No fucking way.
“No, no, no!” Lila shoves at my shoulders, hard.
“Ben,” she whispers, panicked. “You have to go!”
The fuck I do.
I grip the counter, bracing myself, my body still humming from her, from what just happened.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Lila scrambles off the counter like she’s just woken up from a bad dream.
Like she didn’t just fall apart in my hands.
Like she isn’t still fucking trembling from me.
She adjusts her dress, running a shaking hand through her hair as she rushes to the cafe’s security monitor mounted near the back. I barely register what’s happening because my blood is still in my cock, my body still wired from her, my fingers still fucking coated in her.
But then, she goes pale.
“Shit,” she hisses under her breath.
I push off the counter, rolling my shoulders back. “Who the hell is it?”
She doesn’t answer, just angles the screen toward me.
Mrs Herbert.
The name alone makes something twist in my chest.
The old woman stands outside, peering through the glass door, her purse clutched in front of her. My old neighbour from when I used to live here. Of all people.
Lila whirls toward me, eyes wild. “Stay in the back and don’t come out!”
I stare at her. She’s serious.
“You’re joking.”
Her expression hardens. “Ben, I swear to God—”
I grit my teeth, jaw flexing. I should tell her no. Should tell her I don’t hide from anyone.
But then I see it.
The sheer panic in her face.
Not just about getting caught. Something else. Something deeper and that’s how I find myself hiding in the back of the cafe like some teenager, barely keeping my shit together.
I hear the front bell chime as Lila unlocks it.
“Oh, Mrs Herbert,” she says, voice still slightly breathless. “What are you doing here so late?”
The old woman sighs, stepping inside. “I couldn’t sleep, dear. Kept thinking about this awful development proposal.” Her voice wavers. “I wanted to make sure I signed the petition before it’s too late.”
Silence.
Then Lila murmurs, “That’s very kind of you.”
