He sat carefully down with his black coffee. It was quiet in the coffee shop that afternoon. He chose a seat near the back to survey the door and everyone entering or leaving. The coffee steamed as he raised it to his lips and he took a sip to calm his nerves whilst he watched. The background jazz music fought with the hissing of milk being frothed and the grinding of beans from the counter. It seemed as if every variety of milk and espresso imaginable was being conjured into being for the small stream of customers.

The door swung open, no. Not her. It was just a couple of touristy looking folk. He unclenched. He always got nervous at this point. The waiting. She knew what he looked like, so in theory he could relax and wait. Perhaps play with his phone or read the paper.

But he could do neither and instead waited and watched the door.

He could do with a cigarette but worried that might create the wrong impression. She was young, 25 she had told him. 17 years his junior. The young didnt smoke anymore. No, they drifted around venting dragon-like clouds of sweet smelling vapour. If they vaped. Not all did.

Caught in his reverie, he almost missed the chime of the door. Glancing over he saw her. Yes, that was her. Slim, raven hair coming down to just below her ears in a curtain like bob. Lots of make up. Too much, he thought disapprovingly. He caught himself, get a grip he thought. Her eyes roved the cafe then stopped. She gave a small smile, made a drinking sign and went to the counter. Hell, should he go up and offer to pay? No. Too keen. He sat and waited out the excruciatingly long time it took them to make her drink.

She came over. Pulling out the chair across from him. Inwardly he disapproved. Anyone could come up behind her that way. Get a grip, he told himself again. She leaned forward and put her drink on the table and sat. For a moment neither spoke. Then she broke the silence.

'Samuel.' She stated rather than asked. He liked that.
'And you must be Olivia?'
'You're a lot younger looking than I expected.'
'I could say the same to you.'

The tension was palpable. He tried desperately to think of something to say but was at a loss. He sometimes thought he wasn't very good at this.

'So, is this a day off for you?' He ventured.
'No, I don't have a job,' she looked at him calculatingly, assessing the impact of her words.
'Oh, are you looking?'
'No, I don't have a job in the conventional sense.' A wry smile.
'That sounds... interesting?'
'I do a lot of stuff online, I work for myself. I guess you could say I'm an artist of sorts.'
'Ah,' that was better he thought. Something to work with at least. 'You paint?'

Her laugh tinkled clear across the cafe.

'No,' she crossed her legs and leaned her elbow on the table propping up her chin with her hand and tilted her head coquettishly. 'That's what everyone always thinks.'

He tried not to look at her low cut top, or rather what wasn't in her top and squirmed slightly.

'I guess you could say I am an artist, let's be happy with that shall we?'
'Yes, absolutely. That's fine. I'm sorry this is just so strange, I mean. Well, when I got your message I was quite taken aback. I never knew. Never had an inkling.'

She licked her lips; he couldn't help watch as if in slow motion. God, this was so wrong. She was beautiful.

She lifted her coffee cup, so large in her delicate hands. 'So, are you married?'
'I was, ages ago. Not now.'
'No kids...?'
'No, none. Never felt the inclination.' He picked up his cup to give his hands something to do.
'Apart from me that is.'

And there it was. So boldly stated. He knew he didn't believe it but at the same time he knew it to be true. Just the look of her. Beyond the pretty face he could quite easily see some of himself in her. Her mannerisms. Her speech. It was crazy but hell; he had only been a teenager. Condoms hadn't been the topmost consideration for him when he had found himself drunk that night with Lynn, his first. He would like to have said first of many but that wouldn't be true. He hadn't even known the rest of her name. Everything else was emblazoned on his memory. Her little bites and nips at his shoulders. The way she squeezed him so close as he came.

Blinking he bought himself back to the present. Olivia was talking about how she had found him. Her mother had passed away and she had gone over some of her old things and found a photo of him.

'I don't even remember anyone taking pictures,' he attempted to joke.
'It looked like quite the party; everyone looked a bit off their face.'
'That's true, a lot of... em. Well drugs to be honest. And drinking. Was quite the night.'

They both laughed. Some of the tension had been broken and the conversation flowed more freely. They order another couple of coffees and chatted easily sometimes bordering on flirtatiously.

A chiming sounded from Olivia's phone. She picked it up and smiled apologetically.

'That's the two hours up I am afraid.'
'Oh, so soon.' Slightly crestfallen. 'It always goes so quickly.'
'It does, doesn't it.'

He reached into his pocket and passed over an open manila envelope to her. Olivia briefly scanned the notes inside and smiled with genuine warmth.

'Thank you. Same time next month then?'
'Yes of course and, em. Thank you.'

They both stood as she tucked the envelope into her bag. He gave her a gentle hug, savouring her warmth, her scent for that moment. She turned and walked briskly to the door, glancing back halfway to blow him a kiss.

He swallowed hard. He was already anticipating the next time.