Coffee, made with love

I almost laughed, not sure if she was being deliberately melodramatic or genuinely pissed off at me. "Geeze, Sal, thanks for your wise counsel."

Then she smiled and spoke much softer. "It's actually kinda sweet of you."

Confused by her sudden change in demeanour, I didn't quite know how to take her. "I never thought I'd hear you call me sweet."

"Maybe it's the alcohol speaking." She paused, then asked, "What about Miranda's kids?"

"They're adults. A twenty-three year-old daughter and twenty-one year-old son."

"Daughter a year older than you and a son a year younger! You're a crazy boy."

"I am, right?"

"No more than usual though."

"You love it, Sal. Don't deny it."

She snorted a laugh. "Only because you keep surprising me. It's why I keep you around."

"I keep you around because you're my best mate, Sal."

She laughed and gave me a squeeze. "I'm honoured. I love this new sentimental Todd. Maybe you're finally growing up?"

Sometime in the early hours before dawn Sally and me fell asleep on the dirty old couch, our heads resting against one another, neither of us making it to sunrise awake.

~0~

Eventually woken by the hot Sunday morning sun, Sally and me moved to my room, lying on my bed recovering, dozing under the breeze and wirr of the ancient oscillating pedestal fan at the bed's foot.

I'd stripped off my jeans, lying there in my tee-shirt and underpants. For two young people who'd shared a fifteen year friendship, including a brief few months of sexual intimacy at eighteen, sharing a bed in this manner wasn't unusual after big nights out.

We only did it when we were both single, and we never touched each other anymore. These were our two unspoken rules, though, every now and then I'd wondered if I were to try anything, would Sally want to muck about like we used to? The point is though, we were close and there was hardly a secret between us, which is also the reason why Sally was the only person I'd told of my dilemma with Miranda.

By mid-morning I was half awake, my guts feeling a little better from the previous night's alcohol binge, but my head pounded. After a paracetamol and big drink of water, I kept my eyes closed, enjoying the fan blowing warm air over my sweaty skin, while I focused on the steady inhalation and exhalation of breath from sleeping Sally beside me.

Then I thought about Miranda, bringing Sally's advice to mind: You'll never know if you don't ask.

I lay there, remembering the afternoon, three years previously, when Miranda drove me home from work. If I could trace my growing desire for her to any one moment, it was pretty much then. I recalled the hectic shift that day when the lunch crowd came through Land's End café. I'd worked as a kitchen-hand, or as I was colloquially known in the industry, a 'dish-pig', for three months by then, and yet on that day came the largest number of customers I'd seen yet. So many we needed to inform people they'd be waiting for up to an hour or more if they ordered food.

Time flies when you're having fun, or are very busy, and before we knew it the customers subsided and the shift ended. Sarah, one of the waitresses, was about to walk out of the café door with her boyfriend who'd come to meet her, farewelled us, then exclaimed, "Shit, it's raining out here."

"See ya, Sarah..." I'd said, pausing in mopping the floor as I watched her leave and only then noticing the heavy rain. "Damn."

"Don't be so disappointed," Miranda said in her British accent, which I'd soon learn was Cornish. "Sarah's pretty special but there's plenty of pretty young ladies for a nice young man like you."

I recall laughing. "I think you misread my disappointment. It wasn't because Sarah has a boyfriend, but because it's raining out there. I rode here on my bike and now I'm going to get soaked."

Miranda had laughed too. "Oh, Todd, I'm so sorry! I didn't even think! Gosh, I'm so embarrassed about jumping to conclusions like that. I'll tell you what. Put your bike in the storeroom and I'll give you a lift home in my car."

She'd made an offer I couldn't refuse, so we'd stashed my bicycle in the café's storeroom, then dashed through the downpour to her late nineties Mazda 323 hatch.

"You live locally, don't you?" The rain was pelting down now, making it near impossible to see, and she switched the windscreen wiper speed to its highest setting, the blades swishing frantically back and forth.

"Not very far, only a kilometre away. I'll direct you. Thanks so much for this, ay."

"You're no trouble at all, Todd." She'd indicated and pulled out from the small private carpark behind the row of shops where her café sat approximately in the middle. "It was busier than usual today, but you all pulled together and I'm really delighted. I want you to know you've become an essential member of our team."

"Thanks," I'd replied with a smile, pleased with myself. But to be honest I wasn't quite sure how else to respond, because praise from a boss or supervisor was a new experience.

Miranda made small talk with me. "I've not asked you, but how are your studies going?"

"My studies are fine. I attend fewer hours at uni than I did at school, but it's way more intense than school ever was."

"I bet," she'd replied. "Molecular biology, didn't you say? You must be a smart cookie."

"Nah, just a persistent one."

"Sure," she'd said with a laugh. "Smart AND persistent I'd say, because they don't hand out those degrees in cornflake boxes!"

"I wish they did because I have quite a way to go yet. It'd be good to get it all out the way."

"Don't wish your life away, Todd," she'd said. "Enjoy your university experiences."

I directed Miranda to my house and soon we'd parked out front. I recalled how I was about to thank her and exit the vehicle when she'd told me, "My one and only regret in life is not completing my university degree."

I was intrigued, dropping my hand from the door handle. "What degree did you start?"

"Similar to you, I began a biology degree, because I wanted to be a marine biologist. Very few people know this about me. I was doing quite well in my first semester, but I was a fool."

"A fool? What do you mean?"

"Oh, I was a silly girl. I met a boy, of course, and followed his dream instead of mine."

"So you followed a boy's dream to Australia?"

"Eventually, but not this first boy," she'd said with a slight giggle. "No, the first boy was Nigel. He was older and cute and muscular, plus he'd recently finished a marine biology degree, and when he took interest in me I was smitten."

"This was back in England?"

"Yes, back in England. I guess the accent gives me away." I recall her smile was cheeky.

"Yeah," I'd replied, my own smile cheeky too. "I thought you were a pirate when you first spoke to me." Miranda's accent was barely diluted from her years spent in Australia, with the occasional rhotic R's rolling gorgeously off her tongue. I quite enjoyed the way she asked me to fill a pot with wateRR or chop some more paRRsnips in the kitchen.

"Oh, come on," she'd laughed at my cheek, then embellished her accent. "But, aye, you're right, I hail from a long line of pirates."

"Land's End, Pirates of Penzance, it's all making sense now." I'm surprised it'd taken me so long.

Miranda laughed again and I recalled how I'd felt a contagious happiness when she'd laughed, and how her hazel her eyes twinkled.

"Ah," she'd said with a smile, "You've put the pieces of the puzzle together and discovered my secret! But my family were more farmers and fisher-folk than pirates, from near Newquay, but still in Cornwall."

"Cornwall's famous for its fishing-pirate-farmers," I'd joked.

I recalled her looking at me as if I were a cheeky child, and at the time of our discussion three years previously, I was nineteen years-old and still was a cheeky boy in many ways.

"Yes, we Cornish are all descendants of pirate-farmers." But then her smile had faded. "Alas, my adventures didn't end up with much pirating or even any marine biology."

"Oh? Nigel wasn't much of a pirate or marine biologist?"

"I never found out if he was a decent biologist because the bastard was more interested in other biological pursuits. To put it bluntly, Nigel was an arse. You see, Nigel and his mate Peter hatched a plan to head to the Caribbean and become diving instructors rather than marine biologists, and I jumped at the chance to join him without thinking twice. I deferred university for a year, making Mum and Dad furious, of course. They told me in no uncertain terms I must stay. I was the first in my family to make it to university, you see, and they told me I'd ruin my future, but of course at nineteen I knew better. I somehow convinced myself I'd be getting proper hands on experience at diving which would give me an advantage with my studies when I returned."

"But you never did..."

She'd sighed. "No, I followed Nigel and Peter to Belize and ended up working as a cook in the low-key resort where the boys found work as diving instructors, just as they'd planned. The country was beautiful and the reef was stunning, and so was the Canadian girl who took Nigel away from me soon after we arrived. I felt like a very silly girl for following him, as you can imagine."

"Oh," I'd said, not expecting the twist in Miranda's tale. "I'm sorry to hear that."

I'd come close to adding, I bet you were beautiful and stunning too, Miranda!

From the moment I met Miranda I considered her an attractive woman, maybe in her late thirties or early forties. I think the first thing I noticed were the streaks of grey showing in her dark-brown shoulder-length bob of hair, but it wasn't hard to imagine her as a younger woman with wavy rich dark-brown locks framing her attractive face.

I found myself distracted by her eyes and smile, often lost in them. Her hazel eyes reflected specks of gold when they caught the low sun streaming in through the window of her café at the end of a long day, and she smiled so often, which was warm and disarming, her lips forming D on its side with teeth flashing. Miranda was beautiful, no two ways about it.

She'd chuckled when I'd apologised for her past. "Don't be sorry because the Canadian girl did me a favour. Of course I was heartbroken for a while, but soon I met Richard, the handsome Australian who would bring me to Queensland and become my husband. Over twenty years ago now."

"You didn't consider returning to England to complete your degree?"

"Oh, no, not by then. The little girl who spent her childhood marvelling at all the sea-life and wanting to know everything about tiny sea snails or fish or seals and dolphins, was now a young woman traveling the big wide world, having fun adventures and meeting interesting people."

She'd spoken with good humour, though I knew she felt some regret, because she'd told me so. Perhaps she held other regrets too, but kept them locked up in her chest, and I recall feeling her regrets as a heaviness in my chest, or perhaps my soul. Like a hint of sadness among Miranda's many smiles and warm aura. I never understood why, but I was compelled to reach out and gently touch her arm, where I'd noted her skin was warm, and asked, "Are you okay?"

I remember how Miranda's hazel eyes met mine, and her warm smile. "You have a...you have a tender compassion about you, Todd. Don't lose that."

I'd smiled back, feeling self-conscious. "Nah, I'm a softy, that's all."

"Being a softy's a good thing. The world needs people like you. And yes, I'm okay."

"You do realise you can return to university as a mature age student?"

"I've thought about it once or twice, but I enjoy running my café. I've worked in galleys and kitchens all my working life and I love cooking as much as I loved the sea. Richard and I started a charter business out of Cairns and I was the cook, catering for our guests. It's all I knew back then and I still enjoy it."

"It's great you enjoy it. What do they say, get a job doing something you love and are passionate about and you'll never work a day in your life?"

"I'm not sure if I totally agree with that particular saying, but yes, I'm passionate about my work."

"So you and Richard moved down here to Brisbane to open the café?"

"Oh, no, Richard and I separated back in ninety-three. Our marriage was over before then, but I was lucky because I'd landed a real chef's apprenticeship, so I could follow my own dreams for once. It was a lot of hard work, but once I finished I moved down here with my kids to start again."

"Your dreams changed?"

"Yes, they changed. I do think I'd have made a bloody good marine biologist but now I'm too old to start afresh."

"You're not too old to start a degree. You could go part time and still run the café."

"I'm a realist, Todd. I'm forty now and stuck in my ways. And despite my regrets I don't want to begin studying again."

Forty! I'd wanted to say, You look amazing, Miranda! But I'd said nothing, only nodding, and she'd smiled.

"Anyhow, enough about boring old me. What about you?" she'd asked.

"What about me?"

"Come on, Todd, tell me something interesting about yourself."

"Mmmm, let me see..."

And I'd told her about my molecular biology degree, and how I hoped to eventually study molecular genetics and infectious diseases. She'd listened, interested, making comments like, "Pursuing diseases sounds horrendous! But I guess someone has to do it."

"Diseases are fascinating! Especially viruses."

"I'm sure they are, and I love your enthusiasm, Todd, but you can keep your diseases to yourself!"

I'd laughed and then we'd talked about other things too. Eventually I'd inadvertently looked at the clock in the centre of the dashboard and noted how it was almost an hour since we'd parked in front of my house, whereas I thought it was something more like fifteen minutes.

We were like a couple after a successful first date, not wanting to part and chatting into the evening. I remember thinking how if Miranda were younger, closer to my own age, I'd likely not hesitate to ask if she'd like to come inside, for dinner perhaps, because I felt something strong between us, a connection of sorts.

Rather, I'd said, "Wow, look at the time. Thanks for the lift home and the chat."

"Where did the time go? It must've been the good company and conversation. It truly has been a pleasure talking with you, Todd."

The rain slackened to drizzle so I'd stood on the front lawn, watching her drive down the street. Once in my bedroom, with the door closed behind me, I stripped, grabbed a wad of tissues and lay on the bed. I was a young man and masturbation was practically a daily hobby of mine, sometimes twice daily, and even more when I was extremely horny. Miranda now became my main fantasy, rather than Eliana or Sarah from work, or the handful of other women, mostly university friends, who were dominating my fantasies back then.

Imagining I'd invited Miranda into my room, she now climbed on top, kissing me. Her beautiful smile beamed when she lifted her top above her head, exposing what I knew were big breasts, my mind filling the blanks using the memory of the curves in her white chef's uniform top and the way her apron pushed over her chest as a reference. My mind created images, her boobs with large, hard pink nipples, my lips covering them, sucking and tonguing, causing her to whisper my name with elated delight.

Indulging my ridged penis with my well-practiced hand, I stroked from tip to base and back again, slowly at first, imagining penetrating deep into Miranda's wetness. She kissed me deep on the mouth, my mind's eye focused on her hazel eyes, gazing into her as she stared deep into my soul, warm feelings building in my lower half.

It happened so quick, much quicker than with most of my other fantasies, and even quicker than my real-life sexual experiences. The tingling feeling came on powerfully, despite the moderate speed of my hand along my cock shaft, but my imagination ran on its own time, dreaming of what it would be like to fuck Miranda, indulging myself further by envisioning her in the throes of orgasmic pleasure from my engorged hard dick still deep within her, intimately touching her as we locked eyes, while she whispering my name, her breath barely audible, but telling me how wonderful I was and how much she loved me.

The feelings of joy, throbbing through my body, concentrating in the end of my cock, releasing, a sticky shot of spooge flying un-seen over me, past my face, making a soft splat on the v-joint wall directly behind my head, the second spurt covering my chin, and the rest landing in the tissues I'd laid on my stomach.

And thus, sleeping with Miranda became my main fantasy for the next three years, though I'd thought the notion of making it reality ridiculous. After all, she was my boss and twenty-one years my senior!

~0~

"Eww, Todd," Sally's voice startled me, "Were you wanking?"

"Huh, no?"

"Explain your raging hard-on and the fresh pre-cum stain on your undies!"

"Huh? I was asleep." But my dick certainly was hard.

"You were dreaming about Her, weren't you?"

I could hardly deny Sally's accusation. "Leave me alone, Sal. My head's a fucking mess right now."

"Too right, ya head's a fucking munted mess." You'd never guess Sally would go on to become a public prosecution barrister, famous for her way with words and proud of tricking 'bad guys' into confessing their crimes, or 'stitching them up', as she'd tell me. That was ten years in the future, but right now she lay beside me in her crumpled white blouse and black mini-skirt, propped up on her elbow. And she smiled at me.

"What?" I said, self-conscious of the way Sally looked at me.

"You might have a munted head, but you're adorable. Having a thing for Miranda. Your twenty-two year-old cock is begging to sink into her forty year-old pussy."

"She's forty-three now and please don't talk about her like that."

Sally's laughter was too loud for our hungover state, and even she cringed at the sound she was making, her laugh becoming a groan. "My fucking head hurts."

"Yep," I chuckled, "You're as munted as me." I tossed her the packet of paracetamol and my water bottle.

"Thanks," she said, taking a pill and swigging all the water.

The moist patch I'd inadvertently made in my jocks simply by thinking about Miranda was sticky against my dick. Sally said nothing more as she rolled onto her back and closed her eyes, massaging her temples. I couldn't help looking at her a moment longer, the curve of her breasts pushing up the neck-line of her white blouse, exposing some cleavage and a glimpse of tit-flesh through the gaps between buttons.

A memory from four years previously presented itself front and centre; the vision of Sally climaxing as she rode my cock, her boobs firm, moving rhythmically with our gyrations, her eyes screwed closed, jaw wide open with rough moans emitting from her mouth. I felt myself harden again.

Don't even think about it! The words formed in my mind and not for the first time I wondered if Sally communicated to me telepathically. Looking away and trying to think of anything but sex, all I managed was thoughts of Miranda. And when I thought about Miranda, thoughts of sex were ever present.

Jesus, why is this so hard? I want Miranda so badly! What am I going to do? These questions dominated my thoughts regularly, many times, every day.

It's not like I was inexperienced with girls. My mind ran through my previous lovers. Of Jessie, my girlfriend in the final years at High School, losing our virginities to each other soon after turning eighteen.

Sally came after Jessie, telling me she always thought Jess was a bitch, later kissing me drunkenly at Luke's party, which ended up with us sleeping together that very night.