Anthony was working the counter when she came in. She was precisely the reason he'd opened his little shop in this neighborhood. She was well-dressed in a cream colored blouse that looked like silk and a pencil thin grey skirt. She carried a briefcase, but more importantly, she carried an air of professionalism and money. This neighborhood could afford to splurge on the best gelato in town.
He watched her approach the counter on mile high thin heels and only glanced away at the shout from the back corner of the shop. His nephew Carlo and his friends were playing a game on one of the laptops Anthony had added for customer convenience. Carlo was supposed to be working the counter, but with business slow like today, he didn't really need Carlo and the kids were less of a bother with Carlo.
Anthony turned his attention back to the woman, taking a moment to appreciate the sleek style of her dark brown hair, drawn up to a tight swirl and secured with pins that sparkled of diamonds. Her blouse was high at the neck, but clung to full breasts, draping over her sweet curves until it tucked in at her waist. She had set the case down and her arms crossed at her chest, unconsciously plumping her breasts. She was biting her lower lip, her wide brown eyes focused on the flavors in his cold box. He felt a stirring at the picture she made - especially her full red lip caught in her perfect white teeth - and ordered his cock down. Customer, he reminded it sternly, buying gelato. But the concentration on her face had him imagining her kneeling before him with an identical look just before she slid her hands over his cock.
Back to work, he ordered himself. She hadn't moved, so Anthony softly cleared his throat. She glanced up and gave a hesitant smile. "So many to choose from," she said, her voice lightly accented with something European.
Anthony returned the smile. The selection was something he prided himself on. "We have twelve flavors today," he said, waving a hand along the counter, "Can I offer you a taste?"
"Oh, yes, that would be wonderful," she answered, hesitating again before pointing a long elegant finger at the third flavor. "This says saffron," she said, "I'm curious. It's a beautiful color, but I've never had saffron unless it was savory."
Anthony reached for one of the mini spoons and opened the case. He took a small sample and lifted it to offer it to her. She took it and gave a small lick. Anthony focused in on her lips, her tongue darting out, and held his breath as she smiled and slid the small spoon between her lips with a little sound of pleasure. She pulled the spoon out slowly, swirling her tongue over the tiny bowl, her eyes on his. His groin tightened as he imagined feeding her gelato naked. "Oh, that's divine," she said, "Can I have one more taste?"
"Absolutely," he answered, his wide smile masking the ache below his belt. She could have as many as she wanted if she'd just lick that spoon like that again.
"I have a weakness for chocolate," she confessed, her hand waving a little, telling him she normal spoke with gestures. He could appreciate that - his mama was Italian and you often had to duck when she was worked up. "This chocolate looks rich, but it says cinnamon as well..."
Anthony reached in to get a sample. "I think you'll find it's a good combination," he said, offering another small spoon. She used her tongue more this time, not slipping the spoon into her mouth, and he visualized that tongue licking his bare skin, training down to his...God, he had to stop this or he'd go mad, he thought.
"Mmmm," she murmured, her eyes closing in pleasure. Anthony stepped closer to the counter to disguise the growing bulge in his slacks. "Oh, that is a good combination," she sighed. She bit her bottom lip again and he had to fight a groan.
"Any more tastes," he asked.
"No...," her voice seemed breathier, lighter, "I think I'd like a scoop of the chocolate cinnamon." She looked up at him, "In a cone." He hardened at the thought of her licking a cone, but moved to put her order together. Just as he handed the cone over the counter, the teenagers ran by on their way out of the shop. One jostled her arm, another bumped her, and suddenly the gelato fell onto her blouse and then the floor.
"Oh no..." They both said it at the same time. Anthony was torn between embarrassment at the accident and anger at the teens. He turned and pointed at Carlo, who stood still and pale, obviously knowing he was going to take the brunt of the punishment. "Work the counter," Anthony ordered, "No more games."
As Carlo hustled behind the counter, Anthony came out to the front. "Let me clean this up," he said, taking her arm gently, "Please send me the cleaning bill. Or, better yet, please purchase a new one and send that bill as well."
"No, no, it was an accident," she answered, staring down at the dark stain. Her accent deepened with her distress. She looked up at him. "If you have some place I could wash up," she started.
"Yes, sure, anything," he answered, then forced himself not to babble, "Please, let me show you into the kitchen. I'll get a mop and clean this up..." He waited a moment while she picked up her briefcase, then guided her around the end of the counter and through the door to the kitchen. She looked around in interest and set her case on the spotless metal table next to the sink. "I'll be right back," he said, grabbing the mop and bucket from beside the door.
Anthony glared at Carlo as he cleaned. Carlo was busy wiping imaginary spots from the counter, wishing he was invisible. "Listen," Anthony started.
