Half Circle Coffee Table Novels & Stories

I did as I was asked, and a few seconds later, the doors swung open. It reminded me very much of the lecture halls back at University, only fancier. It was a circular room, with a domed ceiling from which hung an elegant and intricate-looking chandelier made of multicolored crystals, but the light it gave off was a bright white. On the walls were screens that showed various things: pictures of places and people (are they suspects or victims?), graphs and charts in various languages, a diagram of symbols and words with corresponding values on one side (a probability map?), and even a projection of some sort of unfinished spell-circle. There were long desks and chairs on one side, and somethin

A round brown coffee table stood at the middle of brown sofas with an arched tight back with loose cushions. The pocket coiled seat cushions were oddly inviting, with large white pillows neatly arranged on them. My bare feet came into contact with soft beautifully crafted floral rug. The patterns matched with those of the curtains, successfully enchanting me into a floral frenzy. Ceramic vases held large lit candles around the area. Homey

And it wasn’t over. I pivoted toward one of the round tables near the rear of the room, a low-hanging centerpiece half upended over the tablecloth. Candlelight from the piece flickered and danced against the walls. I saw the flame move. A glint underneath the silver-trimmed base. Something inhuman. Decorative but not quite. I didn’t hesitate. I skirted around the velvet runner and yanked the centerpiece aside with one hand. And dropped my stomach. Etched into the table itself in red chalk and burnt black ink was a charm circle.

Thousands of miles away from where Leesa and Rave said their goodbyes to Dominic, five shadowy figures sat in a large, dimly lit room, gathered around a dark, round table at least ten feet in diameter. The table’s smooth surface was fashioned out of a special, highly polished material that looked almost like black glass. Candles flickered in brass sconces on the chamber’s stone walls, but strangely, none of the light reflected off the top of the table. The dark surface seemed to swallow any illumination that struck it. In addition to the five occupied chairs, four more sat vacant.

He asks as he turns back. “It’s okay.” I shrug. I’m not about to tell him I am totally in awe of his property no fucking way. As we continue, I see another lounge type area. This one has two red chairs with no arm rests facing a red sofa, not that garish red but a classy kind of heritage red. Between them is a rectangular, smoked glass coffee table with large books on it. I will have to check those out later.

"Well, I know it can hold me." Everyone in the room looked at Becca in unison, as she blushed a little. "That table is cedar, it's the reason the room smells so nice. It was gifted to the office by a woodworking firm in Maine. You could put a dozen people on that table and it wouldn't bend an inch." "I'll keep that in mind for NEXT time," Justine interjected, slowly beginning to toy at her clit. "Next time," added Miss Hannah, also seemingly now playing with herself.

They gave each other pecks on the cheek like the French and I was left wondering what sort of relationship they shared. As I looked around, marble stared back right at me. The whole office was in marble and expensive wood. The table he was sitting on had his name engraved; it was his initials.l, I guess. The light was dimly lit. I could tell that it was on purpose, and I tried to squint my eyes to read it. I could make out "C.F." engraved on the downright side of the table. I was of the opinion that the table was far too plush and classy looking for one person, it almost looked like the table was meant to be sitting in a board room for a large number of people.

Good thing around our place. Amie got up and made her way over to the love-seat, stretching her long sexy legs out and resting her feet on our old coffee table. I loved that coffee table. It was big and solid, all wood, and a good four feet square, maybe larger. It could hold a lot of stuff, and could take a lot of abuse. It was scratched and stained, so nobody worried about coasters, or feet, or any other body parts damaging the finish. It had character.

Just thinking of what little effort is needed to lift a trunk lid makes my muscles ache worse than they already do. I sigh with relief, stumbling upon a cozy seating space tucked in a corner on the other side of the trunks and crates. There's a pair of ornately carved mahogany wood and rich brown leather padded armchairs angled towards each other. Between the chairs is a small matching wood drop-leaf table that could easily double as a dining table for two if needed. Dropping my heavy backpack on the ground beside me, I examined the top of the table, appreciating the unique hard leather inlay with gold leaf filigree accent along the edge. Glad I noticed the fancy tabletop before almost plopp

"If you'll follow me, Master Mark." Henry led them inside, ignoring the office area, but explaining that the sofa's were the winnings of a wager between Benjamin Moore and Steve Jobs and the wooden coffee table between them was crafted by Harrison Ford as a gift. Mark didn't quite know what to say, finding it all very surreal. He followed the old man through a gap in the walls, seeing a bedroom off to the right, and then it opened up to a large area at the back. Directly in front of him was a very large bed, a four poster draped at the corners with fine linen. To either side of it the white walls curved from the sides to the back, with archways in each.