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“I–I'm close…” I say breathlessly, knowing damn well I got there way too fast. Where did he learn how to do this? I decide it doesn’t matter. Not right now.
“Say my name,” he says, stopping his fingers. He slowly pulls down my thong until it's past my ankles, leaving me completely bared to him. Passed his silhouette, a teenager is being stabbed in the movie. He stands up as the scene reaches its climax and the screaming teenager dies.
“Elijah,” I whisper his name, abiding by his command. I squirm, needing–craving–his touch. I watch as he pulls down his pants and his hard cock springs out in front of me. I gasp at the sight of him, forgetting how big he was in high school. He begins rubbing himself with one hand.
“Say it louder,” he growls, rubbing himself back and forth.
“Elijah,” I moan louder. He rubs me with his other hand, picking up where he left off, circling around the perfect spot with his thumb until I’m screaming his name. He groans and shakes as his swollen cock reaches climax at the same time I cum in his hand.
His hot sticky semen spews onto my legs and dribbles down my skin onto the chair. He arches his back in pleasure, the veins in his neck bulging. Through the flashing lights of the screen, I can make out the smallvof his waistline. I swear I’ve never seen something more perfect in my whole life. The thudding next door has stopped but I don't care if they walk in. They’re the reason for this.
Elijah coaxes his sensitive penis until the last dribble of semen drips onto me. He stands up, using the chair for balance and grabs the blanket from the cabinet to wipe himself off and the chair. We’re both silent as we pull up our pants before he takes the cum-soaked blanket out of the room.
I meander back to my room, knowing that Elijah has done the same. The office door opens and closes behind me as I close the door to my room, slipping into my pajamas and snuggling under my heavy duvet for the night. A couple hours later, Olive sneaks in and cuddles up next to me in bed. I'm too tired to question about her rowdy night or where she’s been after her threesome the past few hours.
When I wake up groggy for another shift at Sacred Grounds, Olive is still passed out face-first in my covers. My head is pounding, so I pop a couple Advil and put on my outfit for work. I decide I’m taking my car today and sneak out of the house, driving to work.
I'm actually thankful that I won't have to deal with the aftermath of last night this morning. Work is a good excuse to get away while they work through the awkwardness. I also get my check today.
Walking into the cozy shop, I turn on the Edison bulbs that hang from the lofted exposed ceilings. I change the sign from closed to open and prep the counter for the early bird Americanos. The machines and floor are an absolute mess. I should have come in earlier to clean. Eve rushes in through the door, sweat dripping down her face despite it being a chilly 40 degrees outside.
“I fired the other hire last night, which means it's just us for the weekend shift,” she groans, putting her bag behind the counter and changing into her apron.
“I'm sorry to hear that,” I say, wiping down the counters.
The first customer to walk in is an older gentleman I recognize who always gets a flat white. I start his drink before he reaches the counter, greeting him when he does.
After him, the line sporadically grows until its mid-morning, and I'm hustling like I get paid more than minimum.
Stephanie walks in wearing the same outfit as last night. A bright pink parka and white skinny jeans. She approaches the counter, her hair somehow amazingly sleek. Maybe she showered in my room. There's no way she can look so good so effortlessly.
“Hey, Steph,” I say. “What can I get you?”
She rests her hands on the counter and sighs dramatically. “I need something strong. This headache is killing me.”
“Try the Driller!” Eve shouts from behind.
“What the hell is a Driller?” Stephanie asks, fixing a strand of hair caught on her lip.
“Double shot espresso mocha blend,” I say.
“Sounds great.” She smiles as she pulls out her wallet.
“That’s $7.75,” I say. She pays with a surprised look.
“Not cheap,” she huffs, handing me the card. I swipe it and ignore the tip option, knowing she doesn't have much money despite her looks.
Eve meets her at the opposite counter with her blended drink as I take the next dozen orders. She takes the prep as I walk around sweeping and throwing away single-use cups. I should suggest a rewards program for reusable cups. Put my degree into action.
Stephanie sits alone in the back corner with her drink, scrolling through her phone. I sit down next to her during my break as the shop hits a loll.
“So, how was last night?” I ask quietly as Eve continues to scrub the floors in the back.
Stephanie’s brown eyes widen, and she smiles. “Wonderful,” she exhales. “Fucking wonderful.”
“I heard all of it,” I say, biting back my laugh. Last night, I thought it was so scandalous but this morning it’s kind of funny.
She giggles and throws her hair back. “Levi’s a screamer,” she says with confidence.
