Foggy's was a local coffee shop that tried to buck the trend of overpriced coffee stop franchises for a more friendly feel. It had pictures of local bridges and rivers, had names like “big” and “medium” for sizes, and sported a massive colored chalk menu that changed daily.
Naturally, it barely made ends meet compared to the Bucks down the street connected to the big box store, but that also meant that John didn't have to wait in line to get his morning tea.
He thumbed through his book as he automatically headed down the stairs from his apartment and took a right toward the coffee stop. Even though it had been only three months since he lost the book, he had already found two points that he had accidentally edited out of his latest thesis draft. With a groan, he dog-eared the page.
So focused on his work, he only had a brief flash of yellow before he rammed into a construction barrier. The heavy plastic jammed him in the gut and he almost fell over it into a gaping hole where the sidewalk used to be.
Someone nearby laughed.
Blushing hotly, he looked up to see that the walk had been torn up down the entire length of the block. The debris and construction also blocked every store front: the coffee shop, a dry cleaner, a cash-checking business, and a place that sold flannel of some variety.
John dreaded the idea of going to Bucks for tea. He walked around the construction and onto the street between the curb and parked cars until he found a narrow strip of piled up dirt that made a trail leading to Foggy's. A small sign said “We're Open!” but there was no chance anyone would see it with some asshole with a massive SUV parked in front of it.
But, the lure of cheap tea called to him and Foggy's was along the way to work. He threaded his way across the path, tested the door to make sure it was open, and then headed inside.
Foggy's looked like every other coffee store in America. But, this one had a cozy feel to it with a glass counter with muffins underneath. The menu for the day had a “Construction Sale!” as a nod but the prices were the same as they were every other day.
Behind the counter was a willowy beauty with curly red hair. His eyes flickered automatically to the swell of her breasts underneath the blue apron. Helpfully, right above the bump of her nipple tenting the fabric was her name tag: Olivia.
“Good morning, how may I help you?” asked Olivia. She said the same thing every morning since she started working a few weeks earlier. She wore a blue mask that matched her apron. The mask hid her lips but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. He was pretty sure serving coffee was not her first choice in life.
“Good morning. I'd like a large English Breakfast and… one of those blueberry muffins.”
“Sugar… and milk?” She held up a finger as she made a show of remembering him.
He smiled at her, though it was hidden by the mask. “I'm feeling special today, how about cream instead.”
Unresponsive to his smile, she went about making his breakfast. He tried not to stare at her, but there was little else of interest in the coffee shop than watching her firm ass in her black slacks.
It had been a long time since John had broken up with his only girlfriend. A long time and a different side of the ocean. But that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the woman in front him. Though he knew that she no doubt had many people hitting on her constantly and didn't want to be a bother; he wasn't in the mood for rejection either.
Olivia set down his tea before bending over to fetch his muffin from the cabinet.
He forced himself to look at the pictures on the wall instead of leering at her. Part of him wondered what her breasts would look like underneath her apron; actually, he'd like to see her wearing nothing but the apron. His dick pulsed and he tore his thoughts away while wishing he had finished wanking before leaving his apartment.
“Here you go, that will be $5.23.”
He smiled at her as he paid.
She didn't respond.
With a quiet sigh behind his mask, he headed to the school and his meeting with the professor.