The dirty words, the rough and entitled touch. Monty's eyes flutter closed and they bite their bottom lip, clinging to their Patron as the car speeds up. "Yes. Both," they admit, tilting their head up to look at Justin's face appealingly. "Do you think anyone noticed? Do you think...they liked it as much as I did?" Their words are barely a whisper, a tiny confession: it's obvious that Monty loved the idea.

A small, swallowed moan and Monty continues, consumed by this daydream, their hand wandering too, sliding over to Justin's belt buckle, flicks it, making it click loudly. "Maybe someone back at the café is still thinking about it. Maybe they're touching themselves, imagining what I'd look like if they could touch me, if they could just pull my needy little cunt open and fuck it, hard, just like you do, sir."