Faceless
Kairi Oakenshade
Sudarolis, 2020
“Vanilla Latte for Kairi!”
The barista’s shout jolted me back to attention. A riot of color and sound filled the coffee shop, hammered copper mugs hanging from hooks overhead, the echo of laughter and chatter bouncing off the stone walls. The scent of coffee beans and enchanted blossoms coated the air, the familiar aroma making me nostalgic for simpler times.
Grinning goblins huddled over their laptops and giggling pixies taking selfies with their confection-topped frappes. The owner—a burly centaur named Barley—busied himself behind the counter, his massive hands steaming milk as he brewed his next masterpiece.
I walked up to the counter, but as I reached for my cup an arm shot past me and snatched it. A tall elven female hovered next to me taking a long sip of my drink before drawing an annoyed face.
“I ordered a caramel Frappuccino,” she sneered, before setting my steaming Styrofoam cup down. “Not a latte!”
Barley lifted his head from his work with a heavy eyeroll, “Is your name Kairi?” he grumbled.
The elven female woman looked offended, “No, it’s Cassida.”
“Then that was not your drink. It clearly was not a Frappuccino either. Why would you even think it was yours?” Barley snorted.
“Well, I’m the only one in line! Who else would the drink belong to?” Cassida stomped her foot, motioning around her.
I raised my hand next to her, “Hi. It was my drink,” I said with a tight-lipped smile.
The Elven woman looked at me, brows furrowed as she processed the obvious, “Oh, I assumed you were someone’s pet.” Ah yes, there it was. The old “nymphs don’t order coffee” schtick that seemed to plague me every other visit at this, or any other, establishment. I sighed, shoulders slumping.
Barley grunted, “I’ll have a new drink up for you in just a minute, Kairi.” The centaur’s tone was apologetic as he set to work, his hands moving with surprising delicacy over the espresso machine.
As I waited for my newly brewed drink, I slipped into my thoughts, wading through the murky waters of last night. The werewolf from Charma...what was his name again? Ah yes, Derrick. Muscular in all the ways you’d want a one-night stand to be, but a dullard in conversation and entirely too enthused about my nymph status. It wasn’t uncommon, admittedly. Mystique surrounded nymphs like a tantalizing veil, and sexual fantasies were rife among other creatures. But Derrick had taken it too far.
“Knotting? Really?” I mused to myself, feeling the tendrils of irritation twisting within me. Knotting of all things, just a weird breeder kink that most of the guys seemed to have. I supposed I couldn’t blame him, it was the default setting, after all. Procreate. But his audacity to have suggested such a thing on our first—and last—encounter had been off-putting, to say the least. And then he had the nerve—no, the oblivious presumptuousness—to suggest I meet his packmates. As if I were an exhibition piece! The ignorance had been more distasteful than the lukewarm excuse for wine he’d served at his apartment. At least, he hadn’t tried to serve me drugs like that one guy.
Drugs? Pills!
I gasped, a sudden panic thought hitting me as I reached in my bag, groping around until my hand closed around the pill bottle tucked snugly away in there. Phew. I thought I had forgotten them. The pills to sate my daily need for sex were still considered an experimental drug even after eight years on the market. They didn’t always quell my thirst, but that’s what the hook-up apps were for. However, those little baby pink pills had made it possible for me to be out among the world instead of in some breeding facility getting porked every day by random strangers. I had chosen to be one of the few nymphs that did not attend Nymph U and start a fruitful career as a government breeder, my age out group being only the second ever offered that option.
My fellow nymphs had said it had been a shameful decision to not serve my purpose as a breeder, a disgrace to the Oakenshade name and legacy. But on some level, I felt the calling to tread the unknown path. And I never regretted that decision, as I celebrated my 25th year on this planet, an age many of my nymph sisters didn’t live to see. So I would gladly take a hundred Darrens—no, Derricks, that had been his name—over a lifetime pumping out goblin, orc, or minotaur babies. Serving the cocks of Sudoralis.
“Vanilla Latte for Kairi… Again!” Barley stood protectively gripping the drink, refusing to set it down on the counter where Cassida still lingered.
I sighed heavily, pulling myself out of the past and back into the present, as I reached for the steaming to-go cup in Barley’s hand.
“Thanks for remaking it, Barley,” I said, flashing him an appreciative grin. The centaur barista grunted and shook his head. Centaurs had never been a part of the nymph breeding program, so most did not hold the same assumptions about us.
My fingers brushed against his as I took my drink, the warmth from his skin seeping comfort into my chilled hand. Barley had always been courteous and polite. He gave me a nod and with a flick of his tail, then moved on to serve the next customer—hopefully not another order needing remake due to some idiot getting too handsy.
I moved to my favorite spot near the window, my eyes automatically drifting towards the signage across the street. My old apartment complex. The proximity of this coffee shop to the building had been what made me a regular patron. Barley’s patience with my orders being stolen had been what kept me here even after I relocated three blocks away.
That ugly green building had once been my home when I had been foolish enough to believe that love existed for nymphs. I shook off the melancholic thoughts and took a sip of my latte, welcoming the warmth that spread from my tongue down to my belly. I had often worried about bumping into my ex at the coffee shop when we first split, being accused of being obsessed or a stalker because I didn’t want to upend every single constant in my life.
As luck would have it, Gulm, my orc ex-boyfriend had married and moved out of the shithole we shared pretty quickly after the break-up. Leaving me to enjoy my lattes in peace. Well, sort of. The break-up had been pretty traumatic, and my finances had taken a pretty heavy hit.
The first time I laid eyes on Gulm, I would have sworn it was love at first sight. His muscular build accentuated by that dark green skin, littered with tribal tattoos that snaked down his arms. I already had a taste for the bigger males when we met, and he had laid it on so smooth. And we had fun, parties and mixers on the local college campus where he had been a business major and I an art major. A ridiculous career choice, he had often chided me.
Five years had passed with blissful ignorance that it was love. There had been a certain level of passion in our relationship, and sometimes that passion surfaced as a weekly shouting match. But we had always made up. Or, at least, he had always been willing to fuck me again after. It didn’t really occur to me that the relationship had devolved into two fuck buddies living together until I walked in on him in bed with a fae female.
He hadn’t even had the decency to look guilty. Instead, he had simply laid there, sheets barely covering his muscular torso, smirking at me as if he was daring me to make a scene. I still remember that smirk. It was the same one he wore after our heated arguments, the one that usually preceded an explosive session between the sheets. But this time, it held no promise of reconciliation. It was just a cruel punctuation to his nonchalance.
“I didn’t see this working long term,” he’d stated bluntly, as if discussing a business merger gone wrong instead of our relationship. “You’re fun, Kairi... but I need something serious now.” As though I were an amusement ride, he’d enjoyed but had outgrown, ready to move on to something more thrilling.
My nails dug into my palms as I recalled that day, the pain grounding me in reality. In the here and now where Gulm Ironfist and his callous betrayal were memories and emotional scars. And Barley’s coffee shop had become my sanctuary—my refuge from the bustling city and heartache that came hand-in-hand with it.
And yet another reason the Derricks of world were the better option. Especially when I recalled the following weeks, and how I had struggled to find a place in Luminara. My friend, Ryn, had offered for me to crash on their couch, but I didn’t want to take advantage of their hospitality for long. So, I had rushed into a lease on a shoebox apartment in one of the seedier neighborhoods. And quickly found that Gulm had been right about one thing: art didn’t really pay the bills.
That twisted series of events had been what lead me to my current job, giving happy endings at Moonlit Serendipity. I had initially tried to avoid sex work, but when push came to shove, places like Moonlit Serendipity were the only establishments willing to hire nymphs. And just a few days of work each week covered all of my bills, leaving me free to pursue my art during the rest of my time.
My experiences at the massage parlor, observing all the married clientele who came in for happy endings, reaffirmed my belief that hook-ups were the way to go. The Darryls of the world were predictable. Darryl? Derrick! Why could I not remember this dude’s name? Probably because Derrick is stupid name for a lycan. Oh. It is a stupid name for a lycan, because it probably wasn’t his real name. Typical. Safe. Predictable, Derrick. Who I forgot to block.
I reached into my bag and fished out my spellphone, fumbling with it as I got it situated in my one hand. My thumb swiped expertly as it opened the Charma app and found Derrick’s profile. Oh shit, he had already messaged me.
“Hey, baby, had a great time. Some of my buddies were wondering if…”
I didn’t bother to finish the message before blocking his contact on the app. Nope. Goodbye, Derrick or whatever his actual name was. I scrolled absentmindedly through the other profiles, sipping my latte. Left. Left. Left. I hesitated as a blank profile popped up. No picture, no bio, just an indicator that they were a perfect match according to Charma’s complex algorithms. It was eerily similar to my own profile where I hadn’t disclosed much about myself. A match on Charma didn’t mean anything other than a compatible sexual partner, the app had been notoriously designed strictly for situationships.
“Matches are made based on favorite positions, not on photographs or bios”, I reminded myself. And what else did I care about at this juncture?
I swiped right on the blank profile and nearly choked on my latte as a chatbox popped up almost instantly. Anonymous seemed more than eager to strike up a conversation with me.
I squinted at the tiny text bubbles, really wishing Charma had a larger font setting. They should have evened the playing field by making things readable without needing perfect elf vision.
“Good afternoon,” Faceless greeted politely.
“Hmm...” I murmured to myself. Polite wasn’t exactly an aphrodisiac for me but at least he hadn’t opened with asking for pics or some lame catchphrase. “Give him a chance, Kairi,” I muttered under my breath as I typed back, “Hi.”
The reply came almost instantly. “Your profile is interesting.”
I snorted. My profile had nothing on it except that I liked painting and old tv shows. Hardly anything mind blowing unless he had a paint fetish. A thought that made me chuckle.
“You’re telling me.” I replied, chuckling at my own joke. A quick glance at the clock on my phone signaled that I would be late for work if I didn’t get going now.
I locked my phone and dropped it into my bag as I downed the last of my latte. My sunglasses secured on my face as I rose to exit the coffee shop with a final wave in Barley’s direction. He waved back, a stiff gesture, as I headed to the door.
As my fingers reached for the handle, the door wrenched out of my grasp, the bell jingling to signal another customer entering. A startled minotaur on his own phone, his grey eyes landed on me as he held the door open. A friendly smile crossed his face as he waited for me to pass.
“Thank you,” I said adjusting my sunglasses before stepping out into the crowded sidewalks of Luminara.
