Mack Zack
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August 2022 Story - Coffee Time (Ch. 4)
🕑 Added 2023-01-10 18:57:21 +0000 UTCBarbara didn’t work the weekends, and I didn’t have her number, so I was curious about what she thought about that Friday night. I did have her email, but it’s not like anyone uses that anymore to seriously start a chat.
I saw her again that following Monday. When she entered the Starbucks, she beelined to the cashier without saying hello to me. That struck me as odd, but she did look like she was in a hurry, and Morgan seemed to be pestering her about something.
I gave it a few minutes before walking up to her to order my usual.
She was so distracted that it took her a hot minute to realize she was serving me. When she did, she said in a breathless tone, “Oh hey you.” Then she went to finishing up someone else’s order before mine. Barbara kept her eyes low and didn’t seem to want to be distracted by me. I thought it was because she was very busy, and maybe Morgan was pushing her to not talk to anyone.
As usual, I stayed there writing until closing.
But unlike the times before, Barbara actually told me that I needed to leave.
I stayed in my seat staring at her, a little dumbfounded. She was picking up the chairs and putting them on the tables. When she saw me still sitting there, she said, “Yeah, gotta close up right away. Sorry.”
“Oh. Okay.”
That was it. No acknowledgement of our time at the bar, no follow-up. Nothing. She was treating me like a stranger.
I gulped hard. Maybe I said something wrong that night. I didn’t brush up against her, did I? If I did, it was an accident. I went through my head everything about that night trying to remember if something went wrong. It was my first time really asking someone out, so I became paranoid that I did everything I could possibly do wrong.
I closed my laptop, picked up my stuff, and turned to leave.
“Wait,” she said.
I turned around.
She was biting her lip and grimacing. “Errrr. Sorry. I’m not good at these things. The other night was fun but…I’m really embarrassed about…how it ended.” Her face turned red. “Like really embarrassed. I’m sorry. I don’t even remember most of what I said or did that night, and if it was anything weird please know that I’m sorry.”
“Nothing weird happened. You just kept talking about your job and how much you hated it, and how much your sister got on your nerves. You smoked a bit.” She put her hands to her face when I said that. I contemplated mentioning how she farted in front of me. But something held me back. Maybe that was too much. That would be my dirty little secret that only I remembered.
“I’m not used to people asking me out,” she said.
“What?” I was completely floored. This girl was everything. “Really?”
“Well, not that way I guess. I’m used to just guys hitting on me and then we have sex or something. College, you know? I never went on a date in high school, and in college there are no real ‘dates’ to speak of. I’ve actually quite often liked the idea of going on a date, and I was so nervous when you asked me out.” Then she stopped, widening her eyes. “Unless. Oh God. Was that not a date? Did you not ask me out? Oh God, I don’t know. See? I’m really bad at this.”
I just laughed. “I asked you out yeah. I don’t know if I would count it as a date. I just wanted to get to know you more.”
“Right. Well. What say we have a real date this time?”
“Sure.”
“Let’s do it the conventional way. The way ‘normal’ people do it. I know that sounds annoying but it’s something I always wanted to do. But maybe this doesn’t feel organic. Does it? Oh no. I ruined it, didn’t I?”
I could tell her thoughts were racing. She stood there almost shivering with the mop in her hands, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights.
“You didn’t ruin anything,” I said. “In a weird way…this does feel organic. How conventional do you want to go? Do you want me to pick you up?”
“Pick me up?” She processed this for a moment. “Oh! Pick me up. Duh. Uh. Well. Yes. That would be nice. I should tell you my address then.”
“And your number.”
“And my number!”
We exchanged these things by entering them in our phones. She chuckled. “In those old ‘80’s movies they always show the girl writing her number on the boy’s hand.”
“Right. And the boy is all like ‘I got a girl’s number!’”
“How the times have changed.”
I then nodded goodbye, but before I left I turned around awkwardly realizing, “Wait, the date.”
“Yes? What about it?”
“No. Literally. The date. What day? When are we going?”
“Oh! Duh. Uhhhhh.” She put a finger on her chin thinking. “Saturday? This Friday’s no good for me. Six pm?”
“Perfect.”
“And what are we going to do on this date?”
“I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”
“Awesome. Well. I’ll see you then. Well. I bet you’ll be in the café until then, so I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow.”
Boy, I had never been in higher spirits. I was lovestruck and completely enamored. I rode a high I had never felt before. I visited the Starbucks every day that week, and the two of us smiled at each other and said hello and what was up. I wrote like a fiend that week too, speeding through two stories that my fans loved.
“You seem to be on a roll,” Barbara said.
I had been writing so much that it took me a hot moment to realize that she had said something to me. I looked up at her and said, “Oh yeah.”
“Any chance I can take a peek?”
“Uhhhh.”
She laughed. “I’m just kidding.”
Something told me that she wasn’t kidding though. I wished I had something to show her to further bond over our writing, but I hadn’t written anything SFW in years. I became exclusively an erotic writer. The last thing I wrote that wasn’t conceived from me being horny was back in college, and that needed a lot of editing since I hadn’t touched it in years.
Barbara added, “But you will one day, right?”
“Y-yeah,” I said.
“You read my story, so it’s only fair I get to read yours.”
“Of course!”
I had to come up with a plan, some kind of dummy story. That would take up a lot of work. But then again if we really did become a couple, she would have to know the truth of what I wrote sooner or later. I don’t think I’d be able to keep something like that a secret, not because I couldn’t but because I wouldn’t want to. She talked about farts and burps, but how far would she be okay with it knowing the utter disgusting smut I wrote? The shameless garbage that I engaged in online? The depraved, decadent demon inside of me who doesn’t treat anything sacred?
Saturday came and I drove up to her dorm hall. I had never been to Brappaport before, but it was a quaint smalltown college nestled in the woods. I wore my best clothes and made sure my hair looked good. They had security measures to enter so I had to wait for Barbara downstairs in the parking lot. I leaned against my car hoping I looked cool in a James Dean sort of way. It’s hard to do that when you own an ancient SUV.
When Barbara stepped out, I was so smitten that I my voice failed to carry as I called her name. Barbara was wearing a black dress with a belt and black stockings with black boots, and her stylish winter coat yet that was purple. She looked like a model, hair whipping as she turned her head to look for me.
I honked my horn, then waved when she looked in my direction.
“Hey youuuu,” she said. “Nice ride!”
“Oh yes. The old Hyundai. Very sexy,” I said sarcastically.
Once I drove off, she asked me how I was doing and what we were going to be up to tonight.
“Dinner and a movie,” I said.
“Ah,” she replied. “A classic. Can’t go wrong with that. Unless the movie is bad. Or the food sucks. I promise I won’t jinx it.”
I chose a gourmet BBQ place down the main street. I figured that if she was going to be my girlfriend, she better be someone who wasn’t afraid to eat a lot of meat (no pun intended). This place was notorious for big helpings of ribs, burgers, and chicken. I reserved a spot by the window, so we could do what we both loved to do: people-watch.
Barbara turned me on ordering the largest stack of ribs they had. She noticed I was staring after the waitress left and said, “What is it? Something wrong?”
“Nothing, was just thinking about something I wrote.”
“I see.” She fidgeted with her hands before saying, “You don’t by any chance write anything…scandalous…do you?”
I narrowed my eyes at her. I thought that was a bit on point. But I kept my cool and said, “What do you mean by that?”
“Romance writing perhaps?”
“Oh. Pft. Nah. I’m not into that.”
“You’ve never written a romance?”
“I mean. Sort of. The occasional love triangle between characters in your usual action/adventure story.”
I was on edge. She was going to be persistent figuring out what I really wrote. We took a moment to watch the restaurant filled to the brim with customers. Every seat was taken, and it became more apparent that we were the only ones not talking.
Barbara signaled the waitress and added a coffee to her order.
“Bit late for that, don’t you think?” I asked.
“I figured we’d stay up late,” she said, eyes on me, “so I should be awake for a while, yeah?”
I cleared my throat. “Right. I see.”
Barbara emitted a very strong “do me” aura that I wasn’t ready for. She would do this thing where she would lock eyes with me very intensely and then pull away while giving a lopsided smirk. Then when she got her coffee, she stared at me like a hungry tiger while she sipped. Those dark eyes and that dark hair.
We talked about our favorite authors, our not-so-favorite authors, books, tropes, media. I started to realize for the first time how much I was falling in love with her. My fetish hadn’t come across my mind for a good hour while we were talking, even as she licked the bones clean off her ribs. She talked about the stuff that inspired her poetry, and I listened to her entranced, turned on by her intellect.
“Uff. I am stuffed!” she said, sitting back and patting her belly where her belt was. It was a very large, stylish black belt that wrapped around her stomach over her dress. I couldn’t help but notice how tight it looked. She then eyed the crowd around us, leaned forward, and whispered, “You don’t think anyone would notice me loosen this, do you?”
I didn’t answer; I was too stunned. All I did was shake my head slightly. I watched as she quietly undid her belt and loosened it by one notch. She sighed as she did so.
“That was delicious,” she said, once I signed the check.
I took her to see House of Gucci. I remembered when she said she was usually interested in biopics and the like. Thankfully she hadn’t seen it yet. It wasn’t particularly good, and we both found it awkward and funny at times, to the point where we were loudly critiquing during the movie. Nobody seemed to care though, that is, until Barbara farted.
We had been giggling over our mean comments and Barbara leaned back suppressing her laughter. Then she let off a very audible blast.
PPPRRRRRRP!
It dragged on for maybe a second too long. Had it been shorter, people might have ignored it. But the couple next to me immediately turned their heads at us. I was too embarrassed to exchange glances and tried even harder not to laugh. The people sitting in the row in front of us also started turning heads at us, some confused while others disgusted.
Barbara looked mortified, while at the same time trying not to laugh even harder like I was. Her face was redder than a tomato. She gripped my hand and clenched it. She leaned forward and hissed, “That was the damn coffee!”
After a few more giggles, she added, “I need to take a shit!”
Barbara stood up. As she did so, she let off yet another fart, and seemingly ripped several machine-gun-like farts as she hurried out of the theater. Barbara missed maybe like thirty minutes from her irritable stomach. This time though, I could only imagine what her farts were like. All that food and throwing a cup of coffee on top of it? I gripped my armrests imagining what I was missing out on.
I was harder than a rocket at that point. I couldn’t believe I was hitting it off with this girl. I mean, I assumed I was. We still had the rest of the night to see.
The movie dragged on painfully for us. When we finally got out, I felt the need to apologize for picking it. She laughed and said she hadn’t had that much fun watching a movie in a long time.
From there, we went to Herbie’s again for a drink. It was around 11 o’clock and the place was popping. Barbara sighed at the ambiance and said, “Well this feels familiar.”
We had our coffee-flavored nitro brews, clinked glasses, and downed them. This time, however, Barbara didn’t feel the need to get wasted. We had maybe three beers before deciding to leave and “head home”.
We fell silent on the way back to the car, and the silence continued in the car ride. I think the question of sex was both on our minds. I had never gone this far with a girl before. Do people still just for it? Lean in for the kiss? Or should I ask first before kissing? Barbara looked giddy the whole time, twirling her hair with her finger and looking out the window, seemingly avoiding eye contact with me.
The sexual energy between us grew as we walked up to her dorm. We poked each other playfully and recounted everyone’s reaction in the theater when she farted. In the elevator, I was confident that we were going to have sex. I could just feel it.
That energy died down the moment we approached her door. We could hear music from the hallway thumping against the walls. Barbara frowned and muttered something. Then she hurried ahead of me to unlock her door.
Brianna was having a party in their dorm. She had some ten or twelve people crowded around the tiny room looking at us once we entered. Barbara’s jaw hung and then she stormed over to find Brianna by the window. I figured it was best to stay out of this and watched from a distance. The two of them argued for a hot moment by the window. Brianna looked nearly like a carbon-copy of Barbara. The only major difference was how she had a stoner vibe, dressed in sweatpants, with a disrespectful attitude not even looking up from her phone as Barbara ranted. Nothing too crazy though. Barbara only flailed her arms a bit. But then it seemed like she didn’t want to deal with her any further and walked back to me. We stepped out and she shut the door behind her, muffling the music.
She looked down at her feet and wiggled her toes.
“I’m sorry. I thought I told her I was going to have someone over, and she would be staying at a friend’s dorm tonight. Apparently, uh, that got lost in translation.” She chuckled nervously. “Uh. Errrr. Don’t know what to do here.”
I bit my lip thinking. I obviously lived with my parents, so that was a no-go. I don’t think I could ever have sex in my parents’ place.
“You wanna…” I hesitated. “You wanna…go get a room?”
She looked up at me, surprised. “Oh?”
“I can cover it,” I said.
“Really? You’d…do that?”
I shrugged. “Yeah sure. I mean…won’t be the Ritz Carlton but…”
She took my hand. “Anything is better than here right now.”
