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I’m not sure what this is, I was considering saving it for Halloween but I lack patience, hope you enjoy it.
I’d wanted a job I could walk to and as the money wasn’t that important i’d found this one easily enough. Then I’d been working for about six months when I’d been put on the late shift full time. This wasn’t an option for new starters as it was solo working and you had to know your way around the equipment and everything else first. Plus you had to be trusted to do the job properly without being supervised and to leave everything tidy for the poor fucker coming in on the early the following day. Lastly of course it didn’t suit the people with partners and families to get back to in the evening, but naturally that didn’t bother me.
My life was pretty simple by those days, reduced right down now to the cafe and my flat, although there had been a time when it had been a lot more complicated. I used to have to go to places and people had used to tell me things they thought were important, like I should eat more to keep my strength up, or I should maintain a positive attitude. Gradually they stopped saying things like that though and then gradually they stopped saying anything whatsoever and finally I didn’t have to go to see them at all, just pick up my little bag from the pharmacy once a fortnight. In the end that was their final and greatest lesson, it wasn’t as I had imagined one of the thousand things they had told me, but rather the secret stealthy message in the silence when they stopped.
Anyway this was perfect for me now, we were closed before the pubs started to kick out so I didn’t have to deal with rowdy drunks, and we were a bit off the beaten track,so the evening traffic was fairly slow generally and you got to know the regulars. Not their names that is, we’re still talking London here, but the bloke with the laptop bag, the lady with the beagle, the girl who can’t read, and suchlike. And it was the girl who can’t read who really intrigued me.
I’ll admit I can’t recall the first time she came in no matter how hard i’ve tried to do so. I know that the time I do remember first seeing her must probably have been her third visit though and she certainly stood out. She was dressed in some kind of greatcoat which looked more army surplus than it did high street label, its bulk concealing her so that all I could have told you about her figure at the time was that she must have been slender. Her hair was really curly, red, a bit long and chaotic, not affectedly windswept but genuinely tearaway. Her eyes were that very pale grey-blue which had always reminded me of woodsmoke until then, and her skin was dark, like terracotta or maybe teak.
So yes, she might have come in earlier in the day the first couple of times as I couldn’t bring them to mind, but I remember the third time she came in.
She pointed up to the menu on the wall and she said, “Number three please.”
Her accent was distinctive, southern England for sure but subtly unusual, maybe with a hint of the middle east, and with an old fashioned formality to it, each syllable carefully voiced. I set my casual musings and nosiness aside though, this was a professional relationship after all and third down on the list was a flat white. I asked the usual, big or small (big) eat in or take away (away) and served her the drink. She paid with a small pile of coins dumped onto the counter, quite a bit more than the coffee cost but when I tried to hand back her change she waved it away and I dropped it in the tip jar instead with thanks.
When I handed the paper cup over she was like a child, enthralled by it. She popped off the plastic lid, inhaled the steam, then took a tiny careful sip and the look of delight which came over her face made it seem she’d never had a coffee before. It really brought my attention to how much we take all these little things for granted.
Next time she came it was fourth down, mocha, and i’m sure you’re starting to see why I could figure out how many times she’d been in.
A few days later, fifth was cappuccino and then only a couple of days after that sixth was macchiato and I think she really didn’t like that because she then returned to mocha for five visits in a row. She’d always pay with coins, always a different amount and usually over the price, the difference going each time into the tip jar. A couple of times she was under, once laughably so, but I let the transactions go through without comment, reasoning that she was probably in credit overall, and anyway what the hell, she obviously got so much out of those coffees that I was happy to help her keep up with her exploration. I was quietly looking bursa escort bayan forward to seeing what would happen when she made it past the coffees and reached our showpiece, the exhaustively detailed variations on the theme of hot chocolate listed below them.
While she was working through that handful of mocha visits I learned something else. I’d been wiping down the tables over by the window one evening when out of the edge of my eye i’d spotted that unmistakable shock of hair outside. There she was, sitting down on the pavement, leaning in the doorway of the boarded up shop next door and holding out an empty coffee cup to the people passing by. I returned to my post and a few minutes later the bell on the door rang and in she came, brandishing her motley collection of change and asking politely for another ‘Number four’.
I’d started to look forward to seeing her again as my regulars and the walk-ins came and went. Man with the laptop again, single mum, office cleaners on their way to work. One night a sweet little couple, all dressed up, obviously on their first date. They were too young to go to the pub so she’d brought him here for a fancy hot chocolate. It didn’t look like she had much money and when she came up the counter to buy drinks I threw in one of the cakes for free. I lied to her and told her we’d have to throw it away at the end of the evening anyway. I was allowing myself the occasional lie these days, though I’d have to pay for the cake. She took her treasure back to her boy at the table and they put their heads together and cooed over it as they divvied it up between them. I hope maybe it brought them a tiny bit closer, made things a little less awkward, steered them nearer to happiness.
Then every few days i’d look up when I heard the door chime and there she’d be. After a while it must have become obvious to her that I was looking out for her because she’d smile when she caught me looking across the room. It transformed her face that smile, dropped my defenses like they’d never been there at all, and that’s saying a lot with me.
I should have been worried I guess. I wasn’t really supposed to be making friends, that was part of the whole deal these days. But somehow it didn’t feel as if it was going to be a problem with her and I found myself just letting it slip slowly into being through conspiratorial smiles swapped shyly across the counter as we went through the otherwise unaltered ritual of our transactions.
A few days after that she reached the top of the chocolate section, and I was amply rewarded for my patience when her eyes widened at the first sip. Then of course she proceeded to torture me for a couple of weeks by ordering the same thing over and over again when I knew the hidden secrets of caramel and marshmallow and all the rest were still lurking in the lines below her.
One Tuesday brought a storm with the rain pouring down and lightning flickering. I’d gone over to enjoy the spectacle, take it all in, when I noticed her bedraggled figure crouched in the doorway, hair plastered to her head. What few passersby there were had their heads well down in hoods or umbrellas and weren’t paying her any attention. Looking at the state she was in she had been sitting there a while so I reached into my purse and stepped out into the rain. Walking quickly over to her I popped two pennies into her cup, gesturing back to the shop as I did so.
“Come on, or one of us is going to catch our death out here.”
She followed me in. I met her at the counter and she slid the pair of coins back over to me. Figuring she’d need some cheering up I broke with the pattern and took control. It would be a good moment to introduce the marshmallows, large mug too for sure, but still paying token respect to the ritual I asked.
“Drink in or take out?”
Together we looked over at the torrential downpour outside the window and I could see her starting to shake. It took me a moment to realise what was happening but gradually I heard the giggles start to escape her and the corners of my mouth turned up into a grin too.
This marked a major change in our relationship. I passed her pennies back over to her as she left that night and from then on we would just trade the coins back and forth as she arrived and left. And she would always drink in, perched on a stool at the counter where I could indulge in the tiny happiness of watching her enjoy her latest chocolate.
We talked. By unspoken agreement we steered away from the past, and the future. Mostly we spoke about the people we had met that day, my customers, her clients. I had the impression she might have bursa anal yapan escort worked in a hospital, she seemed to meet a lot of people who were old, or sick and to know a lot about them. She’d only ever have the one drink but she’d often stay around once she’d finished and help me to close up at the end of the night. I was glad of the company, and of the help, I didn’t have the energy now that i’d used to.
I took a lot of comfort in her presence, sometimes if it was busy we would barely talk all evening but it was just good to know she was there. And again, though part of me knew that alarm bells should have been ringing and that closeness was a luxury I couldn’t afford (I shouldn’t inflict) still this particular relationship remained uniquely comfortable, reassuring, safe, and in spite of my concerns I found myself still going along with it.
And one night when we were locking up I took the opportunity to make a pass at her, i’d not planned it out before, it was a spur of the moment thing. I’ll admit the idea had crossed my mind a couple of times but up to then i’d never seriously thought i’d do anything about it. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure she was even, you know, inclined. I had my suspicions though, I had seen her looking at me, the same way she must have seen me stealing glances at her, and I had thought I could see more in her manner than just friendship would indicate, something of a thirst, a hunger. So seeing the opening, and taking the chance, after the shutter was down and the key had rattled in its lock, instead of the usual casual goodbye I turned back to face her and stepped in close.
“Would you like to come back, to my place for a bit.”
There was no ambiguity in what I was asking (offering). Life, I had concluded, was too short now for that, and the formally camouflaged lure of a coffee would have been ridiculous between us wouldn’t it. She held my gaze seriously for a long time, reading me like a book and making no attempt to gain distance. Then, her decision made, her head dipped out to me, lips planting a tiny kiss on mine.
She took my hand and I led her through the quiet streets to my home.
When she shed her coat at the door I was surprised by the simplicity of her white linen dress, a dramatic contrast to the deep ruddy brown of her skin. Her figure was slight, delicate, almost a mirror image of my own. I found her more beautiful than I had imagined. I took her to bed.
Lifting off her dress in the low light of my room, as she held her arms up for me, there was nothing underneath but her. So just everything wonderful then, that’s all. And to me that night she was indeed full of wonders, small and lean, dark skinned and gorgeous. My mind, and my eyes, were drawn to the promise at the joining of her thighs but there was time enough, and I ran my hands down her sides, lowering my face to her chest to lick the soft smooth skin between her small breasts. She smelt of sandalwood and incense and she tasted like honey and salt.
Her hands found my top and suddenly shy I didn’t want to show myself to her after all, but she insisted, brushing my concerns away with her hands, and peeled it off over my head. There was not, as I had feared, expected really, the sharp intake of breath when she saw my scars, there was no pity in her eyes. Instead she stroked her fingers over me taking me all in, finding the places which pleased me. The skin she touched was still so sensitive, still sent those delightful shivers through me and she smiled happily when she felt the first of my shudders under her hands.
Urgently stripping off the remainder of my own clothes I lay on the bed and pulled her down to me. We kissed in earnest for the first time and when I sent my tongue probing into her mouth the flavour and the hot liquid slickness of her was a further promise of the deeper more intimate treasures yet to come. The pangs of delicious need being triggered between my legs were sending out flowing tendrils of energy into my stomach and down my legs.
My hands came to her breasts and I indulged in the sheer pleasure of holding them, luxuriating in the novelty of their weight, their exquisite softness. Her nipples, almost the same colour as the surrounding flesh were hard and needy and as I brushed over them with my palms I heard the hitch in her breath and her softly voiced sigh.
I moved to crouch down, kneeling between her legs and bought my mouth up, licking along the tenderest skin of her inner thigh, breathing deliberately deeply and warmly so that she could tell quite precisely where I was, close enough to feel bursa rus escort the heat from her, to smell the intoxicating sour scent of her, and to feel the twitching of her muscles as she waited impatiently for me to worship her as I should. I lapped gently between her lips a couple of times, then drew back again curious to see how well her discipline held. It did, just, but I could see her trembling as she held herself still and I swear she purred, and these were my prizes.
Impatient myself now though I leant forward again to properly give her my devotion, her due. I nibbled at her lips and then licked carefully and slowly up between them, releasing the taste and the wetness of her into my mouth and carrying it up with me to the top where I found the raised pearl of her clit and nuzzled up each side of it, then narrowing the very tip of my tongue I rapidly flicked featherlight strokes down onto her.
Reaching a hand up and pointing two fingers I found her opening and sunk them inside, feeling her warmth enveloping me, revelling in this opportunity to give her that primal pleasure. I pushed them into her steadily and repeatedly, harder and harder at the conclusion of each thrust to her obvious enjoyment as she matched the rhythm and took me as deeply as she could. All the while I continued to lick and suck her, the smell and the taste making me drool so that I couldn’t be sure what of the wetness was her juices and what was mine. Far above me I could hear the high mewling sound she was now making and I kept on working it calculatedly toward its crescendo. Then when we finally got there I held myself completely still as she came, with my tongue relaxed now and rested over her, snuggling her softly in the most intimate manner possible as she trembled.
I wriggled up to join her, rubbing my cheek against hers, delighting in her dazed smile. We just held each other for a while, communicating with happy little noises instead of words.
Eventually though I felt her reaching down between us, fingers tracing over my belly and firing the nerves as they passed but pausing only briefly there, then stroking into my thin hair. It had never grown back as luxuriantly as it had once been but i’d always loved the sensation of a lover’s fingers combing through it, reaching further down in the tiniest of increments with every stroke, and magically she knew exactly how was best. I closed my eyes to slits and arched back moaning deeply when she finally found the top of me and nestled one finger there. Rocking my hips gently forward I pushed her hand against me begging her without words for more.
She moved down over me and leant in, then spent a long time licking through my pubic hair which she seemed to particularly enjoy, you’d hear no complaints from me. Eventually, reaching the top of my cunt for yet another time, she opened her mouth suddenly wide and took me into her. She peeled me open with the fingers of both hands and carefully, tantalisingly slowly she ate me, lapping me up so wonderfully over and over again, her attention to detail was an education. I could feel the pulling suction as her mouth planted onto me, her palms pressed hard down on my thighs holding me so wantonly open while she indulged in her feast. She took her time and I entirely lost track of mine as she kept on skillfully triggering more and more of those muscular sinuous waves of pleasure through my body.
Then when she was done and I was done too she held me and gathered me up in her arms. I was with her now and she was all encompassing, and imminent. I slept for a while. The last I remember of her that night she was dressing to leave for the final time, she had other work to do, poor thing. When she saw I was awake and watching her she stooped to kiss me gently on the forehead, then the lips before she went.
And of course and inevitably she walked in at her usual time again the following evening. It was good to see her, I had been having a bad day. The end of my shift found us sitting at the counter indulging together in her latest variation on the theme of chocolate. Uniquely today she’d had a second and I had decided to have the same as well. She looked up at the menu on the wall and sighed in frustration.
“I wanted to try all the things, get to the very bottom of the list.”
I knew how she felt, i’d wanted something like that for myself once too, a long time ago.
We’ll go to my place tonight though,” she went on. “I think it’s time.”
I slid the two coins back over to her as usual, ritual is important. Then we finished our drinks and tidied up, leaving everything ready for the early shift because it’s the right thing to do. I had to take a break part way through and she finished the rest up for me. After we had pulled the shutter down and had locked up behind us I posted the key, I wasn’t going to be needing it any more.
Then she took me by the hand again and we went off to her place, and of course it had been just around the corner all along.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32