Thirst

I enjoy beer, and I enjoy writing. I combine both at Stouts and Stilettos, a women’s beer blog. I normally stick with beer reviews, beercation travel guides, and ruminations on beer. For Valentine’s Day, though, I had a little fun, and wrote a short love story about a woman finding just what she needed after a break-up. That story, which originally appeared here, is available below. Enjoy!

Thirst

Marissa walked alone on the cobbled streets of Old Town, sighing as her shoes scratched the damp surfaces of the bricks beneath her feet. Winter that year had been particularly cold, with wind chills of ten made all the worse by her boyfriend, Aaron, moving on from her as swiftly as the breeze. “It’s not you,” he’d said. It never was. It always was. And sadly, Marissa discovered that the warmth of a winter coat could not overcome the chill of a broken heart.

No matter. Aaron didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting out of the cold. This mattered more as the gentle drizzle Marissa walked through grew into steady rain. Marissa ducked under an awning, cursing herself for leaving her umbrella at home. She turned around, and saw a window attached to the awning. Through the window, she saw something that dashed all thoughts of Aaron, and all thoughts of loneliness, from her mind. All that filled her thoughts instead was desire.

Marissa walked inside and headed towards a table, where her object of desire lay waiting. Surely it was fate that brought her in, a thought only affirmed by the view outside being washed away by fresh turrets of rain. “What would you like?” a man asked, smiling in her direction.

“That,” she said, pointing. The object of her desire came within reach. She studied its long neck, its wide mouth, a mouth laying open as it begged to meet her lips. The scent of smoke and roasted coffee danced in her nose, and she wished for that dance to move to her tongue.

She gently lay her fingers upon it, wiping away a bead of sweat that rolled down its neck. Her object of desire was cold to the touch, matching her own hand. Both, however, began to warm upon contact. She lifted it to her lips, closing her eyes as she brought its mouth to hers. Smoke and coffee touched her lips, her tongue, and gently coursed through her as she took a long and grateful sip. The coldness, the loneliness, everything around her evaporated, fading into a warmth that spread throughout her body. She slowly pulled her mouth from her desire’s grasp, and an audible sigh escaped from her lips.

“Is it good?” the other man asked.

Marissa smiled. “Yes,” she replied. “Very.”

“Great.” He smiled back. “That’ll be $8 for the beer.”

~February 2017

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