Just A Hint Of…

There is something about coffee shops
just sitting and watching
the scent of coffee mingling with
perfume and cologne wafting over
from nearby tables
patrons lost in newspapers
magazines and animated conversations.
I like the anonymity
and how the barista
never knows what I am going to order
even though I’m a regular
and I like how no one notices me
noticing them
or how my eyes linger
over certain women
that walk through the door
hourglass curves
worn with confidence
or those cute androgynous chicks
that wear too much eyeliner
which I’ve always found
sexy.

Yet I always like it best
when there are men in the room
‘cause they seem to detract
from my unsubtle gaze that lingers  
when that certain woman
walks in
wearing thigh-high stockings
with suspenders
under a short skirt
leaning over the counter
as she orders
revealing just a hint of skin
beyond floral, black lace
my eyes travelling up
the length of her legs
from her Mary Jane stilettos
to the hem of her skirt
and secretly I’m praying
she’ll lean over just a little more
so I can see a little higher...

And I like the disappointment
when she doesn’t
wondering
what kind of panties is she wearing?
Black lace? Red lace?
Silk? Satin?
Nothing at all?
I like the thrill of the question
as I bite my lip
and try, like every guy in the room
to look up her skirt...
The hem just long enough
to keep everything
from our prying eyes
though I don’t really care to see
when my imagination
can conjure up
the details I voyeuristically
want to feast my eyes upon
while she orders
a latte with extra foam
to takeaway

© Indie Adams 2012