Banana Pancakes

She had become a regular at the coffee shop. In a neighborhood showcasing a variety of brews, the dark hardwood floor and antique seating must have drawn her in. I found myself memorizing each one of her orders, hoping for the day she'd look to me and say "give me the usual." It wasn't enough to simply serve her. She had to taste my worship in the foam of her latte; in the crumb of her cupcake. I had to take my time with every aspect, the same way I had longed to do with her.

It was no secret. She lived on campus. My days in academia were far behind me, and I found solace in the simplicity of making coffee for inspired strangers. My studio apartment just blocks away, allows me to spend my days around beautiful women, and my nights behind a good book. It's 5 AM. I find myself staring at the ceiling, wondering if yesterday's interaction with her was a sign from God. She had ordered a caramel macchiato, and caressed my fingers as I passed her the cup. Our eyes locked. The right corner of her bottom lip, stroked by the tip of her pearly white fang. Her student ID badge, clipped onto the collarbone of her t-shirt, pulls her neckline down just enough to tease the beauty mark above her right breast. The cash register, my only source of privacy, shades my excitement from her line of sight.

My alarm rings. It's 5:30 AM, and my morning ritual begins; an hour and a half until work begins. I check the weather forecast, wondering if the sun would grant me the privilege of seeing her open toes today. In the shower, I imagine a menu of her favorite items, and recite them like a national anthem. I wear the same cologne I wore the day she first granted me access to her attention. A good luck charm before I head to work. On the streets, I hear the whispers of campus life, particularly the struggles of upcoming projects and examinations; things I chose to live without. Her MacBook Pro has served as a personal assistant and tutor, as I've witnessed more than one AirPod reliant private study session. So I make the mistake of assuming her presence, if at all possible today, would be overshadowed by the dark cloud currently hovering over this University.

I sit behind the counter and await her arrival. As others come and go, my mind remains at a stand-still, while my body executes the duties of an on-the-clock employee. As I reach for the hot caffeinated beverage spewing steam behind me, her reflection appears on the steel beneath the white and red "Caution" sign. I lose myself, and burn my hand with the blackest of coffee. It doesn't matter. My heart is racing. She's heading straight for me. What do I do? Should I just take her order? Should I tell her I've been thinking about her all morning? She approaches with the conviction of someone who knows exactly what they want. I can see it in her face, she needs it. Her lips are opening. Her voice speaks.

"Hi. Do you have banana pancakes?"

Banana Pancakes? Caught off guard, it takes me a second to adjust myself.

"No, we have cakes and stuff tho."

She rolls her eyes in disappointment. "I'll just have a coffee then," she responds. What the fuck is wrong with me? We have cakes and stuff tho? I become red faced with fury, as I unenthusiastically assemble the simplest cup of coffee. No latte? No macchiato? The dark cloud over her consumes me, and I'm determined to find a way to make this right.

Hours pass. She chose to sit near the window, almost reconfirming her thirst for a brighter day. Music, now spilling from her headphones to the dining floor, can be heard as far as the register. It doesn't bother me much. I seem to take pleasure in learning the soundtrack to her life. She catches me staring every so often, which unveils a newer, deeper depth to her dimples with every smile. Her long, illustrious hair, glistens in the sunshine pouring in from the window. I see her cup is almost empty, and without a moments thought, grab the coffee pot and make a b-line for the window-side seating. She quickly takes notice to my movements, and begins to follow me with her eyes, further intensifying the near four second walk. Fuck. I realize the opportunity at hand, and become flustered at the idea of saying the right thing. I already don't have her, so losing her isn't an option. I can only gain from this. So as a million thoughts race through my mind, I feel myself getting hard. I hope she doesn't notice, but wouldn't mind if she did. I begin to pour black coffee into her cup, and smile. She removes one earbud, inviting me to speak.

"I can make you banana pancakes," I say softly.

She giggles. "Excuse me?"

"I can make you banana pancakes. I just can't do it here."

She freezes. A smile on her face confirms interest, but her lack of response makes my knees begin to buckle. Did I just fuck up? Once again, her lips peal apart.

"And where exactly can you make me banana pancakes?" she responds.

"My place. I can't promise you'll get any studying done, but you will leave with a big smile and a full tummy." Holy shit. Where the hell did that come from? That's like a line out of a movie. I regain composure, and await a response. Three seconds pass.

"When are you off work?" She speaks. I'm stunned. Digging deep into my memory, I try recounting the current condition of my apartment. Did I clean the bathroom? Did I take out the trash? Uncertain, I still respond.

"Not til later, but I do have an hour lunch break in 15 minutes."

"Ok then. 15 minutes."

God damn it. Slow down. Did I just sabotage myself? Why couldn't I just be patient? Poker face. I try my best to mask my now shaking hands. I head back to my space behind the counter, and begin to gather my things. I've never made banana pancakes before. Do I have everything I need to make banana pancakes? Do I just make pancakes, and then add banana? My mind continues racing. I can see her through my peripheral vision, packing her MacBook into her oversized bag, awaiting my signal. Without seeming overly excited, I punch out my timecard and head towards her.

"Are you ready?"

I signal for the door, and she follows suit. The walk was just a few blocks, so I intentionally walked extra slow, trying to piece together my next plan of action. The Gods were good that day. She wore flip flops, and the toe-wrinkles created with every one of her steps sang to me like sheet music. We reach my apartment, and to my own amazement, it's clean. There was nothing spectacular about where I lived. It was all very simple. White curtains. White walls. Shit, even the couch was white. I typically found all the color I needed within the pages of a book. She kicks off her sandals, and walks across the Zebra striped rug, finding a home on the couch.

"So, where are my banana pancakes?" she says jokingly.

Something about the expression on her face made me believe that she was not here for the pancakes.

"They're coming," I reply.

She laughs quietly, and begins staring out of the lightly covered window. Her skin begins calling out to me. I walk towards the couch, and sit beside her, as we both continue staring into the blue abyss above us. She grabs my hand and places it on her left thigh, never breaking contact with the clouds outside.

"So how long have you wanted this?" she asks. Taken by surprise, my face begins to blush.

"Long enough," I respond. She turns her face towards me, and I feel her legs begin to slowly spread apart. My right hand dives into her long dark hair, fingertip to scalp, and assumes full control of her head movement. I begin sucking on her lips, allowing her saliva to drizzle across my mouth like a balsamic reduction. My left hand, slowly becoming accustomed to the change in temperature, examines the tenderness of her inner thighs as I make my way towards her panties. I feel her warmth, and my dick is now rock solid. She can feel me, and moans in my ear. I wrap my left middle finger around the wettest part of her underwear, and move them slightly to the side, exposing her moist pussy lips. I place my finger on her throbbing clit, and run it downwards. A perfect glide. Her eyes roll to the back of her head in ecstasy. I can't control myself, and without warning, taste my finger in her presence.

"You're delicious," I whisper. She grabs my face, and while pulling me between her legs, begs to be sucked on.

"Please eat my pussy." She repeats these words, over and over, while shaking with anticipation. I demand full flexibility, and completely remove her panties and skirt. Her aroma is intoxicating. She wraps her legs around my neck, and I use my tongue to tip-drill her clit like a construction worker on-duty. I feel her juices dripping down towards her asshole, and use my facial hair to relieve the tickle as I slurp her back into my mouth. I needed every single drop of her. I place my hand under her t-shirt, which she then rips off completely, giving me complete access to her body. From head to toe, naked. I'm in heaven. Her gorgeous nipples, perfectly shaped and colored, lay bare across her breasts awaiting my arrival.

I hold her legs up by the back of her knees, and take one last look at her world before consuming it. My tongue, traveling up her ass, pussy, and around her belly button, finds a home between her breasts; the perfect distance for penetration. She feeds me her right tit, and my hard dick slides deep inside of her, as I continually suck on her nipple. Our eyes, always in contact, elevate the intensity for us both. She controls my hips with her hands, keep a steady pace, which allows us to enjoy every rub of her tight walls. I move slow, but deep, and my mushroom head can feel the blood pumping inside of her. I feel her pulse, and it's wrapping around my shaft with every breathe.

She reacts. Seeing my vulnerability, she wants to make a statement. Contracting the muscles in her body, she tightens up, and increases her grip on my thick cock 100 fold. There is no letting go. Her body begins to gyrate, and her brunette landing strip holds me hostage. She's squirting. God damn, I can't let go. I can't stop. I'm cumming. We scream.

Our bodies peel apart, and a pool of sweat drips off of our skin, and onto the couch. She reaches over and grabs my favorite blanket, one that looks like my old white Christmas sweater from 1997. She covers herself, as she stretches out across the sofa. With a look of satisfaction across her face she asks, "so, how about those pancakes?"