Thursday. "Five twenty-four."

With a smile, Melanie read aloud the numbers displayed on the clock she had been watching. Light breaths and touches quickly gave way to heavy sighs and lustful gropes. His face rose to rejoin hers, having spent since 5:19 between her thighs.

Melanie couldn't see much with the lights off, blinds drawn closed, and her glasses stashed out of the way. Even so, she was intimately familiar with the sounds and scents of her surroundings: light traffic noise in front, appliances humming behind, air conditioning units whirring above, the steady drip of coffee drizzling beside her, warming pastries wafting their buttery, fruity scent, the aroma of the brewing coffee growing more and more intense.

Standing between her legs as she sat on the counter, he pushed her canvas apron aside to grip her stout nipple through her shirt. She unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, and as his hand encircled a bare breast up inside her top, her hand pushed down his boxers and encircled his cock.

After a few seconds of stroking, his dick was hard enough, so she felt around to retrieve the square foil packet, opened it, and pulled out the condom. His hand helped, and before the clock's numbers advanced, he was sheathed.

5:25

Melanie's legs parted as his cock nestled between her thighs, pausing only briefly before pushing inside her neatly manicured pussy. Her bare, puffy labia were parted by his advancing shaft, and his thick pubic hair met her trimmed bush with just the second stroke,

5:26

Both knew there was no time for lovemaking. Both were content and intent simply to fuck, and fuck hard. Melanie had readied herself mentally by anticipation and physically by stimulation in the spots of time she could find within the last hour. And he – well, he was always a kiss and a touch and a word away from complete arousal, as most men are.

He drove into her vigorously, their breathing and gasping and grunting soon drowning out the surrounding sounds of machinery. She wrapped her legs and arms around him tightly, matching his thrusts with pushes of her own. Their bodies crushed into each other, their mouths kissing and licking and nipping at each other's ears and necks, fucking like time was short.

5:27

Time was short. He gripped her bare ass with both hands, under her skirt, watching the breast he had released bounce around inside her shirt as her apron sat askew.

Melanie leaned back on her hands, knees wide, as he spit on his rough thumb and ground it onto her clit.

"Oh, Fuck!" she cried out. "Fuck, yesss!" She laid back all the way, head off the back edge of the counter as his cock ravaged her.

"I want it on me this time," Melanie growled, taking ownership of her clitoris.

"Uhhh," he groaned. "On you? Yes?"

"Yes, fuck, do it on me!" Melanie started to climax, knees flailing, fingers digging at her sex.

"Sí, Señora Melanie," came the reply with a smirk. He fed her pussy long, full, deep strokes as she released her juices.

5:28

In the midst of Melanie's trembling and gasping, he pulled out, bunching the condom down till it came off. Grunting and panting, he squirted three shots of cum onto her stomach and hand right above her muff. He emptied the rest onto her thigh, watching it run down her skin onto the counter top.

"Oh, fuuuuck," Melanie cooed, gliding her fingers through the fresh goo. "Muy bueno!"

5:29

Headlights appeared outside, first softly illuminating and then turning directly into the window, though their glare was mostly blocked by the closed blinds.

Melanie sat up abruptly, dropping to her feet as she heard the engine die outside. After she retrieved her glasses, she adjusted the apron to properly cover her front and smoothed her skirt down, enjoying the thrill of trapping a good thick mess of spunk underneath. She checked her reflection in the window, combing her fingers through her fucked up hair.

The car door thudded shut, the alarm chirped, and the headlights went out.

She flipped up a bank of switches behind the counter, and the overhead track lighting set her surroundings aglow. A turn of the nob, and speakers released some light music. A pull of the chain by the door, and the sign above turned from red to green.

5:30

Melanie turned the key in the lock, seconds before her first customer of the day grabbed the handle and pulled it open.

"Running a bit behind today, Mrs. Ardmore?" The smiling face of Dr. Morowicz greeted her. Two or three times a week, ever since she opened her own café five years ago, Dr. Morowicz would stop by for a coffee and a chat on his way in to the university where he taught.

"Oh, you know, it takes a lot of effort to get everything hot and ready this early in the morning."

Trailing right behind the professor was Elaine, the energetic university student whom Melanie had hired to run some opening shifts. This was one of those curious days when Elaine was needed only at opening time, not any earlier to help set up.

"Good morning, Elaine," Melanie greeted her.

"Good morning, boss lady," came Elaine's usual silly greeting. Thinking it peculiar that her boss' voice was almost a song, she swung around behind the counter and asked the professor what he'd like.

"What's special today, Mrs. Ardmore?" the professor inquired. "Something strong and dark, I presume."

"Oh yes," Melanie smiled at the man who had zipped up just one minute before and was now wiping down the counter. "Thank you, Carlos, for today's delivery."

"De nada, you are welcome, Señora," Carlos responded.

Seeing the masculine Latino supplier giving the proprietor a wink, Elaine had to turn and bite her hand to keep from giggling.

"Yes, Dr. Morowicz," Melanie quipped, "I always have Colombian on Thursdays."