Chapter 77:

COFFEE MATE, ASIAN STYLE

I was docked at a smaller marina in northeast Florida. I generally prefer larger marinas because the pool of potential sex partners is greater. This particular marina was perfect, though. It had all the necessary amenities including a small swimming pool, clean bathhouse and fewer liveaboards (meaning less neighbors to snoop on my private business). More importantly, it was within an easy walk of a large shopping center rife with stores, restaurants, and people.

I got in the habit of visiting the retail center, primarily to people watch and scope out the possibilities of available intimate connections. I spent a lot of time in a coffee shop, centrally located, and an Asian restaurant. I’d typically take a mid-morning coffee break, then a late lunch at the restaurant. There was a community college across the highway from the shopping center, and the coffee shop took advantage of the hungry coed labor pool. The restaurant was family owned and run. A “mom & pop.” All the kids and every blood relative of the owners worked there. As a regular, I soon got on a first name basis with the employees at both establishments.

My favorites at the coffee shop were Agnes and Coleen. Both were stunning beauties and, it turned out, were roommates, sharing an apartment with a third person, a guy named Phil. All three were students at the community college but Phil was quite a bit older. He was an adult student, returning to school to garner a degree he passed by after high school graduation. Due to his family environment, he was forced into a job right after graduation to help his struggling family survive. Now, things had gotten righted around with his family and he had moved out and enrolled at the college.

It was Sunday and I knew that Coleen was on duty at the coffee shop. I sauntered over mid-morning to enjoy a cup and ogle at the finer attributes of the body that Coleen saw as unappealing. Apparently, either she didn’t have a full length mirror in her apartment, or her standards of beauty had been corrupted. She was a living doll. A petite frame, topped with a “Dutch Boy” haircut accentuating her pretty face. Her figure was similar to Barbie’s, the popular doll. All the right pieces in all the right places. The other defining characteristic of Coleen was her “dumb blonde” intelligence. This hot little tart had trouble adding two plus two. Any jokes went right over her head. Yet, dumb as she was, she was a delight in bed. A true “rag doll” that you could do anything with.

“Good morning, Coleen!