I stole a quick glance at my watch. Just one minute left on my shift -- thankfully. Barista-ing for eight hours straight was not the most pleasant way to spend a Saturday, but as a college freshman, it had to be done -- I had limited hours available during the week because of classes and studying.
A female customer entered. I put on my best customer-service face. "May I help you?"
"Coffee. Black. Grande."
I entered the data into the register. "May I have a name for the order?"
"Marissa."
She paid, I poured her coffee and put a lid on the cup, and she took it. I went to the back to clock out, and one minute later, having thrown my light jacket on over my uniform shirt, I emerged into the main body of the store, moving slow enough that a snail could pass me. My legs felt like Jell-O. And I still had a 15 minute walk back to my dorm room.
This wouldn't do. I needed to let my legs recover. I collapsed into a chair and my eyes were drawn back to Marissa. She was the only customer right now. She was actually very pretty. She was standing up to drink her coffee, so I could see all of her. Blue hair with purple streaks, just past shoulder length. Purple button down shirt exposing just a hint of cleavage. Large chest, as near as I could determine. Her legs looked thick and strong, and her jeans showed off her curves. A nice, big, round rear in particular.
I'd never been attracted to large women, but I was definitely going to have to make an exception.
"It's not polite to stare."
I returned my focus to my external environment. Marissa was speaking to me.
"I'm sorry. Was I spacing out?"
"Spacing out, huh? You looked more like you were checking me out."
I blushed. Busted.
"I know I'm attractive. You're not the first person to be captivated by me and you won't be the last."
I blushed more deeply.
"I apologize. What can I do to make it up to you?"
"You can start by telling me your name. You already know mine."
"I'm Greg."
"You're a student at the college, right?"
Marissa was very perceptive.
"I am."
"Well then, Greg, you can meet me at the Cold Stone two blocks from the campus at noon tomorrow and buy me an ice cream. And you can try not to stare at me."
I wearily got to my feet. "Sounds good, Marissa. Thank you for being forgiving."
"One mistake is forgivable. Just don't make it into a pattern."
"Good advice. See you tomorrow at noon."
I arrived at the Cold Stone at 11:58 a.m. the next day, wondering if Marissa would actually show up. One minute later, a large hand descended on my shoulder. I looked up and saw Marissa's smiling face looking down at me.
I somehow hadn't noticed yesterday that she was about six-foot-one, a good five inches taller than me. I must have been even more exhausted after my shift than I thought.
"Hello again, Greg."
"Hi, Marissa."
"Shall we?"
Marissa kept her hand on my shoulder as we proceeded to the counter. We were the only customers in the place at the moment.
"It gets a lot busier at the end of lunch hour," explained the worker. "Most people have ice cream for dessert, not as a main course."
Marissa placed her order, then I placed mine (why not -- I was here, may as well) and I paid for both. We sat down at a table, facing each other.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot," I said. "But I'm very happy you forgave that. You're very pleasant company."
Marissa laughed. "This isn't supposed to be a date, Greg."
"Maybe it should be."
"Oh, really? Hope really does spring eternal in the male gonad."
"Sex is the farthest thing from my mind."
"So you're asking to actually court me, not just take me to bed."
"Yes."
"I know about you. You're a student at the college who works as a barista part time to make some spending money. And what are you studying?"
"I am aiming for a degree in biology."
"So you want to be a scientist. Very good. Now, what do you want to know about me?"
"What do you do for a living?"
"I host a show on the local radio station and I also do Podcasts."
"What sort of show and casts?"
"I generally talk about issues affecting women and how men can be better than they are."
"Better in what way?"
"More respectful of women, treat them like people instead of objects, listen when women speak, things like that. You're doing a good job of that so far, by the way."
I blushed again, but this time it was not one of shame.
"So, if I were to offer to take you on dates, you want me to get your input on things like where we go."
"Correct. You don't just decide: you can make suggestions, but we should come to a mutual agreement."