Starbucks Rendezvous — Meeting my Lover for the First Time
Tags: First Date, Affairs, Lovers, Dating And Sex, Sexuality

Starbucks Rendezvous — Meeting my Lover for the First Time

The Barista’s know my dirty secrets.

Photo by Humphrey Muleba on Unsplash

The Starbucks baristas know I’m cheating. They see me come in meeting various men. They can guess what I’m up to. It’s pretty obvious. I try to vary my locations, so I hide my trail a bit, but still.

My head does the swivel upon entering, looking for the guy I’m supposed to meet.

Where is he?

Which one?

That troll in the corner? Please no.

No one here looks like the guy in the picture.

The barista eyes me. I go to the end of the line and wait to order.

As I moved to the register, I perused the glass case longingly. I want a sweet, but I won’t let myself have one.

“Chai latte, please. Grande or whatever is the biggest one.”

I still don’t understand the sizes and I’m going to get a caffeine buzz whether or not I like this dude.

I walked to the pickup counter.

Standing but with my gaze fixed on the door.

Where is he?

“I’m running late,” my phone pinged.

“Don’t leave!! I’ll be there soon!” my potential lover texted.

I had about an hour left.

When was my husband going to start to wonder where I was? I said I’d be shopping. This guy better hurry up.

What I am shopping for is a new lover.

This looking business was dragging me down. I’m tired. Just let this be the one. I didn’t hold out much hope. Previous “dates” had left me shell-shocked. Like a war veteran, I was cautious.

Taking orders, a heavy-set younger guy wearing the green apron eyed me appreciatively.

He knew.

He had seen me here before.

With my red hair, I was memorable. The barista gave me a knowing look. That extra long side eye.

If I had any decency left, I might have blushed. But I didn’t.

I gave him a smirk in return.

“Almost there! Don’t leave!” my phone pinged again. This guy. He was going to get himself into an accident, texting and driving.

I sighed, and looked for a spot to sit down.

Spying an open seat on a banquette facing out was my goal. Best line of sight for watching the people stroll in.

“I’m by the door sitting at a table,” I texted.

I can still leave. There’s time.

The doors opened. He spotted me immediately and pulled out the chair opposite to mine.

I wasn’t prepared for the gorgeous guy who came to meet me. All the previous men were, let’s just say, underwhelming.

“Hey,” he said, grinning, as he sat his wide-shouldered frame into the seat.

“Thank you for waiting. I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he added.

“So good to finally meet you,” I said with my eyes crinkling.

This is looking up.

And I wanted to leave…

I wasn’t even keen on meeting. He’s not my type. He’s bald and too much of a gym rat. He’ll never be into me. I’m wasting my time. Why bother?

Until, he sat down and the air crackled between us.

“You better make it up to me!” I added smiling.

“Oh, I will. Don’t you worry. We are going to have fun together.”

We will. I’m already enjoying this.

“You are lovely. I’m so glad you aren’t snatched up yet,” he said.

“Still looking. I can’t stay celibate,” I said, looking down, suddenly shy.

“That’s why we’re here,” as he leaned over the table, closing the distance between us.

He’s making me squirm in my seat. Dammit.

After our sad perfunctory conversation regarding the lack of intimacy at home, we started to relax with each other.

“Why doesn’t your wife want you?” I said.

Is she crazy? Doesn’t she see how desirable her husband is?

“I could say the same for you,” he added.

“I don’t understand my husband,” and “I certainly don’t understand his lack of libido.”

“I don’t have that problem,” my potential lover said while eyeing my V-necked blouse.

“Thank God,” I said.

“I’m so tired of not being wanted,” I sighed.

“I want you right now,” he said, as his eyes pierced mine.

Blushing, I joked, “I want your frothy head,” and added, “of your latte,” I teased.

I licked the foam off my finger.

His eyes traced my lipsticked mouth.

“Not his,” as I bent my head towards the barista behind the counter.

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh, yeahhhh.”

“You have a dirty mind; l love it!”

“The barista has been monitoring my progress with potential lovers. He’s just trying to get in on the action. But I want you.”

“I’m honored,” he said, touching my hand lightly, setting my hair alight.

That one feather-light touch was enough to know.

I didn’t need more conversation. I needed hotel times. My decision was made.

I would have a lover, finally.