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She's a regular, always ordering the same, her eyes downcast, her body language guarded. But today, she's different. Her blouse is unbuttoned, her skirt hiked up, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her ample thighs. As she reaches for her change, her hand brushes against my crotch, lingering, her eyes meeting mine. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, but her body language says otherwise. She leans in, her breath hot on my ear, "I have a confession. I've been dreaming of you." I'm rock hard, my heart pounding as she saunters away, leaving me with a pocket full of change and a mind full of fantasies.