By Tom Collins and Jushorny
*Joel *
Coffee. I adore it. The rich fragrance that fills the air as it brews. The intense, bitter nuttiness of a fresh cup, and the way sweeteners only mellowed it. The cool creaminess as it flows over my tongue, making it tingle ever so slightly. The false, energetic boost as it hits the blood stream, making you feel like it might not be such a bad day after all. There really wasn't anything like it and nothing to dislike about it. I could drink it to the exclusion of all else but I become twitchy if I drink too much, so I'm forced to limit myself to two grande a day. I can't keep it in the house because if it were readily available I'd drink it, so I have to settle for buying a cup every morning on the way to work and a second one on the way home in the afternoon.
I'm not by any stretch of the imagination a connoisseur, but it can be very difficult to find a place that'll let you have your coffee exactly the way you like it if you're an anal son of a bitch like me. I had lucked out when I moved to this neighborhood a couple of months ago, and found a little mom and pop operation right down the block from my apartment building. The first morning I stepped up and asked if I could tell them exactly how I wanted my coffee, or if I had to order from the menu. The owner smiled and pointed to the store's name.
Espresso Yourself
is now my double stop of the day. After a couple of weeks of ordering the same thing they even began to anticipate my arrival and would begin mixing it up as soon as I stepped through the door.
The coffee isn't the only attraction. Many of the people in my building stop in for a cup of Joe on their way to work, but there was one man who caught my eye from day one. Every time I saw him, my stomach fluttered and my palms got damp. There doesn't seem to be any one thing in particular that I can pin down that attracts me to him. He's easy on the eyes, and looks wonderful in his suits, but it's not that. Perhaps it's the way he moves; it says to me that he's comfortable with himself, and I like that.
He always came in after me, while I 'm getting my coffee and some sort of pastry. Once I have my morning caffeine and sugar fix, I keep my head down and leave the store; but I linger outside, watching. When I would see him coming to the door, I'd hurry the half block to the subway entrance, so he wouldn't become suspicious. All the while, I'd berate myself for not staying and trying to talk to him. I've never been able to strike up a conversation with someone I'm attracted to, and wind up spending most of my time alone. I should be used to it, but I'm not, and don't think I ever will be. I hate being alone, but I can't bring myself to take the first step.
*Devlin*
I stood in my closet deciding which suit, shirt and tie to wear for the day. I was feeling more flirtatious than usual, and wanted to choose clothes that would catch a few eyes. It'd been a few months since Cathy and I ended our relationship, and since that time, my real estate career had received my full attention, to the detriment of my social life. Truthfully, I was feeling extremely randy and I already had my target selected. He'd be in for some nice eye candy today, I thought as I made my selections. I didn't normally pursue men; but this particular guy caught my attention. Or, maybe, it was the fact that it appeared that I had caught his attention. I knew he was attracted to me, so the pursuit would be quick and easy, perfect for what I was after.
Zipping up the pants to my recently purchased, solid black suit, I admired the fine tailoring job. The pants showed off both the front and back as well as accentuating my solid thighs, shaped through years of high school and college wrestling. I buttoned the thin white shirt over my sleeveless tee. The fit of well tailored clothing always boosts my self-confidence, making me feel as if I can accomplish anything. After adjusting my tie and sliding on some shoes, I grabbed the suit coat, slung it over my shoulder and headed to the elevator.
The walk to the coffee shop was disappointing at first; disappointing in that I had yet to see my intended target. The glances I was receiving as I made my way cheered me up quite nicely, though. I was pleased to see that my morning's wardrobe choices were meeting with such approval and I was all smiles by the time I hit the door of
Espresso Yourself
for my morning 'coffee of the day'.
And there he was. True to form, he was already in line for his morning caffeine fix. I spotted his tall frame and the distinctive fedora amidst the other early morning coffee junkies. It was the fedora that had first caught my attention...the style, not many men have the balls to wear one, and not many men can look as good as this guy in one.
When my turn came, I tried to hold back my devilish smirk as I ordered; receiving admiring glances from the lady behind the counter as well as feeling
his
eyes running over my body. I slung my suit coat over the other shoulder to offer him a nice clear shot of my profile. Giving the lady behind the counter a wink with my thank-you, I turned to see him avert his eyes. He always did that, never making eye contact. Maybe he was afraid I would think he was gay, maybe he was shy or maybe he was too much of a prude to admit he liked to look at me.
I wondered why he had never even said so much as a good morning. Enough time passed and glances traded, it was only natural for one to say something to the other. Not only did we see each other every morning here, but we see each other at the gym on occasion. Of course, I had to admit, I was equally at fault, as I hadn't said a word to him after all this time either. But, I wasn't the one lingering in a coffee shop just to stare at someone.
I headed over to the condiment counter to add cream to my coffee. Knowing his eyes would be taking in my backside, I deliberately slowed myself to give him a longer view than normal. I half shook my head realizing I was going to have to do something about my sad state of affairs – or lack of affairs. This little morning show for my mystery man was arousing me more than it should.
I turned and made my way towards the door, making sure that today I would pass by him before he made his quick escape. Once again, his eyes turned elsewhere as I approached, but I made sure I got close enough that he could smell the hint of cologne I wear. As I brushed by, I heard myself say, "Good morning." I wondered where that came from, as I opened the door to exit, but shrugged it off and headed down the street to the office.
*Joel *
I spent most of the morning at work too distracted to accomplish anything. Every time I would start something, I would suddenly hear his voice speaking to me, saying, "Good morning." I'd smell his musky cologne, and my head would start to swim again, the way it did in the coffee shop when he passed so close. An image of him would flash in my mind and my concentration would go right out the window. As I tried to read my emails, all I could think was that had to be a new suit because I'd never seen it before, and I couldn't believe that he would leave a suit that made him look that good hanging in the closet for two months.
An hour before lunch, my mind began doing more than replaying every move he'd made this morning. I imagined him taking my hand, pulling me along with him, outside and around the side of the building. My mind's eye lingered over the image of him turning me to face the wall of the alley, pushing my slacks over my hips, caressing my cheeks for a moment. I could hear his zipper go down, and the sound of rustling cloth as he exposed himself enough to press his hot, hard cock against my ass.
I actually shuddered in excitement when I imagined him pulling my hips away from the wall so that I had to lean over a little to brace myself against the bricks. He pulled my cheeks apart, his cock slipping into my crack, and my back arched as I pushed back against him, my fingers trying to dig into the mortar in the wall. The head of his dick rubbed in circles over my pucker, making me slick with his pre cum, and I actually felt it quiver and throb at the mere thought of this sexy stranger invading me.
When my secretary came in to ask what she should order for my lunch, I was hard as a rock under my desk, flushed, sweating mildly and nearly panting. She expressed concern, saying that I didn't look at all well. I lied through my teeth, and asked her to tell Howard, my boss, that I was ill and taking the rest of the day off.
I simply couldn't stay at work in this condition. It had been too long since I'd last had a lover and I couldn't stop the train of my thoughts. Not without masturbating, and there was no way I was going to do