Bolshoi Barista

Bolshoi Barista  
   
     “Your poses would do a ballerina proud.”  
     “Glad you noticed. I wear the tights so customers like you can see the nutcracker while ordering coffee.”  
     “Well honestly I would never have made that association but now that you mention it you could be Clara.”  
     “Ah, a man who knows his ballet. But surely I am an all-grown-up Clara. After all my curves are those of a twenty-year-old Bolshoi dancer.”  
     “Yes, indeed I can see that plain as day. You must be at least in your twenties.”  
     “Hey, I am a freshman at the university. Surely, I don’t look in my late twenties.”  
     “No more than twenty-one if even that.”  
     “Nice recovery. So tell me truly, if you had to pick an age what would you say mine is?”  
     “I would guess nineteen. Your Aphrodite physique is that of a woman in her prime.”  
     “Well, truthfully I am twenty. So I’ll take the extra year as a compliment. But you guessed right at the outset that I was once a ballerina. Alas, the boy dancers got frustrated by my trying to lead the dances. And my gothic cosmetics annoyed the choreographer to no end. So not to parade my dominant nature I traded my leather outfits for lace and pink. And I toned down my moves so as not to intimidate the boys. But I never quite fit in.”  
     “So what led you to serve coffee?”  
     “I get a paycheck this way. The ballet was part of my theater department curriculum. Now I can have an audience of young men like you to wear leotards for while prancing across the coffee shop.”  
     “Do you really wear spandex for the visual appeal?”  
     “Well, they are comfortable. But yes my look does attract customers which gets me more tips and the satisfaction of being beautiful.”  
     “You are a classic beauty such as the Degas would have painted.”  
     “My, this conversation has taken a wonderful twist into the aesthetics of nylon on musculature. Now tell me where you live. I promise I won’t stalk you even with my aggressive tendencies.”  
     “I live down the road where the wild ones take refuge among bars to drink their angst into a stupor.”  
     “Another college alumna from the student ghetto. Your touches of grey gave you away.”  
     “Well, it has been a while since I sat in one of those classroom desks. Not sure I could squeeze myself into one anymore.”  
     “Tight squeezes can be tricky, especially while driving.”  
     “I don’t drive anymore, I take the bus.”  
     “I am glad you told me that. Now I know that if we go to the movies I’ll do the driving. But then I always loved being in the driver’s seat.”
     “Your voice always sounded so no-nonsense up until now but recently you started smiling and being sweet. Today you weren’t serving me but interrupted putting up cups to ask how I was doing.”  
     “I was testing you but think we have broken the ice.”