All for a Cup of Coffee

--- Chapter 1 : Stuffed Omelette ---

Darkness. God I wished the darkness would just stay forever. Darkness was good. It was safe and it didn't hurt. Unlike the bastard thing called consciousness. But that's the cost of drinking bull blasters, irish trashcans, and soooo many shots of fireball. Needless to say, I didn't make smart decisions last night.

What? You can't judge me like that. It was my bro's bachelor party and I'm his best man. If I didn't get wrecked and force him to keep up with me, what kind of best man would I be? That was the only solace I could find: that Ricky was no doubt in as much despair and pain as I was.

My stomach began to churn as I became aware of the spinning room. I can't fathom what kind of dick would put my bed on a swivel but they were going to get an ass kicking. I quickly rolled onto my side, just in case if something decided to escape the wrong end. I pulled the annoyingly scratchy pillow into a more comfortable position under my head and nuzzled deeper into it.

Wherever I had passed out, at least I had made it into a bed. I could feel the sheets around me. I was naked underneath them too. That was a double bonus. I rarely got blackout drunk and managed to not only make it to bed but also get out of my clothes so I didn't tangle myself up.

I laid there for a while, unwilling to do anything that might bring reality down on me. I tried to will everything away again, for the calming nothingness in the darkness to take me once more. But it just wasn't meant to be. Redbull doesn't sit happy and quiet in one's bladder so I knew I had two options. Either I could brave the light and sound and danger of the real world, or I could piss the bed. Despite my complaints, I wasn't that far gone yet and couldn't bring myself to lay in a piss soaked bed.

One eye was where I decided to start. The one that was pressed into the pillow. It opened a crack with no issue and so I slowly eased my face up until a shaft of light so bright and deadly it could be used as a weapon of war stabbed through my cornea. It drilled right to the pain center of my brain and all my body could do was release a low groan of regret.

Okay, maybe I'm being a little dramatic. It was a bit of morning sunlight passing through a tiny gap in some blessedly dark curtains. It was still enough to cause severe agony and longing for death in me.

It took another minute for me to work up the courage to open my other eye a crack. Yup. It hurt just as much as the first. I clenched my eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. I wasn't some new-age liberal virgin. I had gotten slammed before and I could take it, especially if it meant some relief for my strained bladder. I forced my eyes open more than just a crack and tried yo discern where I was. It sure wasn't my bed, and I'm pretty certain it wasn't my brother's place.

The walls were paneled in rustic wood that looked old and smoke-stained. The ceiling was similar wood with heavy square beams set across it. The room wasn't large, just my bed and a small table with a single chair set beside the bed. A pair of pants and a shirt that looked like mine were sitting on it. The floor was, quite shockingly, also old worn wood of a darker and dirtier color. A small candle burned down to a nub sat on the table in one of those little metal candle holders.

I did a double take at that. The fuck was there a candle for? My eyes roved around and I noticed the obvious that had escaped my hungover brain. There wasn't a light or a switch or anything electrical you'd find in a normal hotel room. What kind of backwards ancient place was I staying in? I wracked my brain for memories from the night before. The last thing I could remember was the last round of fireball shots we did at the nightclub we had been partying at. Then we hit the dance floor... Again... And then nothing.

Seriously. My memories cut out right there as he and I are stepping up to a couple of hot young things with tiny miniskirts that could barely be called clothing. Like someone flicked a switch, at that instant I found myself in this bed acting like a poster child for bad decisions. That was really damn weird. Whenever I wake up after blacking out, the memories are usually like breadcrumbs. Bits and pieces slowly picked up as I reach for them.

Without anything else to do, I prepared as best I could to fight gravity to the death. The need to be vertical was growing more urgent with each passing minute. I took a slow breath and pushed. My head immediately rebelled and my stomach did a flip. I grabbed my head as my feet came off the bed and I sat upright. The first battle of this war was mine and I wasn't going to cock it up by vomiting all over my bare legs.

I took a minute, sitting there with my bare feet on the chilly wood floor as I rubbed at my eyes and fought with the fur in my mouth. After a bit, I leaned over to the chair and grabbed up my clothes. A pair of stylish slacks and a clean white shirt. A suit coat lay tossed nearby and I left it there. My legs wriggled into the slacks and I tugged them up my ass without getting off the bed. Then, shirt in hand, I made the leap to stand up. I didn't actually leap, I stood gingerly and slowly, keeping a hand on the bed the entire time.

That same hand trailed the wall on my way to the door. It opened with a creak like a banshee and I cringed in pain. Thankfully that was the only sound I heard as I stepped out into the hall.

The hall was dark except for a small window at the end of it and some light coming up from the staircase at the other end. Three other doors sat in the hall, including one ajar at the end near the stairs. I figured that one would be a good start so I tottered over to it.

My guess was accurate and I found myself in a room that was just a smoothly crafted wood bench with a hole. That made me stare but my bladder wouldn't wait so I had to just go for it. The relief was immediate and marvelous, leaving my body feeling better and my hangover now a mere agonizing existence instead of a literal hell on earth. With nothing to flush and apparently my piss gone down a bottomless dark hole, I turned and went back into the hall. From downstairs, I could smell some kind of food and where there was food, there might just be coffee.

Oh dear sweet black nectar of the divine. I needed coffee and I would pay any amount of money for even the smallest drop of burnt, watered down elixir of life. I held tightly to the wall and braved the stairs. They were creaky and wooden, like everything else around here. The steep steps took some real effort and I stopped at the landing that turned right to steady myself. Everything still felt like it was moving and the last thing I wanted was a tumble to my death.

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and just gawked. The room was archaic, to say the least. It had the feel of an old pirate tavern from Hollywood's best pirate flicks. I couldn't describe it any better than that. Round tables stood around the room with a mix of chairs ranging from crates to barrels to a few actual chairs. A large stone hearth was built into the far wall, a small fire smoldering in it providing tbe room's warmth. A bar covered the length of the back wall with swinging doors into a kitchen behind it. Bottles of all sizes and colors covered the wall behind the bar with little more than the occasional hand written note on the outside of each.

The most shocking though was what I saw out the windows. To the window beside the bar I saw open water to the horizon like we were on the shore somewhere. Actual mast and wood sailing ships were floating out there. Out the window to my left, next to what had to be the front door, was a stretch of dock lined with other wooden buildings of greatly varying sizes and shapes. I moved closer to that window and squinted against the morning light. The docks and buildings appeared to fill a good portion of the bay, while an even more random and eclectic grouping of buildings climbed up the shore and the rising mountain in the center of the island.

"Am I in Tortuga?" I groaned, turning from the window with a rub at my eyes. I dug my hands in my pockets. I had my wallet, quite empty of money, my house keys, and my phone. It was dead and didn't even blink when I tried to turn it on. Guess a phone call for help was out. I think my charger might be in my coat upstairs, but I was yet to see an outlet so I shoved both things back in my pockets.

There was a squeak of hinges and someone came out of the kitchen through a pair of half-doors on springs. I looked up to see a gorgeous woman standing behind the bar. She stood a head shorter than me, but that's not saying a lot. I'm a tall and gangly guy so most people are shorter than me. It's actually rather helpful in the kitchen because I can see what everyone is doing and better direct things without having to move around so much.

Her hair was a burgundy with enough wild curls that the shoulder length it displayed now was probably only half as long as it really was. Her eyes were a vibrant hazel that set against her tanned, smooth skin quite fetchingly. She wore a frilly white blouse cut low over her immense bosom and held in place by straps that came up over her shoulders from the waist of her knee-length skirt.

God damn did she have curves to fill all of that out in all the best ways too. You could tell she wasn't athletic or skinny, but plump in the way few women can pull off well, and even then its rarely seen outside of true milfs. She had hips that were wide and shapely, betraying the presence of an amazing ass. Her waist and middle were squishy but not fat. Then there were her boobs. Look, I'm a guy so it doesn't matter what kind of boobs they are, I like em. But this woman? Hers were not just huge but shapely and plump, making her blouse's low cut show a goddamn canyon of cleavage. The way that tanned skin looked there was just delicious.

That is something you should probably know about me. I'm a womanizer. Habitually. I've never been married, and I never intend to get married. But don't get me wrong, I don't like hurting women and I never try and seduce those already in relationships. I never lie to the women I date and I'm always upfront that they're just a short-term plaything. I get rejected plenty but there's never a shortage of horny sluts and dick-hungry bitches that are happy to fuck and leave. Hell, I've found that uptight single career women are the best thing in the world. They just want dick with no baggage at all. I get invited to a nice penthouse or studio, we enjoy some takeout, and then I fuck her brains out all over the bed. The next morning, they almost universally show me the door and I happily take the hint. Kinda weird huh? I'm a man-whore with morals. Long as my balls get emptied, I'm okay with it.

And in all of my ogling of this voluptuous barkeep, somehow it took me until now to realize that there were floppy dog ears sticking out of her curls, and a droopy fluffy tail hung behind her. I gawked a bit more at that and she smiled to me.

"Hey there sweetheart. Finally get up and awake?" Her voice was sweetly lilted and melodious. Her smile bore more sharp teeth than a person ought to have and it made her look a bit wolfish.

I swallowed against my dry mouth and said, "If you can call this awake. I need a mug of coffee."

"Dunno what that is sweetie. But if you're looking for something to tackle that hangover, I got more booze or I got tea." She said, reaching down and lifting a mug onto the bar.

I walked over and sat before it. I had to actually force my brain to decipher the words she had spoken. They didn't make sense. They couldn't. I rubbed at my face again and shook my head, "No coffee? Look, I'll take any kind. Doesn't have to be fancy. Hell, throw raw beans in hot water. I'll chew it down."

"Nope. No caw-fee." She spoke the word as though she'd never pronounced it before.

I stared at the beautiful bartender and willed myself to wake up from this nightmare. No coffee? That was a bad enough sin, but to not even know what it was? This woman was surely a devil sent to torment me. I shook my head and pointed at the mug, "Just... Fine... Tea. Really, really strong."

"No problem, honey." She smiled again and took the mug back into the kitchen. I had already laid my head on the bar when she turned her back. Damn this headache, I missed an obvious chance to enjoy her other assets.

A bit later, she returned with a steaming mug that smelled of mint and sugar. She set it near my hand and then leaned on the bar. I took the mug, raised my head, and sipped at the scalding drink slowly. It might not be coffee, but it was soothing and full of caffeine. I could make do with it in an emergency such as this morning. I'd live long enough to return to civilization and coffee.

"So... Uhh... Where am I?" I asked uneasily. The answer was going to cause me more problems, I knew that, but I couldn't have fathomed just how many more.

"I knew you were sloshed last night, but losing yourself is always impressive. Especially after your performance." She smiled at me like we shared some secret and I just shook my head. She sighed and said, "This is the High-Tail. It's my tavern. I don't usually rent out rooms but I made an exception for you. Anything for your pretty... Everything."

"Okay..." I sipped at the tea and rubbed my face, "Thanks and all, but where am I? What city is this? I'm clearly not in Orlando anymore. This isn't some little kitchy town in Tampa or something is it? Did I end up on a boat to Tortuga?"

The dog woman snorted a laugh. She smiled and her tail flicked back and forth with her amusement. I continued staring and she blinked in surprise, "You're not joking? You really don't know? You're in Scarborough."

"Isn't that in England?" I exclaimed as my stomach fell to my toes. How the fuck did I cross an ocean in a night? Did I manage to get on a plane this drunk?

She interrupted, "Inland? No, we're not inland. Scarborough is a port town. We're supposed to be part of the Jart lands but the capital is so far away that the queen doesn't even bother to collect taxes from us. We're kind of a free city of our own and the closest thing to a leader we have is Captain Emmy and her pirate fleet." She seemed to realize she was rambling and waved a hand, "Sorry, sorry. I talk a lot when I get talking."

I stared over my mug of tea. This woman wasn't making any sense at all. Jart? Tax collectors? A pirate fleet? What the fuck? I put my throbbing head between my hands and rubbed my temples slowly. My eyes squeezed closed and I decided that when they opened again, I would be staring at my hotel room's ceiling. I would still be horribly hungover and Ricky would be passed out in the other bed.

When my eyes opened, I was still staring at a cute woman with dog ears and a low cut blouse over massive tits. My groan was deep and full of annoyance. I huffed and asked, "What is your name?"

"Oh-ho!" She laughed warmly and reached out to rub my cheek, "You show a girl a good time, give her everything she's ever wanted, and you can't even be bothered to remember her name? Oh whatever shall I do with you?" Her tail was wagging faster and she took her hand from my face, "My name is Cherry and it's nice to meet you, Harrold."

Right. My name. I guess I must've told her that. Harrold Yeont. Yeah, odd last name. How do you pronounce it? Just take out the E and its just like that. Yeont.

"Cherry. Great. Wait... I showed you a good time last night?" I asked, cocking my head at her. It surely wouldn't be the first time I woke up with barely a memory of the girl beside me... But usually I have the decency to sleep beside them until morning. I scratched my head, "Why did I wake up by myself then?"

Cherry shrugged, "I dunno. You had me good last night... Really good... Like the best I've ever had." She squirmed a bit and rubbed her thighs together, "And then you just got up and stumbled out. Muttered something about finding Ricky? Who's Ricky?"

How the hell did drunk me show this girl the best she'd ever had? Drunk me never gets anything but annoyance and ridicule the next morning. I'm a bad sufferer of whiskey dick and have a time staying hard when I can't walk a straight line. This was a morning of endless firsts and I had to know more.

"He's my brother. We were having his bachelor party last night. Flew down to Orlando the day before so we could party from sun up to midnight. We were gunning for a twenty-four hour bender when my memory just... Just cuts off and I wake up here. When did I show up? How?" I asked Cherry between sips of tea. My head was starting to feel better. Having something solid to hold my focus often eased off the worst of a hangover.

"Wait, you can fly? You and your brother? Are you mages?!" Cherry asked, her hazel eyes lighting up with excitement. She seemed to shake with excitement and she bounced up and down, "Ohhhh I sure hope you got me pregnant! I would just adore a little mage for a daughter... Or maybe I could get lucky and have a son! One as handsome as you!" She gave an eager giggle in the same fashion as someone holding a lottery ticket.

My brain scrambled to keep up with this new train of thought. It grabbed and scraped for anything it could make sense of and ended up latching onto the thing I was most familiar with, the only part of that which I knew anything about. I spoke in a low, flat tone as I sipped more tea, "Oh you're not getting pregnant. I don't want kids. Ever. So I got snipped right out of college, as soon as the doctors would let me."

Cherry deflated at those words. She leaned against the counter and her face had that look of a child who opened the big present under the tree only to find out its a couple of pillows for his bed instead of a bicycle. But then that look shifted to more mischievous and she toyed with some curls of her hair as she asked in a husky voice, "Well... When you're feeling up to it next week... Would you mind having another go at me? I'll let you stay here for free until then. Food and drink. Anything you want."

"You're not listening. I can't get anyone pregnant. I had a vasectomy. You know, snip snip?" I mimed scissors with one hand and shook my head, "I can't get anyone pregnant, ever. My junk don't work like that anymore."

I don't think I could've got a more horrified look on her face if I told her that I was actually Charles Manson and she was next on my list. Cherry brought her hand to her mouth and whispered, "Why? Why would anyone do that? Why would any man ever cut off... I didn't notice anything last night. It felt so good!"

I stared blankly at her and then blinked slowly before I said, "I didn't chop my fucking balls off. God, what the fuck? It's a simple surgery. The doctor just sort of tied off the bits coming out of my balls so my nut doesn't have anything in it, you understand? I still cum like normal but ain't nobody getting pregnant from it."

Cherry didn't look at all relieved at the explanation. She leaned on the bar and put her face in her hands, "I finally get lucky after years. I find a guy and I get him to sleep with me. To make it all even better, that the sex was just awesome! Just my luck though, I'd find the one weirdo who DOESN'T want to get a woman pregnant. Gah! It'll be years before I get another chance!"

"What? Are you crazy or something? You wanna get pregnant, just hang a free sign around your neck and step naked out the door. Guaranteed you'll have a dick in you in five seconds. You're pretty damn sexy." I said, jabbing a thumb at the front door.

She scoffed loudly at that and slammed a hand on the bar, "What kind of world do you think we live in? You're the first guy I've seen in the last two weeks. Even when I do find guys, there's always an excuse. Saving it for someone else, or just blew it last night. Not interested in hanging around for a few days while they recover. I NEVER get lucky!"