Extra-Hot Wet Cappuccino (IC)

This is a closed thread for myself and WickedSpitFire. It's going to explore some fairly violent themes, so reader be warned.

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Name: Sarah Wilson
Age: 23
Description: Petite and slender, with long legs that are hard not to stare at. Long wavy brunette hair and hazel eyes. A few scattered freckles and a naturally olive skin tone.

Personality: Sarah never thought her job at the coffee shop would turn into a kind of career. Sure, she'd majored in business, but the thought had never really occured to her. Then her employers offered her the position (many miles away) and offered to help with moving expenses. She couldn't turn it down. But, after a couple of weeks, she decided that it probably wasn't the best decision. People had been overlooked, and she'd been brought in from God-knows-where. It wasn't hard to see that she was hated. And she didn't blame them. She had yet to make any friends, and had thought it best to keep to herself.

Sarah is what you would call a walking paradox. She's both soft, and out spoken. Depending on the situation and her temperment. But she's stubborn and strong willed regardless. And when she wanted to be, she was a fireball. She could be cute and adorable, dangerously sensual, or a complete bitch. Sarah hated it, but knew when she had to stand her ground. She was afraid that in order to get any respect she would have to be a lot firmer, maybe even a little bitchy. What she was more afraid of though, was letting her anger get to her. She'd kept her temper under control so far, but was terrified of alienating herself by losing it and saying things that she would later regret.

She hardly slept, and often stayed on until everything was clean and put away neatly. And other than work, Sarah hardly did anything else. She was bored, and wanted something besides coffee and tea to occupy her time.

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Name: Tommy O'Rourke
Age: 25 years old
5'11", a curly mess of brown hair, an easy charming grin, chocolate brown eyes and a nice tan. On the skinny side, in spite of a voracious appetite. His facial hair is a constantly morphing project, from beard to goatee to sideburns to mustache, though it's usually in a state of in-between fuzziness
Personality: Generally withdrawn in his own little world, though can be quite engaging and charming when he really likes someone. A common musical interest is a good starting point to get him to open up. He also has an addictive personality, which he happily acknowledges as he sucks down his cigarettes. He likes to smoke marijuana, especially when going to shows or jamming. He hasn't touched the stuff in a while, but his nose has been itching for some cocaine lately, and he's certainly experimented with a wide variety of other mind-altering substances.
Anything else: Tommy's played in a variety of garage and rock bands in the past few years, and played several shows in different bars and venues around town. He's currently between bands and between girlfriends. He works part-time at a local coffeeshop. He also sells marijuana on the side, just enough to be able to smoke for free. He's been working at the coffeeshop for two years now, and is one of the most productive, energetic, enthusiastic, and efficient employees they've got working there. He was promoted to shift-lead a year ago and runs the store pretty well. There was an opening for the assistant-manager position, and Tommy was pretty sure he was the front-runner, but someone else got the job, and if you were to say he was a little jealous, well, that's quite the understatement.

Here's the coffeeshop Tommy and Sarah work in.
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I fucking hate closing. I hate it with a passion. I'm so use to opening, and I had to make yet another adjustment after I moved. I don't care about waking up early; that doesn't bother me in the slightest. I actually prefer opening because it's easier, and it runs smoother. But, unfortunately, my preference came second. My new store was short closers, and those willing to work Friday and Saturday nights were few and fairly worthless.

It was my first shift with Tommy - one of many overlooked and obviously pissed off shift leads. It wasn't hard to see the disdain on his and everyone else's face over the fact that their management had brought in someone new - a complete stranger. I honestly can't blame them for being angry, but there's no point in holding grudges. What's done is done.

As I looked at the time I made a mental note to never schedule us together ever again. He moved too slow, and was too stubborn to let me help him. I'm pretty sure he was dragging his feet intentionally because he somehow managed to move even slower after I tried to light a fire under his ass.

Damn was I irritated. It was half past 12, and Tommy still wasn't done. I knew we'd have to have a talk, but that could wait. I'm not necessarily keen on leaving as the morning crew arrives.

I sat at the managers desk, impatient and exhausted. I'd taken my apron off a couple hours after the lobby had closed and I'd sent the precloser home. My shirt was untucked, and my belt forgotten and buried somewhere in my bag. My skirt was wrinkled, but I didn't care. I had no plans for the evening; which was depressing enough, I just wanted to go home.

Making myself comfortable, I kicked my legs up on the desk. I'd fall asleep if Tommy took much longer. I felt like ripping him a new one, and certainly planned on it when he finally came to announce he was done. It was ridiculous. I could be home, in my bed, asleep. I'd finished everything I was supposed to have taken care of almost an hour ago, and had been waiting ever since.

It seemed as though he didn't want to be near me, and the feeling grew to be mutual. Helping him just didn't seem like an option, so I'd retreated into the back, and had stayed there. I did some random paperwork, updated work schedule's, until there was still nothing left to do. I would close down the store, we'd have a short lived conversation, and we'd leave. But only when he was finally damn good and ready.

My first night with the new assistant manager, Sarah, proved to be everything I was worried about and so much more. Saturday night was when the store got a deep clean; all the shit that didn't usually get taken care of during the week had damn well better be sparkling for the Sunday morning rush, or the manager would have a shit-fit. I'd been the recipient of said shit-fit on a few too many occasions, and I knew what needed to be done to make sure the store passed muster when the boss-man showed up in the morning.

Sarah didn't. My mind boggled when she sent the pre-closer home, because when I looked around I saw immediately that her decision meant that I would have to pick up the slack, because that particular pre-closer had done a pretty shoddy job. I wasn't about to tell our new, big-shot assistant manager how to do her job, but I knew what needed to be done and I made sure it was taken care of, even though it meant we were in the store entirely too late.

And the bitch refused to communicate effectively with me. This was apparent from the get-go. We had the regular rush after the movie theater let out, around nine-thirty or so, and it was a disaster. My register person kept fucking up names of regulars and getting orders entered, wrong, and a good half-dozen drinks needed to be re-made because of that. We finally shut and locked the door, after I had my last break (an hour late). That was one of the most satisfying cigarettes ever, and the little bowl of weed I smoked wasn't too bad either.

Which was probably why I was moving a little slow. That last slam of customers warranted it, though, so I didn't care. I cared even less because Sarah had done nothing but bitch at me for most of the evening, and my high was a welcome respite.

I needed a little extra juice to get through the last half-hour of closing. I went back to the bathroom, snorted a couple bumps of cocaine and that high took me through of all the final details.

At a quarter to one I looked around the place, and it was sparkling fucking clean. The boss-man would be happy in the morning, for sure, until he saw how late we were in the store. There was no good excuse for it, but we'd been short and Sarah was useless. Seriously, spending that last hour with her fucking feet up on the desk. I was more than a little pissed. We might not get along that well but the bitch could at least find something to do out on the floor.

"All done, Sarah!" I called out. "Let's get out of here already."

I had to grumble. That tone in his voice just pissed me off. As if I hadn't put up with enough of his bullshit all night, I had to put up with his sarcastic mouth as we walked out the door. I would've glady taken responsibility trying to help him, but all he wanted to do was get territorial and bitch and complain about how I was overstepping my boundaries. I realized as I closed the store down and picked up my things that there was no fucking way that I was going to make this guy happy. He was just going to stay pissed off at me, and he was going to continue being an ass.

From the managers desk I walked to the register to clock out. Finally. He was standing there, doing the same, and getting ready to leave. He was obviously just as irratated as I was, but he just didn't seem to have the nerve to say anything. I, on the other hand, had been planning what exactly I was going to say for the last half hour or so. I knew I had to stay calm, otherwise it would just turn into a shouting match and I was too exhausted for that.

"You and I need to have a little conversation before we go," I said to him as neutrally as I could possibly muster. It was offensive, yes, I just didn't want it to appear that way.

"We're suppose to be out by at least midnight, so next time you may want to pick up the pace; regardless of who's on shift with you."

If it sounded bitchy and cold hearted, I didn't mean it to be. Both of our asses were going to be in a sling; specifically mine because we'd been over on labor. Sure everything was clean and put away, but that wouldn't make any difference whatsoever.

I clocked out and shut down the first register, waiting for him to do the same. I couldn't quite discern the look on his face, but it certainly wasn't the response I was hoping for.

"We're suppose to be out by at least midnight, so next time you may want to pick up the pace; regardless of who's on shift with you."

This from the girl who put her boots up on the desk for the last half hour?

I clenched my fists as she said this and walked away from me, clocking out at the register. Like I really wanted to be at work past midnight on my Friday night when all my buddies were having a good ole time down at my local watering hole. This night had been stressful enough.

"Most of the time who ever is on shift with me busts their ass to get us out of here on time. I know you think you know it all, but you've got a lot to learn and you won't last too long here if you aren't willing to listen to the people who've been here for a while."

I swiped my card through the reader on the second register and clocked out, shut down the terminal and looked at Sarah.

I nodded to him. I'd kind of expected his response. He was going to be a smart ass and mouth off because he felt like it. Everyone else at the store would take it, but I wasn't about to. I was too irritated, and it didn't take much to frustrate me beyond what I was already frustrated.

"If you want me to bust my ass, then say something. Because at my store, we didn't bitch and complain when someone tried to pick up the slack."

My help would've been given willingly. He wasn't the only one who wanted to leave, but if he hadn't have been such a jerk about what his job was, and what my job was, I would've given him a hand. In that moment I learned that instead of backing down, I was just going to have to do what I wanted to do, what I thought was necessary, and tell everyone else to go fuck themselves. Tommy was not going to walk on me. If he could do it, then everyone else would think I was a pushover and they could do whatever the hell they wanted.

"Leave the attitude at home. Whatever your problem is, get over it, because no one here gives a damn."

I could feel myself getting heated. What I had tried to avoid seemed to be playing out right in front of me. He was about to get the full force of my frustration and anger; not that he didn't deserve it, it just wasn't the time nor the place.

"If you've got something to say, say it. You don't even have to tell me, talk to the manager. That's who you ought to have issues with. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut and your opinions to yourself."

"If you want me to bust my ass, then say something. Because at my store, we didn't bitch and complain when someone tried to pick up the slack."

"Leave the attitude at home. Whatever your problem is, get over it, because no one here gives a damn."

"If you've got something to say, say it. You don't even have to tell me, talk to the manager. That's who you ought to have issues with. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut and your opinions to yourself."

"You know, if I left my attitude at home, we wouldn't have gotten out of here till after one. And I was happy to have your help till I saw that I was going to have to fix every damn thing you tried to help me with. And the boss didn't listen to me when I told him not to hire you, he sure as shit won't listen now. How'd you get this job anyway? Who'd you have to blow to get here? Because I don't think this job was worth it."

I stalked away from her, into the back of the house, where I'd left my jacket and backpack. I grabbed my jacket, pulling out a pack of camel cigarettes from the pocket. I opened the flip-top and saw there were only three left. "Shit," I said, wondering if I had enough cash for the next pack. Sometimes it came down to either a pack of smokes or another beer, and I may have made that decision the night before...

I stood there and fumed as he walked away. I didn't know what he was doing, and I didn't care. If he wanted to start a fight, he was going to get one. I don't take insults easily, and it's one way to get my temper hotter than anything else I could possibly think of at that moment. His intentions as to whether he was pushing my buttons purposefully or otherwise was irrelevant. My blood pressure was up and my adrenaline was pumping and I couldn't think of anything else except lashing back at him.

I walked to the doorway in between the back and the front and stood there and crossed my arms, glaring at him for a moment to find just the right words to push his buttons just like he had done mine.

"If you'd pull your head out of your ass he might have actually promoted you instead of pulling in someone else with managerial experience. Did you ever think about that? Maybe you weren't qualified enough for the job."

I could almost hear myself hiss at him. Surprise seemed to flash across his face as he realized I wasn't going to back down and I was going to strike back. I'd bottled it all up for so long that it was bound to come out eventually, and the control I had as to when was nonexistent. When turned into that very moment.

"And I didn't have to blow anyone."

Did I? No. It actually made me laugh thinking about it. What was funnier was that Tommy wouldn't know what to believe.

"Get your shit, I'm leaving. You can stay here and pout if you'd like, but it wont do you any good. I'm here to stay, whether you like it or not. No, I'm not going anywhere. You can be a baby, or you can take it like a man and get over it."

I couldn't have said it any sweeter. I'd said it so sweet it was sickening. There was a sour but bitter sweet taste in my mouth as I could almost feel his rising anger behind me as I turned away. Truth hurts.

"If you'd pull your head out of your ass he might have actually promoted you instead of pulling in someone else with managerial experience. Did you ever think about that? Maybe you weren't qualified enough for the job."

I clenched my teeth and held my tongue, for the moment. Qualifications had never been the issue; it had all been political. I'd managed to piss off the DM one day when he came in, in the middle of a ridiculous morning rush and I'd snapped at him when he tried to pull me away from helping customers and making drinks to complain about the state of the store, when I'd been saddled with a crew of worthless newbies and was basically running the place on my own.

"Get your shit, I'm leaving. You can stay here and pout if you'd like, but it wont do you any good. I'm here to stay, whether you like it or not. No, I'm not going anywhere. You can be a baby, or you can take it like a man and get over it."

That last bit snapped it. My blood was raging and that caused it all to boil over. I'd wanted to slap a bitch on only a couple of occassions, and had always restrained myself.

This was already one of those occassions. I sniffed, a little bit of that blow that was stuck in my nose went right up inside. My eyes widened, my heart rate increased immediately.

I was standing next to the store's alarm. "You gonna set the alarm before we get the fuck out of here?" I called after her as she was walking away from me.

I would've liked to take a swing at him. Just one. But I couldn't, and I wouldn't dare. Tommy was by far taller and stronger than I was, and by the state of his face I didn't think he'd take kindly to being a physicalized target.

You gonna set the alarm before we get the fuck out of here?

I cursed and grumbled under my breath. He was irritating the shit out of me. All I wanted to do was go home, but he wouldn't let it die. I had myself to blame partially, because I would be damned if I let him have the last word.

The debate whether I was going to return to the back to set the alarm was a tiring one. I was already in the lobby, and I didn't want to go back.

"You seem to think I don't do a damn thing, so I wont. Set it your damned self," I snapped at him, my tone loosing it's sweetness and finding a kind of sharp bite that I knew would sting. I'd prove him true, even though I'd worked just as hard as he had.

"Do you think you can handle that? Or do I have to hold your hand?" I was practically yelling by now. I shook with anger, but my voice didn't crack or shake. It was just sarcastic and condescending.

"Do you think you can handle that? Or do I have to hold your hand?"

"You can hold my nuts, bitch," I muttered under my breath. I turned to the alarm box and punched in my code.

It didn't take.

I tried it again.

Still didn't work.

Of course it didn't, I remembered. The entire system worked together, and the alarm only accepted the code of whoever was the designated shift-leader for the evening. Which was Sarah.

"You should know it'll only take your code, Sarah. You want to shout it to me or come back and enter it yourself?"

"Fuck you, you arrogant prick."

I don't know if I'd said it softly, or if I'd said it loud enough for him to hear. It didn't matter, because I didn't care. We were both muttering and cursing one another, and we both knew it. It couldn't be helped, what with the moods we were both in.

Annoyed, I walked to the back. I gave Tommy a quick glance and snapped at him before making my way to the box. "This is the only yeling you'll be getting out of me. If you weren't such a baby and you'd be able to make a girl scream. Maybe then you'd be less bitchy."

Violently, I punched in my code. It only beeped once; the room sensors apparently didn't work and hadn't since before I'd arrived. But we still had 2 minutes to make it out the door.

"This is the only yeling you'll be getting out of me. If you weren't such a baby and you'd be able to make a girl scream. Maybe then you'd be less bitchy."

"You're the one's been bitching all night," I growled as I followed her out, sticking my cigarette between my lips. I had half a mind to light up right there, still in the store, just to really piss her off, but I held myself back. At this point I just wanted to get home, smoke a fat joint, play my guitar and forget about this bitch and this awful night of work.

But the coke running through my system had me in more of a rage than I really knew. I stalked behind her as we made our way to the door, clenching and unclenching my fists. I dug into my pocket and found my lighter. That cigarette was going to be so fucking good. Not as good, maybe, as slapping this dumb girl across the face, but pretty fucking good nonetheless.

"I've held my tongue, all night, I'll have you know." I said smoothly as he followed me out from the back.

I wanted to turn around and shove him, to get him off of my heels, but it was all too true that I was going to bite my tongue.

"Otherwise I would've told you to shove it, that I was going to help you whether you liked it or not, because you were doing such a shitty job and you were taking too damn long. I'm surprised you've still got this job, what with your work ethic and your lack of motivation."

I turned back to get just enough room between us that I could feel comfortable again, rolling my eyes as I saw the cigarette in his mouth.

"How do you even get it up on your own? I don't see how anyone could put up with your whining for more than 30 seconds."

I'd surprised myself, because I typically don't let myself say anything overtly crude or insulting. I've always been careful to watch what I say. But certainly not that night.

"Maybe 30 seconds is all you need."

I smiled, and couldn't help but laugh. Even my worst and most disappointing boyfriend needed more than 30 seconds. I'd found it funny, and it was only a small snicker, but I knew he heard it. I had to confess that I hadn't really made any kind of attempt. It certainly felt good actually being able to say what I thought, and disregard the nonexistent consequences.

"Otherwise I would've told you to shove it, that I was going to help you whether you liked it or not, because you were doing such a shitty job and you were taking too damn long. I'm surprised you've still got this job, what with your work ethic and your lack of motivation."

She sure had some gall. I'd been one of the hardest working and most efficient workers this coffeeshop had, for quite a while, busting my ass and certainly not getting paid enough for everything I did. You don't get promoted to shift-lead if you haven't displayed a willingness to work hard and set an example for all the new people.

"How do you even get it up on your own? I don't see how anyone could put up with your whining for more than 30 seconds."

"Maybe 30 seconds is all you need."

There was no thought involved, once those words ran through my brain. It was pure rage, reflex. This bitch was so full of herself and so full of shit and needed to be taught some kind of lesson she might actually remember.

I was probably as surprised as she was when I grabbed her arm, turned her to face me, and the back of my hand smacked across her cheek.

I had to blink a couple of times as I realized what had just happened. Not once had a man ever been brave enough to grab a hold of me and actually smack me. Tommy seemed shocked, oddly enough, at himself. We stood there for a moment in silence and in disbelief. Had I known how he would react, I might've kept my mouth shut. But it was all too late.

I ripped my arm from his hand and away from his grip, taking a step back and dropping my bag on the floor. The alarm would lock down any second, but I was oblivious. There were no words to be had or to be said. We were both too far gone and our tempers too hot; words were no longer enough.

My jaw was clenched as I reached for his cigarette and snapped it in two and threw it on the floor. For a moment I thought he was going to protest, but my response was to shove him. He stumbled backwards a bit, almost falling over a chair, but I didn't stop. I shoved him again, and again he surprised me as his response was hesitation. I felt my fingers close into a fist. Fuck I wanted to hit him, and I couldn't stop myself. Midswing he caught a hold of my wrist - just barely in time.

I got a grip on her wrist just before her blow landed. I'd surprised myself with the initial slap to her face, but after a couple of shoves, I no longer cared that she didn't have a dick. I twisted her arm around behind her back and pushed her into the counter, bending her over and pressing myself up behind her.

"You wouldn't be worth wasting thirty seconds fucking, bitch," I growled in her ear from behind her. "Not that I'd ever get hard for you in the first place."

That's when I reached up her shirt and harshly squeezed one of her breasts. "On second thought..." I twisted her arm up behind her even more when she started to try to get away.

Not that I'd ever get hard for you in the first place.

I was about to argue with him, because the moment I'd felt his hips pressed up against me I could feel his hard length. He couldn't lie, and he couldn't hide it. I found some kind of odd satisfaction in that he could admit to it as he roughly groped my breast.

His voice in my ear made me blush bright red and my entire body tremored beneath him as he tried to pin me onto the counter. My foot met his shin with enough force for him to loose his grip. For the second time I ripped my arm from his grasp.

"If I'm not worth 30 seconds, why do you have a hard on, huh?" I asked sarcastically as I climbed over and jumped down on the other side of the counter. The best move would've been to run for the door, but I knew I wouldn't have been able to make it that far. But standing there I realized I wanted to taunt him, to increase his frustration until it drove absolutely fucking insane.

I grinned mischievously. "Admit it."

Pain shot through my leg for a moment and she managed to push me away and hop over the counter.

"Admit what? I get hard when a customer looks at me the right way. Doesn't mean shit." I placed a hand on the counter and leapt right over it in a single bound, landing on my feet and heading right for her.

"Sure doesn't mean you'd be worth fucking. I bet you're such a slut that your cunt's so loose I wouldn't be able to feel a thing anyway." Nevermind that I loved sluts, loved fucking sluts, and that in spite of her bad attitude, that hadn't stopped me from getting hard thinking about her a few times that evening.

I'd had a feeling he would jump over the counter, and wasn't surprised when he did so. I took a few steps backwards as he advanced, again attempting to insult me. His insinuation that he wouldn't be able to feel a thing made me laugh cruelly. Unbeknownst to him I could count the number of guys I'd been with on one hand, and I had to tease him nevertheless.

"For all you know, I'm a virgin."

The thought would make any man a bit weak in the crotch; just simply thinking about it. Deciding whether I wanted to keep run my mouth or bite my tongue was hard, and my anger got the best of me. I looked back for a second to try and measure my distance from the back of the house. Turning back to him I quickened my step, preparing to run.

"You wouldn't know a good fuck if she slid into your lap."

"For all you know, I'm a virgin."

Fat chance, I thought. She was moving away from me, and I sure wasn't done with her yet.

"You wouldn't know a good fuck if she slid into your lap."

When she took off for the back of the house I ran right after her. I'd had plenty of great fucks in my time and had enjoyed them all immensely.

I caught up with her at the manager's desk in the back, grabbing her by the arm yet again. "I know the difference between a girl who'll be wild in bed and a tease who won't put out, and there's no doubt what type you are," I said, shoving her into the short wall behind the desk. My fist found its way into her belly.

I exhaled and gasped at the pressure of his hand against my stomach. I looked up at him fiercely, angry and riled. Though it could have ended a long while ago, before it had even started, we could have put an end to it. But neither of us were willing to back down; we were both stubborn and relentless.

"You might know the difference, but you could never handle me," I hissed at him lowly.

Taking hold of his wrist I dug my nails into his skin until I knew it hurt. He let go of my other arm and we exchanged; I clawed at his arm and pulled him away from me and towards the desk. It gave me enough time to run out from the back and behind the storage bins.

"You might know the difference, but you could never handle me."

Her words made me more determined than ever to manhandle the hell out of her. Her nails dug into me and I reeled back from the clawing, but I was after her in the next moment, sprinting after her. The narrow hallway didn't provide much space, and before she could turn the corner I ran into her from behind, essentially body-slamming her into the wall.

As she slumped to the ground I reached down and grabbed her long brown hair and started dragging her back towards the manager's desk.

There was nothing I could do; I couldn't get away from him. I hadn't tried to decipher whether I really wanted to or not, it was just instinct that told me to run, to claw, and to fight him. But the fight seemed to enrage him all the more, which made me loose my breath and find it somehow amusing.

My bones cracked as his body hit mine and I racketed against it. Haziness clouded me as I tried to find my balance but found myself sliding towards the floor rather than back onto my feet. The taut pain of my hair being pulled brought me to my feet instantly, as Tommy dragged me back to the desk. If he had wanted to hear me yell and scream, he heard it as I midway tried to find my way alongside him.

I demanded for him to let go of me, but it didn't happen. My back was once again against the wall as he pulled me to my feet.

"What do you want, huh?" I asked him, daringly and breathlessly. It was a bit of a challenge, but a subtle one. "You want to fuck me?"

"What do you want, huh?" I asked him, daringly and breathlessly. It was a bit of a challenge, but a subtle one. "You want to fuck me?"

What did I want? She was asking me to access deeper cognitive functions when she had gotten me into such a rage? I didn't really want to be doing any of this, this fight, but she had been nothing but awful to me and it felt fucking good to hurt her back.

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" I growled, grabbing her arm again. I spun, wheeling her around and sending her sprawling across the table in the employee break area. She rolled over the top of the table and fell onto the chairs on the other side. My cock twitched as I saw her skirt fly up and I could see her undies.

I was on top of her in an instant, grabbing her hair again. "You know what I fucking want? I want you to not be such a bitch to me, but I don't think you've got that in you."