I decided that being a writer who has a job obligation to love coffee :-) that I'd take some of the Coffee based snippets from Animal Management (Book #1) of my Savage Series to show my love for my morning beverage of choice. One day, I'll write a sonnet (or dirty lyric), but for now, enjoy my fictional love of coffee.
~
After a few hours of
restless sleep, I went upstairs and was immediately accosted by John. Can I at
least make it to the coffee pot before I start a body count?
“John, follow me to the
coffee if you want a live audience. And don’t get too close because I do bite.”
“That’s not what Leilei
said,” he said before looking at my stone cold face, “Sorry. I have problems
and need your input. Grab a mug. I’ll talk.”
He was smart enough to
back up as I went to the carafe that Cayman had just filled. Something was up.
John was on me first thing and the coffee was Irish Cream. I groaned as I
reached for the sugar.
“I have a feeling that
this isn’t going to be good so just spill it while I’m still numb.”
“Here we go. I didn’t
like the cops being called in last night. I don’t like some detective snooping
around my business. Last night was a bad thing to happen for our first night
with normal folk, so this means bad publicity. I appreciate you being subtle
about what happened last night but people are still asking questions.”
“I understand this. What
else?” I knew he was working up to something.
“Well, we’ve already had
a couple of news reporters calling to see what they can dig up on us. I don’t
need this. We don’t need this. I want everyone on the same page when it comes
to the reporters. No one is to tell them anything. I don’t care if they’re
offering an all-expense paid trip to Bora Bora, no stories, at all.”
“Okay John, consider me
on the page,” I took another big sip as I waited for the shoe to drop.
“Well, I need you to
handle the detective.”
Handle? I choked on my
coffee. Great, almost made it shoot out of my nose. I’d be smelling Juan Valdez
all day. Cayman popped me on the back, almost making me spill my coffee. I
raised my arm to signal that I was fine. I set the warm mug down slowly and
took a few haggard breathes to clear my lungs. I reached back for my coffee to
find it full again. Cayman knew how to butter me up.
~
“What do you mean by
'handle', John?” My coffee tasted better this time, Cayman must have doctored
it.
John took a deep
breathe, “I don't mean for you to cast a spell on him or um, anything else,
unless you want too, of course. I just think that you’d be the only person here
to get through to him. He seems attracted to you and we could use that edge to
keep him from screwing things up for us here.”
“Good thing you don't
want me to prostitute myself for the bar, John.” I rolled my eyes at Cayman who
was trying to hold his chuckle in as his shoulders shook gently.
“Come on, he’s
interested in you. You can't deny that.”
“John, you need to get
out more because looking at a girl's ass does not mean he’s interested. That's
like a man needing to seriously love a woman to take her to bed for the night.
What are you expecting? And you better hurry up because my coffee's getting
cold.”
John waved a hand at
Cayman who pulled out another shiny black, steamy mug from below the counter.
He’d set me up, no wonder Cayman was busting to laugh, but I was on to them
now.
“Look guys, you can ply
me with yummy coffee all day and I’ll still tell you to kiss my ass with a
smile on my face. Now get to the point, quickly.”
Giggle.
I raise my cup to you and hope that you have a Moanless Day.
)))Corset Hugs(((
Ginny Lynn
Wench Writer
