Dear Virginity

- Three -

That next morning, I wake up quarter to five in the morning with slobber on my pillow, my body sweaty from being under the hot covers with the climatic weather.

I'm in my undies with one of my old t shirts white enough you can see my neon bra through, as I'm just waking out of bed. Mali's lapping his tongue on my face with his slobber late enough for me to notice that it was getting in my mouth.

"Ew...Mali..I'm awake." My wet face was enough for me to force myself out of bed, half awake to fall boob first onto the wooden tile floor.

I slightly clutch at them, feeling them writhing in ache as I pick myself up from possible boob parkour happening by accident. I have an appointment at Jack o' Beans, the coffee place a corner away from where we stay at and maybe I could be closer to that sweet Caramel Mocha Latte. I could feel the brewed taste nostalgic to my tastebuds as I step into the bathroom to work my etiquette.

My dark face is smudgy in the mirror but the eye boogers and dried smear of slob were like big germ monsters splattering in my glance. I slightly grimace before I hop in the shower, dramatically scrubbing under my arms, my privacy and around my whole body until the whole bathroom was perfumed of my aroma and I could smell it past my nose hairs.

I dry myself off into one of my sweaters and a blouse to have its collar neck over my shirt, while I fit into a pair of blue jeans I casually wear almost each day. My hair naturally flows down at my shoulder blades, the bang on my forehead cutting away from the rest of my hair flipped behind my shoulders. I stuck in a pair of earrings and smack my lips in a thin rosewood colored lipstick.

I do a 360 in the mirror, making sure each of me could be possibly content towards presenting myself. I leave the bathroom, seeing that the house was completely quiet, only ear to morning birds tweeting in the distance. I see that they've left a note on the wooden table near where the fruit bowl was sitting.

From your dear elders,
Please keep the house clean while we're gone, we know you teenagers be up to no good here and there, so if that is, we'll cut our trip shorter. Good luck at your job interview, mama will always be checking in with her morning coffee, just tell her the news. We know you're soon to get your bachelor's degree, so we'll be coming home with a surprise gift when we get back.
Sincerely, your parents ~

I always abided to my parents' rule, whether it was my with my night curfew or keeping track of cleaning, I wasn't the type to stay out late or go out to night clubs, although there has to be times when you can just kick back with your friends and chill for the moment. I took that sincerely with me out the door, sliding into my brown oxfords while I'm on my way out the house preparing myself with inhales and exhales to possibly foresee my winning in the odds of achieving my first job.

I walk into the cafe, mesmerized by the sweet coffee smell lingering into my nostrils to flirt with my stomach and my dry throat. But I keep my chin high, not too perky enough for someone to look up my nose, but just well enough to keep my presence imperative. I see a guy working behind the bar to the coffee machines. Hm, I've never seen him before, but I knew these places were always hiring to be well enough that people were changing shifts or just grew too old for the job.

"Excuse me sir," I walk up to the counter, almost surprised by the ecstasy of his green eyes. "U-Um, do you know where they keep people for job interviews?"
"Oh yes." He has glasses, while his voice almost matches with his muscular arms ornamental to his black hair slightly coiffed, tiding over itself in waves at the top of his head. He's robust and it's projected in his sly casualty.
"It's just that way," he points. "Where you see the door 'only for staff', people should be waiting there and it'll guide you to your destination."
"Thank you."

I don't know where the feeling came from, but I suddenly felt high strung; my heart's beating ultimately fast at its normal pulse while I feel sweat almost dewing at my back. It was strange, and I didn't even have my interview yet. My heart was skipping beats while I followed to the point of his direction, following down a hall with the brown checkered floors and the mahogany walls.

It was near the bathrooms, a full line of people just waiting at the guest door as I find one open seat. It was almost an hour when I was the second person to last to reach the room, my hands already clinging to each other as if something had remote me to a certain posture.

I walk in, the smell of fresh honey and vanilla scenting through the office while a middle aged lady sat in front of me, bold in a clean navy suit, her blonde hair perfectly straightened and her blue eyes staring directly at me. I refuse myself to be intimidated by her, premeditated to my appropriate posture in giving her a well description of myself.

"Hello," I say. "My name is Felicity Boris at your service hoping to work for you at Jack o' Beans."
She didn't say anything, except jot a few things down in red pen before perching her red candy lips up at me again. I didn't stop though.
"I am 19, student at Forest Tree University. I find myself well organized with keeping my work done and working under pressure when it comes to getting the job done at most. I've gone here a lot, so I have a good memorization in coffee drinks. I make smoothies at home, so I have a touch with mixing ingredients in blenders, and I'm a pretty fast learner if that's any relief for you....and yeah."

She had just been taking notes time from time throughout my words and I couldn't help but feel more anxious.

"Ok, Felicity, we'll give you a call if we find you any interesting or else, interviews are next summer."

I walk out of her office, slightly relieved from being done with the moment but also nervous for if they may call or not. I walk back to the cafe room, where people are possibly working on reports on their computers, chatting with their friends, and reading a book in the same wood and metal table rounding in the coffee shop.

I see the same guy double tasking his hands in his station while there wasn't any line inside of the black separators. For some reason, his voice was reverberating in my ear drums, leaving me in some type of fantasy that attracted towards his lovely facial features lying for some random coffee guy.

"Sir?" I step up to him, the line empty and my stomach growling.
"Yes?"
"May I take a coffee?"