Fart story one-shots 2!

Her Primary Directive Prequel: Coffee Shop

"Coconut Caramel Blend for..." The barista stared at his chickenscratch handwriting, "Teri?"

The girl quickly snatched her drink, "My name's Trevi." she muttered, not bothering to drop a credit in the tip jar by the counter.

It was midterms week in Vera City University, one of the darker seasons in the city's bright displays. Where markets used to be flooded with students enjoying commerce and entertainment, those districts were left empty, spare the local residents. No parties, no festivals. Just over a quarter of the population desperately seeking a comfortable spot to study. Cafes peppering the Campus grounds were famous for how many students could cozy up at the tables and lounge chairs, flipping through archaic textbooks and drinking endless amounts of coffee. Much to her dismay, Trevi Psamala was among the crowd.

Shuffling to the lone table where her stack of notes and syllabus material was, she sighed and sat down. Staring at the pile of equations for proper nanotech injections and algorithms for shortwave microtrancievers, she let out a long exhale. Taking a sip of her third cup of coconut caramel coffee of the day, she continued hammering down her work.

"Okaaay," Trevi mumbled, flipping open a textbook on applied nanotech, "let's do this."

Sssssppssssss

A small amount of gas escaped her. It seemed that she was still recovering from her last debacle. She didn't think too much of it, taking a large sip from her iced coffee. After all, she had to focus on the task at hand, not marvel at farts of a bygone era.

The cafe was bustling with customers, mostly students trying to memorize their studies before being called up to throw themselves at their educational hurdle. The cafes usually enjoyed the business, but by the end of the night, they never earned any more credits than they normally would. After all, not everyone was here for the coffee. Likewise however, not everyone was here for the studying as well.

She already downed half the cup when she noticed the man in the corner of her eye. An older man sitting behind her, elbows on the table and fingers interlaced just below his chin. From the looks of his unkempt suit, he was a lackey from the Financial District, not a student. He had no coffee on his table nor books to purview. He was simply staring at her. The chairs were minimalistic; a simple plastic backboard to support the back held up by metal frames. That meant most of her body was available for him to see, especially her behind. The man's eyes traced every curve on her body. When another student stood up to leave, he glanced at the girl, analyzing her thirstily. He murmured something under his breath before returning his gaze at Trevi.

Swallowing another gulp of coffee, she felt the cool liquid pour down her esophagus and into her twisted stomach. She realized this man's goals for the night. He wasn't here to study. He was here to creep.

It wasn't like she was dressed in a seductive manner either. It was the turn of the harvest season, where the chilled rainfall from the north was abundant and the trees transformed slowly to represent the change of terms. Trevi dressed accordingly, wearing a woolen blouse and heavy sweater. Her skirt was reinforced with thick stockings and comfortable boots. As pretty as she felt, she was by no means sensual. No, this man was staring at her, fetishizing her with every glare. She pictured what he thought in his head; slowly peeling off her layers to see whatever lied beneath.

Muttering a curse, she continued with her studies. Turning over another page, the knot in her stomach seemed to tighten. Like most coffee products, the last ones didn't seem to agree with her digestive tract. They kept her awake and energized, although the amount of wrecked bathrooms or spoiled elevators didn't seem to form an equilibrium. She pondered getting up from her table to visit the ladies room, which she already bombed an hour ago. But as she got ready to get up, she remembered the Old man. If she left, her books exposed, what would that man do? It was clear that being alone wasn't a good idea as well. If she were to do something, it would have to be in the crowd.