Iâm wondering if I should escalate on the HB5 Eastern Europe who works at a nearby food shop. I go in there once a week or so for lunch and she always takes my order. I didnât give her much thought but after I told her my slightly quirky preferences (I hate onions, mushrooms and peppers) remembered and we joked about it a few times.
I started to get that strange stirring of the loins. Not a proper âWhoa! I want to fuck herâ stirring. This was more like if youâre thinking of a hot girl and suddenly turn the corner and see a car crash â youâve got a boner but it feels inappropriate to the situation. Sheâs a nice size, very feminine, cute smile, and even cuter braces.
Braces! They should have me running a mile but instead I wonder whether Iâd feel the cold steel on my teeth as we kiss. Sheâs got a few extra pounds, especially on the arse, but I wonder what type of metal-mouthed smile sheâd come up with if I gave it a firm smack. I think for a while and I realise why I want to fuck this girl.
She is so bashfully demure and feminine.
It doesnât matter that sheâs got a mouth full of steel, or a chubby arse, or slightly beady eyes. She smiles, she defers, she remembers stuff, she shakes it as she walks. In a City full of ball-busting lawyer cunts, sheâs a breath of fresh air. I reckon sheâd let me do her up the arse on the first asking. So today I make my first stab at gaming her proper
I catch her eye as I come in. She smiles, I do a âwhassupâ nod and wink. At the order counter, a dude takes the order while she stands by smiling.
Dude: Hi sir. May I take your order?
Krauser: Your colleague here can tell you. Sheâs got a good memory.
HB5 :Â *enjoying the opportunity* He would like a [order] but with no mushrooms *smiles at me*
Krauser: Well done, but last time you left on in. *smirk* I was very disappointed with you. *sits down*
Dude brings me my food and I catch HB5 looking at me across the other diners. She walks all the way across to a nearby table to collect an empty Coke can. Proximity IOI, I think so. As she turns towards me I open:
Krauser: Do I look like a bear?
HB5: Whaâ¦. excuse me? *gleaming smile â the braces not the tooth enamel*
Krauser: I want to look like a bear, so Iâm growing a beard. Iâm all furry now, see.
HB5: *laughs, glances back to the building queue, comes and stands next to me*
Krauser: I have a lot of meetings at work and Iâve noticed nobody in the City has a moustache. Look *gesture to other diners*. So I was in a meeting and I suddenly realised I had the best moustache in the room. No matter how Iâm dressed or what Iâm presenting, I know Iâll always have the best moustache.
HB5 *smiling, wondering what the hell Iâm saying, ignoring her waitress duties*
Krauser: So I start thinking why not grow a beard. Thereâs too much professionalism around here. It needs more wildness. I want to be a bear. Rrrrrrrrrrrr!
HB5 *giggles, steps closer*
After that we just chat, with me doing a generic neg of her home country (âOh youâre not one of those girls are you? I knew two girls from [country] and they were bitches. You seen nice thoughâ) and asking bio info like Iâm screening her, e.g:
Krauser: So what do you like about London?
HB5: Uh, I donât know. Itâs nice
Krauser: Thatâs not an answer. Are you a party girl, or a serious girl? Haha! Caught you! There was that flash in your eye, a sparkle, when I said party girl. You were thinking of your favourite nightclub werenât you.
HB5 *yet more giggling* Yes, thereâs a club I like (blah blah).
I didnât want to go to far in the first interaction. Partly because sheâll always be there, and partly I still canât quite shake the idea that Iâm slumming it by even trying. Itâs not like sheâs âmy 10â. Sheâs my HB5. But I just know that next time I knock one out, Iâll be thinking of herâ¦.. Iâve got a semi on just writing this.
