I’m sitting at a bar table in a cozy little breakfast nook. There is a row of bar stools deck out alongside, upholstered in chenille fabric with a light mint green ground and multicolored polka dots. A couple of Claude Monet prints adorned the light blue painted walls. It feels warm and cheery in here.
Servers in casual but smart matching garb are wiping down surfaces. There’s a queue of customers behind the glass-fronted counter, where an array of doughnuts and pastries line up neatly. I hear chattering between friends, an occasional laughter escapes from a sugar-stained mouth. A man mutters something to his chums at an adjacent table. They look outside. I trace their line of sight to a jogger wearing a workout mask looking like a bad Hannibal Lecter knock-off. I wonder if wearing this monstrosity in public is worth the potential health benefits. But who cares.
Every now and again, a potential customer stands at the entrance, eyeballs the daily specials on a chalk board, then spans the premises of the cafe. Today’s special: Mango Pomelo Peach smoothie. The bell tinkles welcomingly when the patron pushes the door open and strolls in. Or stay schtum when they walk away.
A young brunette sits in front of me. Her soft lips stretch into a smile. I wink back at her. She’s cute. You can ask anyone here. A pair of Chanel sunnies keeps her hair in place, leaving the rest of her soft curls falling to her shoulders. Her clothing isn’t overly fashionable, yet she looks feminine and sexy in her light-blue striped summer wrap dress with a bias cut hem. And I love the way she gathers her sleeves slightly below her elbows, loose and floaty.
She brings her iPhone up to her eyes of liquid amber. Her other hand reaches out to pull me closer. I can see some letters engraved on the back of her phone. Annabel. A name canonized by Edgar Allen Poe in his poem. A name which alludes to ‘beautiful’.
A shutter sound accompanies her snapping of my photograph. I hope I look handsome.
I continue to savor her good looks, wishing that I could brush my hand against her perfectly shaped cheekbones. But I can’t. I feel the juices within me swirl as I surrender to the torture of watching her without being able to touch.
The bell tinkles again. Not a new customer this time. Instead, a well-fed couple with all smiles exits out the cafe and heads to their car.
I take a deep breath. My skin now begins glowing orange as it tingles in a frenzy of static. I feel Annabel’s fingers caressing me down south, stroking in circular motions. Already I am wet in places; she’s my goddess, my goddess with divine fingertips that warm my very soul.
Then all at once, she slides her mouth down and starts sucking me. I couldn’t move even if I tried. All I see is the lightened eyes on her gorgeous face. She pauses and looks up, smacking her lips with satisfaction. In seconds, she’s back at it again, sucking even longer this time.
I let out a huge load.
Dammit. If only I’m not a glass of Mango Pomelo Peach Smoothie.
