Image Via Pixabay
Content Note: Contains elements of non-consent.
I watch the people pass me by as I nurse so many coffees I lose count, they are all endlessly fascinating but it’s the women who tend to catch my eye most often. I am careful though, I look but I don’t draw their attention to my enjoyment of them. It is regretful that I can’t invite them to sit with me or pursue a dalliance where my hands could roam across their warm soft flesh. In fact, I could do that, but I shouldn’t, it is far too recent since my last encounter, it would be reckless to embark on another so soon.
I am lost in my thoughts of rueful longing when her voice startles me and pulls my focus immediately to her presence. Her hand rests on the back of the spare chair at my table, she is quite unbelievably asking if she can join me. I glance around and see one or two other places she could have chosen, all of which do not contain a single man sitting alone. I realise it is I who has caught her eye and I feel a mixture of excitement, for myself and pity for her, as I confirm that the seat is indeed free.