Title: Cream and Sugar Author: Eoriel Classification: (Billy) Rating: (NC-17) Spoilers: (if you’re squicked out by female masturbation, read no further) Disclaimer: (I’ve never, as far as I know, seen Billy at a café) Notes: (thanks to wizardlex, who let me steal some of her words.) Feedback: (yes; tearfulphoenix@hotmail.com) Archive: (only if you ask nicely) ----------------
1. EXT/INT. CAFÉ AND PATIO. EARLY AFTERNOON.
FADE IN He’s here again, she thinks to herself as she walks by the patio to enter the coffee shop. Doesn’t he have anything better to do than sit there, doing the daily newspaper crossword and drinking whatever’s in that huge cup he’s got? This is the third day in a row that he has been sitting at the same table on the patio when she’s come in to get her lunchtime caffeine fix. The only reason she continued to notice was that secretly, she hoped he would be there. She had spotted him that first day while she had been waiting in line. Bored out of her skull at her new job, she had let her eyes wander around the coffee shop in a desperate search to keep her mind off of work. And there he was, sitting at that table, with a newspaper and his cup, an amused look on his face. She stared at him for so long that her turn at the counter had come, and she hadn’t moved. The rude, angst-ridden, don’t-waste-my-fucking-time girl working that day had to shout at her to get her attention. Then she gave her the coffee from the pot that had been on since that morning. It tasted as though it had been strained through someone’s old sneaker. All through that day, she kept seeing him where he wasn’t. On the elevator, in a cab on the street next to her, walking along the sidewalk. It got so bad, that she went back to the same coffee shop the next day, despite the service the day before, just to see if he was there again. And there he was. Same cup, same table, same amused look on his face. The clerk that day had been a chipper, bright-eyed, I-eat-only-organic-substances girl, and she had given her coffee from a pot that had yet to stop brewing. She noticed on her way out that he had that day’s crossword on the table in front of him. Which led to today, and the third lunchtime trip, in hopes of seeing him again. And there he was. Same cup, same table, same amused smile. She studies him as she stands in line. Angst Grrl is working again, so she makes sure to keep up with the line. Her stolen glances tell her a few things about him. He always has that amused look on his face. The stubble on his chin is gradually working its way into a full-fledged beard, and it looks good. Really good. In fact, she decides that he would look really good in a sack. Or in my sack, she thinks, and grins wickedly. Angst Grrl scowls at her when she places her order, but at least this time she gets fresher coffee. It pays to pay attention. On her way out, she stops to put her wallet away, but also to look once more at him, sitting there. She fumbles with her wallet, and sticks it back in her purse. When she looks up, he is looking at her. Straight at her. Her entire body freezes. She swallows the lump in her throat. She notices his eyes were a gorgeous blue-green. She notices time stop. Angst Grrl growls from behind the counter, and she notices that she is blocking the doorway. She apologizes to the people behind her, and when she looks up again, he’s gone back to the crossword. Damn, she swears under her breath, and pushes the door open with a huff.
2. INT. BEDROOM. THAT NIGHT. That night she lay in bed, wide awake, seeing blue-green eyes on her ceiling. She is kicking herself for not walking right up to him and planting her lips on his. Then she sees his lips on her ceiling. Those half smiling, crooked lips that were echoing the half smiling look in his eyes. Damn, now she is thinking about his eyes and his lips. Together. Damn damn damn. She isn’t going to get any sleep, she is sure of it. Might as well make use of the night. Her right hand snakes down under the bed covers, and pulls up her nightgown. What is your name? she wonders as her fingers find just the right spot between her legs. She stares up at the ceiling and sees his eyes again. Always those sparkling blue-green eyes. She holds onto the vision of those eyes as her fingers work inside her. She wonders if they change colour with his moods, if they change colour during sex. Oh, sex. She closes her eyes, and moves her hand harder, faster. She wonders what his eyes on her naked body would feel like. She wonders what his lips on her naked body would feel like, with the scruff of his beard on her skin, biting into her shoulder... OH. OH. She inhales sharply, and, fingers twitching one more time, she comes, fast and fierce, crying out into the darkness of her room. Behind her eyes, her mind flashes a hundred images of him, but it returns at last to the intensity of his gaze, and stays there. She lay in her bed for a long time afterward, perfectly still, trying to forget what it felt like to think about him. Trying to forget that fraction of a second when he had held her entire being at a standstill. Trying to stop herself from going to the coffee shop, just for a chance to see him. She falls asleep like that, staring at the ceiling, nightgown still bunched up around her waist. And when she wakes up the next morning, she still can’t get him out of her mind. But orgasms in the morning tend to be bittersweet.
FADE OUT
3. EXT/INT. CAFÉ AND PATIO. NEXT DAY, EARLY AFTERNOON.
FADE IN She walks right by him and into the coffee shop that afternoon. There he is, sitting with his cup and his newspaper, at the same table. She notes that he’s wearing sunglasses today, and she reaches up to shade her eyes, wishing she had hers with her. The sun is bright, the day is warm, and she has decided to keep her eyes to herself. A wonderful, garrulous, flaming-gay man is working today, and she decides that she likes him best of all. He gives her exactly what she wants, with a smile, and a bit of gossip. Turns out he too has a thing for Crossword Man, and fills her in on a secret: his name is Billy, and the big cup is full of chai tea. She smiles at this, not surprised in the least. It seems so him. She thanks the Gossip Queen (which she dubs him on the spot), and takes her coffee, heading for the door. She pauses on the walk, wondering if she should introduce herself. But what would she say to him? "I just wanted to let you know that I thought of you while I masturbated last night," sounds a little stalker-ish. She shook her head, and walked on past him again, back to work, and another lonely night. At least this time, she has a name to go with the smile on her ceiling.
FADE OUT
4. EXT/INT. CAFÉ AND PATIO. FOLLOWING DAY, NOON. FADE IN He’s not here. She nearly pouts when she realizes it. It being Friday, after all, she had finally gathered up enough nerve to introduce herself, and then she could spend the weekend thinking up more fantasies. She walks past his usual table with more than a little resignation. Standing in line, she glances over every once in a while, hoping he’ll magically appear in the lonely chair. Sighing a little, she looks up to see Gossip Queen at the counter, smiling at her. She smiles back, and orders the coffee. The Queen informs her that he hasn’t been in yet. Her hopes raise a little at this, and with coffee in hand, she boldly makes her way out onto the patio and sits in his chair. The world shifts somehow as soon as she sits down, and she realizes suddenly why he likes this spot. The tulips in the window boxes are just starting to bloom. The noise from the street is cleverly muted by the great low stone wall beside it. The corner is the perfect place to watch the customers at the counter. She could see the walk clearly. It was almost voyeuristic to watch them come in and out of the store, even if they could see her watching them. She just settles comfortably into her chair when she sees him coming up the walk. Her heart jumps into her throat, and she takes a deep breath. Maybe he won’t see her here. Maybe he’ll just walk on by. Maybe. She holds her breath. He turns and looks straight at her. Stops walking, and just stares at her with those marvellous eyes. The beard has grown in, but the lips, oh the lips, still wear their amused quirk. She grins and lets out a sigh. Guess that didn’t work, she thinks to herself. He approaches the iron fence, and looks through it at her, wrapping a hand around the thin rod closest to his face. "Fancy meeting you here," he quips. Her eyes widen. His voice rolls off his tongue like rain and thistles. It was not at all what she had expected, and yet a thousand times better than anything her imagination had come up with. She bites her bottom lip in a mixture of wonder and arousal. "When you weren’t here, I figured I’d see what was so great about this seat." She looks into the coffee shop, and clearly makes out Gossip Queen pumping his arm at her in encouragement. Laughing slightly, she continues. "You can see everything from here, and yet it’s very private. It’s a great spot." She runs a hand through her hair, and looks back at him. He is standing there, head tilted slightly to the side, looking at her like she is the only person on that patio. She clears her throat and looks down at her hands. "So, are you going to join me?" she asks. His eyes, sparkling full of sex and fun, flash at her, and then he leaves the fence, going into the shop. In a moment he is at the table, huge grin on his face. He sits across from her, elbows on the table and arms crossed, leaning in intently. "Hello," he says. "Hello," she says to him. "No crossword today?" No sunglasses and no tea either, she notes. "You know," he says. " I had the funniest feeling that today, I wouldn’t need it. And here you are." "Sitting in your chair. I know. I’m sorry." She places her hands on the table, ignoring the still full cup of coffee resting beside them. He reaches across the table, and places his hands around hers. "The view from this chair isn’t bad, either," he says as he raises an eyebrow at her. He rubs the back of her hand lightly with the side of this thumb. She looks down at their hands on the table. His thin fingers curve around her hands like skeins of a web, trapping what is inside. She is reminded of a venus fly trap, or the jaws of a snake. They are so delicate looking, and yet she knows that they must be very strong. She swallows. She doesn’t like the idea of being prey. "I’ll... be right back," she mutters, taking her hands out of his. She grabs her bag and makes straight for the washroom, leaving him to wonder what just happened.
5. INT. WASHROOM OF CAFÉ. FIVE MINUTES LATER. She stands in front of the sink, staring at herself in the mirror. How did this happen? She feels as though she is Alice, flying wildly downwards without any notion of when she is going to hit bottom. She stares into her own eyes, looking for a little courage within them. All she sees is the same questioning that is in her mind. She sighs at herself. "I’ve got to be completely honest with him," she says in a whisper to her reflected self. Taking her bag in one hand, she runs her hair through her hand again, and grabs the handle on the door. When she pulls it open, he standing there, blocking the way out. She narrows her eyes in curiosity. What is this all about? She shifts her weight to one hip, and stands there, facing him. He tilts his head slightly again, and a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. He reaches out one hand and forcefully pushes her back into the tiny room, coming in himself, and closing the door. He turns the lock slowly, and then turns around to face her. She gulps and drops her bag, feeling more than a little like the prey to his predator. She retreats from his advance until her back hits cold tile. Then her mind flips, she lands at the bottom of the rabbit hole safely, and it comes to her. This is exactly what she wanted all those lonely nights to be. The grin that spreads across her face almost outmatches his. She pushes herself toward him, and her lips descend on his fiercely. Her hands cup his face, holding him to her, and her tongue pushes its way into his mouth, teasing his. He wraps one arm around her, tangling his fingers in her hair while the other hand is fumbling at the buttons on her shirt. One by one they pop out of their cozy holes. Her breasts are uncovered into the cool air in the room. His hand cups one, carressing it first with the flat palm, and then coaxing the nipple with his thumb. She gasps, biting his bottom lip, and moves her hands together down to the waist of his pants. Button and zipper are soon both opened, and her hands slide in underneath his shirt, down his back, underneath the waistband of the jeans, pulling his hips to her as she backs up once more against the tiled wall. Her lips move to his neck as her fingers push down his pants a little further to expose him, ready for her. Both of his hands come down to pull up her skirt. In seconds, it is a puddle of pinstriped polyester around her waist. Her panties are pushed aside as he wraps one of her stockinged legs around his waist, and then he pushes himself inside her roughly. Both of them gasp slightly at the sensation. Burying his face in her shoulder, one palm flat on the wall, the other holding her ass, he rocks them both. She holds onto him tightly, both arms wrapped around him, the heel of her shoe digging into the back of his thigh. Pushing back against him with her hips, they speed up together, and it isn’t long before he hits the edge, thrusting her hard against the wall, moaning softly into her. She digs her fingernails into his back, and, as he pushes into her once more, she comes as well, panting and groaning out his name. His lips find hers once more, and this time the urgency of their kisses comes from neither one of them wanting the moment to end. He backs away from her as she puts her leg down, his hands fixing her now-crooked skirt, hers pulling up his pants, doing up the top. He kisses her again, briefly, and starts to button up her shirt. Catching his hands, she stops him, and looks up into his eyes. The amused quirk of his lips is back, and he blinks at her a few times, one corner of his mouth lifting up. She wraps her arms around his neck again, and kisses that corner. Speaking into his mouth, she finally breaks the silence. "I have to go back to work." "I know," he answers, and kisses her back. "I don’t want to leave," she says, and swallows the lump in her throat. She sniffs, and looks back up into those blue-green eyes of his. Her own eyes are beginning to mist over. How in the world was she going to explain her tears to him? How was she going to explain that a quick fuck in the women’s room of a coffee shop was one of the most emotional experiences she’s ever had? "I know," he answers her again, and wipes a thumb over her cheek, whisking away a stray tear. She sniffs again, and lets go of him, shaking hands trying to button up her blouse. He gently pushes her hands away, and does it for her. She beams at him. "Thank you," she whispers. They both know she means for more than the buttons, and the silence that settles between them is more for prolonging the inevitable than for a lack of things to say. He gathers her in close to him, and holds her for a time, until her tears are dried. She wipes her face, and glances over to the mirror, knowing instantly that she should not have done that. She looks like a wreck. He notices her reaction, and cupping her chin with one hand, he brings her face back to meet his. "You look beautiful," he says, and he kisses her softly on the lips for emphasis. She smiles, and replies, "Thank you." Then she raises an eyebrow. "You, however, might want to wash your face." When he turns to look at himself in the mirror, he laughs. "I guess this isn’t my colour, huh?" He rips a ream of paper towel off the roll, and splashes it with water, scrubbing at his face. She gently takes the towel from him, and wipes the lipstick off his face and neck while he stands there patiently, eyes twinkling. When she’s finished, she kisses his nose, and he wrinkles it at her. "I’ll be waiting for you outside," he says, and places his warm palm on the back of her neck, making small circles with his thumb at the base of her skull. She visibly relaxes, and when she does, he takes back his hand with a smile and leaves the washroom. She breathes in and out loudly once the door has closed behind him. Picking up her bag off of the floor, she sets it on the side of the sink, and attempts to make herself look presentable again. The one thing she can’t get rid of is the newfound sparkle shining in her eyes.
6. EXT. CAFÉ PATIO. TEN MINUTES LATER. She walks out onto the patio, straight to his table, head cocked slightly to the side. He wasn’t there, and she had noticed as soon as she had come out of the ladies room. However, there was something there, and she had come out to see what it was, after she had received a knowing look from the Queen and several stares from other customers. Stopping beside the table, she grins. Sitting on it is a new coffee, exactly the way she takes it, and a note: "See you on Monday. I’ll bring the crossword, you bring that smile. Billy." She reads the little slip of paper over five times. Then she picks it up and tucks it into her purse. Taking the coffee in one hand, she stands at the table for a moment, eyes fixed on his chair. She can picture him in her head, sitting there, writing that note. With a smile, and then a grin, she walks out of the café and heads back to work. The weekend, she decides, can’t be over fast enough.
FADE OUT
END
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