Coffee, Anyone?

It was my morning to open the cafe, so I was in at 5am, alone until the first regulars arrived an hour later to join me. As I turned on the lights, started the coffee brewing, and began setting out pastries, I was reminded of why I loved 'Cafe Muse' and why I had jumped at the chance to work here.

The owner, Jason, had put his life into the place, creating just the ambience he knew would be successful in our little college town. Families were drawn in by the comfy chairs and fair prices; young professionals appreciated the fair-trade organic coffee and eco-friendly business practices; and artsy student types, such as myself, came for the ever-changing shows of artwork by local talent, the open-mike nights offering shy students the chance to test out their songs, their poetry, their politically-charged stand-up, in front of a friendly audience.

As the smell of coffee filled the air, I turned on the stereo, and chuckled to myself as I remembered Jason's instructions when he was first training me. "Always classical in the morning, but never more than the first few hours - after that, the college kids are out of bed and we need something more contemporary."

He was very particular about every detail of how his business was run, yet the customers would never know it - through his meticulous management of every detail, what came through was an ease, a comfort, that drew them all in. Much like his own personality; his work-ethic and business skills were hidden beneath the fit, handsome exterior of a 6-foot, blonde, blue-eyed guy of about 40. He wore the same thing each day - jeans and a polo shirt - and always had a smile for the customers, regardless of how lousy his day might have been.

As I mentioned, I first found the cafe as one of those customers - an English major at the college. I was a junior, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, realizing that while my creative writing and study of contemporary American literature was fulfilling, it wasn't going to pay the bills, and it was time I got a job. Much as I didn't want to see myself as a young businesswoman, it was somehow easier to stomach it if I could learn from Jason how to run an earth-friendly, art-friendly little cafe.

Anyway, in the year since I'd been working there, he had indeed showed me the ropes, seeming to take pleasure in my eagerness to learn all about the business. I wasn't just a waitress or barista, I also helped him with the books, worked with our suppliers, and even assisted in roasting the beans, something Jason insisted we do ourselves.

So you can imagine the rude awakening when, after the sun came up that morning, I looked out the front window and saw the sign across the street - 'Java Jigglers' - it hadn't been there the day before, and I did a double-take to make sure I really had seen it. The new strip mall had slowly been filling with little shops, a nice variety of businesses that catered to a similar clientele as 'Cafe Muse' - and now this? Right on the side of the road, drive-through espresso, served up by a pair of scantily clad baristas.

"Don't worry, Megan," Jason said when he arrived later that morning, "it's just a fad - and like all fads, it'll die off before you know it. Once guys realize it's lousy coffee and they don't actually get to touch the, um, display items, they'll go out of business in no time."

I smiled, glad that he was able to make me laugh and forget the supposed competition for the moment. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a prude, just an earnest young woman who had found a second home in this high-class artsy cafe, and didn't understand the appeal of a crass operation like that. Would men really choose to-go coffee in a paper cup over our artisan brew, just because of the tits?

Unfortunately for both my sense of aesthetics and my tip jar, yes. Over the next several days, I watched in frustration as many of our regulars chose drive-through titillation over a relaxed cup of great coffee. First it was the young men, but soon it was others as well, drawn by the daily specials on syrup-laden drinks, the punch-cards (buy ten, get a flash with number eleven!)

But the excuses when folks came back to 'Cafe Muse' were the most offensive. Families claiming to be just back from a vacation; young professionals who apparently had an unprecedented string of early-morning meetings. They laughed politely at my pointed jokes - my favorite renamed the 'jigglers' the 'clapuccino girls' - but I could sense their tension, their eagerness to get their coffee 'to go' rather than stay a while as they always had in the past.

Jason was still confident, still taking it all in stride, but I was beginning to get fed up, feeling like I needed to do something to shake things up. Perhaps it was the difference in our ages - Jason had more life experience, and had been at this business for a while now, presumably riding out a few previous bumps like this one. But this was my first real job, and I had poured my heart and soul into it. The bimbos across the street were taking in triple my tips after just dipping their tits into the business. And I mean that literally - on this particular day, they had dipped their nipples in chocolate. That was the last straw.

That day after I was home from work, I stared at myself long and hard in the mirror. I was just as hot as those girls working across the street, I just didn't flaunt it, preferring to be comfortable and casual. Maybe it was time for a little honest competition? I stripped down to my bra and panties and stepped into my closet, studying my available wardrobe. Yes, this was worth a try.

Particular as he was, Jason had never actually told me how to dress when I came to work, but I always got the impression that he thought my image was a good fit for the Cafe. I almost always wore a black turtleneck or sweater, and loved long, flowing skirts. My long blonde hair was usually tied into a ponytail or wrapped in a bandanna. The next day, I would go with something a little different and see if it didn't bring a few customers back. No need to be a slut, but a little more skin wouldn't hurt.

Most of the customers didn't even seem to notice as I stood before them in a form-fitting sundress, my hair down in waves. The next day, a plunging neckline and painted-on jeans didn't get me even one big tip. I was having fun with my wardrobe, but was shocked and frustrated that our customers couldn't get over the novelty of tits actually hanging out as they were served their coffee.

The next day, my hair was in two braids, and I was wearing a tailored, buttoned blouse and knee-length skirt. As soon as he got in, Jason asked to see me in his office as soon as Rachel got to work to relieve me from the counter. He had looked very serious, and I was worried - was business already down enough that he was going to have to reduce my hours? Had I made a mistake in the books?

"Hi Jason, what's up?" I said cheerfully as I stepped into the back room - which doubled as his office and our roasting room.

"Hi, Megan. Can you close the door behind you, we need to talk."

Uh oh, it was bad news.

"I'm disappointed in you, Megan, stooping to their level."

"Um, what do you mean?" I asked, well aware of what he meant, and embarrassed that he saw through me so easily.

"Megan, you're a beautiful young woman, and just as hot as anyone they'll hire across the street. But you know how seriously I take this business, and we need to stay true to ourselves. Like I told you, they're just part of a fad, and they'll disappear as quickly as they arrived."

I was blushing, both because I knew he was right, and because he had called me hot.

"Unbutton your blouse."

"What?"

"You heard me. I want to prove my point."

"Jason, you don't need to rub it in, I know you're right."

"No, really. This is important. Unbutton your blouse."

I looked deep into his eyes, searching for his intent, my heart pounding as I decided how to respond. He stood calmly before me, his piercing blue eyes revealing nothing of his intentions. Was this just humiliation to prove a point? Did he intend to seduce me? Impossible. Or not?

After what seemed like minutes, I gave in, and raised my hands from my sides up to my collar, where my fingers went to work on the top button of my blouse. Would he stop me? One button, then two, then three. It was clear now that he had no intention of stopping me, and soon the blouse was completely unbuttoned, my lace bra revealed behind the baby blue stripes.

"Now, take it off and throw it over to me."

Why stop now, when I was both curious and turned on by this unexpected scenario. I did as instructed, peeling my blouse off and tossing it over to Jason. He caught it and sat down on the edge of his desk. "Now, your bra, slowly."

Now, strangely, all sense of humiliation was gone, and I found myself getting into the act of stripping in front of my boss. I slowly pulled one strap down off my shoulder, then the other, then reached around for the clasp. I pulled my hands back in front to catch the fabric before it fell away from my skin, feigning bashfulness as I stepped closer to him. Then, noticing an encouraging glint in his eye, I let my hands drop, tossing my bra to him and feeling a sense of freedom as I stood before him, naked from the waist up.

"Now, Megan," he said, moving his hands away from his crotch and pointing to the obvious bulge that had been hidden by my blouse, "do you see what you've done?"

I smiled, enjoying the realization that this was not about my humiliation. But I still wasn't sure if he intended to take things further, so I fished a little. "OK, OK, I get it. So you're telling me that my tits are just as good as the ones across the street, and therefore I should let it go, and get back to work?"

"No, Megan. I'm telling you that, as much as I officially disapprove of your change of wardrobe over the past few days, you've been driving me wild with each new outfit, and I couldn't wait for an excuse to get you alone in here."

"And what do you want to do with me, now that you have me here?"

"Hmm, do you want to keep talking about it, or should I just show you? Get over here."

I quickly covered the few steps separating us, and as soon as I was within reach, he grabbed my round tits, kneading them firmly in his strong hands and then taking each one into his mouth, sucking and nibbling at my nipples. I moved my hands to his crotch and began stroking his cock through the denim of his jeans, feeling it grow and harden under my touch.

He responded by moving one hand from my chest to my thigh, finding the hem of my skirt and slipping underneath, slowly tracing his fingers closer and closer to my already dripping-wet crotch. He cupped my pussy through my panties and began a slow, circular motion, and I instinctively spread my legs as far as the fabric of my skirt would allow.

Already losing myself in the moment, I pulled back to reality and began focusing my attention on freeing his bulging cock. I undid his belt, unbuttoned his fly, and eventually managed to free him from his boxers, gasping with excitement as I saw his full length. I slipped one hand around his shaft and began stroking quickly, while my other hand cupped his balls, rolling and squeezing them gently between my fingers.

I moaned with pleasure as two of his fingers slid inside my panties and touched my pussy lips directly. He quickly pulled me close and whispered in my ear, "Shhh, we have to be quiet - remember there are customers right on the other side of that door!"

I did remember - now that he mentioned it - and the knowledge only added to the excitement. His tongue lingered on my earlobe, and then he gave it a little nibble, as his fingers now slipped into me. I ground into him as his fingers bottomed out and his thumb touched my clit. I responded by stroking his cock faster now, my mouth finding his for a passionate kiss rather than allowing another gasp or moan to escape my lips.

He was finger-fucking me at a furious pace now, and I returned the favor, jacking him off in time with his strokes in and out of my pussy. Just as we began to settle into this rhythm, he stopped, pulling out of me so that he could change our position. He shoved aside the papers on his desk, and lay back, motioning for me to climb on top of him in a 69 position. I unzipped my skirt, let it fall to the floor, quickly followed by my panties, and followed his direction. His giant cock now in my face as I kneeled above him, I eagerly sucked in as much of his length as I could handle, and began bobbing up and down on him.

It was now Jason who copied my rhythm, again pressing his fingers - three this time - into my pussy, fucking me as I sucked him. After a few moments of this pleasure, his tongue found my clit, and it took every ounce of self-control I had not to cry out. It wasn't long before I had my first orgasm, bucking wildly above him and struggling to keep up my motions on his cock as I covered his fingers in my pussy juices.

After riding out my hot, sticky orgasm, he slowly climbed out from under me, standing next to the desk and stroking his cock gently as I pulled myself up again. "Are you ready to be fucked properly now? Are you ready for my cock?"

I hissed back to him, "Oh god yes, give it to me, Jason!"

Supporting my weight with my hands behind me, I sat with my ass on the edge of the desk, my pussy exposed for the taking. Jason grabbed my ankles and plunged into me in one powerful stroke, and I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning in pleasure. The feeling of fullness was incredible, and I could feel my pussy throbbing even before he began to push in and out of me.

Every few minutes changing the angle of his penetration by moving my legs, he brought me to higher and higher plateaus of pleasure, and I found myself awed by his stamina - never before had a man brought me so much pleasure before succumbing to his own orgasm. "Yes," he whispered, "that's it. Your tight little pussy is going to make me cum!"

"Jason, wait, I want you to fuck me from behind, and cover my naughty little ass with your cum."

"Oh, god, Megan, yes!" He pulled out of me and backed up to give me room to stand up. Playing up the drama, I slowly and deliberately placed each forearm on the desk, spread my legs wide for him, and looked back over my shoulder at him with pure lust in my eyes. He couldn't wait any longer, and pounded deep into me, his hands reaching around to grasp my tits, squeezing my nipples until they hurt as he fucked me with abandon.

Before long, he could no longer hold on, and stood upright, fucking me so hard and fast that our skin slapped together loudly with each stroke. He grabbed me by the hips, pulling me back into him for even deeper penetration, and at this moment I succumbed to an overwhelming orgasm. My pussy muscles clenched around his still-pounding cock as I could feel my juices squirt out around him.

I was panting, gasping for air, when he finally came as well, pulling out at the last second and shooting his hot load all over my ass. Even after he had finished, he let his cock slide back and forth between my ass cheeks, as he massaged my ass and lower back, spreading his cum all over my skin. He let his hand fall between my legs, my own juices still dripping, and quickly brushed past my still-sensitive clit, causing me to jump and giggle with pleasure beneath him.

We took our time to become presentable again - and then took our turns leaving his office separately - but only after we'd come to an agreement. I would go back to my old work wardrobe, which after all was more appropriate to the ambience of the cafe. But only with the understanding that any and all of those clothes could come off at his request, in the privacy of his office.