A few weeks ago, I was at a book reading when I took notice of the guy sitting a few seats away from me in the small bookstore.

He looked familiar, in that way that someone you’ve never met but have seen photos of looks familiar. I knew I’d seen him somewhere. I pulled out my phone and opened one of my social media apps to see if I could pinpoint him, and there he was, right at the top, with the most recent posting. He was an up-and-coming writer who I’d chatted with online a few times about books. He hadn’t yet been published, which explained why no one was hounding him — something that always happens when the audience recognizes other writers among the crowd — but I’d read some of his magazine articles and I knew he was going to be big once his book came out.

I kept one eye on him as the reading started, and though I had most of my attention on the author who was speaking and the discussion he was leading — chiming in a few times myself — I made sure to pay close attention to the newbie writer, too.

My best girlfriend always jokes that I’m a sapiosexual — attracted to brilliance and brains more than looks — and she’s not far off. Though I’d only ever seen a two-inch headshot of the rising star before, I’d become attracted to him during the months I’d spent following him online because of how smart he seemed. Every time I saw him post about a book he’d read, I’d pick it up and read it myself, and I was always blown away. Every now and then, I’d respond to his posts, too, to recommend a book of my own choosing, or to ask his thoughts on a writer, and when he responded, I’d get hot under the collar. I once actually blushed, staring at my phone, because he’d complimented me on a point I’d made about a novel we’d both read, and his praise was practically enough to make me swoon.

Since my writer crush lived a few hundred miles away, I never expected to run into him, least of all so unexpectedly. I’d occasionally fantasized about what would happen if I showed up at an event in his city, or if we met at his book signing one day, but it was all just hypothetical because I never really thought we’d meet — or that I’d have a chance with him if we did. Still, now that I had him in my sights, I wasn’t going to miss out on my opportunity.

When the reading ended, I saw him get in line to meet the author who was signing his books, and I quickly raced up to get behind him. There were about a dozen people ahead of us, and they were all taking time to chat with the author, so we had a while before we’d reach the front. I took my chance and tapped the writer on the shoulder and asked if he was who I thought he was.

He seemed surprised to be recognized, but when I told him we’d chatted online a few times, he studied me closely for a moment before asking if I was the girl with the goofy online handle who was always sending him reading recommendations. “You’ve introduced me to some really excellent books,” he told me. “I don’t normally read so many novels, but everything you’ve suggested has been great, so I always pick up whatever book you post about,” he added.

I thought I was going to have a heart attack right there. I told him I felt the same way about his recommendations, and we ended up chatting right up until it was our turn to greet the author. It turned out that my writer friend shared a literary agent with the star author, so they talked for a few moments while the author signed his book. When my crush’s turn was over, he waited for me to get my book signed before accompanying me to the cashier.

Deciding it was now or never as we exited the store, I asked the writer if I could buy him a drink. “There’s a great bar around the corner that has a really cool back room full of antique books,” I suggested, and he seemed more than eager to join me for a couple cocktails.

At the bar, we ordered a round of drinks, and then I led him to the back room, my favorite part of the bar. Even though the front room was crowded with stragglers from happy hour and large groups of friends drinking, the book room was almost entirely empty.

We browsed the titles that lined the shelves, sipping our drinks and occasionally pointing out which tomes excited us, and then settled onto one of the leather couches. The writer sat very close to me, and as we talked and continued to sip our drinks, he inched closer. Then, after getting up to get us a second round, he sat even closer, his leg pressing firmly against mine and his arm looping through my own.

He was definitely attracted to me, and I decided to take my shot and make a move. I smiled at him, then leaned over and kissed him. He responded eagerly, kissing me back for a moment before he pushed his tongue between my lips and drew me closer.

We continued to make out until I was practically in his lap, and then he pulled back. I started to apologize for going a little overboard, but he cut me off and said, “Maybe we should go somewhere more private.” I wasn’t about to turn him down, so I suggested we go back to my place.

While he paid our tab, I ordered a ride via an app on my phone, and within three minutes we were making out in the backseat of a car as it sped over the Williamsburg Bridge and back to my Brooklyn apartment.

Once we were inside my place, we proceeded without pause. I started in on his shirt and pants right away, and he pulled at my T-shirt and skirt. We stumbled into my bedroom in our underwear. Our hands roved all over one another’s bodies, exploring every inch of bared flesh and learning how to turn each other on.

We stripped off the last of our clothing, and then we fell onto the bed in each other’s arms. We kissed some more, but soon he positioned us so that he was on top of me. He moved down my body, kissing and licking his way from my neck to my breasts to my stomach to my thighs. When he finally planted his lips on my pussy, I just about screamed from how good it felt. He licked and sucked my clit, then thrust his tongue between my pussy lips, lapping up the moisture that had gathered there. My legs squeezed against his body as he went down on me, and my fingers tangled in his curly hair. He moaned loudly against my pussy as he continued to lap at me.

Normally, I love having my pussy eaten, and he was definitely doing an excellent job, but I knew we might only have one night together and I desperately wanted to feel him inside me before I came. I reached down and pulled him up from between my legs, telling him how much I wanted to feel his cock thrusting inside me.

He asked if I had any condoms, and I pointed him toward the bathroom. He raced there to snag one from the box in the medicine cabinet. When he came back, he already had the small package opened and was rolling the condom onto himself as he walked toward the bed. Then, in a split second, he was on top of me, aiming his erection between my thighs.

I was incredibly wet and excited, and as I spread my legs, he easily slid into me. He filled me up as his body pressed against mine, and when he was completely buried inside me, I squeezed my legs around him and held him in place so I could savor the feeling for a few moments.

After a few seconds of stillness, he started to thrust, but with my legs clamped around his thighs, he couldn’t move very much. However, as soon as I relaxed my grip on him, he began pumping in and out like crazy. His pelvis slapped against mine as he slammed in and out, and I tried to thrust up against him, too, to make sure he went extra deep and hard. When even that wasn’t enough for us, I lifted my knees and planted my feet firmly on the mattress, giving myself more leverage. Now, I could thrust nearly as hard as he could, and before long we were both panting heavily in our efforts to get off.

“I thrust a hand between our bodies so I could rub my clit and get myself off.”

He leaned down to kiss me again as our bodies smacked together. We kissed until we ran out of breath, then broke apart and continued to buck against each other. I knew we were both getting close, but I still needed more, and I begged him to thrust harder. He picked up his pace as much as he could, slamming his hips against mine with an almost bruising force. It felt divine! I began gasping and crying out as I felt the pleasure building up more and more inside me, edging me closer to climax.

He wasn’t going to last much longer either, and when his thrusts became more measured, I knew we were only moments away from his release. When I heard him begin to grunt and felt his body start to jerk, I knew he was going to come soon, and I thrust a hand between our bodies so I could rub my clit and get myself off at the exact same moment.

It took less than a minute now that we were both so primed, and as I came, my pussy clenching around him, he reached his peak, too. I watched his face as he unloaded inside me, and seeing his reaction, how turned on he was by me, made my climax even more intense.

When it was over, he kissed me nice and hard, and then went to the bathroom to dispose of the used condom. He cleaned himself up and got dressed, and came back to the bedroom to say good-night. I threw on a fresh T-shirt and underwear to walk him to the door, and we kissed one more time before he left.

Once he was gone, I grabbed my copy of the book we’d each just bought and crawled into bed to read until I fell asleep.

I don’t know when I’ll see my writer friend again, but I have a feeling he’ll be in town next year when his book comes out, and I’ll definitely make sure I’m first in line at his signing.

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