#717) High, but Not on Caffeine

I don’t drink coffee, it makes me jittery. I gave it up when I graduated from college. But all of my friends are addicted to the stuff. So, they always want to meet at the local Starbucks.
My best friend, Jenny, just asked me to meet her there yesterday to discuss something “crucially important.” When I got there, Jenny was already nursing a huge cup, sitting on a high bar stool, and crying.
“What’s the matter?” I consoled, hugging her around the shoulders. “Wait don’t tell me yet, let me get something first…” I got in the short line, decided on a decaf hot tea and a pastry, and returned to my morose friend. “Now…”
The flood gates opened. Jenny sobbed that she thought her long-time boyfriend, Chad, was breaking-up with her. As I listened to her, it seemed to me that she was jumping to conclusions.
“You need to sit down and talk with Chad, Jenny. What you’re telling me could be interpreted several different ways. Maybe he does want out, but I’m not so sure, at least from what you’ve shared…”
“You really think so? I’m just so paranoid! He’s such a great guy; I’ve never felt worthy…!”
“That’s the caffeine talking, Jenny. You need facts, not unfounded doubts. Text him and tell him that you need to talk…”
“Okay,” she said and finally smiled, if feebly. “I’ve got to run, but thanks so much for being such a good friend!” We hugged, I kissed her cheek, and she was gone.
I had some time and nothing to do. First, I decided that my tea had been delicious and so got back in line to get another, larger one. Now, without being concerned about Jenny, I looked around and really saw the place. One of the baristas behind the counter was a lovely raven-haired woman with the creamiest white skin. It was noticeable because she wasn’t wearing a blouse beneath her company apron, and a lot of epidermis was on display.
A minute later, my order was ready. I grasped the cup, saw a little black magic-marker had rubbed off on my fingers, so looked at what was written.

I looked up from the paper cup to see the fair-skinned maiden blushing. I walked back to the pick-up counter.

In my most stern Toppy voice, I said, “Excuse me, Miss…” She came over. “Did you write this on my cup?” She blushed all the deeper. I must confess she looked good enough to eat, and my mouth was suddenly watering. But I kept up the act. She nodded. “You can’t just write something like that on a stranger’s cup…!” I announced as the black-haired beauty quaked slightly, “…Without my coming over to tell you that it’s a very nice compliment, thank you, and that you are the cutest coffee-server I’ve ever seen!” She suddenly smiled like the sun coming out on a cloudy day. Back to being demanding, I continued, “Do you write that on every female’s cup that comes through your line?”

“Only the ones that I’m smitten with,” she offered, then added, “Er… I haven’t ever written something like that before… I just…”

“I’m glad that you just…” and I smiled broadly. She seemed easily dominated, now I needed to determine whether she was like that with every demanding customer, or with only people she wanted to be submissive with. “I have to ask your name… otherwise, when I dream about you tonight, I’ll have to call you Angel or Gorgeous or Lover…”

Her baby blues sparkled. “My name’s Charlotte… and yours?”

“I’m Jean Marie. Next question, when do you get off… work I mean…?”

Charlotte caught the play on words and continued to play, “My shift here ends in fifteen minutes… Then it’s up-in-the-air whether I go home to my apartment alone or with someone else who’ll help me get off…”

I held her eye contact. “I would love to sit over in that corner, so that I could watch you work, and nurse my hot tea, and fantasize about what the afternoon might hold…”

“I’ll see you in fifteen minutes, Jean Marie,” she smiled, and went back to work. When she finished her job, she came over to me, blushing all over again (both for the second time, and much more expansively this time, radiant pick glowing on her neck and cleavage, too). “I need to change out of my work-clothes…”

“Okay…” I replied.

“I’d like for you to come with me… I have something to show you…”

“Okay,” I repeated and accepted her hand as Charlotte led me to a bathroom at the back of the Starbucks. She locked the door behind us.

Off came the apron, exposing two of the bounciest boobies I’ve ever beheld.

“My! Those are pretty!” I understated.

“Thank you, but that’s not what I wanted to show you…” Charlotte pulled a tight t-shirt on overhead, then unbuckled her black jeans to tuck it in. She turned around.

She let the writing on the seat of her underpants do the talking.

I realized that my mouth was hanging open. I was finally able to articulate the words, “…Right here… or should we wait for a little more privacy…?”

“Let’s wait until we get back to my place… I just wanted to make sure that we were speaking the same language when I said I wanted to spend the afternoon with you…”

“Oh, yes, Charlotte,” I stammered. “I’d love to spend the rest of the day spanking your adorable bottom, yes, and maybe those beautiful boobies, too, yes, then adding some tickling to all the slapping, and then some licking and fingering, yes…”

Charlotte giggled, “And that’s the nicest thing anybody’s ever said to me…!” She kissed me quick as she pulled up her pants, and we proceeded to the parking lot.

One response to “#717) High, but Not on Caffeine”

  1. Oh my Jean Marie! Lucky you…and even luckier Charlotte! I would have liked to be in your shoes…or Charlotte’s!
    I would have settled for being a fly on the wall!
    Sophie x

    Liked by 1 person

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