He sighed and slouched deeper into his chair, his legs splayed wide, doing nothing to cover his growing erection as she sauntered up to him, covered in little more than a flimsy old t-shirt that was so old it was almost see-thru. He grabbed his coffee and took a long sip, relaxing as the warmth ran through his body. She stopped right in front of him, and stood with arms akimbo, her hip cocked to the left and her eyes glued firmly to the rather impressive tent pitched in his pajama pants. Sal smiled cockily, and with mock indifference said, "What is it you want at," he paused and looked at his watch. "What is it you want at six in the morning Sam?"