David Johnson was watching the girl on the next table as she laughed flirtatiously with her two male friends. She threw her head back when guffawing in delight at yet another bad joke and the two men took the opportunity to glance at her cleavage unopposed.
The stench of a thousand spilt pints that had seeped and settled into the aged oak of the table was burning the inside of David’s nose, and the stale and drying beer that had stuck to his suit jacket made a slight ripping sound as he lifted his arm to finish his drink. The girl and the two gentlemen finished their beverages and got up to leave.
“Do you want a lift, Abi?” said one of the men.
“I’ve told you, I’m fine! I enjoy walking. You two posers should ditch your cars and do the same.”
David watched the threesome walk towards the door and out into the street. He purred in anticipation as the sound of two engines starting echoed through the room and the car headlights were reflected in the tinted glass of the pub doors.
David closed his eyes and thought of his favourite thing: The sound of high heels clipping on the pavement. It reminded him of passing horses when he was a child. He loved that the volume would increase the closer he got.
It’s borderline orgasmic, he thought, as he walked out into the street.