“What’ll it be, sugar?”
The greeting was so Southern that he barely looked up. "Coffee. Black please.“
Then he really looked. She was smiling at him, her sweet round face peeking out from a mane of blonde curls. Her plaid shirt, tucked messily into her jeans, was open enough at the top to give him a peek. He found that his ears were warm.
"Oh, eh – my ‘pologies, I didn’t expect – excuse me.” He tipped his hat and spun around, letting the door rest behind him for a moment. He took a deep breath, turned, came back inside, this time with a grin on his face.
She laughed. "What’ll it be, sugar?“
He leaned across the counter and looked down at his hands, adopting a contemplative look. "Well, let me think. I’m drivin’ my truck across the state border. I’ve had a long, lonely drive all through the night. And there’s a pretty girl in front of me.” He raised his head slowly, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Looks like I need coffee. Black, please.“
Her laugh was full and bright as she turned, displaying her round ass under the apron, and fetched him a clean mug. She poured in the coffee. "Anything else?”
“Ah, y’know, just a bit of company while I sip this.” He lifted the mug to his lips. "What’s your name?“
"Not tellin’,” she said, tapping her chin with a finger. "It’s more fun that way. C’mon.“ Suddenly she was all sass and curves as she swaggered into the back. He looked around at the empty cafe, hurriedly swallowed a few mouthfuls of blistering coffee, and slipped through the back door.
She bounded up to him, her now-freed breasts jiggling wildly. Her grin was infectious. "Right here! On the rag washer. Hurry!”
She was fumbling with his pants, and he scrambled to help her, caught up in the excitement. She wriggled against him and worked her hands until he was warm and ready, then she jumped up backwards onto the washer, spreading her legs under her skirt. Giggling, she reached for his shirt collar and pulled him to her. They locked lips and he found his way in.
They rocked together, struggling to find a rhythm, until she slapped the washer on. The unit vibrated beneath her, giving them a cadence to rock to. She squealed and clutched his shoulders, flinging her head back so that her curls fell around her bare shoulders. He flicked out his tongue and teased her nipples as she came, and then followed suit, relief from the road rushing through him.
She shoved him off almost as soon as he had finished. “All right, mister, back to your coffee. It’s getting cold.”
He stood struggling to pull on his boxers, calling after her, “What, no goodnight kiss?”
“I’m just your sugar sweet girl from Georgia!” she called back, and he smiled and went out to caffeinate for another long drive.