After a long day of running errands in the humid Georgia heat, you had one last stop to make before heading home. You pulled into the parking lot of Target, dreading having to get out of your pleasantly cool car. The heat index had to have been well over 100 degrees, and let's be honest, heat like that takes a lot out of an old man like you. Reluctantly, you turn the ignition off and pop the car door open. Instantly, the heat hits your face, causing your cheeks to flush a deep shade of blood red.
As the automatic doors open, you feel a rush of cool air over your whole body, giving you goosebumps and sending a pleasurable shiver rushing down your spine.
I wish they had just kept the old cafe here that they used to have instead of adding another damn Starbucks to this town. I hate coffee. Shit's way to god damn overpriced there anyways. I wouldn't drink that shit if my bastard life depended on it, you think to yourself, making no attempt to keep your eyes from rolling.
Glancing over to survey the Starbucks lobby so you can quietly judge the people brainwashed by the popularity of the communist coffee company, you stop dead in your tracks. The lobby is empty, except for one of the baristas, who is bending over, picking up the straw papers and napkins that people have let fall to the floor and left. Watching her, unable to peel your eyes away, you trace the shape of her booty with your eyes, committing it to memory.
Don't see a nice ass like that everyday.
She stands up with a heavy sigh, letting out a small, frustrated "ugh" as she composes herself. Even though she's wearing a hat, you can see her beautiful chocolate brown curls, secured tightly in a ponytail pulled through the back of her hat, cascading down her neck and resting at the top of her shoulders.
You feel a twitch in your shorts, becoming consciously aware of your heartbeat, drumming loudly in your ears. Fuck! Why'd she have to have curls?!
The barista notices you standing there and smiles at you. "Can I help you with anything?" she asks as she comes back around the counter. As she walks toward you, you try not to be obvious as you admire her legs and her chest. The way her apron sits perfectly perched atop her breasts, which are the perfect size for suckling on. The way her jeans hug every curve of her long, strong legs and her shapely ass.
"My niece just wanted me to see if y'all had something," you stammer, searching for any excuse to linger for just a moment longer. "Something about color-changing cups..."
The barista is unable to control the eye roll. "I'm sorry," she says with true sincerity, surprising considering the extreme eye roll that happened only a split second before. "We're sold out, and we probably won't get any more this summer."
You nod. "That's okay. I just told her I'd ask."
The barista smiles at you again. You look for a nametag, but she doesn't have one on. "Can I make you a drink?" she asks, bringing your eyes back up to hers.
"Naw, I hate coffee."
"We have other drinks besides coffee," she retorts with sass. "It's hot outside. Heck, it's hot in here. Water is free if you want some."
She's right. She's hot... No! It's hot. You shake your head a little, trying to keep your mind from drifting. The barista turns and begins to talk back behind the counter. "I'll be here til 5 if you change your mind," she flaunts.
Is she flirting with me? Surely not. Although... she must be a little actress, pulling off that sincere apology when I know she felt like screaming.
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