January 19
Crap. Lou, damn you, you know what that does to me. I’m a highly suggestible girl with an improbably small bladder. “Sounds like a plan,” I say, putting my backpack and coat over my chair again. “Watch my gear?”
“Always,” Lou nods, grinning. The bastard knew it would happen. Sometimes I wonder if he does it to check out my ass, but I also know that if he did, that’s as far as it would go. The man may be a lech, but he’s utterly devoted to his wife. I rush to the back of the cafe, trying to swing my hips as little as possible. He probably still sees what he wants to.
As I approach the tiny hallway leading to the ladies’ room, a man emerges from the men’s room. The sound of the toilet running still echoes in the small lavatory, and I glance at his hands– slightly wet. He’s wearing a long brown coat, and a splotch or two suggests that he tried to wipe his hands once he discovered that the towels were out. Well, at least he washed. Something about this guy creeps me out, too, but not nearly as badly as whoever’s chatting Katie up. I nod and shuffle past him, but he freezes in place.
Did you enjoy this post? Why not leave a comment below and continue the conversation, or subscribe to my feed and get articles like this delivered automatically to your feed reader.
Comments
No comments yet.
Leave a comment