Eye Candy 7

The barista, a freckled red-head probably just turned 18, was staring with a gaping mouth. For a moment he'd forgotten where he was, before he was able to ask "what would you like," his eyes never flinching.

Christie was used to this behaviour in men. It wasn't just her perfectly slim face, her wavy blonde hair, her hourglass figure or her perky tits. Lots of girls got unwanted attention for having those, but with Christie it went beyond. Every guy in the Starbucks had turned their head when she'd entered, and a few were staring still, at her shapely bum hidden behind her tight blue jeans. They just couldn't help themselves, really. Not with Christie.

"I'll have a cappuccino, please. But with oat milk, if you can."

"Okay," the barista responded with a nervous smile. His eyes were locked on Christie's, and it took him a moment before he realised he was the one who was supposed to prepare the coffee. He quickly sprung into gear. Christie chuckled. Even though she was used to guys tripping over themselves in front of her, it never stopped being funny, in a flattering way.

"Here you go," the red-head said as he put the expensive cup on the counter. "That will be 2.45 please."

"Oh. Eh." Christie made her voice sound innocent and vulnerable. "I forgot my wallet at home. Any chance you could help me out?"

"I'm afraid we're not..." the barista muttered, then he sighed. Christine had flashed him a quick, charming smile, and he'd lost his ability to resist. "I'll pay for you, don't worry."

"That's so nice of you. Thank you," Christie said, her voice sounding like sunshine on a summer day. She picked up her cup as the lovestruck guy pulled out his wallet. "Oh, also. You don't think I could get a sandwich or something? Cause you're such a nice guy."

The red-head shook his head, fighting himself. He spoke quietly, embarrassed, but also scared of upsetting the woman of his new-found admiration. "I make minimum wage here. I don't have any spare cash."

Christie smiled softly, understandingly. She glanced at his name-badge, and then looked up to his twitching eyes. "Adam. That's a really nice name. It suits you."

Adam melted. He looked over his shoulder, making sure his manager wasn't in earshot. Christie knew she had him. "I'd love an avocado on toast, please, and an orange juice. With a vegan chocolate chip cookie."

Adam looked dumbstruck at the drop-dead gorgeous girl in front of him. He knew he didn't have it in him to resist anything she asked of him, even if it would cost him his job. He sighed, and looked into the seductive, mahogany brown eyes.

"Bring it over, yeah?" Christie said lightly, and with a coy wink she turned around and made her way to a small table by the window. She knew Adam would be staring at her ass. Had he been less of a pushover, she might have added some swing to her hips, just for safety, but with the red-head she knew it wasn't necessary.

Christie loved playing with guys. She thrived on twisting them around her finger. Lived for seeing them crawl under her. She didn't need free coffees, or free sandwiches. Only twenty-one, she made 80 grand a year (her boss just couldn't turn down her requests for a raise). She lived in a two-bedroom flat in Manhattan free of charge (her landlord was just such a sweetie). And whenever she felt like travelling the world, there was always some adventurous guy happy to take her along (at his expense, naturally).

The mischievous blonde sat down at her table, looking out at the busy high-street. She loved New York. There was no shortage of things to see, people to meet.

Guys tripping over their feet to impress her.

Christie had always had a lot of admirers, but since she turned 18, she started to notice that the attention she got exceeded what other girls who shared her good looks received. There was something supernatural about it, Christie was sure. Some might call it a gift. Christie just referred to it as her "thing". Over the past few years she'd learned to control and utilize it. How to use it to overpower someone's natural inhibitions, and how to limit it's effect on those she had no interest in. It was through practised restraint on Christie's part that all the guys in the cafe had only starred at her ass.

Adam came over, and hurriedly put a tray with everything Christie had asked for on it. She noticed the napkin had been folded into a heart.

"Thank you," she said, not looking up at the nervous barista. But Adam wasn't leaving. He stood over her, looking down, twiddling his fingers. Christie ignored him, and bit into her toast. Adam just stood there, too scared to speak but too enamoured to leave. Finally Christie looked up at him. "Don't you think you should mpfgh..."

Her words got cut off as Adam leaned down and shoved his tongue into her mouth. He grabbed her with both hands, and kissed her passionately. It took all her strength for Christie to push him off her. He staggered back, equal parts embarrassed and hurt.

"I didn't mean to do that I'm a really nice guy I could be your boyfriend maybe," be blurted out in a single sentence, loud enough that the whole cafe could hear him. People looked over, but the nerdy red-head had eyes only for her.

"I think you should go back to work," Christie said forcefully. There was no smile now. Adam dropped his eyes to the floor, and after hesitating for a moment, walked back to the counter. There his manager came up to him, and hissed angry words Christie couldn't hear.

She turned back to her food. A lot of girls would have lost their appetite from being forcefully kissed against their will, but this wasn't the first time this had happened to Christie. Not by a long shot.

That was the downside to her "thing". The problem with having guys falling uncontrollably for her was that they, well, couldn't control themselves. They literally couldn't help themselves, which made Christie not judge them too harshly. It's why she had had to learn to control it. A smile would get her a free coffee, but a smile and a wink might be too much, and could drive a guy over the edge, where he couldn't resist the male urges Christie awoke in him. She'd gotten very good at reading men over the years, but she'd clearly misread Adam. He must have been even more pathetic than she took him for.

It was a short walk from the cafe to her office, so she didn't mind walking. It felt good stretching her legs, and she felt uplifted by every head that turned in her direction. Her clothing was purposeful. Long jeans, a thin, white t-shirt that went almost to her neck and a dark grey cardigan. Stylish and attractive, but showing as little skin as possible. Had she been walking down in a crop-top or short-shorts, she certainly wouldn't be enjoying the walk.

She felt something snag at her hand, and she turned around with her other raised, ready to slap the frisky fella. But she held herself back when she saw Adam.

"Are you following me?" she demanded sternly.

"I'm sorry. I just had to apologize to you. I don't know what came over me. I'm not like that, not at all." He sounded pained. Like someone in love. Christie sighed.

"You need to get back to work. You'll forget about me in a couple of days."

"I'll never forget you. I think I love you." He sounded disgustingly sincere. "Just let me be close to you. I promise I won't do anything inappropriate. You'll see I'm a really nice guy."

In these situations, Christie had learned she only had two choices. She could reject the advances, with enough force to snap the subject out of his trance for long enough that he got control over himself. After enough time the men would always forget about their feelings for her. The problem with this approach was that some guys couldn't take the rejection. Helplessly infatuated. They can't help themselves.

"Alright, fine, lets go," Christie said, annoyed. She grabbed Adam's hand, and dragged him along the busy street. She ignored his questions of where they were going, as she felt him squeeze her hand between his sweaty fingers.

She pushed through the meandering crowds, impatient to get to where she was going. It wasn't far until Christie pulled Adam sideways, through a set of sliding doors into an air-conditioned Primark. The cool air felt heavenly on Christie's hot skin.

"What are we doing here?" Adam asked with what he thought was charm. He probably thought this was a date, the poor fool.

"Just shut up and follow me." She dragged him across the massive clothing shop. She grabbed a cheap t-shirt off the rack, and a pair of jeans.

"Those look nice," Adam said, trying to play cool through his confusion. Christine shoved the t-shirt in his hand, and when he looked up, he realized they were in front of the changing rooms. Christie pushed him forward.

The woman guarding the changing rooms was bored, in her late twenties, and took Adam's t-shirt without looking at him. She wrote down a simple "1" on her notepad, and gave Adam a key-card, along with the t-shirt back. He stumbled forward, and the woman repeated the ritual with Christie.

Once through, Christie grabbed Adam by his elbow, and pulled him along to an unoccupied stall. She threw him inside, and followed, to the suspicious glance of an older woman just leaving. Christie closed the door, and threw the thin lock. She tossed the jeans over the top of the door.

"Don't say a word," Christie hissed, as Adam turned around, about to demand some answers. She backed him against the wall, and fondled with his belt, quickly getting it loose.

"Hey. You don't have to do that," he said.

"Actually I do. You're really getting on my nerves," Christine growled at him, as she pulled down his pants. He shifted on his feet, and when Christine grabbed his cock, he almost swallowed his tongue.

He was hard as a rock, as Christine had expected, and his shaft was actually a decent length. She started jerking him quickly, impatiently. She had no urge to give him the girlfriend experience, she just wanted to get him done with. Standing face to face, Christie stared at the red-head's gaping mouth and bulging eyes. She pulled up her t-shirt, and Adam immediately stared down at her smooth, round boobs, held up gently by a black lace bra. She took his hand and moved it up, letting him feel her up. His fingers immediately squeezed around her tit like he was holding on for dear life.

"Oh my God," Adam grunted, followed by a load moan. Christie quickly put her free hand over his mouth, holding back his dirty noises. She knew how thin these walls were, specifically to stop people doing what they were doing. She looked down at the cock she was stroking, hoping to see the signs of an incoming orgasm.

Seeing the hot seductress staring at his manhood was tipping Adam over the edge, and he dug his fingers deep into Christie's tits, his chest heaving with his frantic breaths.

"Cum in the t-shirt," Christine hissed urgently.

"Huh," was all Adam managed to respond with, his eyes rolling to the back of his scull. In fear, Christie removed her hand from his mouth, which immediately issued a load moan, and she guided Adam's free hand, which was still holding the t-shirt Christie had picked out, over the twitching head of his penis. Just in time, it seemed like, as Adam screamed out in joy. No hands free, Christie silenced him with the only thing she had, her mouth. She kissed him deeply as the nerdy barista came into the t-shirt. He kept twitching for a while, and Christie kept her mouth against him, as she kept jerking him. He was spraying a huge load into the fabric, and Christie knew her analysis had been correct. There would have been no subduing this guy.

After an eternity of spasms, Adam finally went limp, and Christie let him slunk down onto the bench. His eyes were staring aimlessly ahead. His cock was still throbbing, and a single drop of cum appeared, slowly dropping to the ground.

Christie looked at herself. Her hand was miraculously still clean, but a thick string of cum had hit the leg of her jeans. "You fucking dick," she muttered to herself. These were her favourite jeans, too. With two fingers, she scooped up the sperm, and licked it down. It was surprisingly sweet, but Christine was more interested in her clothes. There was a faint stain still visible, but after rubbing with a wet finger, it blended naturally enough that no one would notice it.

By now Adam had regained some consciousness. He looked up at Christine, his eyes like those of a puppy, his dick hanging limply between his legs. "Can I call you?" he asked, hopefully.

"Clean yourself up," was all she responded, before she opened the door and left the barista alone.

That was the second option, as Christie had learned over the years. If she made them too horny, the only way to get them off her was to, well, get them off. Then, all their pent-up frustration from their infatuation with her would be gone, and, assuming she didn't keep teasing them after that, they would soon forget all about her and their feelings about her. That's why she called it her "thing" and not her "gift". It was a blessing as well as a curse. She'd learned more or less to control it, but if she wasn't careful, it would get her into situations she really didn't enjoy. And jerking off nerds in Primark is just the least of it.