People Watching (closed)

[darrenfate]

SCOTT


To me this is a sturdy but small round table, with enough space for one, but when two try and share, the surface area quickly gets sparse. I know that for the owners and workers at this coffee house it was “Table 11” Section A but to me and my laptop, it was more than all of this mundane information. The table is simply the perfect place to write. My table, that is. Perched as I am, here in the front corner, I can survey all the colorful (and the dull as well) characters that drift in and out. I have become part of the scenery, and to most patrons I’d bet that I was invisible.

I am well known to the staff – there are all far younger than I. I tip early and make sure it’s seen when I do – I try and time it in such a way that other customers that are also paying for something watch me and are guilted into leaving the wait staff some money too. The staff knows I do this, and finds this game amusing, but I know it’s also appreciated.

There is a new waitress here this month. She is bright and funny, and loves wearing vivid colors like smart lime greens and aqua blues. She is the type that all the guys single and otherwise swoon over instantly when they come in, yet she deftly wards them off as they try in vain to ask her out. I have noticed that she never talks about herself like the other staff. She will greet you with the nicest smile and amiably find out all about you - yet when you turn the tables she changes the subject. She intrigues me. I’ll find out personal her story eventually. I always do.

It’s hard breaking away from one career to another, and I am gradually spending more and more time writing – with dreams and aspirations of becoming a published author. My days and nights are full; people come and go, and strangely here amidst the crowds I am alone and able to get completely lost in my words and ideas. I am so unable to do this at home with its inherent distractions. When I need to think before I write, people watching provides me an escape from any writer’s block.

For instance as I write this, I see an elegant woman come in wearing a white pleated tennis skirt and a matching Nike sleeveless top. She looks flushed, as if she just stepped off the courts. It’s been years since I played, but the prospect of having this woman as a tennis partner would find me out there hitting overheads and volleys until my arms fell off, all in a vain attempt to be an able player again. My thoughts drift. I can imagine kissing her full mouth, tasting the sweaty salt on her lips. My hand longs to slip under that white skirt and find her real wetness. Now this is a woman to crave. If she were mine I’d tear off those preppy clothes and push her against the wall in the hot shower and fuck her madly as the water cascades all around us. These wonderful lurid thoughts abruptly end as she leaves mocha cappuccino in hand, looking extremely content with her purchase. I watch her as she climbs into her big GM SUV and drives away. Heavy sigh.

So welcome all, to my life.

I have had a good session, feeling a bit like Hemingway after a long stint writing at his favorite Parisian cafe. Now my first novel will never be mistaken for The Sun Also Rises , but I am proud of its progress all the same. I remember Hemingway’s advice to writers – to leave that last thought unwritten. It makes getting back to writing the next day so much easier, so I do just that, and end on a high note. It’s time to leave this place, go to the local pub perhaps and get a few Heinekens or two along with dinner. I am ravenous for food and for pussy. I remember each pleat in that tennis skirt.

Its dark outside now, the two beers have quickly become four. Food, I got, pussy – not tonight. Truth be told not on most nights. As I walk to my car, I do a double take. I think I see the new waitress from the coffee house across the way under a streetlight. I stop and stare in disbelief. She is not alone, and she is not dressed at all like I have ever seen her. She wears all black leather, a silver studded collar is around her throat. She sports garish maroon lipstick. As I watch I see one of her escorts slap her ass. She laughs and grabs at his crotch. The other cups her breasts from behind and the three of them stand there pawing, feeling, and french kissing each other for the most obscene, explicit, and impossibly erotic five minutes that I have ever witnessed. Then comes another shock. One of her companions is a woman, the one with her tongue far down the throat of my waitress.

They all turn to duck into the entrance of a seedy & private underground club. I never even knew it was there. Just before they disappear, the waitress spots me. I’m busted.

With a jolt, I realize I’ve been stupid, staring and standing immobile the whole time. I spin around to get away.

I can’t be sure but I swear that the last thing I think I hear is a smirk along with quiet, sarcastic laughter.

 

[chanaud]

Kati

Someone once asked me --- If you can think of one animal that best describes yourself, what would it be? Immediately, the chameleon came to mind. We both move about stealthily, blending with our surroundings without attracting the least bit of attention to oneself. It’s how I live. From town to town. Seeking new adventures. I will try almost anything once. Twice if it’s pleasurable. Then I move on. Alone. I have no loyalties or commitments. I lack materialistic desires. I don’t need long term friends. And I absolutely loathe money.

Like my previous addresses, I just happened upon this town. The bus I was on from destination nowhere to destination anywhere happened to roll into this quaint downtown paved with cobblestone roads, lined with century old elms the same time my stomach grumbled angrily. So I hopped off. Standing on the corner, my hair disheveled from the bus grime and lack of sleep, I was a sharp contract from the high peaked tin roof buildings painted with mosaic pastels. Still I was absolutely elated when I discovered I still had $1.39 in change and a stick of cinnamon gum left in my wallet.

The smell of fresh brewed coffee lured me away from seeking a general store for an inexpensive muffin. The help wanted sign hanging from the door was a sign that I was to park my backpack for a while. At least until I had enough change to move again.

The café was like any other. It’s flavor of the day drew the yuppies in their foreign SUV’s and their laptops. The clientele was boring. They paid well though. One in particular. He was tall, prematurely grey, handsome, distinguished, wore mostly black. Even in the daylight. He sat in the corner, in his favorite corner with his back to the sunlight, and watched people all day. Once in a while he would type in his constant laptop. Then his eyebrows would furl into a tight know, and his hands would fly. But mostly he would watch.

One night, I had connected with some new friends. They were swingers, they were quick to inform me. When they saw my eyes light up, they invited me to an underground club, downtown, close to where I work, under a gallery. I dressed for the night. Black leather, and spiked heels. We kissed all night. Women and men. It didn’t matter. We were the same. Sexy. Ready to pleasure. Ready to be pleasured.

As I was wrapped in a tongue fest, I saw him. The guy at the coffee shop. Did he recognize me? I doubt it. I didn’t look the same. He stood wide-eyed, practically salivating. Laughing, I flashed him a wide smile and wink and disappeared down below.

The next day, I arrived for my noon shift, same as ever, keeping to myself and just commenting that I read a book last night when questioned of my previous night’s activities. The grey man was in the corner. He was staring at me. Too intensely, his eyes boring into me. I knew instantly he recognized me. I knew he wanted my attention. His hand would raise half heartedly, then quickly dropped. He didn’t know how to get my attention. So I avoided him. Purposely. I just went about my business. And he continued to follow me with his eyes. Finally after making him wait a couple of hours, I walked over to him.

“Another hazelnut?” I asked, flashing him a smile.

He nodded.

“Would you like a biscotti with it?” I asked again, knowing he never orders desserts.

 

[darrenfate]

Scott

It was a dark and stormy night. .

God, that introduction sucked. I have to do better. I knew that this would be a day where writing would be difficult, yet I had to stay committed. Like Hemingway would have. Sigh. Try again Scott.

I took a long hit from my Dark and Stormy, a heavenly combination of dark rum (Gosling’s Black Seal for instance), ginger beer and lime. Ironic, I thought. The drink’s name matches the dark and stormy weather outside.

Ugh. Writing today is going to be impossible. I have Kati on the brain. Sweet innocent Kati, who as it turns out is neither sweet nor innocent. How I misjudged her! In an eerie way, I wondered just what I did know about people. Everything is suddenly in question. I realize that truly things are not always as they seem to be.

Take myself for instance. Maybe I’m fooling myself. It may be that I’m no writer. Like Hemingway my ass. If Hemingway were here feeling like I do, he would have scooped Kati up and given her a huge macho kiss and then swept her off her feet. That's just not me. It may be that I’m just an guy with average writing talent who sits here day after day going working on the Great American novel. I'm trying but I don't feel I'm doing.

Kati isn’t like that. Kati acts out her feelings, her lusts and desires have an integral place in her real life. She is simply a doer. I’m a dreamer and a “wanna be” while she just is. The contrast is stark. Uncomplicated and straightforward, I watch her glide effortlessly through her work day, while I am twisted up in knots trying to figure things out.

I watch her when her back is turned. Her figure is quite stunning. She has no trace of panty lines, she must be wearing a thong. I hear her talk to people, and now I hear the toying in her voice. Like she is a cat, playing with her toys. Kati a cat. Cat – pussy. My mind leaps to thinking of her pussy. As I said before, I have Kati on the brain.

She knows I know. Several times in the last few hours I decide that I must talk to her, and start to signal, but then I realize that I have nothing to say. I’ve seen her look at me then she sees my hesitation and turns away, with that sly smile on her face again. What am I supposed to do, try a line like “Hey, I saw you last night, and my God you were hot!” or perhaps “How was that underground club? You looked like you were having a great time.” Duh. I want to ask her to show me how to stop thinking about how to live and actually start living.

Then it came to me. Sabrina the movie. The remake with Harrison Ford, not the original starring Hepburn and Bogart. They had the same kind of issues. Well, at least he did. I remember the dialog:

Linus: You convinced me there were some things missing in my life.

Sabrina: Like what?

Linus: My whole life.

Kati is coming over, she is dazzling in person. Now she is offering a biscotti. She knows I don’t eat desserts, we had that discussion before. I am about to say so, then I bite that back. Maybe this is her small way to get me to step out of my comfort zone. A small step to be sure, yet a step nonetheless.

“I’d love one. And why don’t you get me a coffee drink of another kind. Surprise me, will you? It occurs to me that I have never tried 90% of your menu. It’s past time to try new things I think. In so many ways its past time.“

Kati gave me a huge smile.

“One surprise coming up” she said. “I hope this is the start of many new experiences for you. ” Kati turned to walk away.

“ Save me, Sabrina fair, you're the only one who can.”
I say quietly, although obviously not quietly enough. Kati stopped, turned back and said -

“What did you say, Scott? “

“I said, go out with me tonight Kati. Anywhere. I’m up for anything.”

“ I may hold you to that promise. You could be fun. Let’s start with these surprises first, and see how you handle them, OK?”

 

[chanaud]

The man was clearly lonely. And desperate. No wonder he feels that way. He sits in the same corner day after day, watches the comings and goings of this coffee shop, as if he was in a nursing home, waiting for his death. No wonder he isn’t able to write, let alone finish a story. The man has no inspiration in his life. Last night was probably the most exciting scene in his life. Knowing him the first line is probably, “It was a dark and stormy night.” Just the mere thought of that made me chuckle.

His whispered plea did not fall on deaf ears. I just chose to ignore it. I can’t save him, nor do I want to. The idea was positively ridiculous. He would leach onto me like a homeless cat, counting on me to feed him. The mere thought made me shudder. And yet there was something in me that couldn’t help toying with him. He’s so vulnerable. So helpless. He would be putty in my hands. Evil thoughts spun deliciously. Whatever shall I do with him?

When I worked my way around the café taking care of my other tables. I can feel his eyes burning my back, watching my ass, probably wondering how it would feel to pound it. What he doesn’t know is that I choose the pounder and he hasn’t earned that role yet.

I did; however, decide to take him out tonight. And tonight only. I set out three desserts for his choosing: an apple crumb cake, a lemon bar, and an expresso brownie. Each dessert represents a destination. He will choose his fate.

“Hungry for a tasty treat?” I asked, while plopping down on a chair across him.

 

[darrenfate]

SCOTT

What am I doing here? I'm the one that is always in control, living my life the way I want to unfettered and free.

Ok, so my life is, well, boring. Live with that. You created this existence for yourself and you have no one to blame but yourself. Stop this self pity. "Woe is me" is a line for either King Lear or cancer patients - not for me. I have my health. Go out and live. I should visit Easter Island which is 1,200 miles from anywhere else. Now that's out there. Way the hell out.

Kati came back with these three desserts, and a glint in her eye. Was it evil? Playful? One thing for sure – that glint sure was sexy. Just looking at her makes me squirm. How is it that I never noticed her depth before? It’s so obvious now that this woman is complicated and it is exactly this nature – along with that killer body – that makes her so damned attractive.

Now – this. I knew it wasn’t about the food. It was all about choices.

“Choose? “ she just nodded.

I surveyed the apple crumb cake, lemon bar, and an expresso brownie. With a smile I reach for the cake.

This looks the tastiest to me. Have I chosen wisely?

You’ll find out what fate you have chosen– but you’ll have to wait. Be at this address at 8pm sharp. Enjoy the cake. Oh and one more thing. Get a lot of rest. Enjoy the apple crumb cake. I’ll know you changed your mind if you are late.

Kati scribbled an address on the napkin. Then, leaning forward she made as if to whisper in my ear. Instead, she bit it. Hard.

Expect the unexpected.

She laughed as she walked away.

My ear wasn’t the only thing that was throbbing. Eight o’clock seemed an eternity away. I had never been more attracted to anyone in my life.