Coffee shops are the new bars. Everyone goes to them, everyone has a preference for their lattes, skinny or not, their cappuccinos, americanos or whatever takes their fancy. Decked out in a number of styles, from the dated to the modern and urban chic, these are a thriving business as the rest of the high street evolves from retail, retail, retail and nothing but.
Yet why would this be of interest?
To put it simply, because of the staff. Generally young, often attractive, usually warm and welcoming, a joy to behold and interact with. The only drawback is you have to drink coffee. Or tea. Or some herbal infusion of leaves and water. However, that applies to most of us and it's jolly nice to take meetings in such places as you get to meet these lovelies and, if it's your regular, on a frequent basis.
I go to one in particular. Not because its coffee is any better, not because its nearer, but because of one member of staff. Jo is your typical, early 20s bright young thing with an easy smile and a great manner. This place is right across the street from my office so convenient as anything and I started going there pretty much when we moved in.
Let me help paint a picture. Urban, bare brick walls, industrial, dark brown wooden and metal furniture, a bar and coffee machine. In the day, cool place for coffee, the evening alcohol and simple but good food. Need any more to visualise? Something tells me you want to know more about Jo.
I noticed her immediately. About 5'9'', blonde hair cut in a rough bob to just below her ears, no piercings and a sexy, rather than pretty face. This wasn't what I noticed first but it was a relief when I saw it. No, it was her ass. Not tiny, not this massive, disproportioned size that seems popular these days, but just right. Round and looked pretty firm. This sat atop what appeared to be a great pair of legs, fit and long. How did I reach this almost instant conclusion? Jeans that weren't painted on but fitted tight. Divine.
It wouldn't be fair to exclude her tits. Staring at her ass could be disguised as looking past for ideas during meetings, besides, she wouldn't notice. But her tits. To stare would be rude but it was nigh on impossible not to. I'd guess a 34C, bordering on D. High, perky and shapely. She didn't wear tight tops but she didn't need to. She also walked with a grace and a straight back that accentuated her athleticism. I was in lust. Typically clad in black jeans and a dark t-shirt, her body was there but not screaming for attention.
That changed when the summer arrived but thank the good Lord for sunglasses. Off went the jeans and on came denim skirts, cut to a couple of inches below her ass. Strappy tops augmented the look and the mercy of the sunnies allowed a slightly longer inspection.
This all sounds like I am a dirty old man just perving at someone looking good. It may be the truth but I wanted to give you a good idea of what I lusted after. Besides, what would ever happen? I was at least two decades older than her, not trendy, not cool and possibly the only saving grace was that I went there with my two colleagues who were both older and in worse shape. So I thought she talked to me out of preference and nothing more.
I used to go there about once every couple of weeks when she was working. Even if she didn't serve us, a smile and a hello was offered. We were regulars, it was only natural. Still, it was nice to watch her out of the corner of my eye. We had had a few brief chats when she'd served us, joking that we were the new regulars, that we should know each other's names, that they would know what we wanted, that we hoped we didn't put off other customers. My, how funny we thought we were.
To be honest, I didn't spend a lot of time thinking about her, just that when I went in for a coffee, she was on my mind.
Christmas came round and the incessant round of parties and fun. Our offices are in a trendy part of town so there was a lot of cheer going on around that time. Meetings in the afternoon could descend into more and often we'd find ourselves in bars around the area, chatting up clients or being feted by suppliers. Good times and all part of doing business.
One night we'd actually decided to stay out as a senior team and ended up in a few places around the office. Feeling good and wandering nearby, we knew there was but one or two drinks left before it was time to go home and try and sleep enough. As luck would have it, we noticed her place was open so we popped in. The owner came over, full of smiles and cheer and told us it was their Christmas party, it was closed but since we were such regulars we were welcome to stay for a drink or two. We smiled, thanked him and ordered.
Inevitably we got chatting to the staff. We knew them by face and little more so we found out lots as they were happy with booze. I could see Jo there, just laughing and chatting to others and I wanted to chat to her. I found myself in a long chat with one of the staff about his holiday plans and then suddenly she was there, leaning on his shoulder, one ankle over the other, smiling quizzically and holding a glass with something swirling between the ice cubes.
She teased him about boring me with his stories and he laughed and said he needed another drink. He offered us, we looked at each other and just shook our heads. As he left, I started chatting to Jo, trying to find out more in a light manner. Her eyes didn't seem to leave me, even reflecting her drink as she raised it to her lips. I was enjoying it enormously and then a colleague came over, thankfully not too leeringly, and told us that the party was winding up and that they might go on to another place with the staff. We were welcome to join them and I seemed incapable of dragging my eyes away from Jo's face whilst pretending to listen.
