The Man in the coffee shop.

A short story I wrote randomly.

The days are longer than they used to be. Actually, the past minute had seemed to take a whole week's time to pass.

I sipped my coffee, now cold, and looked outside the window at the pouring rain. Cars swished by in a blur, angrily making their way down the street, horns honking, curse words coming from every other window.

The bells hanging on the coffee shops door suddenly chimed, welcoming its new customer. I could not see who had entered, but it was obvious as to who it was. The whole room quieted down, and I could hear the click-click-click of high heels coming closer.

The woman sat down at my table. She was beautiful. Her long, white-blonde hair fell down to the middle of her back, only seeming to strengthen the curves of her tiny body. Her dark eyes seemed to burn into my soul. But, she looked confused. As if I was not the one she was looking for.

Her eyes searched me over, gazing at my obvious plainness. My brown hair, brown eyes, my average build and height; I was plain, and she knew it.

Obviously, she was expecting someone different for she muttered, "Are you...You are Charles Stackerd?"

"That's me," I sipped my cold coffee. I could feel eyes burning into my back, the people nearby were yearning to listen to what this beautiful woman had to say so badly, I could practically feel their ears scouring the air for her soft voice.

She shot everyone in the room a dirty look, as if to say, mind-your-own-business-or-I'll-make-you-wish-you-never-met-me.

She looked back at me, still with a slightly angry look in her eyes, "You have the documents." She stated, not questioned. There was no need for questions. Of course, I had the documents. If I did not, I would be severely punished.

I pulled an envelope out of my backpack and I hand it to her. Her soft hands meet my rough, worn hands for a moment, before I rapidly pull away.

She smiles a devilish smile, "Thank you, Charles. You have been a great help to us."

I nod, too uneasy to speak. I couldn't believe what I had done. How could I betray my own friend this way? I had to tell them.

The moment she leaves I'm heading straight to their houses and telling them to run. I think to myself.

She cocks her head to the side, looking at me again as if she is staring into my soul. I am afraid.

"Charles..." She says my name, enticing me.

"Y-yes?" I stutter, wondering what else she wants of me.

She stands up, leaving the envelope on the table, then walks to the counter.

"One mocha espresso." She tells the man.

"R-right away." He stammers.

She sits back down at the table and leans towards me, "Charles..." She mutters again. She touches my cheek with her finger and moves down to my chin. Then, in one flicker of movement, she is leaning back in her chair, arms crossed, looking out the window.

"Nice day out today." She speaks.

There were three things I wondered in that moment: One, why was she still here? She got what she needed already; Two, why is she making small-talk about the weather, which three, is not even nice. It's raining. How is that nice weather?

"Mocha Espresso!" A woman's voice called from behind the counter.

She walks over to get the cup. The woman who called out her order looks at her enviously, even angry, as if mad that this woman was so beautiful.

I watched her walk back. Her hips swung side to side, in rhythm with the clicking of her bright red stilettos. Her jeans, tight against her skin, made her seem taller, yet she was hardly even five feet tall. Her small, black halter top exposed her flat stomach and exposed the perfect curves of her hips and shoulders.

I shook my head, as she sat down across from me. Again, I felt eyes burning into my back. I'm sure everyone in the room was wondering what such a beauty like her had to do with me.

I was wondering the same.

"So," She set her coffee to the side, crossed her arms, and leaned towards me again, "I-"

"What do you want?" I interrupted her rather rudely, "I'm sorry to be rude, but you have your documents, why are you still here?"

She laughs, as if amused by my question, "Charles, Charles, Charles..."

She spoke my name softer and softer, edging me on, "It's not just what I want...It's what you want." She smiles at me pleasantly, but I could see a tint of evil lurking in her dark eyes.

"I want..." I began, but I could not make sense of my feelings. I know what I wanted before; I wanted to run to my friends, to try and save them. I knew what I wanted, but I did not want it anymore. There was something else I wanted, something stronger, eviler. Something I could not control; I had little willpower against it. And, even though I knew it would be killing my friends, I wanted it. I could not stop the wanting, "I want to..." I began again, hoping that somehow I could overcome this. But, there was no hope for me; the evil had won.

She looked at me; she knew the answer. She knew the very thing I was thinking. She stood, and began to leave, but stopped as she stood next to me

"Come with me." She whispered in my ear, tempting me

And I, invariably, followed after her.

The End

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