Latte Love

"I don't know about you," I commented, "but I would definitely call this grand opening a success."

I stood at the entryway to the office with the owner, my neighbor Katherine. The Friday night opening of her coffee shop had attracted more customers than I had expected, even given the extremely close proximity to the university. As I slowly sipped at my third latte of the evening, I marveled at the line of students, professors, neighboring shop owners, and even a pair of police officers on patrol.

"It's definitely a success," Katherine said proudly. "It'll be interesting to see what my first Monday morning is like, to see how many students and professors will come this way for coffee and breakfast before heading to class. I just wish there were more dorms and student apartments on this side of campus, though, as that would almost certainly increase the foot traffic."

I again watched the many-pierced barista preparing a pair of drinks simultaneously, and was awed at her experience and expertise. Katherine had spoken about her earlier in the evening, but would not reveal how much she had had to pay the young expert to have her come work for a brand-new, single-location coffee shop.

"Well," I said, lifting my latte to my friend, "congratulations on a successful evening."

"Thank you," she graciously accepted, "but I think that if a particular student goes home with you, then she'll also consider this a successful evening."

That caught me off-guard. Katherine nodded her head across the room, and my eyes followed to a young woman who was probably twenty years old, studying from a rather thick textbook at a small table near the front window.

Katherine knew that I preferred younger partners, that my relationships in the past few years had all been with students from the university, even though they were all about ten years younger than me. She truly understood, firsthand, as she had been born exactly seventeen years after her now-late husband.

I had to admire the studious student. She was the only person studying on this Friday night, and I was rather surprised that she could block out the loud collective chatter in the coffee shop. Her shoulder-length hair was a rusty-red and, from where I stood, appeared to be entirely natural. Her fingers were long and slender, reminding me of my older sister, as her fingers were long and slender from having played piano since the age of four. She wore a modest college sweatshirt and black jeans, and the pendant of her necklace pointed straight down as she leaned forward over the textbook. Given the size of the textbook, I assumed that she was a science major, and given that she was studying on a Friday night, my guess was that she earned numerous excellent grades.

"I've noticed her looking at you on occasion," Katherine continued. "She may be studying for an upcoming exam or something, but she was also studying you rather closely earlier. It wouldn't surprise me if her notes contain observations about you."

It had been several months since my last relationship had ended. Christina had been a fun partner, but with her December graduation, both her education and our relationship had ended, as she moved to Florida for a position with a well-known newspaper. I had felt for weeks that it was time to find someone new, to again have someone to hold and cherish, although I had not actively sought anyone.

Perhaps, as Katherine seemed to be suggesting, someone had just sought me.

As she put down her pen, I again noted the long, slender fingers wrapping around the tall cup as she brought it to her lips. As she sipped, she looked about the main room, her eyes finally meeting mine, and as she drew the cup away from her lips, I saw a shy smile enhanced by immediately-glowing eyes. I simply raised my latte toward her, acknowledging her presence and her attention, and even at this distance, I thought I saw her blush just slightly.

"I think I'll leave you two lovebirds alone," Katherine commented softly. "Be sure to introduce yourself to her before she leaves. Somehow, I doubt she'll come to you, even though I can see she wants to at least chat with you."

"Why do you say that?" I asked, my eyes still upon the student as she returned her attention to the textbook.

"Because I was the very same way with Frank," my friend replied. "I don't recall, but he said that our relationship began the very same way: a few moments of eye contact and a rather profuse blush on my end. Fortunately, he finally came over to me and... Well, you know the rest."

I nodded, finishing my latte as Katherine disappeared into the office. Clearly, that was her signal to me that I was to go to the student.

But first, I went to stand in line, and when I finally approached the small table by the window, I carried two lattes. "May I?" I asked, gesturing to the empty chair across from the studious redhead.

She looked up from her notebook, saw that it was me standing before her, and smiled with her lips and with her eyes.

*****

By the time we left the coffee shop, it was nearly midnight, with only a handful of patrons still enjoying the expertly-made drinks. Katherine gave me a knowing smile as Strawberry and I left.

Yes, "Strawberry," for that was her nickname, bestowed upon her by her father in part because of her natural red hair and in part because she loved strawberries. While I obviously could not see it, she supposedly had a tattoo of a strawberry on her lower back, directly over her spine.

"Strawberry," I said to myself, still in disbelief about such a nickname.

"At least she didn't nickname me 'Cherry,'" she replied, partially serious and partially joking. "'Cherry' almost has a slutty connotation. I had a friend in high school whose real name was Cherry, and I would often hear the guys talking amongst themselves about wanting to 'take Cherry's cherry.'"

The cool night was clear, the stars easily visible above us as we slowly strolled away from campus. We walked side-by-side, our hands in our pockets, Strawberry's big bulky backpack almost causing her to look like a turtle able to walk erect. As I had learned, she was indeed a science major, studying biology. Confirming Katherine's supposition, she had an exam on Monday morning, and had been studying a chapter she had not yet read. But, she had confessed, she was perfectly content to chat with me for a while and save the rest of her studying for Sunday afternoon, having already intended to take Saturday off and go shopping at a large mall in a neighboring city.

"This is the first time I've ever gone home with a stranger," Strawberry admitted quietly, as if not wanting anyone else on the sidewalk to hear her.

"I find that a little hard to believe," I commented, hopefully making the statement sound somewhat like a joke.

"I've gone to other guys' dorm rooms before," she said, "but that's different. I've never gone to an unknown guy's home before."

"Ah," I said, finally understanding her meaning. "Is that any different?"

"Sure. A dorm room is still a quasi-public place, even with the door closed and the window closed and the blinds closed. Especially in the dorm I'm in, the walls are paper-thin, so even a soft snore can be heard in neighboring rooms. If things start to go bad, people will know about it immediately and call for help or come to the rescue. A few of my friends have been in that situation. I've fortunately been much luckier. So far."

"I see." That was all I could think to say at the moment.

"Going to someone's home, that's a different matter. There's space between houses, especially in this town. Sound does not necessarily carry well. For all I know, you have a soundproofed dungeon in your basement or attic where you'll take advantage of me and keep my locked away for days or weeks, and no one would know."

"I can assure you, I don't take advantage of anyone," I countered. "And in fact, the owner of the coffee shop lives right next to me. Katherine and I have known each other for about seven years now, and in fact, she knows that you and I are heading to my place. Trust me, if ever I do anything wrong by you, you can go to her and she'll be the first to put me in my place or call the cops or do whatever is necessary."

I could sense the last remaining nervousness oozing away from Strawberry. That in itself made me feel more at peace with the situation. And as we stopped at an intersection and waited for the traffic light to change, I was pleasantly surprised with she slipped an arm through mine, and we looked at each other in the orange glow of the street lamp overhead, sharing a smile and a gaze which assured me that we had each found what we were looking for.

*****

"What we were looking for" was indeed coming to fruition.

I had long been attracted to the university girls because they were both worldly yet innocent overall. They were old enough to have experienced a lot of life, especially those who had been able to spend part of their teenage years traveling, whether simply across the States or even overseas. They were also innocent in that there was still so much more of life to explore, so many more experiences which would shape their futures, and some of those experiences I was willing to give them if they so chose, especially in the realm of sexuality. That Strawberry had been an exchange student in the suburbs of Paris and was planning to spend the fall semester studying in Paris gave us a point in common, as I had also studied in Paris during my college career... although, since I had not spoken French much since my return from Europe, my knowledge of French was indeed rusty. That Strawberry had also spent many summers in various parts of the country hiking and camping and canoeing and swimming and biking and generally exploring the wonders of Nature appealed to me as well.

Strawberry was looking for someone older, wiser, someone who had already experienced much of the world and who would be willing to help her grow, both as a person and as a sexual being. "College guys only know so much," she commented, somewhat sadly, "and the guys I know seem very turned off by my sexual interests, to the point that they don't even want to try for fear of hurting me."

We were indeed compatible sexually. While Christina and I had not engaged in any S&M, she did enjoy occasionally being tied to the bedposts while I teased her mercilessly, practically making her beg for me to finally make love to her. But Strawberry wanted to go beyond that -- she wanted to try things she had read about, like being spanked and whipped, being submissive, being "forced" to do things sexually. She also wanted to do things which to me were very much "beyond the line," like toilet play, but she seemed to accept that I would almost certainly never be willing to go that far.

"Do you have a cell phone?" I asked after we had entered the house.

"Of course," Strawberry replied, as if I had just asked an unfathomable question like "Do you breathe oxygen?"

"Then let me give you Katherine's cell phone number," I said. "Like I said, if I ever do wrong by you, let her know and she will definitely take care of it."

I liked Strawberry's cell phone, which she took out of her backpack. It was a simple, basic flip-style phone, protected in a sturdy leather case. It looked rather similar in style to my Motorola phone, which also raised my esteem of her -- primarily because that meant that she and I were both supporting my father's early retirement from Motorola.

Strawberry sat on the sofa while I sat in the nearby recliner. We chatted quietly as a Vanessa-Mae CD played softly in the background.

"From what I've seen so far," she finally said, "you have a nice house."

"Thank you."

"And you're nice as well."

I could only smile at that.

"It's true. You're very well-behaved. Maybe that's because you're older. Maybe it just seems that way because I'm still a bit naïve in some respects. But for some reason, ever since I first saw you tonight at the coffee shop, I've really felt at ease with you."

"I'm glad."

We lapsed momentarily into silence. "Do you believe in fate?" she finally asked.

"Actually, yes," I replied.

"Good," she stated firmly, as if I had just passed a test.

"Do you believe in equality and respect for others?" I asked.

"Certainly."

"Even though you want to explore being submissive?"

"Yes."

"Good," I stated firmly, for she had just passed a test, "because first and foremost, I believe, a relationship of any kind, from a simple acquaintance to a fifty-year marriage, needs to be built upon a foundation of equality and respect and trust, although trust can only be earned over time."

"Well, I already have some measure of trust for you," Strawberry noted aloud, which somewhat surprised me given that we had only known each other for less than three hours. "You've been nothing but kind and respectful to me so far, and you didn't try to immediately get my jeans off once we got in the door. In fact, you've barely touched me at all."

"Does that bother you?" I asked.

"That you've barely touched me at all? Somewhat, yes, because I'll admit, I've been a bit horny all day. I've just been simmering since about dinnertime, otherwise I would never have been able to study tonight."

I smiled to myself, trying to envision her in her dorm room, naked, on her back upon a thin narrow bed, one hand furiously pulling at a well-formed breast while her other hand busied itself between her thighs.

That was when I truly looked at the young woman before me for the first time in a sexual manner. Leaning back on the sofa, her breasts strained a bit against her sweatshirt, giving me a better sense of their comfortable size. Her legs were crossed in a ladylike manner, but I recognized the tone and muscle hidden beneath the denim, as well as the powerful grip of her thighs if I were to perch between them and feast upon her womanhood. Given her admission of being horny all day, I wondered if she was already wet for me, if her nipples were already hardened within the cups of her bra. Although her unpainted fingernails were kept short, I wondered how deeply they might scratch into my back if I were to slip inside her lithe body and relieve her horny condition.

"So you've been horny all day?"

She simply nodded.

I extended a hand toward her. "Come sit," I requested softly.

With the grace of a ballerina, Strawberry rose and maneuvered around the coffee table, ultimately taking my hand and allowing me to guide her onto my lap. As of one mind, our arms wrapped around each other and our lips joined for the first time.

Her lips were as soft as I had anticipated, and I could just faintly feel the remnants of the day's gloss upon her lips. I swallowed her soft sigh of contentment, taking her breath into me and allowing it to sustain me. Our first kiss lingered as if we had already been in a relationship for years, and our hands roamed chastely upon each other as if we were each silently challenging the other to make the first truly bold move.

I answered the challenge first, my hands quickly ascending Strawberry's back and seizing fistfuls of her red hair, pulling her head back and exposing her throat to me. She hissed loudly as her lips separated from mine, her eyes snapping open from the suddenness of my act, her fingers curling against my back. I dove for her neck, growling, almost certainly causing a moment of doubt within her, before placing a gentle kiss upon her exposed throat.

It took her at least a full second to react: She laughed softly, tension and nervousness being released from her body as she laughed. It was a sweet sound, melodic and happy and relieved. "For a moment, I could've believed you were actually a vampire!" she announced, and as I lifted my lips from her vulnerable throat, I smiled. Releasing her hair, I hugged her tightly, yet she seized me with an even stronger grasp.

Clearly, she was indeed serious about wanting to explore things sexually, for she had passed this small test by not protesting or trying to run away.

"I know one way to alleviate your horniness," I whispered into Strawberry's ear.

"Please," she whispered in response, her voice breathy, indicating her need once again rising above the "simmer" level.

"Turn around with your back to my chest," I instructed her. With some reluctance, she released her hold on me and obeyed, her legs straddling mine. Her head rested comfortably against my shoulder, and I felt her relax against me as if we had already been longtime partners.

I took another bold step, my hands immediately moving to the front of her jeans, unbuttoning them and lowering the zipper. She stiffened momentarily, apparently expecting me to undress her, but relaxed as my hands then moved up over her sweatshirt to her chest.

"Oh, yes..." she whispered as my hands gently squeezed her breasts. Her back arched away from my chest as she tried to press more of her breasts into my hands, and I suspected that her breasts were particularly sensitive if she was reacting like this.

"Make yourself cum," I said softly yet sternly. "Failure to do so in the next five minutes will result in a punishment. Understood?"

I heard her swallow before she replied, "I understand." With a little reluctance, she slipped her right hand down the front of her jeans, her other hand gripping the left armrest.

"Have you ever masturbated in someone else's presence before?" I asked into her ear. Strawberry only shook her head. "Get used to it," I advised her, squeezing a breast a little roughly and enjoying how she writhed upon me in reaction.

For the next five minutes, I split my attention between the clock on the VCR and the young woman's masturbation. She was clearly not trying to force herself to orgasm as quickly as possible, which I had anticipated given that this was her first time masturbating in my presence -- or, by her own admission, in anyone's presence. I even gave her a one-minute grace period, yet despite her sultry movements upon me and the change in her breathing and the soft whimpers of delight emerging from her dainty little mouth, she was not even close to a climax at the end of the grace period. I could not determine whether she was purposely testing me or was simply too nervous to complete such a personal task in my presence, but in either case, I needed to follow through on the punishment, even though that would mean reluctantly releasing her breasts from my fondling hands.

"Stand."

After slowly removing her hand from the inside of her jeans, Strawberry stood beside me, looking upon me with wonder laced with desire. Whether it was desire for the climax she had yet to achieve or desire for me, I was uncertain, although I suspect that there was an equal measure of both desires within her.

"Off with the jeans."

She hesitated again, then dropped to one knee, for first she needed to remove her shoes. I watched as she worked slowly, untying the laces with great care, setting each shoe aside as it was removed from a foot. Then she stood again, and carefully slid the denim down over her hips, down her muscled thighs, and stepped out of them, revealing the wonderful tone of her legs, and I recognized the power of her lower appendages, well-exercised from years of swimming and hiking and biking and other activities we had chatted about earlier in the evening.

In a way, she looked silly, dressed in a college sweatshirt, frilly white socks, and a skimpy red thong featuring a smiley face with a bleeding bullet hole in the forehead placed directly above the visible area of moistness. Strawberry stood with her hands behind her, her head downcast, as if embarrassed to be standing before me, yet she made no attempt to cover herself, nor did she try to shy away. She was clearly comfortable with her sexuality, even in the presence of a stranger with over a decade more of life experience.