This weekend is a writing weekend for me.  I intentionally took off from work and didn’t make any plans with friends so that I could really hunker down on the new play I’m writing.  I woke up around 11 and by 2, I headed out the door to Starbucks to start my day.  Once there, everything went smoothly for the first 10 minutes.  All the normal players were there.  The acne-covered counter guy who takes my order and has way more health insurance than I do.  The jeweler with her Iced Tea and cassette walkman.  The creepy hispanic guy who likes to make eyes at me over the Wall Street Journal.  And me.  About 16 minutes in, the fire alarm went off.  It was like a normal fire alarm only 20 times louder.  After about a minute it went off and I opened my laptop.  A minute after that, it went back on.  I walked over to the young man behind the counter.  The one with the health insurance.  And asked him what was going on.  He said:

“Yeah.  Ever since the World Cup started.” And then he walked away.  Like that was an answer I would find suitable.  Like because there are some guys in South Africa playing soccer, the buildings in New York City would obviously think they were on fire.

I collected my things and decided to walk over to the other Starbucks on Steinway.  About a half mile from my apartment.   I found a table immediately and set up shop.  Before I dove in, I checked out this crowd of new Starbucks folk.  What were these Steinway people all about?  There was the happiest family I have ever seen next to the coffee bar.  A business student across the table from me doing something in Excel.  A young, asian man in the corner reading the Times.  And then there was the the hot, foreign chick next to me.  She was talking on her webcam into a headset.

This last one I particularly noticed because she was so beautiful.  Skinny, fair skinned, and dressed in an East Village sheek cotton top, khaki shorts, and gladiator sandals.  Also she sounded very nice to whoever she was speaking with.  But I quickly lost interest in all my new peeps and started on my road to the Pulitzer.  After a couple of hours of solid writing, I took a breather.  I got up and ordered my second Frappucino from a clear-skinned, well-insured barista and then sat back down.  I was about to start on Scene 2 when I glanced casually to my left.

The hot chick was still there, and her computer was angled so that I could see her own image on her webcam.  But something was a bit strange.  It wasn’t on her face.  It was on her torso.  Hmmm.  Her cam must have just slipped.  Except that…was that?…is there?…is she?…is she stroking her boob right now?

Yes.  Yes she was. Aaaaand writing time was officially over.

She was faced away from me so I could, with a certain amount of obscurity, stare at her cam shot without her noticing.  But just to be sure, I switched my cell to silent and picked it up and took a fake call.  That way she would know that the person who could see her computer screen was definitely not looking at her computer screen.  I’m not a pervert or a lesbian.  I had no real interest in actually seeing how far this would go.  But I was DYING to see how far this would go.

I pretended I was on a business call to someone called Sylvia and Sylvia was sending me a sample of something businessy.  I typed loudly on my computer and said over and over again.  “I’m looking at it now!!  I’m looking at it on my computer right now!!  It’s very intricate so I couldn’t be looking at anything else in this moment!”

She unbuttoned her top button.  No Way!  But no boobs.  Just the teaser.  And then there was some shuffling.  What was going on?  I glanced down and noticed she had placed the camera on a chair just opposite her crotch.  At this point, I looked around at my other new Starbuck’s patrons.  Was anyone else seeing this???  There is a woman in our midst who is having internet sex at 4 in the afternoon in a Starbucks!!  Everyone else seemed oblivious so I continued with my fake phone call.

“I can have that to you by Tuesday.  Well, maybe Monday but I don’t want to promise anything I can’t deliver Sylvia.”

I couldn’t see was happening on the cam.  More shuffling.  She had taken the camera off the chair, but WHERE WAS IT?  WHAT WAS IT GOING INTO?  And then…the money shot.  Tummy and tits!  Tummy and tits at the Starbucks.  Nice tummy and nice tits too.  The camera panned down to her underwear.  How was she doing this??  Her shirt and shorts were still on!  It was really a work of genius.  And it was honestly pretty well lit.  She slipped a hand into her panties aaaaand I was done.

It was official.  I was seeing what I thought I was seeing.  And I didn’t need to see anymore.  Now, all that’s left is the why.  She wasn’t crazy.  She was well dressed and drinking a 5 dollar coffee drink.  She must have had an apartment.  I can see such activity being hot.  Like a very separated form of public sex.  Which was exactly what it was.  But…why the fuck have I been wasting so much time at that Starbucks around the corner from me?