Sex by the Fireplace

On my way home from work I walked toward Coffee Cot expecting a long line out the door. The first day of Autumn was last week and spiced pumpkin themed beverages are all the rage, with Coffee Cot being the most popular indie coffee café starting in the Obama administration. I usually pardon myself through a few people standing in a fifty-plus person line on the sidewalk and scoff at those wanting to wait an hour for a five-dollar chug. But on this day, I had a hankering for something warm in my belly and nutmeg on my lips. I will admit I enjoy a fall flavored drink now and then, and have no moral hang-ups about being labelled a Basic Bitch for wanting to enjoy sweet coffee and fruity cocktails from time to time.

To my complete surprise, there wasn’t a single soul in line today. I double checked the hours on the glass door and even questioned whether the pandemic had put the most lucrative coffee shop in town out of business. The kid behind the counter caught my eye and waved to me, giving a shy thumbs-up indicating they were open. His skinny arm wavered for a moment before ushering me inside with “come on in” gesture. There was no bell as the door opened, no music playing on cheap speakers, and no bustle of friendly muffled voices talking through masks. It felt eerie and uncomfortable, reminding me the world was a changed place and things would still take time before returning to normal, whatever the new future normal may be.

“Hey…uh…busy day huh?” I awkwardly mumbled as I walked through the door, before I could stop myself. I felt my cheeks get pink.

The kid looked at me and smiled weakly, but didn’t say anything. I looked at the menu- or rather, where the menu should have been.  Instead, 3 things were listed on a dirty blackboard bolted to the wall:

·      Freshly Fallen Leaves

·      Warm Cozy Sweater

·      Sex by the Fireplace

I laughed a little too loudly and sarcastically said “When did you guys start selling candles?” I couldn’t stop these shitty Dad jokes today. I gave a sympathetic smile.

The kid smiled sadly back, as if saying he knew his job seemed like a joke and he knew there were no people in line and he KNEW he was working during a fucking pandemic.

I felt bad and a little silly as I said “I’ll take a ‘Sex by the Fireplace’…I guess?”

I looked toward the kid for approval but he turned around and started preparing a drink. What was I expecting today? I just wanted a pumpkin spiced latte or something festive. Sure, sex by a fireplace sounds like a nice Fall activity but a drink? Why didn’t I ask the kid instead of making bad jokes? Why am I too awkward to ask for a real menu?

Before I could finish my little existential crisis, a small glass mug was being gently set on the counter. I started opening my wallet but the kid leaned away and shook his head in a refusing sort of way, his hands gesturing that no payment would be necessary.

“But you have no customers today. Surely you can’t just give free drinks away on a slow day.”

I put five dollars into the tip jar and gave the kid a sympathetic smile as I grabbed my warm- ouch- okay HOT mug and hurried to the bar table by the window.

I put down my bag as I looked out the large window toward the street and quickly at the trees lining it. I do love fall colors this time of year. I looked at my beverage and must’ve suddenly appeared as a moth drawn to a flame. My eyes became wide (cue Kiss from a Rose by Seal playing in the background).

The drink was swirling, glowing a dim orange and yellow. The froth was a smoky grey and rose and spun around the edges of the mug as the middle flickered like a candle. I could’ve sworn I heard the crackling of a fireplace as I inched my face closer to this magical beverage. The drink continued to swirl as I dipped my little finger into it and pulled it back abruptly. It felt warm, but not a liquid kind of warm, almost like my finger had just prodded the soft skin of a person’s lips. It felt like…well, it felt as though the drink were sucking my finger.  

My cheeks must have been flame-red as I embarrassingly looked up toward the kid. But he wasn’t there and I was suddenly alone in the Coffee Cot. I sat down and pulled the mug closer to me. Yes, I DO hear the crackling of wood in a fireplace. I smelled smoke and something else, something salty, like the scent of a lover’s skin. I heard a sound I can only describe as explicit as I again looked up to make sure I was alone. I was, and with my newfound aloneness I contemplated taking a small sip of the Sex by the Fireplace named “coffee”. Would it taste like ash and soot, or salty skin? Would it suck my lips like it did my finger? I gave one last look around in a half-assed attempt to find the kid and get some answers before pulling the mug toward my mouth and taking a meager sip.

The warmth of a fireplace instantly surrounded me and washed over my shoulders like a hot shower after a cold morning jog. It was like the feeling of falling and then being jolted awake to find you’re safely tucked into bed. A lover’s arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me closer as a moan escaped their lips and into my gaping mouth. The strong scent of musk and smoke assaulted my nostrils and I heard myself gasping in ecstasy in what sounded like a far hallway. Hips against hips and chest against chest, the pleasure rose and overflowed in a grandiose display of fireworks behind my eyelids and shivers down my spine. The sweat dripped down my brow as I pulled away from my lover and-

A wide-eyed man outside the window looked concerned and a bit embarrassed as he walked by the Coffee Cot and spotted me writhing, my mouth agape. He put his hands in his pocket and picked up his pace as he scurried away. I found myself in a heap beside my chair the instant I took my mouth away from the rim of the cup, my jacket disheveled and a sheen of sweat across my face. It took me a few moments to realize what just happened and when it occurred to me, I jumped up and grabbed my bag violently and knocked over the mug. I watched as a liquid warm glow and shape of a lover poured over the edge of the table and onto the floor. I threw a few napkins onto it and stamped it with my foot. My knees gave a violent wobble as I took my first steps toward the exit after meeting God in the Coffee Cot. Surely, I just had a religious experience. A vision or something.

“Would you like to try Freshly Fallen Leaves”?

 I whirled around to see the kid behind the counter was staring in my direction. He was wiping the counter with a rag pulled from his apron, and I could swear a slight smile was emerging on his previously placid face. NOW he talks.

“n-no thanks.”  

Still shaken, I hurried out the door and into the brisk evening air. My steps were shaky and uneven and I felt dissociated from reality as I made my way home. That evening I lay in bed and scoffed at my overactive imagination. Surely, I had left my sanity at the door and needed a break from reality after a tough workday. Yes, that must be it.

Still, I may want another warm drink on my way home tomorrow.