I sipped at the coffee. Too hot. As I waited for it to cool down, I gazed out the window. Without realizing it, I locked my gaze on the tall mechanic. He leaned over the engine of an old Lincoln, his big hands moving quickly from engine to pocket to tool box to engine. I could see his lean shoulders moving under the striped, blue fabric of his coveralls. It occurred to me that I was lusting after this man. It's not unusual for me to lust after other men, but this time there was something urging me to walk back across that parking lot. I tried to dismiss it - it's difficult enough talking to someone I don't want to take to bed - but it stuck stubbornly.
Soon the urge had turned my stool and pushed me forward. I dropped some money on the counter for my untouched coffee and pushed back out the door. As I got closer to the garage, I could feel my heartbeat taking over my entire body, and I could feel the nervous sweat breaking out around my face. I wiped at my forehead and took a deep breath.
He glanced up at me, started wiping off another oily tool, and waited for me to speak.