Dirty Hardcore Cartoons

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Niel couldn't understand it. Who comes out to California to experience rain? Quickly he pulled a newspaper over his head and darted out from under the bus stop, racing across the street in some kind of simple-minded attempt to escape a waterlogging. Gray clouds crowded the sky, dropping their moisture on the equally drab pavement below. Reaching the other side of the street, Niel looks up to see the marquis of the big coffee house, Zapp's, that passed as a culture center for this nowhere Northern California college town.

Following an urge, Niel opens the door and enters the dry interior of the place. The smell of freshly ground coffee overwhelms him, flavored by the reek of pine, and the characteristic smell of tracked-in rain. In the corner a Christmas tree, one of the small cheap kind, sat decorated with stir sticks and other accoutrements of coffee land.

Sidling up to the bar, Niel orders himself a double espresso straight, then sits at one of the micro-tables to try and read his drenched newspaper; surrounded by people all with their own lives, their own agendas, desires, and motivations. The coffee house is a cosmopolitan gathering place.

ELAINE'S STORY

Sipping slowly at her $2.95 Cafe Mocha, Elaine was beginning to think she'd made a mistake. She looked around, finding no one who fit the description of what she had come here for. Her hair was dyed black, cut short on the sides and around the nape of her neck; the top long and combed to the side. A pale, unpainted face stared out, its outstanding feature outrageously lined lips--redder than red, almost glowing in their contrast.

The rest of her clothing was black or dark flannel plaid. Short argyle socks were shoved into heavy boots. A little frightened, a lot nervous, she'd come here to explore feelings she'd wrestled with for a long time.

Was she gay? It had taken no small amount of introspection before she could even put the question to herself that way. It had taken even longer before she'd contemplated doing this. Only sickos answered personal ads, right?

But she had, and received the call early the evening before. Explaining her doubt, her trepidation to the other woman, Elaine had expected her to simply cut her off. But Denaria seemed nice. Pleasant. Her anticipation had almost killed her last night. What would she look like? Will I find her interesting?

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Attractive?

Denaria had described herself over the phone as `slightly plump'. Her height was 5'6"--almost exactly that of Elaine herself. Elaine wondered, was Denaria fat? Did she care? Elaine didn't want to admit it, but had also wondered about Denaria's race. Would it matter that she was black? Elaine had fantasized last night about this encounter. Denaria said she would be wearing a blue skirt.

Elaine had almost reached the end of her mocha when she walked through the door. It had to be her. She could feel an exotic thrill of anticipation as she looked Denaria up and down. Her blue skirt was sheer, the shape of her plump legs accented by tight black leggings. A loose-fitting sweater draped shapelessly over her upper body as Denaria's dark brown eyes scanned the coffee house.

Embarrassed now about her deceit, Elaine decided to go through with it. She'd left herself an out, telling Denaria over the phone to expect someone in a red jacket--and then purposely not worn it, so she could look at Denaria first and bug out if necessary.

Elaine got up and crossed the crowded coffee house, eyes fixed on Denaria's face, not allowing herself to give in to the baser desires to let her eyes linger over Denaria's large, full breasts or thick, soft body.

"I'm Elaine." she said. She felt awkward. Should she shake her hand. What did one do?

"I'm Denaria." she replied and smiled, in the same low, husky voice Elaine had fantasized about last night. Elaine now couldn't help but get lost in Denaria's deep, liquid brown eyes. Denaria did take her hand, but simply held it. Little electric thrills pased completely up and down Elaine's body. "Let's sit down."

They both ordered a mocha, and took a seat, wedged by necessity close together. They made small talk about movies, food, work. Each one punctuated their nervous conversation with a sip from their drink, and soon both were gone. It was Denaria who took the initiative and suggested they go somewhere else. Somewhere more private.