Cafe Predator

He is a predator. That much is obvious as he enters the room. He wears a long black wool coat over black shirt and charcoal suit trousers. On the chubby side of well built, he nevertheless carries himself with the confidence of David, his laptop bag and document wallet held nonchalantly in his right hand. As he steps through the door I watch him pause, his feet planted wide, and scan the room with his large, dark, brown eyes. As he makes eye contact with several of the women present, he holds their gaze for longer than convention would allow, then, with a conscious ease, he walks towards the bar, his mouth and eyes display a self-assured, half smile. He knows he will not go home alone.