Like Blood for Coffee Pt. 01

Even after three thousand years, Starbucks kept its motto: "Our mission: to inspire and nurture the human spirit – one person, one cup and one neighborhood at a time."

Eiri Lao felt a little thrill seeing the words embossed on his visa. Few corporations in Hadrian's American still served human consumer interests. He was proud to be hired on as a designer for one of the oldest surviving industries of the Collapse - even if it was on a temporary work visa, and even if Starbucks was now run by elves.

In the full flush of his mid-twenties, old mainland Chinese stock mingled with delicate Japanese bloodlines, he was tall and good-looking, with high cheekbones and a full, generous mouth. He did not doubt he was chosen as much for his looks as he was for his marks at Beijing Design Academy. Elven recruiters were shameless in their scrutiny, even requiring applicants to open their mouths so that teeth could be counted. He was treated like a king from the moment his plane landed at SeaTac - vintage limousine, fully furnished apartment in Belltown, monthly stipend of 20,000 marks just for clothes. Elves liked their human employees to dress well. Despite the obvious emphasis on his looks, Eiri found it hard not to buy into the dream of meritocracy. He was young, he graduated with high marks from a good school, and now he was going to be a hotshot product designer at Starbucks in one of the richests territories in the world.

As a design student, Eiri savored the sight of his new home - a high rise crafted from an church of the Old Faiths, resting on a foundation built of the smooth wood paneling so favored by elvish architects. The floors - also done in wood - were heated throughout his two-bedroom penthouse suite, which had formerly been a cloister. As a man culturally accustomed to removing his shoes at home, this was a welcome luxury in the misty, cold city of Seattle.

Work started the next day. Like him, Eiri's coworkers were chosen for looks. At his first cross-functional sync, he observed them: Christy from chemical engineering had natural D cups; Alan from data science was broad-shouldered and muscular; Jaymin from product operations had the most exquisitely smooth skin making his age impossible to guess. Even Tim the intern looked like a classic interpretation of cupid with big blue eyes and gentle blonde curls.

They all wore uniforms to work, designed by elves for humans to show off their natural bodies - tight, clinging leggings; loose, flowing sleeveless tunics with arm slits cut down to the bottom of the rib cage; and soft soled sandals to display shapely feet and manicured toenails. Humans were not permitted to wear belts, socks, or underwear with their uniforms. The only exception to this were ultrasuede gloves, used more for handling delicate elven artifacts or personal items than for keeping shapely human hands warm.

When his teammates caught sight of him - a tall Asian with a square jaw and flashing black eyes - Alan gave a little chuckle. "Well - I hope at least one of us is good at the job." They all laughed, nervously.

Then they met their product manager, Hallenwae al'nuf'de Air. The only elf among a team of humans assigned to Fulbright - a high elf from one of the greater families. Towering over them by a foot, he was a combination of tree and man: willowy with smooth brown skin whorled like the panels of wood in Eiri's apartment. His head was crowned with antler-like branches atop a rustling mass of leaves that formed elven hair, the face beneath it broad and deep set as if carved into a tree trunk. All elves thought themselves beautiful, none more so than the high elves. Eiri found them horrifying, more so than the native Chinese demons in the streets back home.

"You all know why you're here," the elf said without even a greeting. "Fulbright ships on a tight product schedule. You are responsible for the look, feel, and execution of the launch. Today is training - exposure to existing flavor profiles managed by Starbucks. Tomorrow, I expect to see problem statements and go to market methodology."

Christy spoke up, "When do we get to test formulas?"

"The formula has already been determined," the elf sneered. "You just need to make humans like it. Are there any other... questions."

The tone made it clear none were welcome. The product manager led them through a cursory tour of the Starbucks campus and then turned them over to a Human Resources manager for onboarding. Eiri didn't catch sight of the elf again that day, but somehow he knew they'd never be without his menacing presence again.

...

Four days later, they were put on a new operating schedule. Rather than industry standard human operating hours - nine to five - they were moved to a swing shift starting at three in the afternoon with an hour at seven for dinner. The product manager - Hall, as they called him behind his back - gave no reason for the change. Eiri realized that none of them had reason to complain; they were short term contract workers with no friends and no family in the area. Nowhere to be but work.

His coworkers began to form bonds with each other. Christy was aggressive in inviting him to coffee, to lunch, to long walks in the fairy parks during their precious daylight hours. Eiri was careful to invite others along with them; he sensed her sexual interest and wanted to stave it off. He was determined to focus on Fulbright, impress his managers, and secure permanent visa status in Seattle. Going back to China, his mother said, was not an option.

"Keep your head down," his mother admonished him when he proudly showed her the hiring packet. "Do good work, get full contract. You move there, you bring me over when it's safe. Do not get distracted! What would your father say, if he were alive? He would tell you 'don't screw around!' wouldn't he?"

Eiri was a filial son. Even if he hadn't been, he would still have wanted to do well in Seattle to escape demon-controlled China. Elves might be snobbish and racist, but at least they didn't feed on souls!

He muted Christy's text messages and resolved to think no more about her. Or any woman. And he did not complain when Hall moved them from the open floor of the common work areas to a sequestered "war room" bullpen on the fourth floor, forcing him into closer contact with his Christy and he aggressive advances. He kept his head down and worked.

...

Eiri met the vampire on the sixth day of work.

After sundown, when the main Starbucks employees were just heading to the cantina for the dinner service, Eiri noticed Hall wasn't at his usual desk in the war room. Alan and Jaymin went down to lunch without inviting him; Christy said something about being a long in a minute. And - in a rare moment alone with his work - Eiri turned off the lighting panels and dimmed his monitor to his preferred shade. Then he let himself get lost in research, looking for the right mix of shapes and colors and typography that would entice people to drink the same beverage they'd been drinking for five centuries - and pay almost a dollar more for it per cup.

After a while, he felt eyes on him. He turned - but in the dark, saw nothing. The war room door was closed. Eiri turned back to his monitor, was too unsettled to dive back in. He sat in the dark, and waited, listening. Feeling eyes move over his back.

A muffled thump from down the hall startled him. Someone's being sneaky...! The onboarding staff warned them to be on alert at all times for corporate espionage - especially from other human workers, so susceptible to drugging, mind-control, and good old fashioned bribes. Eiri got up from his desk and went to investigate before calling security.

Past the open floor down a narrow corridor leading to the human washrooms, he saw a shadow pressed against the wall. Stepping closer, he saw it resolve into two bodies - elf and human - pressed against a wall.

Hall, and Christy, struggling.

At first, he thought they were fighting - but after a moment of observation, he saw Christy's tunic pushed up to her waist, Hall's hands under it, moving in circular motions around the swell of her breasts. She had one leg wrapped around his hips, her hands gripping the branches on his head, pulling his face to her neck while she squirmed under the pressure of his grip. Her head was back, eyes closed, and mouth open in a silent gasp. Enraptured.

Eiri was just about to turn away and leave her to her conquest when she thrashed her head in his direction and opened her eyes.

For a moment, he met them, feeling a blush spread over his cheeks. Then she saw her blink and utter a cry - alarmed. She let go of Hall and started pushing him away, frantic. The elf held her in place, casually glancing Eiri's way. Then he, too, froze.

"Oh, don't mind me," a voice drawled behind him. "I was just looking for the women's room."

Eiri turned and saw her standing just behind him, close enough to reach out and touch her shoulder. She was striking: pale skinned and black-eyed with rich brown hair flowing over her shoulders. She was not tall - the top of her head rising to about halfway up Eiri's chest - but, looking down, he saw the magnificent sweep of her breasts, her hips, pressing against tailored cotton and linen. He was captivated by the symmetry; a perfect hourglass, beautifully proportioned. Her eyes locked onto his and he shivered, feeling as though he stood at the edge of a void that would swallow him.

"Director," Hall said, letting go of Christy. She stumbled to the floor and hastily yanked down her tunic, smoothing it over her hips. "Of course. It's just this way..."

Eiri felt the strange woman brush past him. Freed from her soulless gaze, he turned his head to follow her with his gaze. She moved like a dancer, graceful, light footed, hips swaying like a metronome. He saw she wore a vintage wool suit, hemmed at the ankle to show off velvet textured heels shining with gold thread embroidery. The swoop of her buttocks was just visible below the asymmetrical hem of the jacket and he caught himself fixating on the sight of it as it swayed away from him.

Then Christy was beside him, swatting his arm. "Come on," she hissed. He followed her.

She stopped just outside the elevator that would take them down to the cantina. She was tugging the hem of her tunic down around her hips, over her buttocks. Eiri followed the motion of her hands, saw her trying to pull the clinging leggings away from herself, out of the crevice between her legs where they'd ridden up.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes. No..." She slapped the panel to call the elevator with her open palm, readjusted the front of her tunic, dragged the hem downward again over her crotch, squirming. "Forget it. Fuck, how long were you two standing there?"

"Couldn't have been long - I didn't know she was behind me," Eiri said. "I don't even know who she is."

"Director Ipomoea," Christy said. "Hall told me she's going to be overseeing the project. I don't know why - vampires don't make coffee." She shivered. "I hate them - they're creepy. And always staring. You can feel it even when they're not looking at you."

Eiri thought of the quiet dark, the feeling of eyes on him. He felt it again, stepping onto the elevator with Christy. But when he turned, he didn't see anyone standing there.

...

"Bring the Director a cup, Eiri."

Now was the moment Hall would retaliate, Eiri thought. They'd been fighting ever since he interrupted the elf groping Christy. From that moment on, Hall said Eiri's designs were sloppy, his uniform wasn't clean enough, he was late badging in, he was early badging out. Snide little insults after every presentation. None of it bothered Eiri - it wasn't his first job, nor his first passive aggressive manager. But here, in front of the vampires with ultimate control over Fulbright, he knew the elf would work hard to humiliate him.

Eiri ground the beans fine, remembering Fulbright's flavor came through best in an espresso texture, no sugar to dull the tang. The porcelain tinkled merrily as he set the cup on its saucer, two-thirds full with the bitter aromatic liquid. He glanced at Hall as he turned to bring the cup to the vampire, expecting to find the angry blue gaze fixed on him, but the elf was turned toward Christy beside him. She had her head down, her cheeks blazing red, the slightest tremble of her shoulders suggesting movement further down her body. He was touching her beneath the table, Eiri thought.

If anyone noticed, they did not care. Three other vampires stared at him from across the table - like dogs watching a butcher. Jaymin and Alan were messaging each other from their tablets, and Tim the intern was relegated to standing along the wall with two administrative assistants. No one looked at Hall, no one looked at Christy.

Bring the Director her cup, Eiri told himself. He approached, noting that the vampire wasn't looking at him. She played with her phone, idly scrolling through Hall's presentation Eiri stayed up late the night before to complete. She was, once again, well-dressed - dark suit tailored within a quarter inch of where her white leather heels met the ground, a flared cuff over her milky white wrists.

Eiri still couldn't get over the sight of her. The symmetry, the careful balance as she walked. That ass swaying on silent steps. Sheepishly, he thought of it while showering the night before, had felt his cock pulse with the basic human desire he fought to obliterate while working for elves. He prayed it wouldn't happen now. Not now, while Hall was already out to shame him in front of the beautiful creature to whom he was supposed to bring coffee.

When Eiri was close enough to set the cup in front of her, Hall sprang his trap. Though Eiri had never seen Hall do it, he'd seen other Starbucks elven employees manipulate wood - melding their hands into the panels along walls or floors to access hidden controls for water, temperature, and even hidden snack compartments where some hid sacrilegious beef jerky and sugary elemental candy.

Hall revealed his natural talents, now, manipulating the wood of the floorboards beneath Eiri, rocking one just enough to cause him to lose his balance. The cup rattled in the saucer, sloshing the steaming coffee within over the delicate brim of the cup hard enough to land on Eiri's hand, stinging his thumb.

Even before the first painful drops landed, Hall was snapping, "Careful! Humans - so clumsy..."

Petty motherfucker, Eiri thought.

The vampire looked at him. Her eyes weren't black, but bistre, the rich color of Turkish Dark. It was only seeing them against the cream of her pale skin that made them seem soulless and empty as he thought before.

"Uh, Eiri," Hall said. "You spilled. Get our guest a new cup."

"That won't be necessary," said the Director.

Somehow, he was still looking into her eyes. She reached up and took the saucer from him, steadying the cup with imperceptible adjustments of her elegant fingers. Placing it on the table, she lifted her hand again and took hold of his wrist, pulling Eiri toward her. A flash of white against pink as she opened her mouth, and then his seared knuckle was plunged into the soothing warmth of her mouth.

Would he feel it then, the sharp fangs pressing into him? They eat humans, you know! His mother warned him once when they saw a vampire in the street.

Eiri felt pressure against his skin. But it was not the sting of teeth. She was sucking the coffee from his finger.

"I'd hate to waste even a drop," the Director said. She let go of him. But held him with her eyes.

...

The elves observed a Julian calendar to humor their human allies, observing New Years celebrations as part of company policy.

Growing up in demon-controlled China, Eiri had never been to a New Year's party - but he had seen movies, and thought it would be like Chinese New Year, with alcohol instead of the song gao his mother made. Elves didn't drink the stuff, but they allowed the humans in their employ to indulge on holiday, and even ordered champagne for the office party. Christy explained that at midnight, a luminescent ball would rise over the Broken Needle in downtown Seattle, accompanied by fireworks. And then at midnight, everyone would exchange a kiss.

"It's tradition," she insisted, passing him a champagne flute as he walked into the decorated cantina, the tables all pushed back to allow for dancing.

Eiri took the glass she offered and abandoned it near the tray trolley. His eyes scanned the room, taking note of the elves who circulated the edge of the dance floor. Plenty of opportunities to embarrass himself, if he wasn't cautious. Alan, Jaymin, and Tim showed no such caution - smuggling a rare bottle of Yamazaki 10 from Old Japan past the badge check. They begged him to take a shot with them, and when he wouldn't - Shooting Yamazaki whiskey! The audacity! - they made him read the Japanese language alcohol warning to them, laughing at his accent.

At least Hall wasn't there to see his team get wasted. Eiri caught sight of the elf in the company of his family - other tree-like elves with leafy hair - circulating among lesser, more human-looking elves in attendance. Sprinkled throughout, he thought he could identify the Ipomoea vampires: they wore black or white clothes and, like the elves, avoided dancing, preferring to circle the dance floor, watching. Hunting, Eiri thought.

After an hour, the humans were all drunk. And now Eiri saw younger elves and vampires drifting onto the floor alongside them, pulling at human hands and arms, testing to find the most pliant, the most willing. Hands slid over buttocks, straps were pushed down to bare shoulders, and every so often, the chasm between warm, gyrating bodies would collapse, hips and loins colliding in a puppetry of sex. Eiri thought that it was strange for a species that valued aesthetic so highly to get such a thrill from teasing sloppy drunks.

Two hours before midnight, Christy found him lingering near the edge of the floor. Her halter top was slipping down, exposing the blushing areola of one breast.

"Eiri-chan!" she insisted on calling him. "Come-oo, and dance-oo, with me-desoo!" She grabbed him by the asymmetrical lapels of his blazer and pulled at him. He wasn't sure which offended him more - the racism or her disregard for vintage Alexander McQueen. He tried to pull her away, to guide her from the shark tank of eager hands, pinching fingers.

Suddenly Hall was there, behind her. Eiri greeted him loudly, hoping to warn Christy - but she turned and bumped right into him.

"Oh, it's you!" she said, drunken cheerfulness curdling to something sour. "Back for more? I thought you said I was dirty. You didn't wanna... sully your stupid sullenness with me. You said." She laughed, thought she was being funny, but even Eiri could hear the bitter fragility under it.

Hall smiled at her, indulgent. The look made Eiri sick. Demons looked at humans that way before contracting souls. Pimps looked at whores that way before exploiting them.

The elf reached out and caught the drooping strap of Christy's dress. She stumbled a little, her unbound breasts bouncing, a nipple sliding just above the border of the cup. Hall caught it in his hand, gave the nipple a little tweak with his thumb.

"You've had too much to drink," said the elf. He hoisted the strap up, tucking her breast neatly back into the dress. "I should get you home."

"I'll take her," Eiri said, taking Christy by the shoulders and pulling her back. Elves might not think of much of abusing humans, but Eiri couldn't live with himself if he let Hall take advantage of Christy. Under the cover of the party, he thought could get away with standing up to his product manager.

"Is that wise? Two humans out at night with so many strange vampires about..." Hall said, about to sneer at their human weakness.