Amplify Logistics operates a CFIA-approved cold storage warehouse in Toronto, keeping beverages, meat, produce, dairy, and pharmaceuticals fresh at optimal temperatures. Our cold storage warehouse offers flexible unit sizes from 500 to 8,000 sq. ft., customizable climate controls, and 24/7 monitored access, so you can scale storage as your business grows. Beyond secure storage, our cold storage warehouse provides CFIA inspections, cross-docking, and re-palletization, all with transparent, no-surprise pricing. Trust our team to protect your inventory. Request your free cold storage warehouse quote today.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
After reading Cold Storage, the movie has some issues and yeah I like the movie, but it has some fucking issues.
First, the nickname part should’ve been in the beginning when they meet. Second, they should’ve fucking kissed IN THE MOVIE and lastly the ending should’ve been literally the ending of the book where Travis and Naomi say “i love you” and the kiss.
−18°C, 45°C Outside: What That Actually Does to a Freezer Room
Somewhere in the UAE right now, a freezer room is holding −20°C while the rooftop plant room next to it sits at 50°C. That's a 70-degree gap, and almost nothing about how that room is built is generic — it's all a response to that number.
Start with the walls. A chiller room holding produce at 0–5°C gets by on 60–100mm of insulation. A freezer needs 120–150mm. Blast freezers running −35 to −40°C need 150–200mm. Use chiller-rated panels on a freezer and the compressor just runs constantly trying to fight heat it was never sized for — condensation on the walls, ice on the evaporator, early failure. It's one of the most common expensive mistakes in this market, and it's completely avoidable.
Then the refrigeration itself. A lot of equipment sold here is rated for European ambient conditions — 32–35°C. That's fine in Germany. It's not fine when a rooftop condenser is sitting in 50°C air and suddenly can't reject heat fast enough, right when the room needs it most. Anything going into a UAE freezer room needs to be desert-rated for 48–50°C ambient, full stop.
Doors open, moisture comes in, moisture turns to frost on the coil. Electric defrost burns it off on a timer. Hot gas defrost reverses the refrigerant flow and melts it from the inside — faster and usually more efficient. Neither is exotic, but skip proper defrost design and airflow chokes off over time.
The one people don't see coming: frost heave. Keep a big warehouse freezer at −20°C for long enough and the cold works down through the slab into the groundwater underneath. That water freezes. Ice expands. Given enough time, it can crack the foundation. The fix — underfloor heating mats or ventilation piping — has to be designed in from day one, not added after the cracks show up.
None of this is optional once you're past the regulatory line, either. Every framework that applies here — Dubai Municipality, ADAFSA, GSO, Codex — sets frozen storage at −18°C or below, measured at the coldest point inside the product, not just the surface. There's also a two-stage cooling rule for cooked food before it goes into frozen storage (60°C→21°C in 2 hours, then 21°C→5°C in 4 more) that a standard freezer isn't built to handle — that's blast chiller territory. And the foam core in most insulation panels is combustible, so panels need Civil Defense fire certification or the whole installation risks a denied operating license.
A restaurant combi unit, a supermarket's glass-door display room, and a 10,000m³ 3PL warehouse are all solving different problems day to day. But they're all fighting the same 70-degree gap, and the ones that get built for a cooler climate's spec sheet are the ones that fail first.
ColdRoom.ae builds cold rooms, walk-in freezers, and cold storage systems for UAE conditions specifically — there's a longer breakdown of sizing and compliance in their walk-in freezer guide if you're actually specifying one.
Summary: You text Travis when you’ve had one too many at a girls night and he comes to pick you up. Turns out one too many leads to you trying to make a move.
Cw: SMUT!! Unprotected PnV (I do not condone this, please be safe), fingering, oral (f! Receiving), alcohol consumption, drunk!reader, slight angst, fluff, overuse of the name Angelface, no use of y/n, AI mention (hire graphic designers), Travis and Reader are both a little too self deprecating, probably grammatical errors and spelling errors (I have dyslexia(this isn’t an excuse just a warning))
A/n: so I haven’t really written x reader in FOREVER but I wanted to write some Travis stuff cause we’re LACKING IN THAT DEPARTMENT PEOPLE. anyway, shout out to @moonstoneandmoonlight who I had read this cause I was so nervous about the progression and she made me feel much better. And yeah, I ripped a line straight from the Penny and Sparrow song that this is named after cause I was listening to it while I was writing and felt it was necessary. Anyway I hope you enjoy.
Travis enjoyed spending Saturday nights in when he could. With prison in the rear view, his parole being done, and all the self help books like 48 Laws of Power and Atomic Habits he’d decided to read, he found it was best to take some nights for himself. So Saturdays (or sometimes Sundays when he was convinced to go out) were nights for relaxing, trash TV, and being alone. It allowed him time to think and learn how to be with himself, something he was still struggling with.
This particular Saturday night spent in, Travis decided to give Below Deck a try after your glowing recommendation for its “trashiness”. It wasn’t his normal kind of trash TV (he preferred shows like Survivor or Fear Factor) but you were super excited when he asked for a recommendation. He couldn’t just not watch it when your face lit up the way it did when he said he would give it a try.
You were his regular waitress at the diner he had been frequenting for the past five months. He’d stumbled in there after taking a right off the first exit from the storage unit because he had a long ass shift that day and just wanted some blueberry pancakes. What he did not expect to find there, was you. Travis swore you were the sweetest girl he’d ever met because every time you smiled he swore the room got brighter. It didn’t help how beautiful you were either and he found himself a rambling mess trying to just order something from you.
When he came back a few days later and you were working again, you smiled brightly and said his name. You remembered him. That made him go all warm and gooey on the inside because…well after being in prison no one really liked talking to him. He had the ink in his arm that most people knew meant and it kept people away from him. Which sucked because Travis liked people. He likes to talk and learn about them, which doesn’t always end well because he can be easily persuaded. He’s working on that though.
But you, you talked to him. You asked him questions and made him think and you listened to him ramble when he couldn’t stop. It was hard not to ramble when your smile literally made him have googly heart eyes. You never looked at him like he was some ex-con who washed up here. No, you actually conversed with him like he was a normal person. You even gave him your number to text you about his random thoughts you seemed to love.
He was over the moon about that, the idea of you and him being friends outside of the hour he spent at the diner was exhilarating. The idea of maybe asking you out even more so, but he didn’t want to push it and make you uncomfortable by suggesting things like a date or anything. He was happy to just be your friend. You were a good influence and his parole officer told him he needed more friends like that.
Which is what you guys had become. You invited him over to your place a few times when your schedules aligned to bake him things. Cinnamon rolls, cookies, cupcakes, terribly good sweet things that were so not good for his blood sugar levels but he didn’t care. You made them and they tasted amazing. And the smile that graces your lips when he says how delicious they are never fails to make him feel happily satisfied.
Other times you hung out wandering around downtown. You were determined to help Travis furnish his apartment appropriately so Saturdays that you didn’t work were meant for thrift stores. He’d blindly follow you around the antique shops and watch as you mull over little trinkets happily. He liked your opinion, your apartment was really nice so he knew you had great taste. He let you make a cool little gallery wall above his couch and you know he wouldn’t admit it ever really but you were right…decorating the apartment did make it feel more homey.
Those days would usually end with you guys in a coffee shop, chatting away like you normally. Travis found himself wanting to spend everyday like that. Listening to you talk, asking you questions, and watching you do the things you love.
So yeah, safe to say you and Travis were good friends. So much so that when your name popped up on his phone as you texted him, he wasn’t surprised. His attention was wrapped in the drama on screen as he pulled his phone up to read the message.
You: TRAVIS
Oh god, this can't be good.
Travis: Yes angelface?
Angelface, because that’s what you had. He called you it the first time he saw you at the diner. Your face was like that to him, some sort of heaven.
He watches as the little three dots keep appearing and disappearing over and over again. After two minutes of that, he starts to get concerned. You didn’t normally text his name in full caps like that unless something was going on. He knew you were supposed to be going out tonight with some friends, a girls night.
Travis: Hey, what’s going on you’re scaring me.
You: Srry sry, I’m at this bar and it’s really packed and loud and I’m a little scared
Travis: Scared?
The dots appear and disappear again and he doesn’t have time for that as he feels a small pit in his stomach appear. He presses your contact picture, opening your info and clicking the call button. It rings three times before you pick up.
“Travis?” You say through the phone, voice a little shaky and maybe even a little slurred.
“Angelface, what’s going on? Why are you scared?”
“Um, it’s nothing too serious I’ve just had a little too much to drink and Grace and Hannah left because they met some guys and well this one guy was talking to me but I didn’t want to keep talking to him but he kept talking to me and just wouldn’t shut up or leave me alone and anyway I’m in the bathroom now but it’s not that big of a deal Travis I shouldn’t’ve bothered you I—”
“What’s the name of the bar?” Travis asks as he stands up, finding his hoodie and shoes to slip on as he grabs his car keys. Your words are slightly slurred together as you speak and he’s known you to downplay a situation in the short time of knowing you.
“Really Travis it’s okay, I can just uber, I should—”
“What’t the name of the bar angelface, please?” He says again, hand on the knob of his apartment front door.
You sigh telling him the name and he tells you he’ll be there in ten minutes top.
-
You make your way out of the bathroom and back to the bar two minutes after the phone call, your hands a little shaky as you flagged down the bartender for another drink. She brings you one and you close out your tab finally, looking down at the margarita in front of you.
Truthfully the guy your friends set you up with was cute, he was just a total bore and an awful conversationalist and had totally different values then you. Then when you told him no, you would not be going home with him, he was a total ass. You don’t think he would’ve done anything too stupid but he spit some unkind words in your face and gripped your bicep really hard when you tried to walk away. It was enough to make one of the bouncers walk over and tell him he should probably leave. You hurried off to the bathroom before you could really see him get pushed out the front door.
That’s what led you to texting Travis.
“Angelface.”
Speaking of the devil, Travis slides onto the bar seat next to go, watching as you sip the sweet cocktail. You smile around the straw as his eyes meet yours and your insides go all warm and fuzzy.
“Travis! I’m so happy you’re here!” You say earnestly, mouth a little loser because of the tequila. “Wow you got here really fast.”
To be honest, you feel like you’ve been drunker before. However, the adrenaline from Mark (the guy you had been talking to) has worn off and you're starting to maybe feel a tad bit looser than before. And that’s definitely not a good thing to be feeling when the guy you’ve been developing feelings for is here to take you home. Especially not when he looks so good in the black graphic t-shirt he’s wearing and he looks so warm and cute and are you staring now?
“How many of these have you had?” He grins as he pulls the drink away from your lips, making you whine.
“Not thaatt many.”
He hums, raising his brows as he looks at the receipt planted in front of you.
He lets out a low whistle, “Yeah, five margaritas and a shoot of tequila over the last 3 hours will definitely do you in.”
“What!? I haven’t had that much no way,” you snatch the ticket away from him to look but it’s a little difficult to read.
Oh God you are drunk.
Travis laughs at your widened eyes, moving the last drink away from you completely. “All right, I think you're done with the tequila.”
You whine slightly, a sound that bubbles something in Travis lower stomach.
“You could’ve called me earlier and I would’ve come and gotten you. You know, saved you from yourself.”
“Pffft, well then you would’ve had to meet Mark and that would’ve sucked,” you slurred slightly, remembering back to the lovely conversation you had with Mark and learning his idea of how AI was going to progress in a great way and save the creative world. Yuck. “Why aren’t any guys as good at conversations as you, huh Tea? Like they allllll talk about gross things and then when we do get talking about serious things, they’re totally wrong.”
Travis laughed at the way you exaggerated your words, “So, uh, is Mark still here? Do we need to get outta here before he comes back?”
You shook your head no definitively, “No, no way, I told him to get lost loser, ‘cause he was a loser. He makes AI flyers for his company's work events, like Ew, hire a graphic designer.”
Travis’s laughs never end, rolling into each other at your candor, a nice sound that fills your ears like a sweet song. You follow the way he rocks in the laugh, your own lips forming into a love sick smile.
“You have such a nice laugh,” you say with a love sick look on your face.
You watch as Travis’s face heats up, his cheeks turning rosy. “Thank you, angelface.”
God, you just want to lean forward and kiss him. He’s so cute and sweet and he drove all the way downtown to get you from this bar because you called him.
This thought has you sliding off your seat and closer to him, wanting to feel his overly warm body close to yours. You wobble as you get off the stole, falling into Travis way more than you originally planned.
“Woah, easy now,” Travis chuckled as his hands went to your waist to steady you. Steady, warm hands, holding you up so nicely.
When you look up at his face, it’s so close to yours, his breath ghosting over your cheeks. You could just push up onto your toes and your lips could touch his. You want that, like really bad.
So you do it, pressing up onto your toes until your noses are practically brushing. You hear Travis’s breath catch as you prepare to close the last inch.
Only Travis can’t do this like this, not with you in this state. He wants it, God he wants it, but he’s not going to be that guy. No way.
He ducks away, his lips falling to your cheek in a sweet press instead.
You feel the rejection hit you sharply. What have you done, you idiot, oh my god, why would you do that, you’re so—
“I’m not gonna kiss you when you’d barely remember it, Angelface,” he whispers against your ear.
You can practically feel how your knees want to give out at that.
Travis somehow manages to get you to his car after you start to sing out “Travis has a crush on me, Travis has a crush on me” like a school girl into the night sky. Everytime you stumble, he’s there to catch you, making sure you stay upright.
He buckles you into the passenger seat and you fall asleep before you even make it home. You only wake up when you feel Travis trying to put his arms under your legs and carry you, you wiggle around groaning as you try and stop him.
“I’m a big girl I can do it,” You mutter sleepily, pushing yourself out of the seat and into him.
He’s quick to catch you as you fall forward into him, crashing into his broad chest. You laugh as you stumble to get upright with his help.
“You sure you got it?” He chuckles as he looks down at you.
“I might need a little help.”
He chuckles again, putting an arm around you, under your armpit and hauling you up and into him so he can guide you into the building.
When he makes it to his floor, shushing you as you start singing a One Direction song because you think that’s so funny to do at 11:45 at night, he shoves his key into the lock and drags you inside his apartment.
“I LOVE your apartment Tea, these windows rule,” you slurs as he closes the door behind you guys.
You pry off your shoes, leaving the wedges by the front door and padding through his apartment. You feel the drunken sleep that’s about to over take you completely as you start stripping your shirt off.
“Woah hey, Jesus, warn me,” Travis says as he watches you strip your shirt off completely.
You frown as you turn to him in just a lacey bra. A cute one, probably one of your cutest. It’s red and holds your tits up nicely, it makes your boobs look really good in the top you were wearing. But Travis’s reaction in your drunken state offends you, because you look great in this bra.
“What am I ugly or somethin’,” you slur as you looked down at yourself. You notice the buttons of your jeans then and start undoing them next.
“Okay, okay just hold on,” Travis says quickly, trying to stay respectful and not look at you and get a boner while finding you something to sleep in.
He blindly looks through the drawers until he feels a soft tshirt in his fingers and holds it back to you.
“Why won’t you look at me Tea? Am I not pretty?”
He knows you're drunk and sober you would be so embarrassed by these words but he can’t help the little pang they send to his heart.
“No angelface, you are so pretty, I’m just trying to be respectful,” he tells you, keeping his eyes on the wall above his dresser while he keeps the shirt extended back to you. “Here’s something for you to sleep in, do you wanna shower?”
“No,” you say as you grab the shirt. “You know, I wouldn’t mind if you looked.”
He stays facing the wall, leg shaking anxiously as you strip your bra off and put the shirt on. “You’re drunk.”
“Drunk thoughts are sober words,” you slur sleepily as you make your way onto his bed. The comforter is soft, you picked it out for him because he’d been complaining about the quilt he had and how cold he was sleeping.
“That’s not the saying,” Travis laughs, finally turning around to see you sitting in his bed, in his shirt.
Fuck, think of things that won’t get you hard.
“Pfft, whatever Tea, you just don’t wanna see me naked, or kiss me, or do anything with me,” you say dramatically, throwing your hands out to your sides to emphasize it.
“That’s so not true,” Travis says before he can even really think about it.
“Oh really?”
“Yes! I told you I would kiss you when you’re not drunk,” Travis says, his face heating up as he does. He really hopes you won’t remember this part of the night so he can preserve this friendship.
“You were just saying that.”
And there you go with that sad voice again and Travis feels that pang in his chest. You’re pouting practically, looking up at him from where he stands at the foot of his bed.
“I was not ‘just saying that’, angelface.”
You feel a bit fluttery at his tone but once again, drunken sleep is creeping in and you flop down more into the bed.
“I’m sleepy.”
“Then go to sleep, I’ll be on the couch if you need anything,” he says as he makes his way out of the room.
“No wait,” you call out, voice thick with tiredness but you really don’t want him on the couch. “Stay, please?”
You watch him hesitate through half lidded eyes, but push through as you want him next to you badly.
“Travis please stay and hold me, I’m not that drunk where I can’t consent to that,” you say, knowing he’s a sweet man who’d never want to cross any boundary.
That has Travis kicking off his shoes and sliding into the bed behind you, wrapping one arm around your waist and shoving the other under your head. Both of you fall into a deep sleep with his head tucked into your neck and your hand clutching his on your stomach.
When you wake in the morning, neither you or Travis have moved from that position. His nose tickles your neck with every breath he lets out and for a moment, you feel like you can stay like this all day. That is, until your body decides that all the tequila you drank was in fact a problem.
It’s a slow ache, coming over you as you fully awaken. You groan as your head begins to pound and you feel the sweat pooling around you. And as much as you’d like for Travis to stay wrapped around you, he feels like a fucking furnace.
“Mm,” Travis hums against your neck as you try to pull his arm off of him.
“Travis,” you say, trying to protest his grip tightening on you. “I’m sweating so much, please let me get up.”
This time it’s him groaning as his arm unwinds itself from your waist, freeing you and you already feel better. You stand up from the bed, stretching your arms and feeling your bones crack as you do.
Travis’s eyes are half lidded, watching you stretch and seeing the bottom curve of your ass. He needs to stop looking, he needs to turn away but he just can’t. Your skin looks so soft and he has been fighting himself since last night. Now he feels his cock hardening from its already half hard morning state as he watches you pad across his room.
He says your name, voice thick with sleep and gruff in a way that makes your stomach churn.
“Yeah?”
He doesn’t say much after, just watched you stand in the doorway of the bedroom. There’s so much he wants to say, ask if you remember the almost kiss, what you said, what he said, but for once, he’s speechless.
Because you’re haloed in the light of the hallway from the big windows in his shirt with bare legs and just lacy panties he’s seen now and he can’t stop thinking about.
“Uh there’s extra towels under the sink, if you want to shower,” he says instead of saying something he’s sure will embarrass himself.
Your heart sinks a little bit as you enter the bathroom because you do remember everything that happened last night and…well you still really wanted to kiss Travis. You were definitely embarrassed by some of your words but yeah, drunk words are sober thoughts or whatever the hell you said.
You kick on the shower and start stripping the clothes from your body and then step in. The waters a touch colder than you would normally like it but it cools your over heated skin and overwhelming desire for the man in the other room. But it still starts pooling in your stomach as you think about the man in the room next to you.
His arm wrapped around your body, the way his voice sounded last night in your ear, and how sweet he’s been in times even before this. You’ve had a thing for Travis for a while now and you have no idea why you’ve never acted on it. It’s not like you haven’t seen the signs, but sometimes you just thought he was being friendly because well that’s just how Travis was.
You wanted it to be more though, you always did, it was just—Okay maybe sometimes you were a little scared of admitting your feelings because for so long, they had never been reciprocated. By anyone.
But now, you most definitely think they are, and last night confirmed it.
So why didn’t you say anything this morning? Why didn’t you do anything when you woke up? Why didn’t—
The bathroom door opens. It creaks loudly and you hear Travis’s hum.
“Hello?” You call out.
“Sorry, I uh, knocked but you didn’t answer and well I-I didn’t want you to have fallen or something I just, well you, I’m gonna shut up now and just go I don’t know why I came in here that was incredibly rude—”
“Travis,” You say, stopping his ramble.
“Yes?”
A moment of bravery rushes through you as you push back the shower curtain, revealing your naked body to him. His eyes widen and cheeks redden.
“I, uh, I, well, um—”
It flatters you a lot that you’ve rendered him speechless as he gawks at you. But you’d really like him to just kiss you now.
“Travis,” You repeat his name, making his eyes move back up to your face from where they were looking at your tits. “I think I’ll remember if you kiss me now.”
Travis beams brightly at your quip, discarding his clothes faster than anyone you’ve ever seen and stepping over the edge of the tub. His large hands cradle your cheeks, thumbs rubbing over the apples of them as he looks into your eyes.
Your breath stutters as his lips graze over yours, breathing in your exhale.
“Angleface,” he says with reverence, eyes meeting yours wistfully.
You don’t know why you're not closing the distance but his eyes are so pretty and you wouldn’t mind him looking at you like this forever. But his lips keep grazing yours and you’re feeling the heat radiate off of him. It’s torture, sweet, beautiful torture.
“Travis, please kiss me, please,” you whimper out when he presses you against the tile wall.
And he does so, deeply and passionately.
One hand moves from your face to your waist, gripping the skin there and rolling his body into yours as he deepens the kiss more. Your hands come up, racking through the bleached strands that are becoming more damp as you two move into the water. He moans into your mouth as your nails scrap his scalp, pulling yourself up and closer to him.
He takes that pull and slides both his hands under your thighs, picking you up. You moan as his length presses between you and you can’t stop yourself from subtly grinding against him. He’s thick and long and his tip nudges your clit on the downwards movement of your grind, making you moan into his mouth.
“Travis,” you moan out in a breath again when he presses you into the tile wall more.
“Angelface,” he responds, lips leaving from yours to begin a trail on your neck.
One of his hands travels over the skin of your stomach, water tracking down between you two, as his finger comes closer to your heat.
“Please tell me you want this,” Travis whispers in your ear, his lips brushing over the shell of it. “Please baby, I-I’ve wanted you for so long I just didn’t know if you felt the same. You’re so pretty and kind and sweet and I’m just—“
You grab his face with both of your hands, pulling him away from your neck to make him look at you. Your thumbs rub over his undereyes, feeling some raised bumps that you want to memorize and kiss.
“Stop, you are deserving of anything you want. If anything, I’m undeserving of you, you have no idea what you’ve brought into my life, Travis. I haven’t felt more like myself since we met and…I’m sorry I didn’t do anything sooner I just never thought you’d feel something for me.”
“What?” Travis barks out in confusion, your statement genuinely baffling him. “How could I not? Have you seen yourself?”
You blush, deeply, because it’s a compliment you're not used to. Sure, you’ve had guys show interest, like the dude last night, but this…someone actually wanting you for more then something surface level is wonderful.
“Can I show you?” Travis then says when you don’t reply for a second. “Can I show you how amazing you are? How wonderful and gorgeous-“ he kisses you lips-“ and sexy-“ another kiss-“and amazing you are?”
“You said amazing twice,” you chuckle, fingers cooking into his hair.
“Because you are, and I’d like to show you.”
“Okay.”
Travis beams again, lips latching back to yours in a feverish kiss. His hand that has stilled between the two of you continues its journey down, cupping your pussy, the heel rubbing into your clit deliciously. His fingers tease your entrance, thick, calloused, and warm before pressing in. You gasp against his mouth, falling into a moan as they begin a slow pump in and out.
“Tea, oh my god,” you moan, your lower stomach tightening fast as his thumb begins giving attention to your clit.
“Does that feel good?” He asks, a smile playing on his lips against your cheek. His other hand is still helping to hold you up, legs wrapped around his waist tightly. But it’s not enough, you’re so warm and tight and he wants to taste you, he needs to.
He pulls his finger out, a whine leaving your lisp in protest but it does away entirely as he lets you down and then drops to his knees. He brings one of your legs over his shoulder, and then the other before his tongue starts a dance over your folds. It’s hot and his eyes contact does not help cause with one taste he’s utterly drunk on you.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” he moans against your clit, making you cry out his name again. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of moaning it if he makes you feel like this. A lick of pleasure shoots up your spine when his fingers come back to your entrance, teasing you again.
“Travis, Travis, don’t stop, please,” you ramble out, whiney and begging as you feel your release drawing near.
“You gonna come baby? You gonna let me taste more of you?” He asks, tongue circling your clit before sucking it into his mouth. Your back arches off the wall, a cry of his name leaving your lips that you're sure will disturb the neighbors.
You can’t even respond because he’s making out with you pussy now, like it’s for his own pleasure and not yours. Maybe it is because his dick is leaking precum now and he’s so hard you’re sure it hurts.
And then it’s only seconds after that you're coming hard, moaning “Travis! Oh my God, holy shit!”
Travis works you through it, fingers barely slowing and tongue moving slightly faster until your breathing slows. Your chest heaves still as he kisses his way back up your body, hands roaming all over until he’s got his mouth back on yours.
You taste yourself there when his tongue slides against yours, coaxing you closer to him again. Like you aren’t already fused to it. You return the favor, hands moving over him to try and learn more of him. The wonder down to his length, hand wrapping around his impressive length and giving it a squeeze.
The kiss falters, a whimper spilling out of his mouth against yours. You feel him sink down a little bit, knees weakening and it's intoxicating to know you have this power over him. It makes you feel beautiful.
“Angelface,” he pants against your lips, another whimper falling out of his mouth. He tries to keep kissing you but you’re starting to stroke him for real now and he knows it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s blowing his load like a teenager. “I need you, I need to be inside you, please say yes.”
“Yes, yes please, I need it so bad, Tea,” you plead, nodding your head.
Your hand releases him, allowing him to yours so he can guide his length through your folds. His tip catches your puffy clit, sending that same pleasure up your spine. Then he grabs your right leg, lifting it over his hip as he pushes in, filling you up and honestly splitting you in half. You felt how big he was before but actually having him inside you has you gasping at the burning sensation.
“Are you okay?” He asks, voice shaking slightly as he looks you in his eyes.
He catches the way they sparkle, pupils blown wide with lust and a smile on your lips. Travis finds himself lost in that look, realizing he never wants to spend a Saturday night alone again if it means he can spend them with you. He’ll give up all his Saturdays to pick you up, all of his slow Sundays if it meant he woke up next to you. He’ll make new routines, find new time for himself because he wants you in every lifetime. Reincarnated to be with you and make you feel loved in every life, even if it was just a hairpin, buried in your tresses to make you feel pretty. It would be worth it.
You’re nodding your head, longer than Travis probably realizes because he was too busy lost in your beauty. Because now you're starting to whine and grip his shoulders tighter, canting your hips to encourage his to move.
He curses, hips pulling back and snapping back into yours, fucking you deep. You don’t think anyone has ever actually made you feel this good, not with his tip hitting that spongey deep in you that makes you see stars.
“Holy shit,” you breath out in a breathless moan, back arching off the wall as he keeps rutting into you.
“There?” Travis asks as he keeps hitting the spot.
You can’t even respond, just little breathless moans pouring out of your mouth to tell him yes, there, don’t stop, don’t ever stop.
It’s not long again before your walls are tightening around him and you know you're close.
“Fuck you feel so good babygirl,” Travis moans against your neck, continuing to pound into you. He’s trying to get as deep as he can, fuse himself with you even more cause he never wants you to not feel him in you.
“Travis, I—” a moans rips through you so you can’t finish you warning but he doesn’t need it cause he can feel it.
“Let go baby, come all over my cock.”
And you do just that, a high pitched moan leaving you as you release around him in ecstasy. You’re sent to another planet and the only thing reminding you of this earth his Travis lips suddenly attaching to your nipples, sucking the pebbled skin into his mouth.
“Fuck, I’m so close, where do you want me—“
“Inside, please I need to feel you.”
“Fuck, shit-are you sure?”
“Yes, yes, oh my god, yes.”
You’re pretty sure you're gonna come again because he hasn’t stopped pounding into you and maybe you didn’t realize how much you’ve wanted him since he walked into your diner five months ago. You didn’t realize how many times you’ve thought of him late at night when you’re lonely and needy, or how many times you’ve wished for this exact thing.
Travis gives you three more thrusts before his cum is painting your walls, sending you into another orgasm.
Once you're both back down to earth, panting into each other's skin, you begin to laugh. A giggle bubbling up and out of your mouth before you pull his face away from the crock of your neck to kiss him again.
“Why are you laughing?” He asks, his own mouth in a smile as you try to kiss but you’re just knocking teeth at this point.
“Because I can’t believe we didn’t do that sooner,” you laugh again, lips peppering kisses across his face.
He giggles now, rolling his hips into your sensitive cunt to make you gasp. A sound he wants to draw out of you as many times as he can. “Me either.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Here's a UAE food-safety thing most people never think about: a cold room can pass a health inspection, have a certificate framed on the wall, and still fail the one job it actually has.
Not because anyone's cutting corners on purpose. Because "cold" and "compliant" are two different things wearing the same label, and most of the gap between them is invisible until something goes wrong — a compressor trips overnight, a door seal degrades in 45°C heat, a sensor drifts out of calibration without anyone noticing. None of that shows up on the certificate. All of it shows up in the temperature log, if the log is even any good.
Here's what's actually behind that label, if you're curious. [Keep reading]
A HACCP compliant cold room is a temperature-controlled space engineered around Critical Control Points — the specific thresholds a food safety plan has to hold. A HACCP certificate is a completely different thing: it's awarded to the operational system running on top of that room, not to the room itself. You can own a beautifully engineered cold room and still not have a HACCP certificate, because certification is about how staff actually use the space — monitoring discipline, stock rotation, what happens the moment something drifts.
In the UAE, this applies to anything that touches chilled or frozen food: restaurants, hotels, catering kitchens, food manufacturers, cold storage warehouses, logistics operators, supermarkets, institutional kitchens. Federal Law No. 10 of 2015 sets the baseline nationally; Dubai Municipality, Abu Dhabi's ADAFSA, and Sharjah Municipality each enforce it locally, with their own inspection systems and reporting platforms.
The number that drives everything is 5°C to 60°C — the temperature danger zone where bacteria multiply fastest. Chilled storage has to stay between 1–4°C and never exceed 5°C. Frozen storage has to hold at −18°C or colder. Deliveries arriving above those thresholds are supposed to get rejected at the door, not accepted and hoped for the best.
Manual temperature logs — someone walking around twice a day with a clipboard — used to be enough. It isn't anymore. Inspectors now cross-check handwritten logs against a cold room's own digital data logger, and a mismatch is an instant red flag, however tidy the paperwork looks. There's also a myth going around that temperature records only need to be kept 90 days — that number doesn't actually appear anywhere in the regulation. The safer approach is continuous, cloud-based logging kept indefinitely.
None of that monitoring means anything if the sensor feeding it is wrong, which is why calibration matters more than people expect. Temperature probes need calibration before first use and re-calibration at least once a year, by a provider accredited by the Emirates International Accreditation Centre — not an in-house check with an uncertified reference. A sensor found out of calibration is supposed to come out of service immediately.
When something does drift — a compressor fails, a seal breaks — the plan isn't supposed to be improvised on the spot. It's supposed to look roughly like this: catch the deviation early with an alert threshold above the actual limit, check the product's core temperature (not just the air) with a calibrated probe, judge whether the exposure was brief enough to rapidly re-chill the product or long enough that it has to be discarded, then document all of it and get sign-off from someone authorized to close the log.
Inspections themselves are unannounced, and they're physical, not just paperwork: door seals checked for condensation or ice buildup, food confirmed at least 15 cm off the floor and 20 cm from walls, calibration certificates requested on the spot, staff training records checked. Consequences scale with how bad it is — administrative gaps mean fines, negligence means bigger fines and potential imprisonment, falsified records or a freezer sitting in the danger zone can mean the place gets shut down. Abu Dhabi even publishes closed establishments publicly, so it's not just a private fine — it's reputational.
And the engineering side is where UAE conditions stop being background detail. Ambient summer heat here regularly clears 45°C with heavy humidity. A degraded door gasket or a poorly sealed panel joint means that hot, humid air meets a −18°C interior almost instantly — which shows up as ice on the evaporator coils and condensation on the walls, exactly the kind of thing that fails a hygiene inspection outright. The airtight seal between panels isn't a nice-to-have. It's the actual mechanism keeping the room inside its limits when someone shows up to check.
ColdRoom.ae specialises in designing and manufacturing HACCP-ready cold rooms, freezer rooms, and commercial cold storage solutions for food businesses across the UAE — the hardware side of this, basically, while certification itself comes from an independent accredited body afterward. If you want the full technical breakdown — panel specs, exact corrective-action thresholds, the whole certification pathway — the HACCP-ready cold room requirements are laid out in more detail than fits here.
Short version, if you remember nothing else: the certificate on the wall isn't proof of any of this. The temperature log is.
Why Your Wine Cellar Idea Doesn't Work in the Gulf
Say you're opening a restaurant in Dubai, or you import beer into Abu Dhabi, or you're the person at a hotel in Sharjah who got told "we need somewhere to keep the wine." You call a cold room company. They send a quote. It looks fine — insulated panels, a compressor, a thermostat set to whatever number you gave them.
Here's the problem nobody mentions: that same setup, built to the same spec, works completely differently depending on where it's installed. And the UAE is one of the harder places on earth to get this right.
Start with the heat. Summer here regularly hits 45–50°C. A wine chiller room trying to hold 12–15°C, or a beer chiller room trying to hold 2–8°C, is fighting a temperature gap most cold room specs were never designed around. Panels rated for a European climate — usually 50mm — just can't keep up. The compressor runs almost nonstop trying to compensate, which is expensive and shortens its life. Beverage storage in this climate really wants 75mm to 100mm PIR insulation, not the thinner stuff.
Then there's the coast. Dubai and Sharjah both sit right on the water, and humidity works its way into anything that isn't sealed properly. A poorly sealed panel joint lets moisture into the insulation core, which leads to condensation, then thermal bridging, then the panel itself degrading. This is why joint sealing — cam-lock, tongue-and-groove, continuous sealant — matters as much as panel thickness does.
And then, the part almost nobody accounts for: light. Wine exposed to UV and blue light goes through an actual chemical reaction (riboflavin plus sulfur-containing amino acids) that produces a cooked-cabbage smell. It's called "lightstruck," and the Australian Wine Research Institute has written about it extensively. Beer has its own version: hop compounds reacting with light to form a sulfur compound detectable at just a few parts per trillion. That's the real science behind a beer going skunky. A plain glass door under a regular light fixture is enough to set either one off.
Also, and this trips people up constantly: wine and beer cannot share one room at a "compromise" temperature. Wine wants 12–15°C, 60–70% humidity, barely any vibration — sometimes called a wine room cooler setup in spec documents. Beer wants 2–8°C, lower humidity, more airflow. Put both at, say, 8°C, and wine's aging basically stalls out while beer stales faster than it should. If space is tight, the fix is a room split into zones, not one shared setpoint.
Scale matters too. A restaurant's commercial wine chiller room or commercial beer chiller room (usually 10–50 cubic meters) is a completely different build from a distributor's industrial wine cold storage or industrial beer cold storage warehouse — hundreds to thousands of cubic meters, pallet racking, forklift access, backup compressors in case one fails mid-summer.
None of this is exotic engineering. It's just designing for the actual climate instead of adapting a generic cold room after the fact. As one of the best chiller room manufacturers in UAE, ChillerRoom.ae designs wine chiller rooms and beer chiller rooms that balance temperature stability, humidity control, insulation performance, airflow, and refrigeration efficiency for long-term beverage storage. If you want the full spec breakdown, ChillerRoom.ae has a wine and beer chiller room guide with the details.
A cold room that hits the right number on a thermostat isn't automatically doing its job here. In this climate, heat, humidity, and light all have to be designed around at the same time.
This is the most 5/10 movie I've seen in years, perfect example of mid. The producers really asked themselves if they could film a whole movie in a storage facility and occasionally cut to Liam Neeson being old and called it a day.
Doesnt do much with its concept, doesnt have any hallmarks of an actual movie, most of it was comedy, quipping, and a strange amount of US military propaganda.
Theres a nugget of a good idea here, explored in better media such as The Crazies or The Last of Us.
