Tre could feel the feather light touch travel up beyond his knee and halt near the soft, sensitive flesh between his thighs. An array of goose bumps erupted across his forearms sending a quick shiver down his spine.

He looked up from his magazine.

Across the table Billie Joe sat leaning into his armchair; his legs stretched beneath the table and the daily newspaper concealing his face, but for a few tufts of black hair that defied gravity. Instinctively Tre spread his legs, scanning the bustling café for wandering eyes.

In response the feathery touch travelled further up his thigh, resting gently against his sensitive package. Tre cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. The newspaper rustled slightly in front of him.

Around them voices heightened and people walked to and fro; waitresses were carrying trays of steaming tea, coffee lovers slurped the remnants of their evening fix and from where they sat near the back of the café, Tre could see the waitress preparing their order.

The touch moved against his package in light circular motions, and he felt a familiar tightening in his pants. Dropping the magazine onto his lap, Tre looked sternly at the rustling newspaper.

Billie Joe lowered the paper, a wide smirk playing on his lips and a familiar twinkle in his eyes.

“All I wanted was a vanilla iced latte,“ Tre mumbled, following Billie Joe from the café, their order forgotten and a collection of filthy thoughts brewing on his mind.