My Market Man

A Sexual Fantasy

— By Market Girl

Every day I walk the two blocks to the market for my water gallon refills. You like to let me know when you’re there by parking on the corner right outside my window. Each time we lock eyes as soon as the doors slide open, and you watch me like your prey as I make my way through the store. I don’t always give my quarter to you, but when I do you softly graze the palm of my hand sending chills down my spine. I can feel you watch me as I go to leave. How intense will we let this flame grow before we cave?