Paul flagged a down a cab outside of Jason's buiding. He needed to go back to his own apartment. He was fuming at Jason.

He asked the cabbie to stop at a Starbucks. The driver started to argue against it, not wanting to find parking. Paul yelled, "Stop at the next fucking Starbucks and I'll tip you a fucking 100 dollars. I need a fucking cup of coffee."

The cabbies eyes widened. Immediately sensing Paul's volitile mood. He considered the tip involved and to stop. He pulled off to a side street so Paul could get a coffee.

Inside the coffee house, Paul ordered, "Double shot latte, one splenda."

That dirty fucking freak. He doesn't even have a fucking coffee maker. He has fed me fucking takeout and a godamned ham sandwich. Why the fuck am i giving anything up to him? God damned devient. I ought to have our IT department lock him out of email and disable his badge. It will be a cold day in hell before I text the kinky shit. Every fucking day? Check in like I'm a goddamn 13 year old.

Paul's cell phone rang. He looked down at the caller ID and saw it was Jason.

Kinky fuckface.

He answered the call, "Paul Thereau",

Jason launched "Paul, I know I have made you angry. I saw what you did in my bathroom. We just need to sit down and talk through this. If you have needs or requirements in the morning, you just need to tell me.

Paul replied, "Fuck you, you fucking deviant bastard. Get some home training. Learn some manners. GET A FUCKING COFFEE POT AND LEARN HOW TO USE IT!"

Then Paul just hung up, disgusted. Everyone in the Starbucks was looking at him.

The lady behind the counter said, "Mr. Thereau, your latte is ready."


Mara Copa

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