just write, Miss Whitley. I played in a jazz group for many years. I also golf, rebuild car engines, and I’m a master at oral sex. ” Shocked by his bluntness, I turned back around (as if I were really capable of listening to the concert anymore!) I was too naiive and inexperienced to understand the difference between good and bad oral sex, though my body and my desires were not so childish. I bit my lower lip in an absurd attempt to ignore what I had just heard until I could be alone to ponder it, but my body refused this request.atiens ladies
I felt as though all of my senses were now at their fullest level of attention. I could still smell John’s cologne and feel the heat his body gave off.Escort service in Athens Thessaloniki. Independent escorts and callgirls directory also nightlife, reastaurants, casinos, .
Thought it was cool. I used to do a lot of stupid stuff. The good choice I made was to write. ” He looked me in the eye. “There’s not one moment in my life where I’ve regretted my career decision. ” We talked further. I told him more about school, and he began speaking of retirement. I wanted to tell him he could never do that, but I knew that this would have to come eventually. He was under pressure from colleagues to stop working, as well as to financial pressure keep writing. The attribute about John Avery that I had always admired the most was his passion for his work. Watching his career end was heartbreaking. “Oh, Miss Whitley, am I making the right decision?” Unworthy of giving advice, I laid my hand on his sympathetically. Though he had never told me in so many words, I knew he had always secretly hoped to die before he ever had to retire. His father, for whom he had been named, had died of a heart attack John’s final year of high school. Mr.Escort of Turkey EscortNews caters to all major cities of Turkey, more particularly Istanbul and Ankara and Izmir. If you are currently in any one of these places and you feel like having fun with an Izmir Girl, all you really need to do is to call up thi
Avery Sr. had accumulated many debts and was under great financial pressure to finish a series of novels right when his heart attack had occurred. John finished his father’s last two books, claiming to have found the pages in his study. After graduating high school, John took advantage of his father’s name and connections to study English and creative writing at Penn State on a full scholarship. Young, foolish, and angry at the world, John fell in with the wrong crowd and paid little attention to his studies. As a result, it took him eight years to get his undergraduate degree. He would often express his amazement that he had survived such an uncertain experience. He had begun working immediately after graduation from college. “I had a wife and child to take care of by then, so I had to grow up,” he had told me, and more than once I had wondered which of the two responsibilities had actually entered his life first. In that moment, all I could think of was John as I took in his sorrowful expression. Oh, John, I could make you feel so much better for a brief moment in time! We sat together in silence as my mind portrayed the actions my body could not play out.-
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