Every coffee shop needs three things: black coffee, free Wi-Fi and a hot barista. The trifecta for all our caffeine-addicted, lust-driven and connectivity issues.
Perfection is not easy to find.
That place off Mackle Street has spotty internet. The cafe down on the corner of Humble Way and 4th has burnt coffee and a stream of loud teens. The place a street off of that—Cloud Coffee and Tea—is so quiet you’ll know every bit of drama between the two baristas before an hour is out.
The discovery of the century is this narrow cafe called Tall, Dark & Handsome—or TDH to us regulars. The windows have navy blue, yet sheer, curtains that both let in the light but stop nosy window gazers from seeing computer screens. The hum of activity, while just a murmur, is enough to give a sense of cover. The tables are small but rounded, hard wood yet curved comfortably, obviously meant to entice a person to sit for long lengths of time because they don’t numb backsides or leave lines of pain behind the knees.
Small shelves, each filled with a spattering of books, are scattered throughout, some of the tables having them built into their single center legs. The unwritten rule is you take one, you leave another. One kind, though likely anal, older gentleman has taken it upon himself to keep those shelves sorted. There’s a fantasy and sci-fi table, another with romance and paranormals and two more with dramas and thrillers. The non-fiction fills the largest shelves by the bakery window.
The coffee beans are ground by hand in-house, the occasional humming of that pestle no where near as ear-splittingly painful as the machines in other places. The baristas make hot cocoa from scratch as well, their pots of melted chocolate and warm milk a constant aphrodisiac.
They wouldn’t be, if it weren’t for the lean specimen of male beauty always standing behind that stove. He wears no name tag, though his apron is as black as his hair and his coffee-flavored eyes are as hypnotizing as the real thing. His smiles are brief, his attention briefer. His hands move deftly in their work, skills that likely translate well into the bedroom. His book bag is filled with computer and textbooks when he leaves at noon and the occasional overheard conversation puts him in law school.
A man like that is sure to be attached. His ability to be an ardent lover a byproduct of all that unwavering focus and intense ambition. How he must feel, hot and willing, sweet and strong, moving over his partners… Continue reading →
Masks of metal, wood and feather
Footsteps echoed on that path
Emmi Lawrence 