A barista at the local Starfucks

You revel at the godlike power flowing through your fingers and the inate sense of control you want to exert on everyone, but one person comes to mind, that hot chick at the Starfucks on the corner. Multicolored hair in an erotic wolf cut, pert B or C cup breasts (Not everyone just knows a cup size from one look), and the cupids bow of her upper lip is begging to suck on something, anything. Soft doe-like eyes and eternally present dimples, she's fallen out of a painting and you are her to help her up.

Fantasy after fantasy runs through your mind before you recall you're now a god of sorts, you don't even need to drive there. You will yourself into a pair of clean underwear and clothing you saw Noel Miller wear once. You attempt to move yourself to to the Starfucks on the corner when she's convieniently workng.

Oh and there she is, everything you imagined and more before you, you placed yourself outside in your teleportation and decide to stop staring through the window. Somebody holds the door open for you out of courteousy and you tip them the proper english banana. Waiting in line you let your mind wander, what are you going to do to this unsuspecting gal. OH SHIT! The line is gone, you've been staring at the ceiling, you sprint up to the poor woman and ask for...