Roxy brushed long honey-blonde hair into a ponytail, plumped generous breasts up in the skimpy pink bra she wore under a white halter top, and puckered her lips.  He was new, a hunk, didn’t wear a wedding band, and she wanted to look her best when she took the freshly ground beans to his table.  Plastering on her most inviting smile, she sauntered over.<br/><br/>The lack of laughter alerted Angela return to the counter, but she agreed chilling after work sounded good.  A bit thirsty, Emily followed, intent on grabbing a tall glass of iced water.  Fiddling with the glasses, she heard Angela comment on Roxy’s latest target.  “He’s just her type, tall, dark, and handsome.”  Curious, Emily looked up, sipping through a straw.  Roxy leaned over a table, smiling invitingly, and giving a familiar looking person a generous view of her famous cleavage.  Apparently, she’d just ground an order of beans by the bags she held close to her chest for his inspection.  The other customers were enjoying the free rear view in snug-fitting yoga pants.<br/><br/>Gasping mid-breath forced water down Emily’s windpipe, creating a loud paroxysm of coughs.  Everyone paused to watch Angela pound the victim’s back vigorously.  Between involuntary coughs and tears streaming down her face, Emily sputtered quietly that the man Roxy flirted with was Boris.  Hearing her words, Angela stood straighter and turned to stare at him with more interest.  So that was the mysterious motorcycle mechanic.  Beside Angela, Emily gave the customer in question a shaky wave, embarrassed that her face must look a wreck, red nose, runny mascara, and flushed cheeks.