Service: N\/A
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Food: N\/A
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Ambience: * * *
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Babe Count: * * * *<\/i><\/p>\n
I’m not sitting in the coffee-shop section of the store.<\/p>\n
I’m at the main counter of the bookshop, chatting to Linda. She used to work at the Rosebank branch, and I was going to hire her as an intern to do marketing for Barefoot Press at some point, back in the days when I still had grandiose ambitions about getting Barefoot Press into the stratosphere.<\/p>\n
“How’s your love life?” she says. I’ve bought her a latte with half strawberry, half cinnamon syrup, no coffee. Just milk and the syrup. That’s what she wanted. I’m sipping my way through a grande harmless latte. To the uninitiated, that’s the biggest mug, with decaff coffee and skim milk.<\/p>\n
“Jacqui and I broke up,” I say. “About three or four months ago.”<\/p>\n
“Oh!” she says. “I broke up too. A week ago.”<\/p>\n
“Why’d you break up?” I ask.<\/p>\n
“He broke up. I don’t know why.”<\/p>\n
“Hmmmm,” I say, “is THAT why you’re flirting with me?”<\/p>\n
She strikes a pose and glares at me, half seductively, half outraged. Then she winks.<\/p>\n
“I’m turning twenty-one very soon,” she says.<\/p>\n
“Do you want to model for my portrait circle?” I say.<\/p>\n
“Absolutely,” she says.<\/p>\n
Lets see. I’m only fifteen years older than her. <\/p>\n