Our first stop is a Greek coffee place that Jake confirmed is where many locals go to get their morning caffeine fix. I don’t know much about Greek coffee, other than it’s very similar to Turkish coffee which I have made before, but I did a little research last night to get the basics. This is what I enjoyed about travelling; discovering other places and finding out their flavours, their foods and their drinks. Discovering their morning rituals and the traditional drinks and dishes that bring joy and comfort. It’s these that the chef in me always wants to seek out.
Receiving a sceptical but warm welcome from the man behind the bar and the fellow patrons inside, I order ametriofor Jenna, a coffee with sugar, and I opt for asketomyself, the same drink without sugar. As Jenna finds a table just outside the front, I watch the man make our drinks and take the deep breaths I still need after Scooter-gate this morning. I never imagined I would react like that to the prospect of getting on a scooter again, but Jenna’s reassuring smile, the promise of the day ahead and a firm internal pep-talk to myself all helped steady my shaking legs as I climbed on.
And now I feel something like pride take root in me, because I did it, even though I was scared. Even though I was on the cusp of panic, I didn’t fall over the edge.
The man mumbles something to me as I move to take our small cups of night-black coffee from him, and with little fanfare he follows me and plonks a plate of pastries that look like baklava on our table before rushing away again.
After advising Jenna to wait a little longer for the coffee’s ‘sludge’ to settle, I watch how she nods and reaches for a pastry. Taking a bite, her full lips aremomentarily covered with flakes of pastry. When she uses her tongue to sweep them up and pull them into her mouth, she also closes her eyes to savour the sweetness of the honey and I swear my heart skips a beat. A beat that my dick catches, swelling in my shorts. It’s not that I’ve forgotten how sexy she is but part of me is actively trying to ignore it so that I can make today about something more than sex. But then she does something like suck the honey out of a piece of baklava, her eyelashes flickering, and sex is all I can think about.
“How did you find out about this place?” she asks, snapping me back into the moment.
“Dad and I have passed it on our ride the last two mornings and it’s always busy with locals, so I was curious. Also, the hotel breakfast is great and all, but it’s far from a real Greek or Cretan experience. I wanted to at least try and find out what that looks and tastes like,” I say, handing her coffee to her.
She takes a sip and her nose wrinkles.
“Do you like it?” I ask.
She blushes. “Honestly, no. I rarely drink coffee without milk, but I appreciate the authentic experience.” She lifts her cup to her lips again. “Really, I do.”
I smile and we drink in silence, both of us watching the road traffic pass us by. At some point, the Greek man from behind the counter swaps our empty plate for a full one and while Jenna protests she couldn't eat another one, she waits less than a minute to put another small roll of pastry in her mouth and I have to use all my energy to yet again remind my cock today is about more than sex.
And yet again, my cock ignores me.
“This one has walnuts in!” she exclaims, and I moan inwardly. There is nothing sexier than a sexy human excited about food.
“There are walnut trees all over Crete,” I say.
“You know what a walnut tree looks like?” She is startled.
“You don’t?” I ask, faking shock back at her, and we both laugh.
Coffees finished and back at our scooter, I can’t help myself. I reach for her hand as she goes to grab her helmet. I shove her hand in my mouth and I suck allthe traces of honey off her fingers. Before letting her middle finger go, I bite it gently between my teeth and smile at her wide eyes and slack jaw.
“Marty,” she says, and it could be a reprimand, or it could be admiration, something related to awe.
“Sorry,” I say. “Had to.”
I sense she’s trying to contain her smile but still it kicks up her lips. Then she turns and puts her helmet on. I wait for her to get in position then I take her bag, swing it over my arm, and slide in behind her, not giving a fuck that my erection is now pressed up against her firm butt cheeks.I could be imagining it, but it feels like she rolls back into it before she turns the key in the ignition.
“Where to now, Harry?” she shouts over the engine.
“Harry?”
“And I’m Lloyd. Like inDumb and Dumber!” She calls out.
“What are you talking about?” I’m baffled.
She switches the engine off and turns slightly to me. “Oh, God, don’t tell me that cultural reference fell into the void of our age gap. The movie,Dumb and Dumber? It has a scooter scene in it.”
Laughter bubbles out of me as it clicks. “Oh, Jesus, yes. That’s exactly what this looks like. Ha!” And just like that, I now have another scooter memory that can maybe, possibly, hopefully, eclipse the other one.
“Phew, thought I was going to have to write you a list of problematic early Nineties comedies to watch.”
“You can still do that. We can watch them together,” I say and she waits a beat before turning on the engine.
“Okay, where to, Harry?” she shouts again after clearing her throat.
“Still trust me, Lloyd?” I call back.
