Work Text:
I don’t know why I keep torturing myself like this, Pre Vizsla mused as he exited the elevator, the doors swishing shut with a ding behind him.
He made his way through the opulent lobby of the high-rise that housed his company’s offices, pushing past the revolving door and onto the sidewalk outside. His destination, a small coffeeshop directly across the street, was easily reached by waiting for a lull in traffic and passing over a short crosswalk.
Pre adjusted his suit jacket, brushing out the front to smooth any wrinkles as he entered the shop and walked towards the front register. A cursory glance behind the counter– and an embarrassingly juvenile skip of his heartbeat– confirmed that the main attraction of this little trip was indeed working again today.
A tall, slender, red-haired woman slouched against the back bar, looking gorgeously disinterested in everything but the Razr she was skillfully texting away on until the sound of Pre’s footsteps caught her attention. She snapped the phone shut, slid it into her pocket, and hoisted herself up with an annoyed sigh. Upon realizing the customer who’d interrupted her was her newest regular, though, her apathetic expression turned to a schemingly playful smile.
“Welcome back,” she drawled, leaning forward on the counter, the position of her arms pressing her breasts together and accentuating her temptingly smooth freckled cleavage. The gesture was nonchalant yet thoroughly calculated and intentional– he noted the victorious glint in her green eyes when he finally tore his gaze away from her tits and looked into them instead. It also conveniently drew Pre’s attention to the nametag she’d adopted wearing since his last visit.
Bo, he noted. Cute.
“What can I get for you?” she purred.
“Large dark roast,” he replied. No frills or extra bullshit. A man’s caffeine source. Pre tried very hard to look aloof and unaffected by her flirtiness as she punched the order into the register.
Bo quirked an eyebrow as she took his money, briefly marveling at the metallic weightiness of the platinum credit card before swiping it and passing it back.
“Coming right up,” she said, turning away from the front counter to prepare the beverage.
Pre smirked, taking the opportunity to shamelessly ogle her lithe body from behind as she worked. He nearly choked when she bent over to grab a sleeve of paper cups from a bottom shelf, her shirt riding up to reveal an owl tattoo on her lower back, just above the band of the thong that peeked out of her tight low-rise jeans.
Goddamn. Perhaps a detour to the office’s gym area for an ice-cold shower was in order before getting back to work...
He quickly averted his eyes as she turned around, feigning “checking his watch” in a way that must’ve looked obviously fake judging by the way she snorted a laugh at him. She knew what she was doing, and she knew he enjoyed watching.
Bo placed a lid on the beverage, setting it down and sliding it towards him with a mischievous, expectant look that said you’d better taste that in front of me before you leave. Pre sighed, steeling his nerves.
He grabbed the cup off the counter and took a reluctant sip. No amount of bracing himself for what he knew was coming could suppress the full-body cringe induced by the liquid hitting his tongue.
The woman was stunning, but she truly made the most god-awful coffee he’d ever experienced. Inhumanly awful. Just absolutely foul. Sour, bitter, and acridly burnt, like an ashtray dumped into battery acid, yet somehow so weak and watery at the same time. Even for a new hire, it was astounding that it was even possible for someone to fail this hard at brewing basic drip.
Pre was a cold-blooded shark of a business executive, the kind of man who hadn’t gotten to the high position he was in by sparing people’s feelings or humoring incompetence so as not to embarrass someone. He had been known to snap over less offensive slip-ups than this, from his own employees and strangers alike.
Yet every day for the past few weeks, he walked into this shop and overpaid for undrinkable coffee without so much as even a polite complaint. It was like his brain was watching helplessly, screaming for him to do something about it, while his dick overrode all controls and made him stand there like a fucking rube, quietly pretending to enjoy his drink because woman sexy.
He fought against the urge to gag, choking down the rancid brew before giving her an approving, if a bit curt and forced, nod.
“It’s great,” he lied through gritted teeth.
“... Uh-huh,” she replied slowly, suspiciously, with the air of a woman who was aware her coffee was absolute dogshit undeserving of compliments, who saw right through him and knew exactly the real reason he kept visiting this shop every afternoon.
“See you tomorrow,” she added, driving the point home with a sly, teasing wink and air kiss.
Pre hastily turned and headed towards the exit, forcing himself to take another sip of the disgusting coffee to distract from the confusing, exciting feelings Bo the Incompetent Barista stirred within him.