Flash Fire

The door jingled as Phil walked into the coffee shop.  He dusted the snow off the shoulders of his black trench coat and kicked the white stuff off of his boots on the mat as well.  He turned to glance at the menu and get his coffee…

…when he saw her.

Her fiery red hair was held in a pony tail today.  A thick grey wool turtleneck sweater covered right up to her chin.  Her red lips sipped from a steaming paper cup of steaming creamy brown liquid.  Her eyes widened as they found his.

Phil froze.  His mind raced to what he should do.

Should he go up and talk to her?

Should he look away?

Should he spread her legs and bring her to a screaming orgasm by plowing into her with her wrists tied to the bed posts?

Should he fuck her, right there, on the coffee store booth table?

Should he run?

Should he walk up with a lounge lizard smile and ask her sign?

Should he pull down his zipper, saunter over and ask for a blow job?

Should he kneel in awe?

Should he write a letter to Penthouse about his fantasies of her?

Should he imagine her in rubber carrying a horse whip?…as he knelt in awe…

Should he continue standing here, wondering what he should do while looking like an idiot as drool dripped from one corner of his wide open mouth?

Phil popped back to reality when the neanderthal pushed past him and went to her.

The neanderthal smiled.  “Megan, I’m glad you came.”

Phil was happy to know her name at least.

Her eyes ripped from Phil’s and she smiled back at the neanderthal.  She said something quietly.

Phil noticed the wedding ring on her finger as she took the neanderthal’s hand.

The neanderthal lead her out, past Phil, saying, “He doesn’t have to know.”

Phil’s last sight of her and the neanderthal was seeing the beast stealing a nibble of her throat before they walked off into the blizzard.

The noise of the crowd in the coffee shop returned.

Phil’s eyes returned to the menu as he walked up to the counter and ordered his coffee…black.


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