Post by goldenmyst on Jul 28, 2021 20:16:28 GMT -6
Coffee Shop Francophile
She is crouched like a tigress with her derrière in full moon but for her jean shorts. Her face is in the condiment cooler until she looks back with a eureka smile and gives me a triumphant thumbs-up proclaiming she found the coffee shop caviar better known as hummus for my bagel.
She says, “You watched me the whole time. The look on your face is one of a man who got caught with his eyes on the cookie prize. But I know you were excited by the condom I mean condiment. Pardon my Freudian slip. Please take a seat and it will be my pleasure to deliver your bagel.”
I sit eagerly awaiting her arrival. Soon she appears in her denim shorts and a smile like it is no secret where my gaze glued on her and that her legs are cause for celebration for the male libido. I thank her with a who me innocent grin and she answers my joy with a “Your welcome. But I forgot your spoon. I’ll fetch it.” She puts the utensil on my plate and pirouettes back to the pastry counter.
I test my luck on a second appearance for more drink and love. This time the milk is lacking which she remedies upon my request. But there is spillage which she sets to wiping. She instructs her girl helper to toast my bagel. In my dumb disappointment, I fully expect my angel to delegate the delivery to her Girl Friday. But to my delight, my angel brings it with a smile like the sunrise on the shore of Oahu over the blue Pacific.
As she spins into retrograde motion my eyes follow her blue jean bottom in its sashay whose derriere dares me to peep with my tomcat eyes. When she turns the corner I return for an encore but this time with only water on the menu. Yet my honeysuckle angel says, “You are thanking me like the water was from the artesian wells of France.”
I reply, “Maybe I am a Francophile fascinated by your Cajun accent.”
She says, “Well Baton Rouge is a French named city.”
I reply, “And our water comes from a pure aquifer.”
She answers, “That makes our water special.”
She is crouched like a tigress with her derrière in full moon but for her jean shorts. Her face is in the condiment cooler until she looks back with a eureka smile and gives me a triumphant thumbs-up proclaiming she found the coffee shop caviar better known as hummus for my bagel.
She says, “You watched me the whole time. The look on your face is one of a man who got caught with his eyes on the cookie prize. But I know you were excited by the condom I mean condiment. Pardon my Freudian slip. Please take a seat and it will be my pleasure to deliver your bagel.”
I sit eagerly awaiting her arrival. Soon she appears in her denim shorts and a smile like it is no secret where my gaze glued on her and that her legs are cause for celebration for the male libido. I thank her with a who me innocent grin and she answers my joy with a “Your welcome. But I forgot your spoon. I’ll fetch it.” She puts the utensil on my plate and pirouettes back to the pastry counter.
I test my luck on a second appearance for more drink and love. This time the milk is lacking which she remedies upon my request. But there is spillage which she sets to wiping. She instructs her girl helper to toast my bagel. In my dumb disappointment, I fully expect my angel to delegate the delivery to her Girl Friday. But to my delight, my angel brings it with a smile like the sunrise on the shore of Oahu over the blue Pacific.
As she spins into retrograde motion my eyes follow her blue jean bottom in its sashay whose derriere dares me to peep with my tomcat eyes. When she turns the corner I return for an encore but this time with only water on the menu. Yet my honeysuckle angel says, “You are thanking me like the water was from the artesian wells of France.”
I reply, “Maybe I am a Francophile fascinated by your Cajun accent.”
She says, “Well Baton Rouge is a French named city.”
I reply, “And our water comes from a pure aquifer.”
She answers, “That makes our water special.”
