Laughing Man Coffee Reviews Novels & Stories

The door opens and I'm swift to just press my legs together to hide my exposed cunt without necessarily dropping my leg from the seat. “Here you go.” He sets down a cup, face buried in his coffee, a laughable chore just to not look at my boobies. ‘Let’s see how far you go, Enzo Macini.’ I smirk, stir my coffee, and sip. The rich cream laces along the surface of my upper lip. The coffee is equally rich and so good. Maybe the best Ive had if my mama doesn't always manage the scoop of milk and sugar. “So nice.” I hum over my cup. “Thank you, sir.” Then I set it down and start licking my lips,

In twenty-three years, I've never seen anyone without an aura. "Welcome to Moonrise Café," Luna says, already reaching for a to-go cup. "What can I get you?" The man approaches the counter, stopping a few feet away from me. His eyes—a stormy gray that matches the October sky outside—flick in my direction, then away. "Black coffee," he says, voice deep and clipped. "Large." I'm staring. I know I'm staring, but I can't help it. It's like looking at a photograph in a world of videos—flat, static, impossible.

The mysterious man put down his magazine and turned bright hazel eyes to look at me. Holy virgin. His gaze was burning, and the hazel of his eyes were almost a deep amber color. He had a straight nose, full lips, and a jaw sharp enough to cut through butter. He was quite a handsome man. I shook my head to clear my thoughts and asked again. "Is there something I can get you, sir?" The man smiled just a bit, with the smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Coffee," he answered in a deep voice that sent shivers down my spine. Feeling the need to leave his presence, I quickly skirted away with eyes wide open, and picked up the job of hot coffee and went back to his table.

I burst out laughing. “For the lady, a decaf cappuccino with whip cream, and filter coffee for me.” I put in our order. “I need your help with something, and I know you know something or rather have something against the Cooper family, especially Mark Cooper.” He didn’t look surprised; he just smiled and set his gaze back while looking at me.

I hand over the cup of coffee to her and watch as Linda glares at me before snatching the cup from my hand, spilling some on my hands. Without a word, she takes the cup and gulps down a bit and then she stares back once again. "There's something wrong with this coffee…" she begins her complaints, causing me to roll over my eyes tiredly, "It tastes like low quality, just like you, the perfect grade of coffee for the perfect grade of human." "I don't understand what you mean ma'am," I respond, my smile slowly breaking into something rather creepy, "as far as the coffee is concerned some rich people also like going out in secret to get a cup of low-grade coffee."