Coffee sounds good.

You bite back the angry words that come to mind and **** a rueful smile onto your face.

"Ok, you got me," you say with an embarrassed laugh. "Café au lait it is. And maybe you'll let me try to dig my way out of this hole I'm in."

"We'll see cher," she grins. "But you surely have some digging to do."

When you enter the dining hall Luisa is supervising some white coated kitchen workers clearing the buffet tables. She grins broadly at the two of you, wiping her hands on her apron.

"You want some food? I can fix you something. Got some menudo out back?"

"Just that pale imitation of café au lait you make," Honey says with a smile.

"Got café con leche, just like always," the latina chef grins. "I don' put none of that nasty chicory near it. If you wan' that you best head back to Canal Street. And before you ask, the answer is yes I can get you some beignets. You sit down."

"I suppose I'll have to suffer yet again," Honey sighs, getting an answering snort from Luisa. It's evident that this banter is a routine of long standing between the two of them, and you're still smiling as you sit down across the table from the cajun teacher.

"So tell me how it was to give up a dream," she says, looking at you with a smile that has kindness in it.

"Not easy. But it's not like there was a choice. I could have kidded myself that I'd get better, but I knew that I'd never get good enough to make the Show, or even get promoted to a higher class. Oakland had given up on me."

"But you persevered. You did not go gently into the night. Found another avenue for your endeavors."

"You gotta do something," you answer with a shrug.

"You can't just walk off the mound and weep," she says thoughtfully.

"I was a shortstop, not a pitcher," you say shaking your head.

"Indeed you were. I was quoting Raymond Chandler. 'The champ may have lost his stuff temporarily or permanently, he can't be sure. But when he can no longer throw the high hard one, he throws his heart instead. He throws something. He doesn't just walk off the mound and weep.' You didn't sit back and moan about your failure, turning into one of those pathetic men who can only talk about an almost past, making it seem greater with each retelling. You took charge of yourself and went on. That's admirable."

"I suppose. To me it just seems like the only thing to do. I can't live on being a low level minor league wash out. It doesn't pay enough."

Luisa arrives with a tray, putting cups in front of both of you and a plate of sugared beignets between you. She stands with her hands on her hips, watching Honey as she takes a tentative sip of the coffee and wrinkles her face in distaste.

"Disappointing as always," she says. "But I suppose I'll make do. At least the beignet's look passable."

"Nex' time you ask I gonna bring them out 'blackened' like you Cajuns cook everything," Luisa snorts.

"Dirty Rice and Beans is hardly blackened," Honey replies with mock outrage. The two women share a laugh before the chef returns to her kitchen, giving you a nod and a smile before she goes. You take a bite of a beignet and make a happy little noise as the hot pastry and sugar explodes against your taste buds.

"Tell me what you miss most," Honey says, taking a delicate bite of her beignet.

"Are you writing a book or something?"

"Not yet. But I am gathering data." she answers with a teasing glitter in her eyes.

"Being on the field. Being part of something bigger than me. Feeling the thrill of stretching to field a ball in the hole and starting the double play. Throwing off my back foot and off balance to nip the runner by a half step. Feeling like I knew where the ball was going while the pitch was still halfway to the plate, and shifting to cover."

"Not hitting?"

"I was on teams for the leather on my hand, not for my bat. The day you saw me was the best day I ever had in pro-ball. That was a bit of a fluke."

"You were the centre of attention that night after the game. Do you miss the adulation?"

You think for a moment, trying to remember the details of that night. You'd had a lot to drink, with fans buying you round after round. You wish you could remember going home with this intriguing older woman. Sampling her body, fucking her. You had pretended a memory when you were with Diana, feeding off her excitement as she imagined you fucking her slutty friend as hard as you were fucking her, but your mind is blank.

"Of course," you answer. "Who wouldn't? But you've got to get used to just being a normal guy."

"A very handsome and attractive normal guy," she smiles. "Have many of our young maidens made themselves available to you?"

Surprised, you blush and shake your head, trying to find words to answer her.

"Come now Brian, surely you don't have to think about that? It means nothing to me one way or the other. But it's very evident how many of them take an interest as you pass. One of them was very disappointed during the second meeting. She was spreading her thighs and trying to show you her goodies and you didn't even notice. The poor girl is probably traumatised, her self esteem in tatters."

"Who was that?"

"Ah, now that got your interest," she laughs. "Lyndsey White. She's what they might have called a trollop, in ages past."

"I didn't notice. Anyway, I've seen panties before."

"You wouldn't have seen hers. She wasn't wearing any." Honey gives a sardonic smile, and pats your arm as she takes a teasing bite of her beignet.

"I'm more interested in certain teachers," you smile lazily.

"Indeed?" she asks with an arched eyebrow. "Monica Fulton no doubt, or possibly Christina Thorpe. Librarian Alice can be quite bubbly and enthusiastic when she puts on her cheerleader coach persona. Or perhaps you like the more austere and repressed types, like my friend the headmistress. Perhaps under that facade of grey flannel lies a sexual volcano yearning to erupt."

"I was thinking more of black haired teases with delightful accents."

"Ahh. Well, we shall see. There is some road to travel before we reach that point in our voyage of discovery. Or rediscovery"

"I'm a patient man."

"Are you? That's both a blessing and a curse." She finishes her coffee and beignet and dusts her fingers on a napkin. "Thank your for joining me. We shall have to do this again sometime soon. Adieu Brian." She pats your arm again as she rises, giving you a final smile before turning and swaying away, leaving you alone with your thoughts.