“Goddamn rednecks make us all look bad!” Billy booms from the counter in reaction to something on TV, making me jump as I began to tally up the tickets to get the bus full of middle schoolers out of my café.
“Billy,” I scold. “Little ears everywhere. Please try to watch your language.”
“Sorry,” he looks over to the mortified woman in an adjacent booth. “Sorry, ma’am.”
She scoffs at his apology, and he takes immediate offense. “Lady, you live seventy years, and you can say anything you damn well please.”
The ‘well, I never,’ in her expression as she tosses a look my way lets me know Billy’s behavior is on me. “I’ll take my check.”
She collects her purse and begins to usher her little boy out of the booth.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” I interject, handing it to her. “You didn’t eat much. I would be happy to comp your meal.”
“We won’t be back,” the woman snaps, handing me back her check expectantly.
When Tobias appears at her table, I see the immediate change in her posture as she drinks him in.
“Want me to bag this up for you?”
She shamelessly eye fucks him before speaking. “That…would be nice, thank you…？”
“Tobias. Avec plaisir, salope.” With pleasure, bitch.
It’s all I can do to stifle my laugh.
“Oh, that’s beautiful. French?”
“Yes. Sorry, I forget my English sometimes,” he drawls out, playing innocent foreigner. For a few seconds, I get lost in the sight of him in pedestrian clothes, standing in the middle of my café. Jutting his chin, he gestures over my shoulder with the knowing upturn of his lips as Travis rings the bell behind me. “Order up, boss.”
I narrow my eyes. “I’m aware, Frenchman. When you’re done here, table three and six need bussing as well.”
“As you wish,” he concedes.
Turning to grab the order, I’m stopped by the heat in his voice. “Oh, Cecelia?”
I glance over my shoulder to see the smolder in his eyes as obnoxious laughter and cafeteria level noise sounds around us both. “Yes?”
“Je n’aime pas me réveiller sans toi. Je préférerais de loin me réveiller en toi.” I don’t like waking up without you. I would much rather wake up inside you.
“There goes that French tongue again,” the woman scolds. “You know it’s rude to say things that others can’t understand.”
Ignoring the self-important bitch, he keeps his focus on me.
“Tu as l’air un peu stressée. Je peux t’aider à te détendre. Avec ma langue, et ta chatte.” You’re looking a little stressed. I can help you relax. With my tongue, and your pussy.
Lips parting, I do my best to conceal my shock. “As-tu perdu la tête?” Have you lost your mind?
“Pas ce que tu avais en tête? Après tu décideras où ira ma langue.” Not what you had in mind? Then you will decide where my tongue will go.
“We can discuss this at ho—”
“So, if you’ll just bag that up,” the woman interrupts, hating that I’ve stolen her thunder.
Her little boy, who looks to be around seven or eight, climbs out of the booth, watching our exchange with interest. Tobias leans down and whispers to him, and he giggles before he speaks up, mimicking Tobias perfectly. “Le pleck, le spit.”