Daniel watched people. It was a habit. You see, Daniel was a writer and he liked to observe human behaviour. He said it helped him reach a level of realism he had never managed to get to before, in the old days when he drank all the time for inspiration. He was unable to drink these days thanks to the doctor making booze blasphemous, but it didn't stop him watching others getting stewed.
On this particular day, Daniel wasn't in a bar however; he was drinking coffee in a department store restaurant. It wasn't one of his usual practices, but today was particularly cold. One wouldn't think so to look outside however because the sun was shining high in the sky, and this is another reason he decided to take his coffee in this particular store; it had a huge window with a great view of the sea.
The place was full of the usual sort of people who congregate in department store restaurants at around eleven in the morning. The all-day breakfast eaters and the three generation group of females shoppers: granny, mother, and daughter. Daniel had his eye on one particular couple who had taken their seats directly in front of his sea view. He hadn't even come here to observe people, it was their fault they were now being observed, he thought to himself, because they sat right in front of him. They appeared to be a couple, a man and a woman that is.
The woman was much younger than the man, by at least ten years, he thought; or at least is appeared to be so. She was tall, and she was still wearing a long black coat and a grey scarf with the label clearly visible at the front like a white medal. She had the full English breakfast. Her husband, or partner was a shorter than she, but clearly not as cold. He still had on his sweater, a terrible multi shaded brown thing, but he had chosen to drape his coat over the back of the chair. Husband only had a roll for his snack. A roll with one of those dreadful 'single' portions of jam; he was probably watching his cholesterol, thought Daniel to himself as he looked on. Daniel was doing the same thing himself and it wasn't easy at all; he felt for the man.
Neither of the two spoke to each other for the entire time Daniel was watching them. Now, let's get this in context. That might not seem so strange to the reader, but what must be considered is the amount of time Daniel usually watched people. Well, once he gets interested (usually in the first 30 seconds) he will not stop watching them until they leave, or he may even follow them; that's how bad it gets.
They continued to eat and say nothing. Daniel found this hard to believe because they didn't even comment on the view from their window; the sea looked beautiful. The sun was reflecting from its surface and it made it appear almost solidified, like set yoghurt or a moose. Perhaps it was this spectacle that silenced them both into awkward reverence. Some people just didn't appreciate stuff like that, he thought to himself. Then he began to guess what might have happened to make them the way they were on that particular morning. Someone could have died perhaps, or maybe they had agreed to divorce following an affair the younger woman was having with their gardener; no wait, he thought, that's a little too D. H. Lawrence. This man was no Clifford, and she was certainly no Lady Chatterley. It was much more likely that life itself had just beaten these two poor wretches into a submissive silence with each other. They perhaps had nothing left to say.
Daniel continued to watch them and drink coffee. He had nowhere to go. Twenty five minutes passed and still nothing was said. Then without warning the woman leaned across and whispered something in the man's ear. He didn't flinch, just nodded, and then they both started to collect their belongings and make a move for the entrance. Daniel was far too intrigued to let this go. They sat there saying nothing, and then she whispers to him and they leave; strange. Either he was some sort of submissive robot, or they were both secret agents. Daniel had an overwhelming desire to know which it was, so he finished his coffee, gathered his journal and pen and put on his jacket. When they left the restaurant he very nearly lost them before he began, but as luck would have it they both turned to go to the toilets.
Daniel didn't usually make a habit of waiting outside toilets but on this occasion he was very curious because they both went in to the same one: the gents. He gave it about thirty seconds and then followed them in, after all, he thought, he was man and perfectly entitled to go in. The inside of this toilet was very upmarket, much better than the ordinary public, precinct ones with half an inch of piss on the floor and holes drilled into the cubicles to stick your dick through; something he had often considered doing, just for the thrill of it. This place even smelled clean, and someone could eat their lunch off those floors.
Daniel looked around and couldn't see the couple anywhere. Curious, he thought, perhaps they went in the ladies and he hadn't noticed. He didn't want to get himself too excited here, but to begin with, he automatically thought they would be in one of the cubicles screwing each other's brains out, but then he rationalised whilst he pretended to wash his hands and look at his hair in the vast array of mirrors that would rival backstage at the London Palladium. They had more than likely gone into the ladies, and it was probably because one of them had something in their eye or something equally as dull. Being a writer really did make his imagination run riot sometimes.
He turned to leave the place, but then decided to take a leak before he went. He turned and entered a cubicle. He couldn't believe his eyes. This place was as clean as the outside. Perfectly, new-looking, beige floor tiles and gleaming white toilet, above which was a packet of seat covers of all things; this was the first time Daniel had ever seen a public toilet with seat covers. He pulled one of in curiosity and heard a faint 'Shhhhh," from the cubicle next door. It wasn't loud enough to be meant for him, he thought, no-one would need to concentrate on doing their number two that much. He flushed the seat cover down the toilet and opened the door. He closed it again, but stayed inside the cubicle and stood up onto the seat of the toilet under cover of the flushing sound; whoever it was next door would think he had gone. Daniel felt awfully sneaky, like some form of secret agent; memories of the latest James Bond movie filled his head.
He waited a short time and then peeked over the top of the panel between the two cubicles, and there they were, the quiet couple. They were kissing passionately. The man was looking over his partner's shoulder all the time as if someone were going to walk through the cubicle door any minute; despite the fact that it was quite clearly locked. Daniel almost fell off the seat of the toilet; he too was keeping his eye on the door, if someone were to catch him sticking his head over the top of the cubicles then he would almost certainly be reported and subsequently arrested.
Well if they were married, they were certainly not getting divorced, he thought to himself as he watched them explore each other's mouths with their tongues; unless of course this was a farewell session. Maybe that's the reason they couldn't speak; too much snogging. Daniel paid a little more attention to what they looked like now; it was amazing what a bird's eye view could accomplish. Strangely enough he noticed the man first. Later Daniel would ponder on this and believe himself to be subconsciously homosexual, and then rationalise that it was merely because he wanted to save the best until last. They guy had thinning hair, grey, with black streaks here and there. He must have been in his fifties, or perhaps even sixty. He was much shorter than her, necessitating her to lower her head to him in order to kiss. He had taken off his coat and hung it on the door hook. He was wearing a patterned pullover like the ones seen in the 'older man's' clothing section in those cheap mail order catalogues. To match it he had a pair of stretch trousers on with a crease down the front, probably Farahs.
His hands were what Daniel noticed next, primarily because they were groping his wife's ass. She had one of those beautiful asses reserved for eighteen year-old girls who couldn't fuck up their figure if they tried; unless they sat on their ass all day sucking down fried chicken and burgers. She too had put her long, black coat on the hook and she was showing off a wonderful figure. Her ass was enhanced by the long black skirt she was wearing. It was ankle length, and it would have been quite wavy if it were not for its weight. It was made of so much heavy material that it hung down tightly against her beautiful ass, really showing her shape. The guy's hand was cupping her lovely ass cheeks and lifting them up and down, testing the weight of them as though they were plump, ripened grapefruits.
Daniel watched in awe as he watched the flesh of her ass move in huge, man size handfuls, underneath her skirt. He could see that every time the guy lifted her ass and squeezed it, her skirt lifted a little higher from her ankles, exposing some black leather, high-heeled boots. The man's other hand had worked its way up, and underneath her top at the back. It was a thin knit, turtle neck, white sweater. As he lifted the back of it Daniel saw his first glimpse of naked flesh. He imagined what it would feel like to touch and stroked his on fingertips over the back of his hand in a desperate attempt to get near to a definition. He ducked down pretty quickly as the woman tilted her head back in pleasure as her man found a sensitive spot on her back.
When Daniel looked again he saw that she was pulling off her top, and her bra was loosely dangling from the inside of it also; the guy must have flicked it open when he was exploring. She leant behind her and hooked them onto the door. From Daniel's position her tits looked great, like peaks sticking out of her chest. He couldn't make out how far they hung down, only how far out they went, and these ones looked like they belonged to an eighteen year-old girl; very pert. Her husband pushed her back slightly and looked straight ahead, staring at her tits. They were just about at his level because he was so short. She moved forward and grabbed the back of his head. She pushed him onto her neck and he opened his mouth to begin kissing and sucking on her. Before long he had his head in her tits and she loved every minute of it.
