"I've stared at you enough, haven't I? But you, your body, it makes me want to do all kinds of sinful things to you. Before long, I imagine us going at it like bunnies in the storage room, but I control myself. Good things come with time, after all...
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"I warned myself that I shouldn't play with fire. But I can tell that I'll do it one more time."
~C.P.
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Sunlight streams in through the cafe windows, catching the dust dancing in mid-air. Brushing the sky in a perfect blend of ivory and cream, clouds stroll by aimlessly as they look down on the people below. It's a perfect summer day, the wind blowing just enough to not die of a heat stroke, but hot enough to bring in the customers clamoring for an iced tea without lifting a finger.
The doorbell chimes, and I look up from the shelf I'm restocking to meet your eyes.
Oh. My. What have we here? Few turn to stare when you come in, but once they do, they are enamored by your aura, and admittedly, I along with them.
Your lips are full and glossy, tinted rouge to add a little flair to your look. Your tank top clings to your chest as if its life depends on it, and your jeans are tight enough to show off the ass you know you have. Periwinkle hair pulled into a messy bun screams notice me without being too shameless about it. You make sure to acknowledge everyone you happen to make eye contact with a smile.
You like the attention, don't you? Of course, not the sticky stare of a rude passerby, but perhaps the gaze of a handsome stranger on the subway, or an unsuspecting cafe worker just about to get off his shift for the day.
You look around for a bit more, taking your time to browse our collection of lightly roasted coffee beans and green tea extract alike. After you've looked to your heart's desire, you approach the counter like a dream, and in that moment, I forget how to breathe.
Art in the flesh, a painter's magnum opus. Da Vinci would weep at the sight of your ivory skin.
Your flats stop in front of my frozen form.
"How may I help you?" I ask slowly, regaining some of my composure. You don't even know the effect you have on me, with your flowery perfume and wide eyes.
"Yes, you can, actually. Is it true you guys make the best tea in town?" you say as you push your hair back.
"Depends on who you ask. In my humble opinion? Absolutely. Our friendly competitor's at Starbucks? Maybe not." You laugh, and it is the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. Like a thousand tinkling bells tolling in the wind, or an enchanted waterfall bubbling in a stream of its own making.
"I'd take the tea here over Starbuck's any day. You guys have a nice vibe going on." I nod in agreement; with our mismatched couches and Instagrammable mugs from World Market, it's a popular destination for wannabe hipsters and locals alike.
