Another Day At The Coffee Shop

Today was just another day serving coffee at the local café. It's a job I don't mind too much, but it definitely isn't my passion. There's this one regular customer who always strikes me as a bit odd, tall, lanky, with glasses perched on his nose. Anyway, today he asked for cream and sugar to go in his coffee separately, which is totally fine. But then, when I turned around to pour it, he slipped his hand up my skirt while saying something about needing 'just the right amount.' I was shocked but didn't make a fuss, just pulled away quickly and finished making his drink. We both pretended like nothing happened, no big deal for him; he walked out, and I did my job. It's hard to admit, but there’s an odd sense of defiance about it that makes me want to do something else risky again sometime.