Sex and the city

Its the end of a Manic Monday. Its been blood and murder all day long and its over now. I am at my favourite Cafe Coffee Day, lusting for a cup of coffee... as the guy on the counter takes my order... to go please. Bombay is wet and sweaty... like the village belles after a long day of work on the fields.

As I wait, I turn around and this woman on the far corner in the cafe catches my eye. She is sitting there dressed... breaths alternating between coming in low and in small gasps. It makes her breasts rise higher than usual... alluring gesture... I think to myself. She has a nice form, the colour of her fashionable top suits her skin. She picks up the phone to speak to someone, her back arches... one leg crosses over the other, and a smile spreads over her face. I get to see her eyes and I know... she is waiting for someone.

A naked shoulder moves sensously... and she takes her time turning her face towards the door. The back arches more... a subtle offering of herself to the man walking towards her. He says something and she laughs... and I can see the curve of the neck as she throws her head back and laughs... he is pleased. He puts his hands on the table... immediately defining the territory. Brief scan around the table to see who's there. I see his legs spereading out slightly and her thighs pressing tighter together... like the bodies are speaking in their own primitive language while the toungues go on about daily trivia.

My coffee has come. I stand up, the laptop bag alights on the shoulders. I pay and walk out... and turn back at the door to look at them. The woman looks at me and I smile. She smiles back. The core of one woman speaks to another in that brief moment to appreciate. I walk out and head home, content.