Mr. Lunchtime Fantasy 2005/2006

I always go to a certain client's every Tuesday and Thursday. As such I usually go to the local sandwich shop on those days. More often than not, I see another regular customer there too. I've decided that he gets the honorary title of Mr. Lunchtime Fantasy. He's my type - big, burly, mid-40's, salt & pepper hair, goatee etc. , and judging by the advertising on his truck, I'd say he's a contractor.

I first noticed him a few months ago. Initially I would just sneek peaks out of the corner of my eye but then I decided to take a good look at him. His hair was always cut short and perfect, he had a perfectly trimmed and groomed goatee, and his nails were always clean - which is a little odd for someone in construction. The gaydar light switched from yellow to bright flashing green, I Will Survive came blaring out of nowhere as the disco ball dropped from the ceiling. Definitely a fag in blue collar clothing.

So I got a little braver and stopped pretending I wasn't checking him out. Instead I'd give him the full once-over, and maintain eye contact. No straight man returns eye contact and smiles - especially on more than one occasion. I'd never go so far as to give him my number, or even strike up a conversation, but it's fun to flirt and fantasize about jumping into his pickup and giving him a blowjob before heading back to work.

Last week while I was sitting at a table he came in, only this time he had a friend. Looked like some young guy, an apprentice maybe, but definitely straight (and a little dirty). Mr. Lunchtime goes up to the counter, orders some food and starts chatting with the lady behind the counter. I hear him mention that he's going away to Montreal for about 10 days. The lady asks if he's going with family and he replies "No, we're going to pickup girls!"

I almost spit out all the food in my mouth. No straight man talks like that.

As I was staring at him in disbelief (his back was to me), I noticed that he was wearing a ring on his wedding finger. That was odd since I would have noticed that previously for sure. As he turned to go back to his table, he looked directly at me. I don't know if it was from my eyes burning into the back of his skull, or the look on my face as he turned around, but he smiled sheepishly like he'd just been caught doing something naughty. Yeah - lying about carpet munching is one thing, but lying about it poorly is another thing entirely.

I'm half tempted to ask him how his trip was and if he got any hot french pussy in Montreal the next time I see him.