Date: Sat, 03 May 2014 12:28:37 -0700
From: UrsusMajr <UrsusMajr@makaw.net>
Subject: Brown Bear Coffee House Chapter 2

Brown Bear Coffee Company
by
PapaWereBear and UrsusMajr

(Note to Reader: This is the sequel to Becoming the Bear and Being the
Bear.  Some things in this story refer to events and characters in the
earlier ones, so you may wish to read those first. This is (obviously) a
work of fiction, and no real persons or events are depicted. As in our
other werebear stories, safe sex practices are not depicted; but in real
life, get tested and always play safe. We both hope you enjoy this story.
If you have comments, you may contact the authors at: PapaWereBear
papawerebear69@yahoo.com , and UrsusMajr UrsusMajr@makaw.net )


Chapter 2


"Where's Bekah?" Rusty muttered to himself as he pulled shots and filled
waxed bags with bakery goods for his morning customers.  'Of all the days
to be late,' he thought, rushing to fill orders.  He glanced through the
small windows on the swinging doors that lead to the kitchen and store room
and saw with satisfaction that the young man had cleaned his plate of eggs
and the muffin and was starting on the bear claw, the glass of milk in his
hand.

The side door banged open and Rebekah rushed in, unruly red hair flying.
"I am SO sorry.  The bus was late.  At first I thought I'd missed it.  I
was going to go back for my bike but then it showed up, ten minutes late.
Stupid temp driver!  Wow!  Nice crowd. Where's Zach?" All this tumbled out
in a rush as she stowed her things and grabbed an apron.

Rebekah was the best employee he had, a real find, and worth her weight in
Jamaican Blue Mountain; but conversations with her tended to be breathless.
She also really, really needed to get her VW bug fixed and stop relying on
public transit.  As he was grinding beans for the next shots, he said over
his shoulder, "I gave him the day off.  Can you hand me a muffin from the
top rack?  No, the ones on the left, the poppy seed ones.  Thanks."  Rusty
bagged the order, smiled at the customer and looked towards the next in
line.

Rebekah tied on her apron as she talked and adroitly stepped into the area
behind the front counter, beginning a smooth ballet of motion, grinding,
filling, tamping, steaming, moving with precision around Rusty, never
colliding, never in the way.  She chatted cheerfully with the patrons in a
near-constant flow of chit-chat, made change and filled orders along with
Rusty.  In less than an hour, the main morning rush was over and Rebekah
began busing the tables and restocking sugars and the milk jugs.  She took
a bus tray into the kitchen to begin loading the dishwasher.

"Hey, Boss..." Rebekah backed out of the kitchen, tray still in hand,
approaching Rusty.  "There's a homeless guy in the store room, drinking
coffee; our coffee, by the looks of the cup.  Should I..."

"No, it's OK, Bekah I'll explain later.  Can you finish with the tables and
bring up some more pound bags from the cellar?  A few of each kind, the
sales rack is low on all of them and I didn't have time earlier. I'll
handle the dishes."

"Oy, not the cellar!  I am NOT climbing over those crates again."  A look
from Rusty convinced her that today was not the day to push things.  "OK,
whatever you say, Boss."  Rebekah set the tray down and walked past Rusty
whispering, "But get him out of the store room, he smells."

Rusty picked up the tray and headed into the kitchen, to load the
industrial dishwasher.  Rebekah was right, there was a definite odor coming
from the store room.  The warmth of being inside the coffee shop had
released a not very pleasant aroma.  The young man did look much better,
though.  No longer 'I'm going to pass out on your floor' white, he actually
looked rather handsome, in a cubbish, grungy sort of way.  Before Rusty
could say anything, the man spoke.

"I want to thank you for the food.  You didn't have to do that and I really
appreciate it.  But I don't like taking charity." He said softly, "I was
wondering if there was a way I could work this off, if you have any jobs
that need doing, that is?  I'm pretty handy; I can paint, I can do repairs.
I'll scrub floors or wash windows."  His clear gray eyes bored into
Rusty's.  "Please...  let me.  I do good work.  I'll do whatever you need."

Rusty cocked his head to one side.  He thought of the crates in the cellar
that needed to be moved and the shelves that still needed to have brackets
attached before being put up to hold the contents of said crates.  "Listen.
I'll make you a deal.  I have stuff in the cellar that needs to be moved
and some shelves to put up, probably a day's work.  I'll throw in lunch."
The young man smiled.  "BUT..."  The smile died.  "You have GOT to get rid
of that parka or whatever it is that stinks.  I can't have that in here.
It IS the jacket, isn't it?"

The young man looked embarrassed.  "Probably.  I've been sleeping rough the
past couple of nights, the shelter was full up.  It's hard to see what
you're lying in, in the dark.  I could take it off, maybe leave it out
back, someplace where it won't get taken?" He was plainly reluctant to lose
the article of clothing regardless of how aromatic it was.  Rusty realized
the jacket meant the difference between a tiny degree of comfort and
potentially freezing cold to the man.

Rusty reached into his pocket and took out a fist full of change.  "Here.
There's a laundromat down the street.  Hang on."  Rusty added a couple of
bills to the change and then went to the closet in the hall and took out a
pair of painter's overalls.  "Here, get into these and wash
everything... and I mean EVERYthing.  There should be enough money there.
The laundromat has soap and stuff, but here, take this." Rusty handed the
young man a small unopened box of baking soda from the closet.  He kept it
for the shop refrigerators, "Use all of that in with your parka and wash it
separately."  Then come back and I'll show you what needs doing.  The young
man grinned and stood up.

"Thanks, man," he beamed. "That's almost better than food!  Thank you!
I'll be back quick, you'll see.  That basement will be really clean when
I'm done."  He took the overalls and started to strip.

Rusty coughed.  "Ummm...  you can use the bathroom if you like."  The man
grinned sheepishly and stepped into the bathroom.  A couple of minutes
later, he emerged barefooted and wearing the overalls, holding a pile of
dirty clothes clutched to his chest along with his shoes.

 "And... thanks again."

"No problem.  But I like to know what to call you, besides 'man'.  You got
a name?"

The young man said, "I'm Brian," and started to stick out his hand but then
hesitated.  Rusty realized Brian was ashamed of being dirty.  He reached
out and firmly shook Brian's hand.  "Rusty.  Look, no sense having clean
clothes without a bath.  Why don't you shower first, then head down to the
Laundromat.  OK?"

Brian's face lit up at the prospect of being really clean for the first
time in days.  "If you're really sure?" He looked at Rusty for a sign of
approval.

"Sure.  I'll get a sack for your stuff.  There's soap in the shower stall
back there." Rusty indicated a shower in the back area that was shared with
Norman's PT practice.  I'll get a couple of towels for you."  And with
that, Brian turned back to the bathroom while Rusty crossed to a cupboard
that held bathroom supplies and towels.  When he reentered the bathroom,
Brian had slipped out of the coveralls and had turned on the water.  Rusty
saw an unusually furry butt and shoulders that had more than a dusting of
fur on them as the young man stepped into the shower.

 'Hmmmm... furry fuck for a young guy!' he thought.  Smiling, he chided
himself, 'You are incorrigible.' Out loud, he said, "Here's the towels.  Oh
and I grabbed you a toothbrush and toothpaste, too.  By the sink.  Let me
know before you go."  Brian answered in the affirmative, his voice rising
above the hiss of the water.

Almost thirty minutes later, Brian, once more in the painter's overalls but
now much cleaner and combed and shod, presented himself to Rusty.  "Thank
you, sir that felt SO good.  I hope I didn't use up all the hot water."

"Oh, no problem.  You've got the money, right?" Rusty asked.

"Yep, right here!" Brian said, patting a paint-crusted pocket in the
overalls.

"OK.  I'll see you soon.  Turn to your right at the end of the alley and go
one block, then turn right again.  You'll see the Laundromat."  Brian
nodded and headed out the back door to the alley.

Rusty thought to himself, 'Well, either I'll never see him again and I'm
out five or six bucks of change and some food; or I'll have a clean cellar
by evening.  Either way, I've done my good deed for the day.'  He went back
into the front of the shop, whistling a tune.  Rebekah was putting pound
bags of coffee into the spin rack by the front counter.  "Did you..."

But before he could finish the question, Rebekah said, "Yes, the shelves
are stocked now and I put the Sumatra Blue Batak to the front under the
'limited time only' sign.  You want me to call Donovan and see if he can
come in early?" It was unsettling how Rebekah seemed to always be reading
his mind and being a step ahead of him; helpful, but unsettling.

"Yes, if you would.  Then I could phone in the supply order and finish the
books for the month."

"I'm on it, Boss!" Rebekah called out over her shoulder, phone receiver in
her hand.  Rusty shook his head and smiled.  'My first three hires may have
been slackers who were hardly worth the effort to fire, but I sure stuck
gold with her,' he thought to himself as he crossed the hallway to Moose's
side of the building.  He stuck his head in the door and called out,
"Norman!"

"In here," Moose called out from under the work counter behind the
receptionist's desk.  "Stupid printer won't print and I just bought a new
toner cartridge for...  OW!"  Moose hit his head on the underside of the
counter.

"You need someone smaller.  Here, let me."  Rusty got down on his hands and
knees and crawled under the counter.  "It helps if it's plugged in,
Norman."

"I know that, doofus.  I was plugging it in when you called me.  And in
case you hadn't noticed, you aren't all that small anymore."  Moose rubbed
the sore spot on his skull, where the lump that had formed was already
receding; being a werebear had serious benefits.  Bumps and bruises
disappeared quickly.  He looked down and said, "I like THAT view!"  Rusty
wiggled his butt and then backed out from under the counter.

"Oh, I bet you say that to all your patients."

"Nope!  Only the hairy, good looking ones," Moose said, swatting Rusty's
rump and then helping him to his feet.  Moose looked down and planted a lip
lock on Rusty.  When they broke, Rusty said, "Ooooh, careful, your
receptionist will see us!"

"Silly bear! ... She doesn't come in for another half-hour.  We keep
civilized hours on this side of the building."  Moose growled low as Rusty
rubbed the front of his pants with his paw.

"Your time is valuable.  We certainly can't afford to waste it, now, can
we?" Rusty asked, slowly unzipping Moose's fly.  Moose reached over Rusty
and gave the door a shove so it clicked shut.  He looked down and watched
as Rusty fished his meat out from the confines of the pants, parting the
fly on the boxers and revealing a thick pink tube of bear meat.

"Damn, that looks tasty, almost good enough to eat." Rusty licked his lips
in anticipation.

"What do you mean, 'almost'?  That's USDA Prime Bear and you know it;
you've had samples!"  Moose said as he began to erect.  Rusty took just the
tip in his mouth and teased the slit with the tip of his tongue.  Moose
moaned.  Rusty slowly traced the outline of the thick tip then moved down
the underside of the shaft.  Moose moaned louder.  Rusty reached in to
cradle Moose's balls in his warm hand.  The mass of auburn hair almost
completely concealed the heavy orbs.  Rusty leaned forward, taking the hard
meat down his throat, burying his face in the thicket, inhaling deeply.
The fresh soap and musky bear scent there set off fireworks in Rusty's head
and brought forth wonderful memories.  He suckled, teasing out a flow of
precum from his appreciative lover.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm," Rusty murmured as Moose's big paws caressed his head.
"You smell SO good."

"Less talk.  More sucking."  Moose said huskily.

But Rusty gave one last intense suckle that curled Moose's toes in his big
wide shoes and pulled off.  He kissed Moose's fat knob and rose fully
upright, shaking his head.  "Nope!  That's just a teaser, to keep you
interested until tonight."  He grinned wickedly at Moose.  "Besides, your
receptionist might show up early."  Moose started to object but Rusty
overrode him.  "I know she's OK with us being gay but there's no need to
rub her nose in it."  He tucked Moose's hefty cock back in his pants and
tried in vain to get the zipper to close over the projecting bulge.  "I
shouldn't tease but sometimes..."

"I know.  I am just too fucking irresistible."  Moose laughed out loud,
working the zipper.  "Here, I'll do it.  You're right, though...  too
risky.  But I'm going to hold you to your promise, about tonight."  Moose
kissed Rusty.  "Now scoot." He swatted Rusty's butt, "I've got two patients
coming in about twenty minutes and those hot packs won't warm themselves."
Rusty nodded and opened the door to the hallway, blew Moose a kiss and
headed up the stairs to the small room that they had made into an office
space.