Cafe Erotique

Welcome to Java Script, a coffeehouse smack-dab in the middle of a Southern college town where artists and writers try and satisfy lust for caffeine, the meaning of life, and other things....

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Continuing unconsomation

"Anyone want anything?"

Zag addresses us as he stands, pulling cash from his pocket and squinting down at it. He wears black as always. A cigarette dangles casually from his lips.

"Here," Chloe says, handing Zag some wadded-up bills. "Will you get me one of those pumpkin muffins with chocolate chips?" She settles back down in her chair. "You're the best," she says, smiling cheekily as she drags on her cigarette. Zag disappears inside Java Script.

I don't smoke; this puts me in the minority around here. The average smoker used to smoke about three packs a day, according to my own personal survey. They seem to have collectively cut down to one a day in the past year, however. I'm not sure if this is due to the rising cost of cigarettes and gas, or just cigarettes, or if people just feel like they suddenly can't breathe as well.

I see him approaching. Leo. My infatuation, crush, whatever, wearing a white T-shirt, jeans, and the engineer hat. He's tall, maybe six three or taller with an angular build. Light brown hair which is probably considered red by some and which grows into a natural pompadour. Some facial hair, but not full-on. Blue eyes. And chest hair I can always see peeking out from the neck of his shirt.

"What's up, guys," he says, more a statement than a question. He tears open a pack of cigarettes and pops one in his mouth, tossing the pack on the table.

Zag returns. "Hey, man," he says to Leo, slapping him on the back. Leo lights the cigarette and drags deeply, nodding. Zag sits.

"They don't have any more of your muffin," he says to Chloe, "and I didn't know what other ones you like, so I didn't get you one." He hands over her crumpled money. "Sorry."

"Awww...," she pouts. "That's my favorite." She sighs dramatically, standing. "I guess I'll go in and see what else they have," she singsongs, heading toward the door.

"Hey, wait," Leo says, reaching into his pocket. Chloe stops short, as though she's in a hurry to go inside. "Will you get me just a coffee? Medium," he says, beating her to the question. "Thanks."

"Good thinking," says Zag when Chloe is gone. "There's a long freakin' line in there now, dude."

Leo glances over his shoulder toward the shop. "Damn."

All of the chairs around the table are taken. Leo drags one from another table. Zag and the others make room.

"Hello, Ruby," he says with a grin as he takes his seat. "How are you?"

I nod. "Pretty good, thanks" I answer. "How about you?"

His head bobs, grin in place, shifting his eyes down, then back to mine. "I'm all right."

I watch him unobtrusively ( I hope ) as others engage him in conversation, trying to justify a potential move. First of all, I hardly ever see him alone. Second, he might not be even remotely attracted to me. A whole lotta stuff keeps me from telling this guy I want him. Fear of rejection and all that.

I see also that a relationship is impossible. I'm not relationship material at this time. I have a habit of creating scenerios in my head with people I'm attracted to, then expecting things to happen that way which of course they never do. I'm trying to change patterns for the greater good.

As I mentioned, I don't want to mess up a friendship. However, the primal undercurrent is undeniable to me.

Perhaps we will pass like ships....

"Whacha thinkin' over there, Ruby?" says Zag. "You're awful damn quiet."

I smile automatically and look at his eyes. A lock of blond hair falls forward so only one is visible. Eye, that is. I point to my head.

"I can't explain in seven words or less," I answer. "Sorry."

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Maybe like this

It was a short walk to his apartment, just a few blocks. The air was clean and cool from a brief rainshower which had ended moments before they left Java Script. The sky cleared somewhat to reveal moments of sunlight as they walked, but now threatened to downpour again. He looked up to the sky.

"Check out that cloud," he said with some awe. She looked up. There was, indeed, a heavy black cloud rolling across the sky. "I hope we make it before the sky opens up." he went on.

It hadn't occurred to her to be concerned. She shrugged. "We'll just get wet," she said.

He continued to glance upward. "Yeah...." he said absently. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

She tried to think clearly, but her mind was crowded with images of hot, unbridled passion and a lot of hair-grabbing. She wanted to see him naked, knew he had more going on under the jeans and T-shirt than some Hollywood movie actor.

She'd seen him three or four times since the day he'd first expressed any interest in her; either he was with people or she was. They always smiled and said hello and when they connected eyes, she always blushed, hoping desperately that nobody noticed.

Today, finally, she ran into him when they were both by themselves. She'd been sitting under the canopy at one of the small tables reading the screenplay to "Raising Arizona" when he approached her.Their eyes met. Thunder rolled across the sky, followed by the sound of light rain on leaves.

"Good movie." He indicated to her book as he sat across from her.

"I've never seen it," she said, "but it's been fun to read." She closed the book and placed it on the table. She looked at him; he wasn't wearing a hat today.

They carried a conversation with some difficulty for her. She'd thought of him often, and when she had she didn't think of merely chatting....Sitting across from him now felt almost like a waking dream. She should be able to have her way with him under the table right now, shouldn't she, after the agony of all that waiting?

"I've got it at my place," he was saying. "We can go watch it, if you're not doing anything."

"What?" she asked. Good job, she thought. He laughed, pointing to the book.

"Raising Arizona," he said. "You said you've never seen it." He'd seemed amused.

She blushed. "Right," she'd said, glancing out toward the street. A couple were shaking drops of rain from their umbrella as they walked past.

Now, as they walked to his place, the air was chilled.

"Tornado weather," he remarked, looking up again. "Here," he said, turning up a walkway which led to a square, Southern-style house.

She followed him up the steps to a wide front porch strewn with a motley selection of chairs and a large, old wooden box turned upside-down, serving as a table. As he unlocked the door she studied the things on the box/table; several Pabst Blue Ribbon cans, a large ceramic ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts, a coffee mug with "Jesus Loves Me" printed on it, and a worn copy of "The Catcher in the Rye".

He pushed the door. It swung open with a creak. He gestured gallantly with his arm for her to enter first.

The apartment was dark. He closed the door, walked over to a large window and pulled the curtains open. She stood in the front hallway, looking around at the simple, sparsely furnished place. A futon was against one wall; in front of it, a woven rug covered an area of the wood floor. Another old wooden box was the coffee table, the word "APPLES" in weathered letters on the side.

He was beside her then, asking if she would like a glass of water. She felt the heat of his body and gave up.

"I'd like to see what you look like under there," she said.

For a moment he didn't respond; he looked at her as though he hadn't heard what she said, or heard it wrong. A long moment. She bit her lip. Fuck, she thought.

Then his face broke into a grin. He gave a little shrug. "Well," he said, "all right."

He peeled off the T-shirt and tossed it over his shoulder in one fluid movement. He stood watching her face. She stared; she could already taste his skin, feel her teeth sinking into it. "All of it," she urged.

He unbuckled his belt, unzipped his jeans and eased them off. He wore nothing underneath. She forgot her name.

"Come over here," he said softly, reaching one muscled arm out to take her hand and pull her to the futon. "Sit," he said.

She did, feeling giddy. "Whatever you want," she said.

He got to his knees before her and slid his hands from her ankles to her hips, pushing her skirt up. He moved the thong panties aside and slid two fingers inside her. She cried out, arching her back. He kept his hand there and moved so his face was close to hers. "I've so wanted to get you off," he said as she strained her body. "Every time I see you I want to make you crazy." He massaged the inside of her wet pussy with his fingers.

She reached for his hair with both hands and pressed her mouth to his. "It'll happen in a minute if you keep doing that," she said, moaning as he bit he lower lip. She tried to shut her responses down so her orgasm wouldn't happen so quickly, and he seemed to sense it; his movements became agonizingly, tantalizingly slow. His lips were on hers without actually kissing her. He watched her response closely, then changed the movement of his fingers slightly.

He had her. She gave up, gave herself over, couldn't stop it from happening....the orgasm slammed her like a tidal wave. "Ohhhh, GOD!" she yelled, clutching his neck as her body shook uncontrollably. He kissed her deeply then, making it go on even longer.....

When it finally ended, she was weak. He sat next to her and allowed her to catch her breath. She looked at him and smiled, still gasping a little.

"Wow," she breathed," wow...."

He stroked the inside of her thigh, grinning.

"Got any more in there?" he asked.

She was hot again. God, she wanted to eat him....

Sunday, July 09, 2006

You are here

Friday morning at Java Script is balmy. At 8:45 AM, the energy is still a little sleepy. Or maybe I'm the sleepy one and so that's how it all looks to me.

I sit outside on the big porch with a copy of The Bell Jar, which I'm not really reading. There seems to be so much to take in; the trees, the sound of light wind in their leaves, the birds hopping around from table to table pecking at crumbs of food, people walking in and out the door of the cafe. I keep looking for someone I know who I might connect with. This may be a bad habit, as it keeps me from concentrating on my book.

I'm a morning person. It's weird; even if I haven't slept well or enough, I still get up and come here almost as soon as the sky is fully lit, 'cause I feel like I'll miss something if I stay in bed. I come here because I know I won't be able to fall back to sleep and don't want to do anything like clean the fridge. Besides, I can't think of any place else to go. I can interact here but don't have to be fully awake.

There's a group of people I hang with here sometimes. I've been coming here long enough to be able to do that. I guess that sounds weird, so I'll try to explain a little...... Basically, I've always been a recluse. I don't know how to make friends. Acquaintences, yes, and I finally got that there is a difference between the two. So I guess that's what these people are to me; acquaintences. At this point, I can go over and join them and be part of the "group", and that's cool. I realized several months ago, after thinking seriously of killing myself, that social interaction is important. I just have to keep reminding myself that it's not that deep.

Anyway, most of these people are night people. I can safely assume they are sleeping off their hangovers right now. Quite possibly, I can come back here at five o'clock and encounter a few of them as they eat the popular hangover breakfast of hash browns loaded with cheese and sour cream with a healthy amount of grease.

There's one guy in particular who I feel a pretty strong attraction to. It's possible he's got some idea of this, though I haven't said anything to him about it. There are reasons for this, but I'll get into it some other time. One reason is that I've got a pretty obsessive personality. Another is that I want to form friendships. If you've ever dealt with these kind of issues, you know what I mean and where I'm going with this, with not wanting to be hasty.

We do seem to be developing a friendship, too. And the more I talk with him, the more I want to touch him, something I didn't expect at all. This matters to me more than trying to get my hook-up on.

Still, I can fantasize....

I close my book, since I've been reading the same paragraph over and over and couldn't tell you what it says. I lean back, turning my face to the sun as a bird lands on the table and cocks it's head quirkily, clearly having designs on the muffin crumbs in front of me. It hops closer tentatively and hesitates.

"Go ahead," I say, "have at it."

Thursday, July 06, 2006

Lustful Beginnings

She was hot for him, even though he smoked cigarettes. She considered, as they chatted at the coffee shop, making an exception to her rule of not getting it on with a smoker.

After a while, she got up to leave. He remained seated.

"Goin' home?" he asked.

"Yep," she said, hesitating by his chair.He wore a hat, engineer-style. He peered up at her from under the brim.

"Well," he began, jiggling his leg a little. She waited. He gave a quick glance around.

"Well," he said again, dropping his voice so only she could hear, "you look too good to be going home alone."

She smiled. A hot flush spread through her.

He watched the response, a smile playing on his lips.

"You're blushing," he murmured.

"Yeah," she sighed, "I know." She looked down at the table, trying to figure out what to say or do next.

He uncrossed his legs and sat forward in the chair, looking up at her. She looked back and wished they were not in public.

He reached out and rested his hand on her bare leg, just below the knee, then looked back up at her face.

She returned his gaze. Her whole body felt warmed, as though she were standing by fire.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?" he asked, not moving his hand.

"For this," she said.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006


Lazy times and random conversations over coffee in a favorite coffeehouse, preferably by day, and preferably when there's a fair amount of eye candy....Is it me, or is coffee an aphrodisiac?

There's one way to find out. Stay with me....