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Coffeelandia Episode 1: Ditched By Flangelina

(International readers should note that Shane Warne is an Australian former international cricketer famous for bowling and infamous for his love of sexting, while 'orts' are food scraps.)

Anastasia von Beaverhousen scanned the speed-dating café once more. Gilt-framed mirrors, red velvet baroque furniture and clusters of decorative cherubs and cupids leered back at her. With the enormous, gleaming space-age coffee machine to one side, the café’s decor could best be described as brothel meets barista. 

How had her life come to this? When her friend Emmy Enchilada had skited about her Coffeelandia conquests during their last botox party she’d made it sound like mad, sexy fun. But standing in the entryway clutching her designer merkin handbag and regretting her decision to wear a particularly daring ass-slapping pink, PVC catsuit, Anastasia wished she hadn’t decided to come on her own after Flangelina stood her up.

Damn Flangelina, since when did a bikini waxing accident count as a medical emergency anyway? She took a step back and was about to do an about-face on her favourite Jimmy Choo heels when a steely hand gripped her elbow. Flinging an annoyed glance over her shoulder, she had to swallow a sharp retort as her eyes locked with a pair of baby blues rivalled only by Paul Newman’s peepers. Her ovaries in an uproar, hormonal dyslexia forced her to read his name badge twice. Coffeelandia Manager, Armand Fourneau. 

“Madam, you cannot leave now, zee sexy times are about to begin,” he murmured. "And I wish you to meet zee Sheik of Tweet, Mr Wayne Shawne. He has come all zee way from the poker tournament in Capri to be here tonight."

"Poker tournament?" Anastasia said, tightening her buttocks hard enough to make the pink cat suit crinkle. Was that some kind of code? Is that what they called it here? She damned Flangelina again, wishing her all kinds of follicle regrowth and stubble rash.

"As in cards, Madam." Mr Fourneau's hand on her elbow tightened as if he thought she might run away. Like she could run anywhere in these heels. Anastasia brushed her fringe from her eyes and squared her shoulders as Mr Fourneau turned both the force of his gaze, and her six-foot frame, in a quarter-turn that would make a North Korean soldier applaud.

"Mr Shawne is waiting. He is first on your card tonight."

Cards again. 

Mr Fourneau's hand lingered in the small of her back and he whispered, "He likes to spin his milk manually. I suggest you ask for your coffee black."

Mr Shawne stood up to greet her, and Anastasia's ovaries performed their second triple twist in thirty seconds. Phwoar, she thought to herself. Then she saw what he held in his fingers. A big red ball, scuffed and nicked. He swirled between his fingers as if he were a magician performing a trick with a tiny, thin card. She was mesmerised.

“I’m a leg spinner, I know how to get the most from my wrist action.” Mr Shawne’s voice was more of a drawl than Anastasia was comfortable with. She almost turned to leave but the heat of his gaze melted her to the spot. His stare began at her Jimmy Choos and moved slowly over every inch of her body. “And you have great legs. Care for a spin?”

Anastasia folded onto the chair quite unable to form words. His eyes had felt like a caress; she just couldn’t decide if it was completely sleazy or not. His line was awful but she didn’t quite know what he meant. Maybe it was clever and she wasn’t clever enough to decode it. It was a compliment for sure, but he didn’t shut up enough for her to think.

“What’s your name and what do you do, sweetheart?” He took a quick breath. “I know you’re probably in awe of meeting someone like me. It’s okay, I’m used to it. Just breathe slowly.”

Anastasia’s breath fluttered in time with her jittery heart and quivering girly bits.  Thank god the PVC catsuit was moisture retardant, because Wayne Shawne’s sultry smile was enough to put the makers of KY Jelly out of business.

“I….uh…” Anastasia tried to speak but her brain was too preoccupied with Wayne’s magnificent finger work with the ball to engage in conversation. 

“I couldn’t take my eyes off you when you walked in.” His eyes drank her in as though she was the sexiest double decaf in the room. “The catsuit is hot, and the camel toe…mmmmm, you wear it so well.”

Anastasia felt the heat rise above the cleavage that was pouring out of her lowly zippered suit. 

“So, sweetheart, tell me about yourself, what brings you to Coffeelandia?” He lounged back in his seat with a level of comfort that told her it was not his first time in the place.

Anastasia cleared her throat and regained her composure. “I’m looking for something different. Most men I meet are very…” What was the best word to use? “Conservative. I heard that this was the place to come for a bit of variety,” she purred.

Wayne’s eyes shone and he tugged at the collar of his pastel pink shirt. He leaned closer to Anastasia and in a raspy voice murmured, “Well, if it’s variety you want, baby, let me show you what I can do with a mobile phone.” 

“Oh? Hmm, yes please.” Anastasia heard the words escape her smooch-retardant lipstick lips and swallowed more than enough spit to keep an infantry battalion pants-region happy for a decade.

He reached into the pocket of his high-waisted trousers which delineated a moose knuckle big enough to be Jurassic, and pulled out a brand new iPhone. Giving her a devilish smile he waved the phone in in the air. “You ready?”

Anastasia gulped. “Yes.”

“Step closer.”

Her cat suit creaked as she got close enough to smell his man perfume. He smelt like wet sheep. She liked it. 

“What are you going to do?” She asked.

He gave her a long, knowing look. “I’m gonna show you something you’ve never seen before.” He reached out and ran a finger up the inside of her thigh. Anastasia was pretty sure she heard a siren go off. Yes, that was a siren. Probably Flangelina being rushed to hospital for a bikini line transplant. Flangelina’s emergency had nothing on Anastasia’s right now, though. If Mr Shawne didn’t get going soon, she was going to be a giant puddle of goo.

“I’ve seen a lot before. You’ll have to whip out something new to surprise me.” She looked pointedly down at his moose knuckle.

“Oh, I think I’ve got something pretty special.” He turned the screen of his phone around so she could see it. “Come on baby, I bet you’ve never seen one of these before.”

Its rounded edges were golden and studded with dark mounds half hidden beneath a texture she knew would be buttery. What he showed her would melt in her mouth — and maybe come apart in her hands. This would be her undoing. Her mouth watered, her fingers trembled as she reached out to stroke the screen, to stroke what she had to have, what she had to take into herself over and over. She wanted to be stained by it, and feel tiny orts drop on to her breasts and run down into her catsuit. “Yes,” she murmured, “oh, yes. Show me more. Give me more. Take me to this place of paradise. Now.”

"But wait, there's more," he murmured. 

Be still, my beating heart. Anastasia clutched her handbag to her cleavage, all pretence at keeping her cool melting into a pool of neon-green envy.  The enticing bulge of Wayne’s moose knuckle faded into insignificance as she reached out a trembling hand, only to have the screen pulled away from her reach.

"Is that really….?"

"Patricia Arquette’s merkin.  The one she wore in Human Nature. From her hot bod to my hot little hands."  He nodded vigorously, his toupee sliding back and forth like a rat scrabbling to stay on a bowling ball.  "I keep it safely ensconced in Armand’s office."

Every inch of her badger’s-bum bald lady mound tingled with anticipation.  After way too many encounters with the Lady Fluffy Beaver De-Fluffing Kit, Anastasia dreamed about — no, drooled about -- merkin perfection.  

"My precious," she whispered.

"My Sinderella." His fingers retraced their way along her inner thigh.

Their eyes met, understanding drawing them together, their mutual merkin desire as unstoppable a force as a premature ejaculation.

"Show me the real deal." She rubbed her calf against his in a synthetic symphony of PVC and polyester.

With the fluidity of two synchronized swimmers, they stood, the night promising endless fluffy pleasure. She took Wayne's arm. How ironic that Flangelina's bikini wax emergency had led to her own merkin-inspired romance.

As they headed for Armand's office, the Coffeelandia manager winked at them.