"You really fancy me don't you," she states, kind of triumphantly.
"I do."
"Yeah, I thought you did. I'm not stupid."
"I never said you were stupid."
"That's true, you didn't. Anyway, I bet you think it's odd that a pretty twenty-five-year-old would fancy a guy old enough to be her father. And how old are you by the way?"
"Forty-two."
"You look older."
"Thanks."
"You're also quite plain. Though you haven't a bad figure. Small dick?"
"Dunno, maybe."
*Where's this all going?*
"I'm going to make you a proposition, though no money is going to be involved..."
"Curiouser and curiouser..."
"Shut-up and don't interrupt... and also, I think it would be a good idea if we kept our voices down a little... I don't want all of Costa listening in... I'm going to tell you something which I need for you to keep secret... and if you decide to blab, I'll make a lot of trouble for you... I can do that you know... I do the fucking around... not any guy -- understand?"
What the hell am I getting sucked into?
"Yes, of course."
"Good."
I look at her sitting opposite to me at the small table: long curly raven hair, intense and cold sapphire-blue eyes, pale complexion, sensuous mouth, and small straight nose. She's wearing a black jumper and jeans, is slim and petite.
I lift my mug of hot chocolate up and take a sip from it.
"Okay, I'm going to be straight with you... yeah, I know that's unusual for a woman... but I knew you fancied me... and let's be frank you wanted to fuck me... you wouldn't keep coming in the chip shop if you didn't... it was obvious... maybe the little waitresses uniform helped with some of the buttons left 'deliberately' undone..."
I feel myself colouring -- she's got my number.
"Anyway, the truth is that I don't actually find older men very attractive... I like young virile men with big cocks and toned, ripped physiques... most of which I meet off the internet... yeah, don't look shocked or hurt... I'm coming to it... but... BUT... you reminded me of my father... you look very much like him... and he was pretty plain... God knows what my mother saw him in... money probably... prospects... a nice lifestyle...and he was a disciplinarian... and I was wild... a problem teenager... and I hated him... HATED him... yet now I miss him... he committed suicide a couple of years ago, shortly after Mum died of cancer... and I need you to do to me what he used to..."
My God, she's totally fucked up. Get out now.
I start to get up and say, "Look at the time, I really must be going..."
"Sit down, please. I haven't finished speaking."
I hesitate and sit back down.
"Okay, I know this is weird, and though I'm only twenty-five I have some experience of life and I know that we have to grab that life with both hands... we have to fulfil our fantasies... and this is also the truth... you're lonely and frustrated... and I can give you something you're never going to get again because you're old and plain and a bit of a doormat... and you should think yourself lucky that I'm giving you this opportunity because it will NEVER pass your way again -- never. Now, tell me about your relationship situation, though I reckon I can guess."
"Well, if you put it like that... yes, I'm divorced and live by myself... my wife, who was older than me, incidentally, said once: 'I'd like someone younger and better looking.' I thought she was joking, but she wasn't. And sure enough, she got someone younger and better looking too. I was gutted. I paid her off and managed to keep the bungalow. Been single ever since... I guess you're right. I'm a sad, lonely, and desperate middle-aged man."