The barista who wears the blue kerchief around his neck finds the barista with her bra cups visible through the wide ripped sleeves of her tank top attractive.
“Everybody!” Kerchiefed Barista shouts at the customers. “If you need a refill you’d better get it now.”
“We’re going to have sex on the piled up sacks of beans!” shouts Visible Bra Cup Barista.
A small line of dour-faced customers forms for refills while Kerchiefed Barista and Visible Bra Cup Barista dispense coffee, both of them visibly aroused despite the angry looks they give to the customers who don’t tip because they think dispensing a refill is somehow not as tip-worthy as dispensing the initial cup, even though it takes the exact same amount of fucking work.
“Assholes,” Kerchiefed Barista says to Visible Bra Cup Barista.
“Total assholes,” Visible Bra Cup Barista concurs.
Kerchiefed Barista helps Visible Bra Cup Barista climb up on top of the sacks of beans. They press their sour, pursed lips together in a kiss. It hurts, since both of them have extremely chapped lips. Kerchiefed Barista pulls off his shirt but he refuses to untie his kerchief. Visible Bra Cup Barista feels the same way about her bra. She gladly tosses her tank top to the floor but her lightning blue bra remains fastened. They both unpeel their skin-tight jeans to reveal neither of them were wearing any underwear. Kerchiefed Barista writhes his pale, bony lower body against the yellowish legs and razor hipped pelvis of Visible Bra Cup Barista. It’s clear that Kerchiefed Barista is inside of Visible Bra Cup Barista when their facial expressions change from irritated to distant to a little sad.
“Hey the wi-fi’s out!” a customer shouts from his table.
“Yeah, for me too,” another customer shouts.
“Shut the fuck up!” Kerchiefed Barista shouts back, still thrusting.
“Just reset the router!” a third customer joins in.
“Not now!” Visible Bra Cup Barista responds.
“Reset the goddamned router!” the first customer says, getting out of his seat.
“In a minute!” Kerchiefed Barista says, writhing with a steady rhythm.
“You know you can pull out then go back in again, right?” a customer counsels.
“Just give us a minute!” Visible Bra Cup Barista shouts. “Christ!”
The customers are out of their seats now, gathering around the sacks of beans, demanding that the baristas stop having sex and reset the router.
“Back away!” Kerchiefed Barista says.
The customers continue to gather around the sacks of beans. The people in the back start to shove forward, knocking into the sacks.
“They’re gonna give way!” a customer shouts.
The sacks of beans start to tilt forward with the baristas having sex on top, thrusting and writhing, trying to finish before the inevitable comes to pass. The sacks go completely off balance, the customers screaming as the mountain of beans begins its tumble. The baristas don’t stop even as the sacks fall from underneath them, 50 pounds at a time, customers climbing over each other to get away, but they’re too late. Dozens are killed in the avalanche, including both baristas, still making love, still shouting at the customers who won’t stop bothering them. The baristas die while joined together in erotic passion, a mess of scattered coffee beans and wi-fi craving corpses for their bed. After the dead are cleared out and mourned, the coffee shop closes down and a few months later reopens as a gelato place.
Happy Barista Sex Day!
