Share
MidReal Story
The Forbidden Series
Scenario:I went to the closest place to get some air and to eat and this charming man was sitting next to me we hit it of and we made out in the bathroom.a few weeks ago by and I walk into my class and ass the teacher turns around its the man from the bar.
Create my version of this story
Alex
He is a college student. He is impulsive, curious, and a bit reckless. Alex had a chance encounter with a mysterious woman at a convenience store that left an impression on him. Weeks later, he unexpectedly meets this woman again in his literature class, where he discovers that she is also a student. Their attraction is undeniable, but Alex is hesitant due to their age difference and past encounter which was intense but brief.
Mysterious Woman (Anna)
She is a college student. She is confident, alluring, and enigmatic. Anna first meets Alex at a convenience store where they engage in an passionate encounter. Weeks later, she unexpectedly shows up in Alex's literature class revealing her identity as a student. She captivates Alex with her beauty and charisma, and their attraction grows despite their age difference and past encounter which left both of them wanting more.
Professor Thompson
He is an instructor at the college where Alex and Anna are students. He is professional, observant, and somewhat aged by modern standards. Professor Thompson notices the unexpected chemistry between Alex and Anna when they meet in class, hinting that he has seen such situations before and offering some advice to both students.
I needed some air, so I went to the closest place to get something to eat.
The smell of food filled my nostrils and made my stomach growl.
I walked in and sat at the bar.
A few minutes later, a woman with long, curly brown hair, a black leather jacket, skinny jeans, and black boots walked in.
She was hot as fuck.
She looked around and saw me at the bar.
She smiled and walked over to me.
"Mind if I sit here?"
I shook my head.
"Not at all."
She sat down and I could smell her perfume.
It was the sexiest shit I ever smelled.
"You smell good."
A smile formed on her face.
"Awe,thank you."
We chatted for a few minutes and then she asked me what I was doing after this.
I told her I was going back to school.
"I’m going there too," she said.
"You’re a student?" I asked.
She nodded, and I asked her what class she was taking.
When she told me it was literature, I couldn’t believe it.
I watched as she gathered her things from the bar, her movements deliberate and graceful.
The bartender gave us a knowing look as we settled our tabs.
Outside, the evening air had cooled, and streetlights cast long shadows on the sidewalk.
We walked close together, our shoulders occasionally brushing.
She suggested a small coffee shop two blocks from campus, and I agreed.
As we strolled, she told me about her favorite authors and books, her voice animated.
I noticed how she used her hands when she talked, gesturing emphatically with each point she made.
Her eyes lit up when she spoke about Hemingway.
We stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change.
She turned to me suddenly, her expression serious.
The streetlight cast an orange glow on her face, illuminating the curve of her cheekbones and the softness of her lips.
Traffic moved steadily behind her, the hum of engines and occasional horn punctuating the night air.
In the distance, the neon sign of the coffee shop flickered like a beacon.
I noticed a small scar above her right eyebrow that I hadn’t seen in the dim lighting of the bar.
It added a touch of intrigue to her already captivating features.
She stepped closer, our bodies almost touching.
The leather of her jacket brushed against my arm, sending a shiver down my spine.
The crosswalk signal changed, but neither of us moved.
A group of students walked past us, their laughter and conversation fading into the background as they continued on their way.
Her fingers lightly traced the sleeve of my jacket, sending a jolt of electricity through me.
I glanced at the neon sign of the coffee shop, then back at her face inches from mine.
My heart raced in my chest.
I leaned in closer, lowering my voice.
"The library's just around the corner. I know a side entrance the janitors use."
She raised an eyebrow, her fingers still on my sleeve.
The scar above her eye caught the light of the streetlamp as she smiled.
"The rare books section is always empty," I added, emboldened by her touch.
She checked her phone, showing 9:45 PM, then slipped it back into her leather jacket.
I watch her tuck her phone away, the leather creaking softly.
The neon sign of the coffee shop casts alternating red and blue shadows across her face.
She takes a step closer, and I feel my back press against the cold brick wall of a nearby building.
Her hand slides down my arm, her fingertips leaving trails of heat through the fabric of my shirt.
The scar above her right eyebrow catches the light when she tilts her head, studying my reaction.
Her hand reaches my waist, gripping the fabric of my shirt.
The tension is palpable, heavy in the air between us.
She leaned in, her breath warm against my ear, and whispered, "Let's go find those books."
I pull back slightly and glance at the dark windows of the library looming above us.
The streetlamp casts long shadows across its stone façade.
She follows my gaze, her eyes reflecting the excitement of the moment.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a text from a friend asking about meeting up later.
I ignore it and open the security app I downloaded last semester for a coding project.
It's not something I use often, but it might come in handy tonight.
The woman leans over my shoulder, her perfume filling my senses as she peers at the screen.
"Is that how you plan to get us in?"
Her voice is husky and confident.
I nod, tapping on the screen to open the app.
"It's an old system. There's an exploit in the code."
She watches intently as I navigate through the menus, her breath warm against my neck.
I feel her fingers tracing patterns on my back through my shirt, sending shivers down my spine. "The library uses an outdated system," I explain, trying to focus despite her touch.
"It's easy to bypass."
She leans closer, her lips almost brushing against my ear.
"Show me."
I open the blueprint of the library's layout on my phone, pointing out various security cameras and sensors.
Her eyes follow every movement, taking in every detail.
The neon sign of the coffee shop casts flickering shadows on her face as she studies the layout.
She points to specific cameras on the blueprint, indicating which ones she knows are disabled or less active at night.
It's clear she has been inside before and knows it well.
Her knowledge surprises me, but I don't ask questions.
Instead, I tap on a few more buttons and start the program running.
I lower my phone and study the dark façade of the library while the app runs its final checks.
The woman's fingers continue tracing circles on my back, making it hard to focus on the blinking progress bar on the screen.
When the app finally signals green, I tuck my phone back into my pocket and take her hand.
We move along the shadowy path between hedges toward the service entrance at the back of the library.
She matches my pace perfectly, her boots making barely a sound on the concrete.
At the metal door, I pull out my phone again, ready to tap in a code if needed.
But before I can, she reaches past me and enters a series of numbers on the keypad next to the door.
The lock clicks open with a satisfying sound.
She turns to me, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
Together, we step into the darkness beyond, leaving the world outside behind.
I grip her hand tighter as we walk through the pitch-black hallway.
The sound of our footsteps echoes off the marble floors, making it feel like we're being followed by our own shadows.
She leads the way with a confidence that suggests she knows this path by heart, even in the dark.
As we turn a corner, the security lights flicker on, casting long shadows across the empty study carrels and silent bookshelves.
She doesn't slow down, her boots clicking against the floor in a steady rhythm.
I stumble on a step, and she catches my arm, steadying me.
Her leather jacket brushes against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.
We pass rows of books that seem to stretch up to the ceiling, their titles glinting in the dim light.
The air is thick with the scent of old paper and knowledge.
We reach a door marked "Special Collections" in elegant gold lettering.
It's locked, but she pulls out a key from her pocket and slips it into the lock with a soft metallic scrape that makes me jump. She turns to me before opening the door, her eyes meeting mine with an expression I can't quite read in the dim light.
"You've done this before, haven't you?" I whisper, the realization dawning on me.
She smirks, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Let's just say I have a history with rare books."
I hesitate, the weight of her words sinking in. "And what exactly are we looking for tonight?"
I watch her slide the key into the lock with practiced ease, my pulse quickening with each metallic click.
The heavy door creaks open, revealing rows of glass-enclosed bookshelves that stretch up to the ceiling, filled with volumes bound in leather and adorned with intricate gold filigree.
She flicks on a small desk lamp in the corner, casting a warm glow over the room.
Shadows dance across the walls as she moves deeper into the room, trailing her fingers along the glass cases.
She stops at a particular shelf, and I notice her scar is visible in the dim light as she smiles.
Her boots make no sound on the plush carpet as she reaches into her jacket pocket and produces another key.
The glass case opens with a soft hiss.
"There's a manuscript here," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
I step closer, curiosity piqued. "What makes it so special?"
She glances at me, her eyes gleaming with something between excitement and secrecy. "It's said to contain the last words of a forgotten poet, words that could change everything."
I lean over her shoulder to get a better look at the manuscript she's holding when a loud crash echoes through the room, making us both jump.
My body tenses as the sound reverberates against the walls.
Anna's hands freeze on the yellowed pages, her breath catching in her throat.
The desk lamp casts long shadows across the floor, and I notice movement between the shelves.
Before I can react, Anna swiftly but carefully returns the manuscript to its case.
Her movements are practiced, revealing a familiarity with handling rare books that I hadn't noticed before.
She grabs my wrist and pulls me behind a tall bookshelf, pressing her finger to her lips in a silent command for silence.
The room falls silent, save for the faint sound of footsteps approaching from the darkness.