A week or two ago, Alison Tyler posted this, about potentially wanting pieces for a sex and coffee themed anthology, and it got me thinking.

When you think sex and coffee, I think it’s normal to imagine inviting someone back for coffee, the strong, dark stuff that you drink at the end of an evening, and where that might lead. Less sexy, perhaps, is that first coffee of the day – the one that wakes you up, puts you in a position to face the day ahead.

For a long time, I thought I’d kicked my morning coffee habit. I was a tea girl from morning to night and perfectly happy that way. Then one morning I fancied something stronger, and before I knew it I was hooked all over again.

I get my coffee from the same place every morning. I rock up already late for work, harassed and have to scrabble for change in the bottom of my handbag. And every morning she smiles like she means it.

‘Skim latte?’

‘Please.’

‘And a madeleine?’

‘No. Er, yes. Oh, ok, go on, then.’

She’s in her mid-twenties, with dark hair that she wears in a ponytail, and eyes that sparkle.

‘You’re pretty,’ I thought one morning, as she passed me my change. I said: ‘I like your top.’

Her fingers fumbled nervously with the tiny rhinestones round her neckline, and she blushed a little.

I wonder what it would be like to kiss her.