Boredom

Girls kindled to him easily. Perfectly strange girls did.
Talking about a recent encounter with a cocktail waitress, he said all it would have taken were a few more little words. See, he'd already got a hand up in the semi-dark. Already. She just stood by his table, quite still, cocktail tray tucked under her arm.
He was, he said, weirdly minded to even shake a little salt on her pussy, and she'd have been his for the taking.
Idly, he was almost minded to pick up an actual salt cellar off the bar counter, and do it. Salt her, like she was a bird of some kind.
He'd already felt some telltale damp behind rough, bouncy bush. He could have probably shaken salt on her tail in a minute...and tagged her like some kind of bird.
See, she was also bored.