A sentinel 3

The waiter serving the elderly man and his son. His slim cowboy jeans accentuate his buttocks and cling to his thighs. What an ass! And his white Adidas... No, no. It's better not to go down that road.

No message from the one I'm expecting. I even imagine him intentionally wasting time, but I accuse myself of being a bad thinker.

At 18:17

Three men enter, one in a work jumpsuit. A good layer of construction dust. At the bar, they chat about pipes and downspouts. It must be the wait, the anxiety, but the inner bitch starts to get excited. I would kneel there, between the three, and, without any shame... What a threesome of blowjobs! What a scandal! What would the noble old man say!

At 18:22

One of them repeats "no, don't be a faggot, damn it", scratches his crotch, finishes his drink. "Another one, kid!" he tells the waiter. There are 'tough guys' who can't stop saying 'faggot'. This one in particular looks at me, or rather, catches me looking at him. He lets out a loud belch. I wouldn't have to do more than approach him and snap my fingers. He would be mine without putting up a fight. He's the one in the jumpsuit.