As she smiled, as he smiled, as the giggles tumbled out, the waves of laughter washed away the nervousness he had felt and he forgot himself. And he became himself a little more. The person he liked. The self consciousness dissipated. He'd felt so masterful (quite unlike him) when he'd walked off taking the coffee order for granted. And he felt so right when she accepted the latte with more, so much more, than good grace.
He composed himself, leant back in the chair and studied her with a slower, but less intrusive gaze. She had a strong air about her. A woman who knew what she wanted and what she liked. But she also had gentle eyes which betrayed a more mischievous energy. She carried herself with confidence, but in such a way that there was a hint of vulnerability. She looked like a woman who loved passionately and could be loved, passionately. His mind wandered further. He could not help but notice the lace of her bra and the hint of cleavage beneath her blouse. He took in the shape of her breasts. He scanned the curve of her hips and in a split second in his mind's eye she was bent over the table before them, skirt around her waist and he was holding her hips as he drove his cock into her. She caught his eye and he returned to reality with a jolt. Had he reddened? Had his pupils dilated? Had he given his thoughts away? From a latte to penetration in less than three seconds. A record perhaps? Was he capable of looking at any attractive woman and not mentally bedding her in moments? Probably not. Did it matter? Only when they didn't feel the same thing. And mostly they didn't