The Plunger

by barbara unkovic • Member { View Profile }

Which one of them would be first in the door craving my espresso? The only one whose name I actually knew was Melita, the tall fake blonde with the big tits. Melita was so ditsy that she couldn’t even remember how many sugars she needed in her take away latte or even if she actually wanted sugar!

Number two was the tiny dark haired woman.  I’d never seen anyone take so long over a short black.  Regrettably her appeal began to diminish when she became very intense, stared into my eyes and told me she wanted a replacement for her old drunken husband!

The hesitant blonde with the bob admired me from a distance if perhaps a little hesitantly from underneath her heavily made up long lashed eyes while she took an hour to drink her half strength soy decaf latte.

Always the last to appear, was the scientist.   She absolutely doted on me and hung off my words.  The cappuccino was for her.  Unfortunately, she brayed like a donkey exposing her crooked yellow teeth.

She lingered silently, never actually speaking until suddenly she found her voice.  Would I come round to her house to fix her broken coffee plunger!


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