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Coffeelandia Episode 3: The Perfect Gift

Coffeelandia Manager Armand Fourneau hit the gong, drawing everyone’s attention. “Zee sexy times are about to begin,” he said in his strange accent. “Tonight, we brrrring to you those who like to blow their wad on internet shopping. So ladiiiiieeees and gents, pleeze take your seats. The ice-breaking question is ‘If I could buy you zee perfect gift, vhat vould it be?’ You vill surrrely enjoy zat.” He wheezed a laugh. “Let zee sexy times begin.”

Seat 1

Kandy elbowed her way through the crowded foyer and launched herself into the seat opposite Adam, who was a living specimen of perfection. His long, willowy frame perched in his seat as though it was a throne, his gleaming smile noble yet naughty, and his hands! Was it really true that a man’s penis was double the length of his thumb?

Since purchasing the ‘He Loves Me’ spell, from Majique’s Spellery.com, she’d been at every Coffeelandia speed dating event in recent weeks, waiting for him to walk in the door and sweep her into a flurry of steamy, XXX rated sex and eternal passion and devotion. But so far all she’d been doing was fighting off the other women.

 And now, after what seemed like an eternity, she had been able to bribe the befuddled waiter to mix the potion into his espresso martini and reserve the seat opposite him.

‘So, what would you buy me?’ he asked, his low, velvety voice engulfing her.

I’ve already bought you something. Kandy suppressed a sly grin. The spell has been cast, all you need to do is drink that martini and you’ll be all mine.

‘I’d buy you a magic spell that would deliver you a woman whose only focus in life was to pleasure you in any way you desired,’ she said, and then licked her lips and fluttered her inch long glitter eyelashes.

He gave her a wry smile and slow nod that told Kandy he approved of her proposal. Kandy felt his gaze trickle over her breasts, which were barely contained in a red satin bodice that was at least three sizes too small. 

‘A spell? Very interesting,’ he said. The grin he displayed on the outside was only miniscule compared to the beam he felt inside. 

Finally, it worked! This woman would strip naked and let me wear her as a beanie if I let her. She wants me...desperately. Just like all the others.

Kandy had no way of knowing that Adam had been doing a little internet shopping himself and had also been dabbling in a little magic, just like her. 

You see, Adam wasn’t what he appeared to be. Adam had purchased the ‘Living Specimen of Perfection’ spell from Majique’s Spellery.com. Once cast, this spell made every woman in the vicinity look past his smaller than a pre-pubescent boy stature, greasy comb-over and overbite that made most rats look like Brad Pitt. 

All they saw was physical perfection, and charm personified. They were under his spell, unable to resist him, and the power was intoxicating. For once in his life, Adam was an object of desire. It didn’t matter that his lifelong arrangement with Majique for the supply of potion was more expensive than most mortgages, all that mattered was that he was irresistible. Yes, Adam was indeed very grateful for the benefits of internet shopping.

Seat 2

Mistress von Beaver, purveyer of spankable arses and smiter of people who didn’t put their dishes in the dishwasher strode into Coffeelandia in search of her prey. Her gaze whipped around the crowded space, spotting Daisy at seat 5, one of the students who’d attended the Love Literature of Be Beaten class last year. No not him. Not porn star moustache at Seat 4 either. There was something weird going on with one of her regular clients, the weedy little Adam at Seat 1 but... ah, at Seat 2 there sat the perfect man for her. The mysterious Terrance. It was the Pikachu costume that gave him away. When she’d emailed him to arrange this meeting, she’d demanded fur and fur he’d given her. 

He’d been courting her for months. Begging her to be his Mistress and she’d finally given in two days ago when she’d realised that there was nothing on TV that night. 

“Terrence.” She walked up to the table, slashing her riding crop down on the table, disrupting his coffee in a satisfactory splash across his furry yellow crotch.

He jumped but immediately corrected himself. Two eyes that looked as gormless as fried eggs peered at her through the holes at the bottom of Pikachu’s giant head. “M-mistress?”

She took a seat across from him, taking care to make sure her leather tutu was correctly positioned on the chair so it wouldn’t leave annoying denty marks on her bare thighs when she stood up. She hated that. “Too right, buttercup. Did you order the things I asked you to get?”

The giant yellow head wobbled. “Y-yes. But you didn’t tell me exactly what you wanted so I... so I got you this from Ducky.com. Is it satisfactory? Will you punish me?” The last question was a fur-muffled damp exhalation of anticipation.

The mistress looked down at the package he’d pushed across the table, lips pursed. “I like my rubber duckies pink Terrance. Not yellow. There will definitely be punishment.”

The yellow fur suit quivered. “What... what will you do?”

She stayed quiet long enough to build up anticipation, only speaking to order a triple shot soy mocha half strength late from the waitress and then turned back to her latest slave. “Get out your phone.”

There was a scrambling in the recesses of the fur suit. “Yes. I have it.”

“And go to wrongduckie.com. You’ve got some shopping to do.”

Seat 3

Andrea Tolman thought she entered a coffee shop, but it was more like she’d walked into a nightmare, or that alien bar from the Star Wars movie except there was no Han Solo. She couldn’t order coffee unless she sat at Table 3 and chatted to the alien life form in residence about internet purchasing. Marvellous.

“Hey, how are you? I’m Andrea. Who are you?” She sat quickly and fired questions at the guy, hardly giving him a look. “What are you into buying? I’m an ebook buyer but that’s about all.”

“Hi Andrea. I’m Wade.” His voice rumbled right through her. The way he said her name made her blood became sluggish, her legs weakened and her sex slobbered. Andrea looked up and fell into a gaze as green as an English pasture. Blinking slowly, she pulled her head back to study the man a little less closely.

Okay, so he was no Han Solo, but he wasn’t too bad a Luke Skywalker. Blonde hair, boyish features, passable body. Things were looking interesting and more positive by the second. She crossed her legs and leaned closer to Wade when his curled finger beckoned.

“You know what I like buying?” His hesitation made her clit throb, her breath jam and her mind buzz. “Sex toys. I have a collection. I like to try something different all the time. Are you like that with your ebooks?”

Andrea was panting. “Exactly like that.” Coffee be damned. She was going home with something much stronger than coffee. “I like to share my ebooks with someone special to make sure everyone gets pleasure.” The breathless anticipation made her words all fluttery. She only hoped they made sense.

Wade stared at her. “Oh, hell. I don’t share. I bought them. They’re only for me. God knows what happens if you share.”

Seat 4

Billy Capone sat opposite the man with a porn-star moustache in Number 4. He had dark hair with a cockatiel wave at the front, and nice even teeth... but Billy struggled to get past that porn-star trim. It clung above his lip like he’d been eating dark chocolate swirl from a cone.

“So Billy, let’s do this,” he said, letting his eyes skim her legs as she smoothed her skirt: “If I could buy you the perfect gift, what would that be?”

“I’d like a new name. I’m sick of being Billy.”

Mr 4 sat a little straighter, and Billy realised his eyebrows were neat twin replicas of his Porn Mo. Mini dark chocolate swirls.

“What’s wrong with being Billy? Is it because it’s a bloke’s name?”

She had a smart one here. Lord but he smoked the witty repartee. “Yeah, you bet it’s because I’m sick of having a bloke’s name. I’m sick of the jokes about being Silly Billy.”

Mr 4 sat forward, elbows on the table, hands making a bridge. Billy decided he had nice eyes. His fingers were long, not too hairy-knuckled.Witty repartee be damned. This guy ticked a couple boxes on her mental list. 

“What name would you choose then? If you could buy it off the net?”

“Sarah,” she said. “Something lovely and sweet that sounds like birds singing. Sarah Belle.”

Mr 4 nodded at her. His cockatiel wave nodded too. Billy had a hard time not nodding back at both of them.

“Sarah’s a nice name. But you suit Billy.” He paused and lowered his voice: “Plus, it could be worse.”

Billy found herself copying his conspiratorial manner, and she leaned forward to whisper: “How could it be worse?” 

“You could be called: Billy Big Willy.”

Billy wasn’t sure she’d heard him right, but he was staring at her in that earnest, sparkly-eyed way, with his cockatiel wave all jaunty and bobbing, and she had this mental flash of her ex-boyfriend’s secret box of–

“Oh my God, you’re not!” She looked both sides to make sure none of the others were listening, and hissed: “Billy Big Willy from Billy Licks All Over?”

“The one and the same, baby. Wanna make a double Billy Big Willy Sundae with me later?”

Seat 5

Roger eyed the bearded biker sitting across from him. A dude. He hadn’t expected that. Coffeelandia had looked purely hetero to him, though the bloke with the cockatiel wave one table over was pushing the limits of metrosexuality. 

Still, he wasn’t going to get up and leave. The dude was built like a cement mixer and might take offence, and Roger didn’t want to be pounded into imitation crab meat. He could make conversation for five minutes. “So, ah, Mr Duke, if I could buy you the perfect gift, what would it be?”

The biker tapped his nipple, below where his nametag was affixed. “Please, call me Daisy.”

He felt his cheeks redden. “Daisy.”

Daisy rested his goateed chin on his hand, exposing a black cascade of tattoos down his neck. His lip piercing glistened in the candlelight. “Gifts are really difficult, you know? I hate Valentine’s Day gifts the most. But the thing is, my boyfriend Dave loves them. Last year he got me a chocolate fountain and a personalized romance novel. I found the personalized romance novel touching but a little weird because he pickedPride and Prejudice and both of us are heavy built leathermen. We actually met at Southeast Leatherfest.”

Roger nodded. Pride and Prejudice was a novel? He thought it was a movie. And wasn’t a Leatherman a pocket tool? 

Daisy sighed. “So I guess the perfect gift for me would be one where the giver showed they really knew me, you know? None of that Amazon gift card crap, or a box of crappy chocolates and limp flowers from the Seven Eleven.”

“Right.” Roger groped for something to say. “And what sort of gift would show that someone knew you?”

“I dunno, but I’ll tell you what it wouldn’t be. A can opener. I broke up with my last boyfriend because he gave me a can opener for my birthday. Can you believe that? There’s me robbing banks for him by day and buffing and waxing his leather every night—not to mention the other things of his I polished, if you know what I mean—and he gets me a can opener. What the hell is that?”

Roger shifted in his seat. “Well, a can opener is pretty practical.”

Daisy’s brows met over his oft-broken nose. “But I’m not practical, I have the soul of a poet. Why couldn’t he buy me a copy of The Notebook orWater For Elephants?”

Roger scratched his ear, gaze sliding away from Daisy’s. “Yeah, like you said, gifts are tough.”

Daisy smiled. “So, Roger, if I could buy you the perfect gift, what would it be?”

“Well…” Roger paused. “I’ve had my eye on this inflatable unicorn hat for my cat…”