“If you wanted cream and sugar with your coffee, all you had to do was ask.”
I jumped from the sudden voice. The coffee splashed up and over the sides of the mug. I didn’t have to turn around to know whom the playful voice belonged to. I smiled and looked up at him as he took a seat on the arm of the wing-backed chair. He clutched a white towel in his hand. My face became eye-level with his armpit. I could smell the intoxicating scent of his deodorant, mixed with his muskiness, drifting from the opening of his shirt.
“You left before I got your name. I’m Alan.” He ran his fingers through the reddish-orange curls of my hair. “I’ve always had a soft spot for ginger men.” He wiggled his eyebrows and smiled. “Tell me, is the rest of your body hair this color?”
“Would that be better to discover that answer yourself?” I sipped on my coffee trying to be playful. “I’m Joe.”
“Is that an invitation to find out?”
“It could be.” The corner of my lips curls into a sly smile as I took another sip of my coffee.
“Then let me apologize for my slight outburst about the pastries. As co-owner of the coffee shop and the pastry chef, I tend to be a little uptight about my works of art. Let me demonstrate how the Chantilly should be enjoyed.” Alan took the pastry without the fingerprint. “They are very delicate, so be gentle.” Alan held it for me. I opened my mouth. He placed his arm across the back of the chair and leaned into me until my head rested on his chest. He parted his lips as if guiding me. He slipped the pastry between my lips. I bit down, taking a small corner into my mouth. A dollop of cream fell to the corner of my mouth. Alan took his pinky finger and lifted the cream from my lips. He placed his finger into his mouth and moaned. “That’s how you eat my Chantilly.”
“Thanks, I’ll try to remember that.”
“Please, do. I hate to see my hard work handled the wrong way. “May I?” Alan looked at the partially eaten pastry in his hand. “I’ve not had breakfast yet.”
“Help yourself.” I took a sip of my coffee as I watched him open his mouth. His lips formed around the edges of the flaky dough. He bit into it. The soft, cream stuck to the whiskers on his upper lip. He licked his lips. The heat of his tongue melted the cream, smearing it further into his blossoming mustache.
“I think you missed a spot,” I said. He leaned into me as a smile crept across his face. I cupped his chin with my hand and ran my thumb over his upper lip. His whiskers were rough. I slipped my thumb into my mouth, savoring the taste of his lip mixed with the sweet cream.
“It doesn’t feel as if you got all of it.” He pulled my thumb out of my mouth and placed his lips on mine. I felt his lips part. His mouth opened as he slipped his tongue into my anxious mouth. Our tongues met. The flavors in his mouth were heavy with coffee and butter and cream. Alan broke the kiss and looked at his watch. “Come on.” He stood and tucked the white towel into his back pocket. He held out his hand and led me farther into the back of the hotel lobby. He looked behind us, opened a door and pulled me inside with him.
“I don’t have much time,” he said as he closed the door. He pushed me up against the wall. Our eyes became locked on each other. I smiled at him. I gripped the edge of his opened shirt collar. I kissed his neck. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down on my tongue. I pulled the edges of his shirt further open and buried my face in his furry chest. His musky scent penetrated my nose.
I unbuttoned his vest and the last of his shirt. He wrapped his arms around me. I nuzzled my face into his broad, furry chest. His hands slipped inside my T-shirt. His touch ignited something inside me I thought had been lost. I melted into his body. I kissed his chest and licked the sweat starting to bead beneath the mat of fur. He moaned at my touch. The rise and fall of his chest seduced me until I was lost in his body. I reached down and gripped his belt. I hesitated. I moved my hand between his legs. He groaned then pulled my hand away.