Sex & Coffee
Sigmund could have had serious fun with her, or so she thought, as she exited the cafÃ© and found a seat in one of the outside tables.
Each day never differed from the next. Three months in the city and she decided to adopt the cafÃ© as her regular hangout. The day of reckoning occurred the moment she saw him behind the counter. He supervised his employees and knew all of the regular customers by name. In between frothing milk for her cappuccino, he would give her the eye. She saw it and blushed.
His silver hair glimmered under the fluorescent lights and the cords of muscle in his forearms played as gripped the stainless steel jug. The timbre of his voice stirred her appetite.
“What’s your name?” he asked, in a noncommittal tone.
“Jasmine,” she replied, feeling the familiar heat rise up within her.
“I’m Nathan,” he replied, nodding as he handed her the coffee.
“Nice meeting you,” she softly said, knowing that her face was reaching the paler shade of pink.
Get a grip woman! It was her daily comment to herself. Each moment she spent standing in line waiting for her coffee or lunch, come lunchtime, she would try to focus on the hot food bar, the fridge behind the counter or one of the workers, knowing that Nathan was keeping track of her eye movements.
As each day passed, he transformed into her aphrodisiac. Nathan’s large rough hands brushed hers each day. Jasmine ensured that she gave him notes only so that he could return with change and their hands brushed. Standing over her, she looked up and took a mental snapshot of his rugged face. His shining Onyx eyes glittered and his full lips curled when he smiled, knowing that Jasmine desired something that was tricky to animate.
Prior to stumbling on the cafÃ©, Jasmine didn’t think much of her year-long sexual hiatus. Her last relationship faded to black and she felt content that she finally had time to chase some forgotten dreams, such as that of being a photojournalist. Her first proper job, as an assistant to the assistant at a chic fashion magazine resurrected her hopes and alongside such hope, a newfound interest in her clothes, hair and girlie pastimes.
In the three months that elapsed, she and Nathan barely skimmed the surface of their daily lives. He continued to punch holes in her loyalty card and although she drank many free cups of coffee, he didn’t ask about her work, her day or wish her a good weekend each Friday. When her loyalty card was fully punched she wrote her phone number and name on the card and placed it in the lucky draw box. Each month Nathan drew a card out of the box and the lucky winner enjoyed free lunch for themselves and three friends. Jasmine half heartedly hoped that he would call simply to propose a date, something unexpected yet tantalizing, but each month she caught the bus home alone.
Jasmine spent her nights sprawled on her double bed, desiring Nathan. Each finger stroke on her clitoris was Nathan’s, and as the nectar of her arousal trickled Jasmine simulated his urgent penetration, mimicking his voice in her mind and added his probable moans.
“Oh, yes. You fill me up,” she sang.
He would plunge into her slowly, dipping his penis into her warm pool of lust.
“Watch me,” he instructed, firmly gripping her hair and directing her head downward.
The scene remained unfinished. Jasmine never progressed to the visual climax. Every nerve bundle in her pulsating clitoris reached fever pitch and a guttural moan diffused through her parted lips.
“Your hands are rough,” she unwittingly uttered.
“All the better to grip the metal jug, Jazz,” Nathan murmured.
She didn’t have time to catch herself before spilling her thought. No one called her Jazz.
The day was young and five hours remained until she finished work. He had to be forty to her twenty five. Her lips slowly spread into a smile.
“So, you’re a great catcher?”
The tip of his tongue caressed the corner of his mouth.
“That all depends on what I catch,” he said.
The electric flash of satisfaction and optimism coursed through Jasmine. They beat the conversational record.
“Hm, I guess it does,” she replied, daringly biting her lip.
He stood against the counter, his palms resting on the stainless steel top.
“I can’t resist a pretty woman,” he said in a half whisper.
“I can’t resist.” she began, purposefully cutting herself off. His eyebrows arched in unison.
“See you later, Nathan,” she sweetly said.
Upon returning to the office, she sat and aimlessly stared at her computer monitor. What did she say? She was out of practice, out of synch with the ways and means of intimate exploration. Her one-time lover was a one-time affair that lasted three years-her beginning and end. A year of self exploration followed with little motivation to merge with the opposite sex. The glint in Nathan’s eyes reminded her of all the stories she read, stories that detailed the conquests of Lotharios and satyrs.
Nathan starred in her fantasies but she didn’t like to entertain the possible reality. A fish out of water, Jasmine immersed herself in solo pleasure, elevating herself to dizzying heights of rapture. As she snatched a glimpse of Nathan in her crimson landscape the phone rang.
Jasmine picked up the handset and said hello in her polished voice.
“You’ve won,” the male said on the other end.
Her tongue sought the corner of her mouth. Jasmine inhaled and squeezed her thighs together.
“I’ve won the monthly prize?”
“Yes, but there’s been a slight change. It’s a dinner for one,” he curtly stated.
Her grin widened and her heart leapt.
“Strictly limited offer,” he smugly said.
Her eyes darted around her office.
“I’ll take it,” she said, knowing that her grin had ran amok and spilled into the telephone receiver.
The cafÃ©, deserted, stared at her. The vertical drapes veiled its interior and as she stood on the threshold doubts surfaced. It could be a prank. Nathan could have departed or waited nearby to see her reaction. Before she had time to entertain futile thoughts the glass door opened.
“Come into my den,” he said, grinning at her.
“I hope you’ve cooked a feast, I’m famished,” she said, half hoping her nose would detect a faint aroma of food. Striding into the door, feigning a cool and collected state, Jasmine walked into the small dining area at the rear of the cafÃ©. The bare tables greeted her.
“I don’t see…” she began, and lost her balance. The soft fragrant aroma of soap trailed into her nose. Jasmine’s palms landed on the table.
“Mmm,” he hummed, standing behind her.
Nathan’s cheek brushed against hers as his arms came upward and braced her waist, pulling her against his pelvis.
“Do you want to be touched?” he softly asked.
Her breath escaped, rendering her momentarily mute. His right hand came to rest on her stomach, each digit precariously digging under her the band of her pants.
“Touch me,” she murmured, molding her body against his. He gingerly unzipped her pants and let them fall to the floor. His right hand firmly caressed her cunt.
Exhaling, his fingers yanked her panties upward.
“Oooh,” she moaned, feeling the fabric wedge between her lips. Nathan kept her dangling, maintaining a firm tension. His hand circled her mound and her panties scratched against her. Jasmine grasped his hand, and pushed it against her clit. He suddenly let go of her panties and raised his hand to her mouth. His thick middle finger brushed her bottom lip, its tip edging into her mouth.
“Lick it,” he breathed. Her tongue caught his finger and her lips opened to engulf his digit, sucking it as she hoped to suck his hard shaft.
“Fuck me with it.”
His left hand peeled off her panties and his right hand went to work. Warm breath fanned her neck. The deliberate slow insertion of his finger into her slit jolted her. Rough against smooth, Jasmine felt his digit curve inside her, bumping against the front wall of her vagina.
“Froth me up.” she whimpered, grinding against his wrist.
Nathan’s teeth sank into her shoulder. Jasmine’s moans engulfed the cafÃ© as she teetered on the edge.
“You’re so creamy,” he softly snarled, furiously rubbing her clit.
“I’m a fully-creamed caffeine injection baby…” she said, as her pussy exploded.