Kate Educates Jacob #2

Bean Street Cafe

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Continued from Chapter One

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Jesus, was I turned on in there?

I hurried past rows of gleaming rental cars until I’d escaped the compound, turning sharply right out of its gate. My target was the Bean Street cafe, which was the closest caffeine refuge to our workplace, and somewhere I could easily hide to lick my wounds. I needed to gather my thoughts and figure out an explanation for the lie I told on my CV before I saw Kate again.

I became more conflicted about my situation. My business was my business, and I should be allowed to keep that private.

I guess if it leads to a lie that lands me a job, then it’s no longer private.

I’d made it Kate’s business and had no right to justify myself. Being defensive is something I abhor, because it grows into a cocoon inside which more poor behaviour incubates.

Own your shit, Jacob. Acknowledge your transgression.

I felt miserable, caught somewhere between the unhappiness of lying and feeling ashamed for compromising Kate.

If she sacked me, then company head office would demand an explanation, which would call into question her recruiting and leadership abilities.

I might never work again if this follows me.

I mumbled, cursing my stupidity aloud, which caught the attention of passers-by who thought me erratic or worse. Not wishing to draw further attention to myself, I picked up my pace, almost to a jog and soon walked through my favourite cafe front door relieved to be off the street but in a heightened state of anxiety.

When I closed the door, a wave of coffee induced pleasure hit me instantly, helping to calm my nerves. My body, wracked with tension and permanently mainlining on caffeine, desperately needed a fix. I approached the server, who smiled, as was customary between us.

“Hi, it’s nice to see you again.”

She waited longer than usual for my return of pleasantries and until I realised I was being impolite.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was somewhere else.”

I smiled apologetically, and she seemed satisfied that our greeting ritual was complete.

“We all have days like that. It’s why this cafe exists, now, what can I get you?”

“Medium roast, cappuccino, no room, grande to sit in, please.”

The American coffee experience was complex, and I loved it. The nation and its people have an addictive love of the small, green, versatile bean, having perfected its roasting, crushing and consumption through various fire, ice, and steam techniques.

My thoughts drifted while she expertly tamped down my favoured blend in the filler basket and then forced a rich, golden brown Crema through a series of shiny pipes and tubes until it dripped slowly off a stainless steel curved furrow into my cup.

I feel like that coffee. Tamped, processed, squeezed, andthen dripping into Kate’s cup.

Fucking hell… get a grip, man!

I shook myself from a self indulgent and tawdry daydream, cursing my filthy mind.

Focus on the problem at hand.

It took me a few visits to American coffee emporium’s to figure out how to order a simple cappuccino. The young woman serving today complimented her art with a myriad combination of sprays, syrups, and sprinkles, pouring and decorating each one differently, filling personalised orders to varying levels inside the cup.

She always sprinkled a love heart on top of mine, and I smiled gratefully when receiving the large white porcelain cup from across her counter.

I’d been stateside for less than a month. My aunt had arranged a temporary work visa for me as a favour to my mother. Getting out of the UK was supposed to be a fresh start. I’d rushed my CV when the car rental company asked for one at short notice.

I hadn’t properly considered my nine-year period of military service in the British Royal Marines. It wasn’t something I wanted to share with others and it was the main reason I’d left the UK.

I’d foolishly believed a lie would be undetected from the other side of the Atlantic and that nobody would check or even care about my employment history. Clearly Kate noticed, checked and cared, and now I was standing on the hangman’s platform with one hope of a last-minute reprieve.

I took a moment to recall my disciplinary interview with Kate. She’d set me up masterfully, and I was already in her trap without realising when she sprung it. My only option other than to sweat it out as I did would have been to run away, which I considered, as you know.

And yet I stayed. Something had compelled me to confront my shitty behaviour.

“Fuck!”

I viciously spat out disdain for my own lousy behaviour. Others overheard me when my emotions flared and a few disapproving looks were shot my way from other customers.

“Sorry!”

I raised my free hand in an open apology to anyone that heard me, making a mental note to work on my potty mouth.

With a cappuccino in my hand, I strolled to the back corner of the cafe and sank into a dark brown leather armchair, reflecting on my meeting with Kate. My partial erection distracted me, and I couldn’t understand why I felt aroused. I brimmed with anxiety on one hand and sexual tension on the other.

No woman had ever handled me like Kate just did, and I had to admire her demeanour and interrogation strategy.She’d created the perfect environment for an initial disciplinary meeting,swung her axe high above me and then paused the death blow, providing one route to a reprieve: the truth.It was a real turn-onand, oddly comforting to know that she cared enough to have set me up.

I was attracted to her during my recruitment interview. Kate’s sharp intellect and natural beauty were hard to miss and I don’t think it was that unusual to be so taken by the boss. I’m a warm-blooded human male, after all.

I liked that Kate didn’t weaponise her beauty in the way others, like Tiffany, do. She dressed smartly, as you’d expect from the executive manager of a large customer service focussed business. She didn’t flaunt, flirt, gossip or indulge in office politics, always holding herself to a higher standard.

I day dreamed, imagining myself back in the office with Kate probing me for answers. My face felt flushed and my heart pounded far too quickly, as if making its scorn known by threatening to quit, leaving me to expire.

I saw the coroner’s record ‘gross stupidity’ as my cause of death.

As I sat relaxing and licking my wounds, Kate’s face occupied my meandering thoughts. Her face appeared in my mind's eye, so I studied her beauty, remembering how she’d trussed me up, intellectually speaking.

My cock reacted, becoming fully solid, and I felt pre-cum ooze into my boxer briefs. Its wetness rubbed uncomfortably against my thighs and groin.

I found my arousal confusing.

Fucking Hell!

This time, I swore in my head, then metaphorically shook off my hedonistic trance and focused on winning a reprieve.

I closed my eyes and focused on my lie rather than the woman who’d caught me out, replaying our encounter. Kate uncovered my deceit on the poorly thought out CV, but I couldn’t fathom how or why.

Why hasn’t she fired me? What does she already know?

I knew Kate was fair, insisting on the highest standards of workplace ethics and personal discipline from others, comparable with her own. She had no patience for tardiness or slack behaviour and took time to teach. Her briefings were precise to ensure everyone had a fair chance to achieve their tasks.

When necessary, Kate scolded lightly yet firmly while retaining a gravitas about herself. Nobody doubted her leadership skills. She had a twinkle in her eye that gave prior notice she might be playful, but not one to be crossed, and would relish an attempt from any who might try.

In our staff break room, the general chatter was positive about their boss. Some could be bitchy occasionally, but most admired her and everyone agreed they wouldn’t deliberately cross Kate. Tiffany was most emphatic on that point, and I speculated whether she’d tried and failed, in the past.

“I heard she made one guy cry a couple of years ago.”

Pete told me this little gem during a quick break we’d shared in my induction week.

I laughed, thinking he was joking at first, but he was insistent. Nodding his head in seriousness.

“Any idea why?”

“He lied to her.”

My heart sank when I recalled our conversation. It’s strange how casual remarks can often present new meaning in a future different circumstance.

I sought comfort, sipping my coffee, hoping to lift an otherwise desolate mood.

What the hell shall I do?

Military service was a private matter, especially mine, given its complexity and problems. I took an option of leaving the Royal Marines after nine years, by which time I’d had my fill of operational deployments. I also had a growing problem with notoriety, which almost crushed my psyche to the point I turned to my family for advice.

My parents and sister were unanimous in their opinion that I should leave the service and start fresh, building a new career, while growing a different network of friends. When handing over my military identity card on my final day of service, I vowed to bury the past with all its baggage and escape to a new, quieter existence.

I messed that up for sure!

I must be honest with Kate, because she deserved nothing less. There was no point compounding one lie with more. She could sniff a liar out easily and had zero tolerance for them. Digging myself in would make me a sitting duck, a lame one too, and I knew it. I desperately wanted to avoid more deceit, so I tried to imagine a reasonable explanation, playing it out in my head.

I need Kate’s approval and to rebuild her confidence in me.

She gave me a specific time to report back, which appealed. In the military, it’s easy to comply with instructions because they are unambiguous, much like Kate’s was. I wondered if she’d served, thinking my current boss would have made a much better officer than the wankers I’d reported to.

I walked through the coffee shop with a heavy heart and paid at the till. My server smiled suggestively, as she had done every time I visited, but I only had a friendly smile for her.

I might have asked her on a date years ago, but too many disappointments in the past, while chasing the wrong women, had left me disinterested. If she knew what desires lay in my soul, she’d run a mile and I’d probably get arrested.

“See you again in a few days.”

“Yep, bye.”

I’d maintained the status quo, although I knew this might be my last visit to her cafe, which made me feel sad. I’d lied to Kate, letting my aunt and mother down. That’s three of the most important women in my life to whom I now owed explanations.

I built a huge catastrophe in my mind, punishing myself before they could, not that they would, mind you, except I wasn’t sure about Kate. I no longer felt aroused, and the only hardness that remained was the reality of my trickery, which weighed me down as I trudged back towards our car rental lot.

I nodded subconsciously at my coworkers, who were leaving for their lunch break, when I walked past the rental fleet.

Tiffany smiled sarcastically and changed direction when she saw me, approaching with figurative daggers drawn. She accurately guessed that I was in trouble and obviously relished my impending downfall.

“Two interviews in one day, you must be up for employee of the month.”

Her eyes flashed with hatred, and I wondered what sort of person could become so toxic without good reason.

“I’ll recommend you for next month if you’d like.”

I laughed loudly at her irritation to shrug off my gloom and fend off her churlish attack.

I’d reflected on my date with Tiffany. I wasn’t one for sharing personal matters and had no beef with her, but it surprised me when Pete asked why she was being so hostile towards me.

On that day, I’d delivered a car to a client, and Pete was my ride back to the rental lot. He was restrained for a while and I later realised he was choosing whether to ask me about my date with Tiffany the previous evening.

When he blurted his question, I paused for thought, surprised he’d asked about such a personal matter.

“I don’t know why she’s angry. I was a gentleman, and didn’t realise she was so upset.”

I explained much of what happened during our date, describing her contempt for me then and ever since. He laughed, pleased to have solved a puzzle.

“That’s your mistake, bro. Tiffany likes bad boys.”

When he parked the car and we parted ways, and he was still chuckling at my misfortune.

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