by Carla Croft
Each day, Adrian came in before having a shower so I got to serve him his coffee at the bar. We have screens playing the CNN channel and he watched the news when he came in to order his coffee. I snatched glimpses of him as I made his coffee, a tall skinny latte. He has this habit of standing hands on hips, head on one side. I love the line of his chin, it’s chiselled, strong, extremely masculine. His smell was gorgeous, so I always made up an excuse to walk around and stand alongside him so I could smell him better. There was this woody scent to him, it reminded me of the forests back home in the Ukraine, spice and pine all mixed into one.
Anyway, after a few months, he spoke to me at the cafe bar,
“What’s the earliest time you open in the morning?” It was the first real conversation we had had, and it was the first time I had seen his eyes. They were a deep mocha with flecks of chocolate.
“The manager opens up at 7” I said.
“Oh,”
“Why? Isn’t it early enough for you?” The machine was spluttering and spewing out huge clouds of steam as I heated up the skimmed milk for his latte. I was trying hard not to look at his crotch on those tight cycling shorts of his. He had to talk louder over the noise of the machine,
“For the next few weeks I’m coming in extra early and wondered what’s the earliest time I could come in. I don’t want to have to drive.”
“Oh, I see” the thought of missing out on his bum for several weeks was too much to bear.
“I could ask if you want?”
“That would be great, I’d appreciate it”
“It’ll cost you.” I was feeling adventurous. The truth was, I didn’t want the conversation to end.
“Oh in what way?” he looked nervous,
“Oh I’ll think of something, how about a red hot tip.”
“Oh right, yeah. I didn’t take you for a trading type.”
It wasn’t what I had in mind but it would do for starters. He went off to get showered and I spoke to the manager. He said he couldn’t open up any earlier as he had to get over from the East End and as he had a family, he didn’t want to leave too early. So it was a no. I was disappointed, I had set my heart on helping Adrian out. Then I had an idea.
“I live close by.” I ventured, the glimmer of a plan in the back of my head.
“I don’t mind getting up earlier and opening up for you. I’ve heard the other guys say they want to come in earlier as well” I lied,
“If we offer earlier opening times, we might get more customers,”
“Are you sure?” he looked doubtful,
“Well, why not try it? If it doesn’t work out then we can go back to normal.”
“But, would you be safe opening up by yourself?”
“With a locker room full of guys?” I lied again,
“How much safer can a girl get?”
So that was it. It was agreed for a trial period I could open up early and if it worked out then I would get a raise, more hours and at least initially I would have Adrian to myself in the morning. I was pleased with myself. Adrian was surprised when I told him I had managed to persuade the boss to let me open up early for him.
“Of course,” I told him,
“I wouldn’t do it for anyone else.” He laughed; he had no idea.
So for the next few mornings I opened up early and Adrian would arrive at six. We had the place to ourselves. The other regulars didn’t start arriving until way after seven. He would come in, get his coffee and go into the locker room to get showered and changed. He kept saying how grateful he was. I enjoyed it being only the two of us. I was trying to think of ways to get him to ask me out but it never worked. I was frustrated. I don’t usually have to try too hard; but Adrian was proving a hard nut to crack. I needed a plan, or a stroke of luck.
On the third morning, Adrian was late. He had worked up a hell of a sweat and came in dripping. It gave me an instant rush. I couldn’t stop imagining him naked and sweating after sex. He hung his bike up on the rack. His muscles went all taught from his calves to his shoulders as he reached up. His bum was tight as rock in his shorts. I could feel the temperature between my legs rising. He came over to the bar and apologised.
“I was working late and overslept” he wiped the sweat off his forehead with his arm.
“I had to push to make up the time.” The sweat still dripped off him,
“Hell, I’m sweating like crazy,” he was breathing hard still.
“Don’t worry” I said looking him up and down. The sight of him all sweaty had me going.
“You aren’t that late,” I said.
“It’s only just gone six.” He called me sweet and leant over the counter to peck me on the cheek. It was unexpected,
“You don’t mind do you?” he asked.
I had his coffee ready and waiting for him, keeping it hot under the counter. I had my hand on it and could feel its heat through the corrugated cardboard sleeve. Then I had a thought,
“No, not at all” I left his coffee behind the counter before he saw it was ready. I had a plan.
“Look” I said,
“To save you time, why don’t you go and get showered and I’ll bring your coffee in to you.”
“You would? I mean, you don’t mind?” Are you kidding? My mind screamed.
“No, just make sure you’re decent when I knock.”
“Ah okay. You sure, yeah, you won’t get in trouble for coming into the men’s changing rooms?”
“Well, if you don’t tell, who’s to know?”
“Okay then.”
He walked off towards the changing rooms. I brought his coffee out from under the counter as he opened the door to the changing rooms and went in. Now I thought to myself, it’s all down to the timing.
I walked to the changing room door, thinking about what Adrian was doing behind it. I chanted slowly, walk to the locker, open the locker; I heard the sound of a metallic clang from behind the changing room door. Top off, shoes off; clang, clang; they hit the inside of the locker. Now, I thought; shorts down, towel over shoulder and....
I opened the door to the changing room and walked in. Adrian was standing there with his towel wrapped around his waist. Damn my timing was off.
“Oh Christ. I didn’t. God I’m sorry. Did you knock. I didn’t hear” I stood there with his tall, skinny latte in my hands, piping hot and ready to go.
“You know, I have always wanted to know what it looked like in here” I let my accent go thick. Men love it when I talk in a heavy Russian accent. I don’t know why, but it sends them crazy. I call it my Bond Girl voice. Judging by the towel, it was having the desired result. He tried to cover himself.
“Oh hell please, just put the coffee down, I didn’t realise you’d be so quick.”
“Don’t worry,” I said,
“I’m a fast worker. The coffee will keep” I eyed him up and down
“But I won’t.”
“Excuse me?”
I walked over to him in my best long legged Russian, put down his skinny latte and stood right in front of him. I could feel the heat blasting off him like he was a furnace. A vein throbbed in his neck. He was damn lucky I wasn’t Transylvanian or I would have bitten his head clean off. A drip of sweat beaded at his temple and ran down his face and then other little beads of perspiration began breaking out all over him. I ran my fingers over the sheen of his body. He was still trying to cover himself with the towel. I was glad to see the towel wasn’t adequate for the job.
“It is hot in here no?” I said
“Ah yeah.”
“Then perhaps I should take these off.” I stood legs slightly apart in front of him. I unbuttoned my blouse taking my time over each button and slipped my blouse off. I have nice breasts; I’m proud of them and men like them because they are small and perky. My nipples were stiff with anticip
ation. He couldn’t take his eyes off them. I undid the button to my trousers and took the zip between my thumb and index finger and slowly slid it down one tooth of the fastener at a time and then peeled down my trousers to reveal my panties. I had purposely put on my high heels instead of my work flats. I wanted to make an impression and I’m sure I managed it.
I reached past him and twisted the knob of the shower to get the water running. The spray caught my arm and I leant forward to wipe it off on his towel. The coarseness of it tingled my skin and I got a whiff of his scent.
“I think you need shower” I said and ran my fingers over his chest, shoulders and back as I walked around him in my underwear and high heels. The steam from the shower was starting to rise and so I got into it. I held my head back and let the hot water splash over my body. I soaked my hair into one long wet plait pushing it back with my hands. My underwear went see-through as I let the water play over me. The shower jet was powerful and I stood back to let it hit my pussy through my knickers. I’m completely shaved down there and he could see everything through the fabric. He stood there watching every move I made.
Adrian had hung a bottle of shampoo in the shower so I poured a big creamy pool of it onto my hands and then soaped myself all over. The suds felt creamy and luxuriant against my body and I was getting myself all lathered up. I pushed my hand inside my panties and fingered my pussy as he watched. He was obviously enjoying watching me. It felt good, I was his private shower dancer. I looked at him. The look on his face had changed. I could tell he wanted me is I stepped forward out of the shower and grabbed the towel,
“I need your towel,” I said, and ripped it out of his hand.
He stood there with his beautiful cock pointing straight out at me, it twitched as the blood pumped through it making it shine red and purple in the steam. He had made up his mind and got into the shower and pushed me back under the water, kissing me as the water played over us. Our bodies slipped and slid together.
We stood facing each other. I looked down at his sex and ran my hands over his cock and balls lathering them up. His balls were tight up inside him which accentuated the length and girth of his cock. I couldn’t wait any longer and had to have him so I knelt down and took his cock in my mouth. It tasted soapy and the suds bubbled up at the corners of my mouth. It was a shame I didn’t have his hot sweaty cock straight after cycling, but I was sure I could arrange it the next time. He held his hand softly against my cheek keeping the hair away from my mouth and guiding my head forwards and backwards as I worked his cock with my lips. I had to change position a few times as it was difficult to kneel in my heels but I was definitely getting his approval by the way he was gasping. I let his cock slip out of my mouth and moved my face directly under his balls and licked them, his wet hair sticking to my face. I took him in my mouth again and held him behind his knees to let him move his cock in and out of my mouth by himself. My mouth slurped and pulled at his cock as my lips stretched over his head and down his shaft. He asked me to stand and pulled my panties to one side and moved his fingers inside me.
“I love you hairless” he whispered in my ear.
“I am glad you approve, now why don’t you give me what I need?”
We were both wet, soapy and horny as hell. I turned my back to him as he hugged me running his hands over my body and breasts and down to my hips. He pushed me forwards and as I leant over I rubbed my bum against his cock. He pulled my panties to one side and then pushed himself into me. I could feel him slipping into me with the water pummelling on my back. I pushed my hands up against the tiled wall and braced myself, pushing back against him as he fucked me. Luckily I’ve got long legs and I could reach the edge of the shower tray and get my feet in the corners. He had great leg muscles and though he must have cycled a long way he still had a good few miles in him. He pumped into me better than I had had for ages. I felt each thrust filling me completely, he sped up until he was taking me furiously. He rubbed my tummy with his hands and then let them slide around my back and held onto my hair pulling my head up. The feeling of being penetrated and having my head pulled back by my hair is guaranteed to send me over the edge and I came, bucking my hips back against him as he held them. I felt him shudder and could tell he was coming; boy, did he scream. I thought he was going to yell the place down. It took him a while to stop coming; he couldn’t have had sex in a while. I stepped away from him to let his softening cock slide out of my pussy. The shower hit him in the chest and he pushed his hair back over his face tightening his stomach and chest. He looked so good. I knelt down in front of him and took his cock in my mouth again and sucked what remained of his cum off him cupping his balls in my mouth. I must have taken all he had to give because his cock sagged. I was disappointed, but it was perhaps best I left, as it was getting late and other customers would be arriving soon. I took his towel and rubbed myself down in front of him.
“Here” I said,
“I think you will be needing this” and tossed it to him. I turned around, picked up my things and walked to the door,
“Don’t let your coffee go cold.” I said at the door and left him. I ran into the girls changing area and got dressed into my work outfit. I was barefoot, commando and back at the bar when he came out of the locker room in his suit ten minutes later. He came up to the bar,
“So” I said,
“Early mornings working out okay for you?”
“Yeah” he nodded.
“Any chance of a spicy topping on my skinny latte tomorrow?” he asked.
“I will see what I can do,” I said.
***
Anya told me she and Adrian tried every combination on the menu over the next few weeks and some combos the management hadn’t thought of. The cafe is doing great and she has been promoted to manager. The word got out that the cycle cafe was opening earlier and a whole new load of clients started coming in; sadly, their early mornings aren’t what they used to be. Anya promises me she still manages to get Adrian worked up into a sweat and when he comes to stay at her flat at the weekend, the first thing they do is have a shower. It’s costing her fortune in shower gel so I’m told.
Cass - Biker Chick
The first time I saw Cass was when she applied for the job as my secretary. I had never interviewed anyone before. I had always got what I was given. For a while I had the feeling, being a woman, I got what no-one else wanted. So I was determined to make my own choice this time.
Cass was the last applicant in a dwindling line of demure applicants who all studiously avoided looking at her; but you could see what they were thinking. Everything she wore was in “toos”. Her skirt was too short, her heels were too high and the colours of everything were too loud. Her skirt, as a friend of mine would say, was evidently “made out of mountaineering cloth”; it was constantly riding up. She teetered into my office pulling down the hem at the front of her skirt; then offered me the hand to shake,
“Charmed, I’m sure,” she said. I felt like I was interviewing Elisa Doolittle.
“God, them out there” she hoicked a thumb at the door,
“Need a fart or what?” She cackled, sat, crossed her legs and pulled the hem of the skirt down.
She was in all respects the antithesis of a sober legal secretary and I wondered what qualities she had that could suit her for the position. The other candidates had been okay, but I was looking for someone special. Someone who could handle tough demanding clients and not take any nonsense.
“Why did you leave your last position?” I asked, noting it had been as a PA to a friend of mine.
“Irreconcilable differences,” she said bluntly. I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.
“‘E told me to give you this,” she thrust a tatty envelope at me. It smelled strongly of tobacco.
The once sealed envelope had my name on it. I recognised the handwriting. The note said “If you don’t give this girl a job, y
ou will regret it”. So that was it then, on a sudden impulse, I found myself saying,
“You’re hired.”
“Oh shit, really?” Stand, pull, handshake.
Cass turned out to be brilliant. If she had one failing, it was her voice. Compared to her, a fishwife would sound like Katherine Jenkins. Right from the start, the other secretarial “ladies” gave her the cold shoulder. They had done the same to me. We were rebels together.
On the first morning she came in to work dressed exactly the same but in different colours. I learned later that her take on fashion was she had found what suited her, so why change. Who was I to argue. She bustled in to my office,
“Coffee, Darlin’?” I nodded.
“Biscuits?” I shook my head.
“Nah, probably best not eh” she looked me up and down, and tottered out with my mug.
I stood up and looked at myself in the glass doors of my cabinets. My reflection stared back at me disapprovingly. I had gained a few pounds. My suits had been getting progressively tighter. No one had said anything, not my friends, not my partner, no-one. Weight gain is similar to your partner having an affair. Everyone sees it, everyone knows it, but no-one tells you. Cass earned my respect right there. My friend had been right. She saw it, and told it as it was; ergo she was invaluable.
We got on like a house on fire and it was largely thanks to her that I got as far as I did in the next twelve months. Sadly, her wanderlust took over and she left to go travelling. Well, when I say travelling, it turned out to be a yearlong pub crawl around Ibiza.
