CFMB_fan
Literotica Guru
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- Jun 23, 2015
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Name: Adrian Clark
Height: 6 foot
Age: 49
Build: broad, stocky, a former amateur rugby player he still exercised on his bike mostly but middle age spread is gaining momentum on him despite his exercises.
Hair: Dark, partially bald
Eyes: Sea blue
The cold wind penetrated his fleece as he hurried to his favourite local coffee house. It was a cold yet sunny winter's morning, the sun was out and the sky was ice blue. But the High pressure over the near continent was feeding the cold arctic winds down over the country. The local sopping street was still empty, many shops had only just opened in the last thirty minutes or so. But Adrian had already been for his 8 km run, and was now heading for brunch. His wife was away for the weekend, and as he often did on those events treat himself. His plan was to have brunch before doing his weekly shop before driving home, and to spend the day chilling out.
He opened the door and stepped in, quickly closing the door behind him as he walked down through the gift shop to the cafe area beyond, located in a large conservatory style area, overlooking London, the coffee house being perched on Muswell Hill. Facing south, the conservatory was warm, the morning sun filling the area with both light and warmth.
He saw his favourite table was free, and scurried across, as if in fear of some one else nabbing the chair. It was a lower table than many of the others, with a corner leather sofa unit offering the view of London, including the Post office tower and the Shard. Removing his fleece jacket, he took a seat before picking up the printed menu. He was pretty much sure what he was going to have, as he leant back into the plush leather cushioning of the backrest.
He liked this place, as did his wife, Clare. It was different, outside the main franchised coffee houses that were springing up all over London. The brand he liked the least was Starbucks, always preferring Costa or Cafe Nero. But when the opportunity arose, he always favoured the independents, supporting local businesses. Whilst there were good and bad staff everywhere, he often found that the staff at a smaller independent business had more to play for, and so were often more polite, courteous, as it was in their interest to get repeat custom; to build up a local client base of regulars. And this is where Boyden's Kitchen was, is successful. The head cook/owner was a good cook, and offered a small menu, but what he did offer was cooked very well. The staff were also attentive, as well as being courteous. And so the entire trip was lovely and relaxing, though some times if you got there too late for lunch, the wait could be quite irritating. A victim of their own success.
He turned to face the counter and saw Penny, together with Fi. An interesting pair of 'mis fits' they were both rather alternative looking, Penny particularly so with her gothic attire, and her body art clearly on display. Penny was he assumed a brunette though often her hair was died at least with highlights, and so he wasn't sure other than her eyebrows were dark. Fi on the othe r hand was a mousy blond, with striking blue eyes. Currently her hair was died as a sunrise, or sun set, a series of reds oranges and yellows but she had worn it that way fo a while, and the colours were beginning to fade.
He saw Penny glance at him, and he smiled, gesturing to the menu in his hand.
The Taking of a Barista
Name: Adrian Clark
Height: 6 foot
Age: 49
Build: broad, stocky, a former amateur rugby player he still exercised on his bike mostly but middle age spread is gaining momentum on him despite his exercises.
Hair: Dark, partially bald
Eyes: Sea blue
The cold wind penetrated his fleece as he hurried to his favourite local coffee house. It was a cold yet sunny winter's morning, the sun was out and the sky was ice blue. But the High pressure over the near continent was feeding the cold arctic winds down over the country. The local sopping street was still empty, many shops had only just opened in the last thirty minutes or so. But Adrian had already been for his 8 km run, and was now heading for brunch. His wife was away for the weekend, and as he often did on those events treat himself. His plan was to have brunch before doing his weekly shop before driving home, and to spend the day chilling out.
He opened the door and stepped in, quickly closing the door behind him as he walked down through the gift shop to the cafe area beyond, located in a large conservatory style area, overlooking London, the coffee house being perched on Muswell Hill. Facing south, the conservatory was warm, the morning sun filling the area with both light and warmth.
He saw his favourite table was free, and scurried across, as if in fear of some one else nabbing the chair. It was a lower table than many of the others, with a corner leather sofa unit offering the view of London, including the Post office tower and the Shard. Removing his fleece jacket, he took a seat before picking up the printed menu. He was pretty much sure what he was going to have, as he leant back into the plush leather cushioning of the backrest.
He liked this place, as did his wife, Clare. It was different, outside the main franchised coffee houses that were springing up all over London. The brand he liked the least was Starbucks, always preferring Costa or Cafe Nero. But when the opportunity arose, he always favoured the independents, supporting local businesses. Whilst there were good and bad staff everywhere, he often found that the staff at a smaller independent business had more to play for, and so were often more polite, courteous, as it was in their interest to get repeat custom; to build up a local client base of regulars. And this is where Boyden's Kitchen was, is successful. The head cook/owner was a good cook, and offered a small menu, but what he did offer was cooked very well. The staff were also attentive, as well as being courteous. And so the entire trip was lovely and relaxing, though some times if you got there too late for lunch, the wait could be quite irritating. A victim of their own success.
He turned to face the counter and saw Penny, together with Fi. An interesting pair of 'mis fits' they were both rather alternative looking, Penny particularly so with her gothic attire, and her body art clearly on display. Penny was he assumed a brunette though often her hair was died at least with highlights, and so he wasn't sure other than her eyebrows were dark. Fi on the othe r hand was a mousy blond, with striking blue eyes. Currently her hair was died as a sunrise, or sun set, a series of reds oranges and yellows but she had worn it that way fo a while, and the colours were beginning to fade.
He saw Penny glance at him, and he smiled, gesturing to the menu in his hand.
