Barista Girl & The Forgotten Coffee

Barista Girl & The Forgotten Coffee

     “It slipped my mind.”      
     The boss says, “She forgot your coffee and was petulant for your refill. Such impolite behavior deserves recompense. Karen, go in the coffee room and drop your pants.”  
     “Panties too, boss?”  
     “Yes, you know the drill.”  
     Her eyes are like a deer caught in headlights. She clears her throat, “Ummah, will do boss.”  
     The boss says, “Sir, you may use your hand on her fanny.”  
     Karen replies, “Sir, my karmic debt is strong enough to infect a whole species with bad genes. Help me pay it back with your firm hand.”  
     The patron says, “I feel like I’ve stepped into a Dali painting.”  
     “I store my bad karma in my derriere. Your blush therapy is the perfect antidote for my emotional toxins. Please, for the sake of a girl’s health do it to me. This is consensual.”  
     “When you put it that way how could I turn you down?”  
     “Step into the coffee grinding room and make me a new woman.”  
     She skivvies out of her spandex pants and slips out of her panties like a locust out of the shell. Then she bends over the counter to receive her therapy. I start with light pats that grow in intensity to a stronger percussion. I can’t tell whether her moans are from pain or pleasure. But they grow louder until I soften the blows.    
     She says, “You make my reparation for my sins into a saucy religion of steamy revelations.”  
    I transfigure her buns into an Apostolic vision. Soon she is crying and I back away. She exclaims, “My weeping is from guilt. The sting of your hand only brings out what is already there.”  
     Her bottom blushes under his handprints that become the petals scattered on the canvas of her pink carnation. They form a collage with pieces of a girl’s dreams coaxed into fruition for art’s sake. The patron asks, “Are you ready for me to stop?”  
     “Wait until my penance is complete. You will know by my voice when the time is right.”  
     “I wouldn’t deny you what it takes to find peace.”    
     “You are my intercessor with God. You are a righteous man and do no wrong to me.”  
     He rolls her buns like Sisyphus pushing boulders up and down the mountain to keep her at the summit where the climax can occur.  
     She says, “It takes longer to reach my Big ‘O’ with a paddling. But once the heat penetrates where my secrets are gathered my congregation of nexuses will be a sign from heaven.”  
     “Don’t make me the sorcerer of your wounded spirit. I’ve taken you near to where you want to go. And no doubt that bad karma is history. Lock yourself up alone in this room and go all the way.”  
     “Be quiet and get to work. Time is a wasting.”
     She is posed as a penitent angel whose sacrament of absolution is received upon her upturned bottom in the slow burn of desire made immaculate by carnality through self-ordained flagellation.       
     He smacks her with a finger touching her hidden flesh. She wails like a muezzin on a minaret announcing prayer time.    
     She says, “I can’t thank you enough. You have saved me from a lifetime of karmic debt with your well-placed swats.”  
     She pouts and he says, “My only other request is that you serve me a free coffee at my table.”    
     She smiles. The boss says, “Very well would you like her to entertain you with conversation?”  
     “That would suit me well.”    
     We take our places seated across from each other for the ceremony to begin. She says, “I feel more servile than when you spanked me since I sold you on the padding and this was your idea. In fact, I feel like a Geisha which I suppose I am since I serve our guests tea and coffee in what amounts to a personal tea ceremony. I even entertain some with chat but never you until now. You are the tall dark stranger of this establishment, a bit unkempt and rough around the edges.”    
     “Well, you go first.”    
     “OK, I was a cheerleader for the college football team until the front row crowd started taking pictures of me with their phones. Things got a bit too cozy when I saw pics of me on the university website that I hadn’t approved. It felt like my privacy was invaded, though the other girls didn’t mind. So I dropped out but am steadily working on my degree in anthropology.”    
     “You are released from service milady. I have enjoyed your company. Now I have a story to work on with my phone.”    
     “What do you write about?”    
     “One last secret and that shall be all. My muses are you baristas.”    
     “Oh my God! I am a literary starlet. I’ve always dreamed of being immortalized and here you have done it for me. You must share them with me, a link or search term to find them.”    
     “I’ve opened a can of worms.”    
     “Don’t worry that you will disgrace me. I am quite liberal.”    
     “Then I’ll write a link to where they are posted on a receipt. You may read to your hearts' delight.”
     “I am famous at the age of twenty-one. I knew I was headed for stardom.”