I didn't have the usual vices. Smoking wasn't my ting, I could put the bottle away easy enough, and the only drink I had an on-and-off fling with was Scotch, preferably one older than me. I appreciated a nice pair of legs, a set of curves, and luscious lips, but knew how fickle the whole thing was. I'd seen joes go for a tumble, then give up the bank account. Saps, the lot of them. Dames made things . . . complicated, especially when it came to the job, and they didn't like it when I put the job first. I could turn all of those away without a second thought. The only vice I couldn't say no to was coffee. I wouldn't give up breathing before coffee, but only because the smell of coffee was almost as good as drinking it. I'd turn a dame down for a good cup of coffee. Even for a cup not-so-good.
But then I see her. She knows me down to my core. And she makes it a big production from across the cafe after she caught my eye. That glossy, wet lipstick doesn't do a thing for me. Then she lowers her head to the table, like she's delivering a kiss. Sure, the ladies kiss a napkin to leave the lipstick on it. Seen it before. Nice touch, but I can take it or leave. Then she comes back up, and I see there's something stuck to those lips. It doesn't take much of a detective to figure it out. Dark, dark brown covered most of the pink of her lips, and she snaked her tongue out to lick an errant granule.
Something jumped inside me, and it did a repeat when she winked at me. I got up, and took numb steps towards her, knowing full well that she hooked me. I was going to be the sap, and I didn't care. Even from here I could smell and taste the coffee on her lips.