I’m sitting in Starbucks, working away, feeling pretty comfy on the plush sofa sipping a frappacino. I do this on a daily basis now. (There’s the reason for my new avatar)
Sitting across the tiny round table from me, curled up in an arm chair, is a Very Attractive woman, in her early to mid-thirties. She was here yesterday as well–same place, same play. For hours. mp3s playing, apparently dozing, but a soft smile curl on her lips, and every few minutes a glance, a direct gaze, sometimes catching my gaze. Ok, I’m smiling and looking too. I’ve got a girl, I’m not interested, but I am a bit of a flirt and she’s damn attractive.
Few minutes ago she strolled back from wherever, and peered curiously over to see what I’m so diligently working on. Few minutes ago I glanced over a caught sight of the large rock on her ring finger. Damn! What’s she doing flirting with me? Bored married woman, I’m thinking.
Usually, it takes a brick to wake me up to a woman’s interest. If I’ve noticed, she must be interested. I’m not… gotta be a good lad. But still, an innocent flirt is fun.
So, what’s the call?