I sat alone in the café, at the same table as before. It had been five minutes since you had left. You had wanted to know more about what I had in store for you before our lunch date — you had pleaded to know, even — but I was coy. Partly because I wasn’t yet sure how I would best be able to have fun with you while you were at work.
My phone lay face up on the table. I had told you to turn off all notifications on your phone except for texts or calls from me. You had dutifully obliged, as I had expected you to. I couldn’t shake the thought of the last look you had flashed me before getting up and walking out — the way you had bit your lip, the hunger in your eyes, the primal desire that I could practically smell emanating from your body. An incredible body that I had watched move elegantly as you walked away. Despite your natural elegance, I wanted nothing more than to rip the clothes from your body and be inside you, to have my hands on your flesh, to leave my mark on you — to have you, completely, totally.