The Barrista

The bathroom doors swung open exactly on time. She had socks on again, black and topped with kitty ears and stylized whiskers that ended inches below the hem of a bright cobalt skirt. The tattoos of climbing vines that began at her elbows disappeared up the short sleeves of a faded replica Joy Division tee, the Unknown Pleasures logo cracked and peeling. Hard nipples the size of grapes poked at the thin fabric.

Her eyes found him right away. Her cheeks were flushed red like a kid on a soup can, and as she swayed towards his seat he could see the dew drops of sweat on her forehead.

"I came close but stopped, like you said." She was breathless.

No going back now.

"Show me."

She cast a furtive glance around, but no one was in sight of the nook. Her hands fluttered to the hem of her skirt and her face somehow managed to flush an even deeper red. The pleats slowly rose, sliding up her thighs until the razor slit of her sex came into view followed by the dark stubble of her bush. She had shaved at some point in the past, but her hair had begun to grow back, the short black bristles a stark contrast against the pale flesh of her mount. There was something about jet stubble that excited him. It looks . . . careless? Spontaneous maybe. Dirty definitely.

"Closer."

She took a tentative step, still arm's length away.

"Closer!" he repeated, firmer.

Kate stepped again.

He looked up into wide Disney eyes as blue as an Easter egg. "I'm not going to ask again."

She a long step forward, so close he could see the hard nub of her clit peeking out between the scalpel slit of her pubis. Her tight lips glistened, wet and oily, and the flesh blushed pink like summer berries. Her smell was strong, intoxicating, wild. He leaned forward until he was so close her skin prickled at the touch of his breath. He had to clench his fists to keep from burying his tongue between the slick folds. Instead he stood. She was trembling as he took her small hand in his, letting the veil of her skirt drop back into place. He brought it up to his nose. Her fingers smelled strongly of her cunt and were still sticky with drying juice. He kissed the back of her hand before letting it go.

"How close did you get?"

"Close, right to the edge."

The visual popped into his mind, Kate in the shop's bathroom, back against the wall, skirt bunched at her waist, fingers stroking her clit until her toes curled.

"What were you thinking of when you did it?"

There was a pause as her eyes dropped to her shoes. "You, daddy."

Jesus, I wouldn't have thought getting called that worked, but fuck does it. He reached into the inside pocket of his sport coat and pulled out the bulky little bundle.

"Tomorrow socks, skirt, no panties again, no coming. And don't shower. I want you dirty."

She nodded, and he pressed the shape into her hand. Katie looked up at him with questioning eyes.

"Open it. It's for tomorrow, too."

She carefully tugged loose the strings, letting out a gasp when she saw knobby stainless steel butt plug.

"I've never . . ." she began.

"You will. You know how I know?"

Katie swallowed, nodding.

"Because I'm a good girl."

FRIDAY

Heller had left work early an hour early. I wasn't getting a goddamn thing done anyway. He had tried to keep himself distracted with errands and a trip to the gym, but that had been as unproductive as his work day. His mind was on Katie, and her smile and the way she smelled when excited. And the way she called me daddy. Because fuck. In his mind he had played over what to do tonight a thousand times, a million times, but in the end he knew this was the end game, the point where you tipped over the king and said "checkmate". Or did your opponent tip over the king when you said checkmate? How do I not know how chess works?

It was twenty to nine, earlier than he had arrived the previous nights by design. Pinhead's daughter was working again, her face all scowls and flashes of metal. She took his order and set about making his latte. Or trying to open a rift to the hell dimension where she would summon forth her fellow death priests to end life as we know it. Either or.

He absconded to his corner and set his cup on the table but didn't sit. Instead he strolled to the short hall that led to the bathroom. The butch barrista didn't even look his direction. Must be about to open the portal. He wrapped his knuckles twice on the knotty wood and heard a startled flutter from within.

"Just a moment!" The voice was panicked, breathless.

He waited for the sound of the latch, and pushed his way into the cramped space before Katie could react. Like the night before she was flush, forehead damp.

"You can't be in here!" she hissed.

He flicked latch on the door to lock it in response. The bathroom was small, maybe six by six, with a lone bowl on one wall and a sink and large mirror on the other.

"Did you wear it?" She had the long socks on from Tuesday with the pleated skirt, and plain grey v-neck tee-shirt today, but that part of her wardrobe wasn't what he meant.

"Yes," she stammered. She gave a muffled yelp as he grabbed her waist and spun her away from him until she was facing the sink. He liked the way his hand fit against the swell of her hips, all soft curves. They were staring at one another in the mirror, her gray-blue eyes wide with excitement. That's excitement, right? Because if not this shit is coming across as super rapey. She bit her bottom lip between her teeth and shivered. His cock was crowbar stiff and she pushed back against it. Yeah, that's excitement.

He slid his hands over her full curves then down her legs past the hem of her skirt. Never breaking eye contact he reversed direction, sliding up beneath the thin cotton until he felt the ripe half-moons of her ass. Her cheeks filled both his big hands, soft and plush, and he squeezed them gently.

"Were you touching yourself?" he asked, leaning forward so close his breath made the hairs on her neck dance.

"Yes."

"What hand did you use?"

She held up her right, the slender fingers still glistening.

"Let me see your taste yourself."

Katie brought them to her mouth and tentatively licked her index finger.

"More."

At his words she sucked her digit between her lips, fellating herself with a careful, steady in and out motion.

He slid one hand inward, fingertips brushing past the cool jeweled head of the plug he had given her the night before until he felt the heat between her thighs. Katie leaned forward, arching her back and pushing her rear up. She was swampy, so wet it felt like he was running his fingers through baby oil. He curled his fingers upward, spread to either side of her clit and began to stroke her, careful to not touch the little nub directly. Remember your technique. Tease it first. He had dated a semi-religious girl in high school who wanted her to save herself for marriage. Luckily her god seemed down with hand stuff, so he had perfected his technique. And lo the Lord spoke unto the masses and said 'Fornication shall damn thee; thus let my children finger bang unto shuddering completion, today and all the days behind the auditorium after track practice.' Book of Hand Job, chapter 69, verse 1.

She gasped as he teased her clit, eyes locked onto his through the mirror, and she spread her legs instinctively to give him access. He leaned down and brushed his lips gently across the back of her neck. He slipped his other hand from her ass and slid up the front of her tee-shirt. No bra. Her breast was small and firm, filling his palm. Her nipple was the diameter of a wine cork and he gently rolled it between his thumb and forefinger in time with the motion between her thighs.

"There are people right outside, only a few feet away," he lied. The shop had been quiet, but he knew the thought would excite her. "And here you are, getting fingered by a guy you barely know."

She shuddered, eyes rolling towards the ceiling. Her clit was a stiff as her nipple, and he lightly grazed it with dancing fingers.

"Are . . . are you going to fuck me, daddy?" she panted.

"Maybe." Absolutely fucking yes. "Do you deserve it?"

"I think so." Her voice trembled along with her lithe body. "I did everything you told me."

You did," he agreed. "You wore the skirt." Not that I intended to tell you to do that. "You wore the socks. You went bare. And put you put in the plug."

"See? I'm a good girl."

"And you didn't cum at all, right?"

She didn't answer.

He pinched her nipple, not hard, but with enough pressure to make her gasp.

"Did you?"

There was a ripe pause before her answer. "Last night. I couldn't help it, I was trying out the plug and I just . . ."

"You just what?" He sped up the motion on her clit.

"I used my fingers and made myself cum."

"What were you thinking of when you did it?"

"You daddy. You holding me down, fucking me. Using me. Cumming in me." She was grinding against his fingers now, butter-slick and hot as a sunburn.

He released her breast and used the hand to free his erection. It jutted forth from faded denim, so hard it hurt.

"Do you deserve that after disobeying?" Oh shit. What was that his friends with kids said, something about never threatening a punishment if you aren't willing to follow through. And I sure as shit don't want to follow through on this punishment.

She pushed the pillow softness of her ass back against his cock, but he leaned away. He knew somehow that it was important to make her wait, to keep the game going a little longer.

"Please!" she begged, voice a low hiss. "I promise I won't disobey next time."

"Rewarding you for bad behavior doesn't seem like a good idea. Only good girls get rewards."

He began to rub his cock head against the pudgy flesh of her ass, smearing a squiggly line of pre-cum along her skin like a snail trail. Her clit was engorged and stiff beneath his finger, hard as a pencil eraser.

"You could . . . fuck my ass," she finished with a whisper.

"I could," he responded, the hesitation in his voice as false as eyelashes. I mean, I actually could. She's been wearing the plug.

"Because I was bad you could fuck my ass." She spread her legs further, an invitation.

He found the flanged base of the plug with his fingers. It was slick with grease. He slipped his fingers around the edges and applied the slightest pressure making her eyes bulge.

"Push," he instructed. She did, eyes widening. A small grunt escaped her lips as the bell sipped free from her ring with a wet pop. He set the stainless steel plug onto the lip of the sink.

"Are you . . ." she began, but didn't finish the thought as he placed his hand between her should blades, pressing her forward until her forehead nearly touched the mirror. He flipped his skirt up with the other hand, then guided his straining cock into the valley between her cheeks, rubbing the engorged head with the lube smeared though her cleft.

"Look at me," he ordered, voice never breaking a whisper. She locked her eyes onto his. "Where am I going to fuck you?"

"Where it's dirty," she whispered.

"Say it."

"You're going to fuck my ass, Daddy."

Jesus fuck, am I.

Katie arched her back as the head of his cock kissed her ring. He pushed a glob of spit out between his lips, letting it fall into the dark cleft to splat against the junction of his cock and her ass lips. Perfect shot. Lebron James, eat your heart out. It felt cool compared to the heat radiating from her skin, like ice on a blister.

"Go slow," she whispered, bearing down as he nudged forward. Her cheeks flushed as she strained, pushing, bottom between her teeth. She reached back with both hands and grasped her ass cheeks, spreading herself open.

He slipped forward an inch, just the head popping inside. She gasped, in surprise or maybe in discomfort, and squeezed down on him three times in rapid succession.

"Just . . . give me a second, okay?"

He nodded, and cupped his hand in the sweep of her waist. His hand fit perfectly in the contour. She was still chewing on her lower lip and taking short, controlled breaths.

"Tell me when." Just not yet. Please not yet, because I'm about to lose it, right fucking now. A familiar ball of fire boiled up at the base of his balls, a miniature sun. He willed it back down with teeth clenched, fighting against orgasm with controlled breaths of his own.

She began to rock, small swaying movements back and forth.

"Do you like this?" she panted. "Do you like being in my ass?" Her eyes seemed to blaze, and they never left his gaze through the mirror.

He thrust forward to meet her rocking in response, knocking a gasp from between her pursed lips. The tight ring of her ass milked him in time with her heartbeat. There was a rustling beneath her skirt, and he felt her knuckles graze against his swaying scrotum as she stroked herself.

The only sound in the room for several minutes was their stifled breathing and the wet sound of skin on skin. Gradually the hot burning feeling in his groin was spreading, growing again. Think about things that are cold, think about bee stings. Think about anything other than how tight her fucking ass is, and how absurdly sexy she looks with her skirt bunched up around her waist, and her fucking eyes, and her fucking lips, and her fucking everything.

Katie broke the silence. "I'm getting . . . close." Her breath was ragged.

Oh thank fucking god. He picked up his pace, pulling out until just the head of his cock stayed locked inside the satin grip of her ring before thrusting back in. Her head lolled back with each thrust, but she kept her eyes on his and kept her fingers dancing to a rhythm only she could hear.

Her eyes rolled back when she came seconds later, and her entire body convulsed. It was too much, and he let go, the explosion in his groin also detonating in his brain, a white flash like the end of the world. His cock pulsed a dozen times, each stronger than the one before as he splattered her colon with thick ropes of semen. It felt like his life force was leaving his body, and as his orgasm subsided he collapsed, crushing her to the sink beneath her, his rigid cock still embedded in her ass. She lay motionless, the sweat from his body soaking into her shirt.

Minutes passed before Heller raised himself up off her back.

"Was I good, daddy?" She was still looking at him in the glass of the mirror, and her words made his dick pulse one final time.

"You were bad, but it was the fucking best." He slowly eased out of her greedy asshole with a wet plopping sound.

She spun and collapsed seated onto the toilet, knees spread lewdly. Her asshole let loose with a wet splatter, burping his thick seed into the water. "Sorry. There's not really a dignified way to do that and I couldn't hold it."

At this point no sense in playing coy I suppose. He had to admit he found her lack of self-consciousness charming.

He shrugged. "In some countries the chef considers that a compliment."

Katie let out a shocked laugh followed by another wet cum fart, and had to clasp her hands over her mouth to keep from breaking up.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked after regaining her composure. Her face was serious now. "Just so you know, I don't do this kind of thing."

"Fart out jizz in front of the guy who just fucked you in the ass at work?"

She rolled her eyes dramatically and a smile touched the corner of her lips. "Well, that, but . . . like literally everything. I'm generally pretty vanilla with sex stuff."

Heller felt a weight lift off his shoulders he hadn't even realized was there. "Really? Because I'm totally not the give-you-orders guy." Unless I'm being a fucking idiot doing it on accident. "I mean, it was fun. Like really, really fun. But I'm not sure that can be my only thing."

She nodded. "Like this totally worked for me. I had no idea I wanted to be told what to do until you told me to do it. And the daddy thing? Fuck me."

Fuck me indeed.

"But not sure I can take orders all the time. It's just too much."

"So how about tomorrow night I make you dinner?"

She unspooled a fistful of toilet paper and reached back between her cheeks to wipe carefully. "Dinner?"

"Just dinner."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Nothing else, and nothing expected. I make a decent crab ravioli, no lie."

She nodded slowly, then stood and let her skirt fall back into place to cover the glistening triangular stubble of her bush.

"Dinner would be good."

"Okay."

"Okay." She grabbed the plug from the porcelain, looking around in confusion at what to do with it.

"Here," he extended a hand palm up."

"No," she shook him off after a second before reaching back beneath her skirt. When her hand returned it was empty.

Best game of hide-and-seek ever.

"But just because it's not what I usually do doesn't mean I don't still want to do it. Just not tomorrow night.

"Okay."

"Unless I do."

"Okay."

"I'm working nights again next week. You could come in."

"I could."

"I might spill."

"You might," he agreed.