What I Found in the Bathroom Stall 3

Stranger, Interrupted

Even under the strange, artificial glow of the shopping center lights, he stood out in a way that made no sense. His face was handsome without trying, the kind of good looks that didn’t need to be styled or filtered. His wife could easily have been a model, or maybe she still was, with her flawless skin and honey-blonde hair that framed her face perfectly as it fell across her shoulders. Her legs seemed endless, stretching so far up her body I found myself staring before I caught it. She looked around thirty. He was probably not far behind her. Where her eyes were strikingly blue, his were hazel, maybe with a hint of green if the light caught them right. His nose was small and neat, his hair cropped short, and there was a calm smile on his face that seemed to live somewhere behind his eyes, like it belonged to him whether he was smiling or not.

In a simple pair of jeans, he looked fit. Not the try-hard kind of fit, just naturally strong. Of course, I already knew more than I should have. I’d seen him at his most vulnerable. I knew how big his dick was. I’d watched a burly guy suck him off in a public toilet, and I’d watched him return the favor like it was no big deal. Whoever this man was, he wasn’t new to whatever game he was playing.

As they walked toward me, he rested his hand gently against his wife’s back, guiding her forward with that easy confidence of someone who didn’t think too much about anything. They were mid-conversation, absorbed in whatever topic had their attention, when it happened.

His eyes flicked toward me.

It wasn’t intense. Just a glance. A moment. So brief that I almost missed it. A casual sideways look before he kept walking beside his picture-perfect wife.

But that was enough.

He’d seen me. Not just looked at me, but seen me. Maybe even recognized me, although the way he looked away was too practiced, too smooth to be an accident. It was like he’d been caught before and knew exactly how to shift his focus without hesitation.

I thought it was safe to turn and watch him as he passed, since I was alone and he had no reason to look back.

Except he did.

He turned. Just slightly. And he smiled.

I wasn’t ready for that. A smile from a stranger shouldn’t have hit me the way it did. It was nothing. Just a man glancing back. But my body reacted before my brain could explain why. It felt like he’d whispered something filthy directly into my ear without opening his mouth.

I know how ridiculous it sounds. A man I’d watched giving head in a public toilet locking eyes with me in the middle of a shopping center, and somehow that felt electric. But that’s exactly what it was. Right there, surrounded by shoppers and noise and artificial light, we turned, we smiled, and for reasons I couldn’t explain, we connected.

And it couldn’t have been more frustrating.

Because what the hell could I do about it? His wife was right there. I had no way to approach him, no excuse to even try. He was untouchable, and I knew it.

At least, I thought I did.

Then he surprised me.

He leaned in, said something quietly to his wife, and gently nudged her forward, guiding her ahead like he’d just remembered something he needed to check. Then, without breaking stride, he veered toward the café they’d just passed. As he pulled out his wallet and joined the line, he glanced over at me again. This time, it wasn’t just a look. He smiled, lifted one eyebrow, and then turned away like nothing about this moment was unusual for him.

I slowed my pace. I took the long way around the café, trying to act like I wasn’t circling. I wasn’t sure who I thought might be watching me, but paranoia had already started to win. My legs felt heavy as I looped toward where he was standing, waiting for his coffee, somehow convincing myself that this wasn’t real.

He ordered, paid, and then looked for me.

That was when I stopped pretending I wasn’t there for him.

I moved up beside him, not knowing what I was supposed to say, or even why I was still walking. My legs were shaking, and the closer I got to him, the worse it got. Confidence wasn’t something I had, not in moments like this, not when my entire body felt like it had betrayed me by showing up.

“Hey. How’s your day going?” he asked, like we were two old friends who’d run into each other by chance.

His accent caught me off guard. Strong, familiar, but impossible to place in that moment when my brain felt like it had shut down completely.

“Hey… um… good. Thanks. And yourself?” I hated how awkward I sounded, hated how his amused smile made me feel even smaller. His eyes weren’t just watching me, they were reading me and studying me. For a second, I wondered if he was someone who worked in law enforcement. He had that same steady calm, the ability to make you feel like you’d already confessed.

“Good. Wasting time while the car’s getting serviced. Might wander upstairs in a bit.” His words were casual, but the way his gaze lingered told me the conversation wasn’t casual at all.

“Okay,” I said, because apparently my brain still hadn’t rebooted. I looked up automatically, trying to figure out what he meant. Upstairs was the mezzanine, the toy store, the food court, the department store. Nothing that explained why he was standing there, smiling at me like we both understood something I didn’t.

Then it clicked.

I turned back toward him, slower this time as realization started to filter through my confusion.

And I was pretty sure I blushed.

That made him laugh. A warm, masculine sound that should have belonged to someone completely disinterested in men. If there were a line-up of suspects most likely to suck cock, he wouldn’t even make the waiting list. Not in my mind.

The redheaded girl at the counter handed him two coffees and a packet of cookies. She was staring at him, just as transfixed as I was, watching the way he moved like she was hoping he’d say something to her. Even when he turned and walked away, she kept staring. When I stepped up, she flicked me a look that felt like pure irritation, like I’d just cut in line. Then the fake smile reappeared, and she asked what I wanted.

I didn’t know why I ordered coffee, I didn’t even drink it.

Mr. Confident was already moving, and I stood there holding what felt like a secret in my hands, unsure whether to follow him or throw the coffee at myself and wake up.

In the end, I poured it down the drinking fountain at the far end of the center, threw the cup in the trash, and told myself this was stupid.

Then I found myself on the escalator heading upstairs anyway.

I didn’t know how long “in a bit” meant. I didn’t know if he was already waiting, or if I’d misread everything and was about to humiliate myself.

I knew only one thing.

For every nervous excuse my brain came up with, the need between my legs came up with a better argument.

I followed it.

It led me straight to the public toilets.