There she is; polishing those glasses, smiling at those customers, clearing those plates. How is it that she can make the most mundane of tasks appear in slow motion and somehow be the most sensual act I could imagine?
She’s concentrating hard, eyes darting from saucer to cup, from cup to spoon. A tendril of that beautiful – and I assume duckling soft – golden hair hangs across her forehead. She swats it away so swiftly, but so gently. I imagine that’s it’s my finger pushing that hair behind her ear. I imagine this happening in the warm morning light, all snuggly and content, bodies pressed against each other. The fingers of my other hand tracing the dappled light on her bare back. I’m excited because I know at any moment her eyes will open dopily and stare right into mine – this is my climax.
“What can I get for you today?” The waitress asks my boyfriend.