Dicey

It didn’t start with attraction. Not exactly, though that was undoubtedly part of it. It was fascination, like studying some rare animal in a cage or a bug under a rock. Georgia and her lists. Georgia and her dice.

We lived in a little town just outside a very large city. One of those satellite places where people move to have a backyard, but are still be able to get to work in under an hour.

The town didn’t have much, which made the appearance of the coffee shop an extra special surprise. The fact that the place actually had good coffee was just a cherry on top.

Its proximity to the train meant the morning commuters would often line up around the corner for lattes and croissants during the rush out. Since I seemed to be one of the few in town who worked from home, I waited until ten to take my seat near the window every day.

Kay, the somewhat older, somewhat hippie owner, knew me and seemed to like to have me around. I bought a lot of coffee and snacks throughout the day. Certainly enough to allow for my using a seat for four or five hours and a little bit of WiFi.

The other work-from-home crowd trickled in after the first few months.

Dylan, the real estate agent we all hated, even though he was perfectly nice. Maddie, the web designer who we occasionally had to have interventions with when she tried to order her sixth espresso. Bill, the photographer who edited in the darkest corner in the back. Georgia, who did freelance research and editing. Everyone had their own little spot and if by chance some tourist or rando sat in someone’s spot, they would get glares and psychic hate rays until they moved.

Georgia sat by the window like I did. There was a counter in front of the window and six seats that faced the street. In the beginning, when Georgia started coming in, I sat at one end of the counter and she sat at the other. Over weeks there was a strange softening of the wall between us. Three seats apart, then two, then one. Any closer seemed like it would be weird.

We occasionally spoke. Usually when the owner and barista Kay came around and asked us questions, getting to know her regulars.

“Oh, you’re an editor, Georgia? Andy writes for magazines, right?”

We both smiled and nodded. We shared some names of places where we had both worked. She was more in the science and nature world, I was more in tech and occasionally politics.

Georgia was quiet, shy, but her eyes were always hungry. She watched and noticed everything, like I did. I was intrigued from the start.

Every day at around noon, she would take out a little notebook of graph paper and make a list. “Chinese, pizza, the fancy deli, the cheap deli, McGinny’s Pub...” Every place in town one could get lunch. It was such an interesting little ritual.

One day, I got brave enough to move to the seat next to her. I watched her finish her list, first out of the corner of my eye and then, when she didn’t seem to mind, over her shoulder. I saw when she got to number fifteen, “Sushi,” she put a little heart next to it.

When she was finished with her list, she took out some dice. Not the dice from Monopoly or Backgammon, these were roleplaying dice or something. Twenty-sided and looking like some kind of precious gems.

She rolled one and we both went down the list with our eyes, finding the corresponding entry on her paper. “Pizza Place.” She seemed less than enthusiastic, but she shrugged and started a new list next to the first. “Pepperoni, plain, sausage, mushroom, calzone, etc.”

“The other day you told Kay you don’t like mushrooms,” I said with a chuckle. The look she flashed at me made me stop laughing.

“I hate mushrooms,” she said in almost a whisper, then she looked up at me through her thick lashes and bit her bottom lip.

She rolled the dice and got mushrooms. There was a flicker in her eyes and some minute shiver went through her body. I was glad I was close enough to see it. Disappointment and some spark of pleasure.

“Looks like you’re stuck with mushrooms,” I said with a little laugh and she squirmed and nodded, without looking at me.

She left soon after, I assumed to fulfill her wager with herself. I sat and considered her little routine, how she gave up control to the game, how it seemed to thrill her.

She came back to the cafe just as I was about to leave, so I silently decided to stay a bit longer. I had switched from coffee to iced tea and moved my drink aside as she picked her seat. She smiled and sat right next to me.

“What to do tonight,” was the title of the next list. She quickly listed six things. “Movie at home, movie at movie theater, dance club in the city, dive bar, singles bar, pool hall…”

I moved a bit closer and was once again reading over her shoulder. This time, she seemed to shift a little, as if to give me a better view. As I got to the end of her incomplete list, she got up and went to the counter.

As Georgia talked to Kay and ordered something elaborate and iced. I looked down at her notepad, still open to her incomplete list. It was leather-bound and kind of fancy. She’d filled the first half of it and it had that lovely look of a well-used leather good.

I saw Kay fiddling with the espresso machine. From behind I was a little shocked at how thick Georgia’s thighs were, how wide her hips were, how ample her ass was in her tight black jeans. Pleasingly pear-shaped. I felt myself silently groan at the thought of touching her.

I swallowed and went over her list again, wondering what it would be like to leave my evening to chance. I thought about how she kept letting me get close to her, watching her make her little gambles with herself. Privy to her secret little game.

I picked up her pen and added a new entry after her neat number seven. “Go on a date with Andy.” I put the pen down as if it were the handle of a hot pan. My heart was pounding in my ears. I worried about ruining our budding acquaintance, messing up the vibe of the cafe work group.

I watched numbly as she walked back with her drink. I felt my palms sweaty as she went back to her list. I watched as her eyes moved down the list. I saw a slight raise of her eyebrow. There was a pause before she picked up her pen.

“Clean the bathroom, organize the closets, finish my book,” she added. Then, after another pause, she went back and put a little heart next to “go on a date with Andy.”

I watched as she hesitated, biting her bottom lip again. “Masturbate,” was next on her list. I could see her cheek go a little red. My cock stirred in my pants. She seemed to very intentionally not look up to meet my eyes.

She put her pen down, not on her notebook, but next to my hand. I picked it up. It was still warm from her fingers. I added number nine, “Masturbate in front of Andy.”

My throat felt tight. It seemed like I was following suit, but was I ruining everything?

She came back and her eyes widened as she read the addition to her list. She bit her bottom lip and picked up her pen, tapping it on the notebook.

“Call mom, paint my nails, ask Andy if I can suck his cock.”

I was suddenly aware of her breath, coming in hard little gasps. Her cheeks were crimson. She was biting her bottom lip furiously.

She put the pen down again for me. Where her breath was ragged, mine became calm. My concerns melted away. I smiled and straightened out the notebook, picking up the pen slowly. I smoothed the page and considered.

Eight more. Eight chances for bliss.

“Ask Andy to eat my pussy.”

“Beg Andy to fuck me.”

I smiled and passed it back to her, which seemed to surprise her.

“Kiss Andy,” she wrote and gave the notebook a little grin.

I felt my own cheeks warm. Only three more to go.

“Do anything Andy says for two hours,” I added.

She took the pen from me, which seemed to break some rule. Our fingers brushed against each other and the intimacy was potent. She put the pen to the page and paused. She swallowed and brought the back of the pen to her lips, sucking on it. There was fear in her eyes.

“Let Andy hurt me,” she added and quickly dropped the pen.

I picked the pen up and put a little heart next to the last entry. She let out a little gasp and then covered her mouth.

“Let Andy examine my body and interrogate me.”

I put the pen down and the list was done. She looked like she was trying to control her breathing. Her thighs were squeezing together and her lip was red from constant biting. I sat back and waited.

She took out the dice and rolled.