[nothere]

I happened to run into Anne, now near 60, at a memorial service last March. That brought a certain event back to mind. It was unique enough for me to remember it well. After rerunning it in my mind, a tense situation now seems humorous. So, at the risk of boring everyone, I thought I'd post it.

In the late 90's, I freelanced for an under funded alternative lifestyle quarterly that lasted for 5 issues. My contributions were about the influence of new technology on our daily lives. One article was about the potential of webcams to become a powerful social voice. As we know, webcams quickly became the medium of choice for voyeurs and exhibitionists. I began a follow up article that included interviews with cam exhibitionists, mostly by email but a few in person. The magazine folded before my follow up article was published. Ironically, I inadvertently became involved in my own webcam incident while I was still writing the article. Some here will probably doubt it, but it's a true story. For me, context is important, so it may run long.

Anne was a 40-ish paralegal. She bought an old demo computer from a friend at his spring clearance sale. The computer came with Windows 98 and Lotus software, a dial up modem and an old webcam that required the drivers to be loaded each time it was used. Anne had never set up a computer on her own. My friend asked me to deliver and set up the unit in Anne's home for a $50 fee. Anne would pay by check.

Anne was a casual friend of my ex-wife. They shared a hair dresser and occasionally played tennis together at their fitness club. Her hair was a short pixie style for easy care. An avid tennis player, she was very fit. Anne was married to a lawyer who was a partner at another law firm. She had just separated from her husband. He owned the house and had children from a previous marriage, so she was the one who moved out. Hence, she needed her own computer.

Anne rented a one room former office above a travel agency on a six month lease. It was 30ft wide, 24ft deep, 10ft high with wood floors, brick walls, ceiling fans and florescent lights. The stairs were on the right, her platform bed was on the left. A lavatory in the middle of the rear wall had a small hand held shower added. A nearly useless utility kitchen was to the right of the bath. The front and rear walls each had four 3ft wide by 7ft tall colonial windows that were spaced evenly. The sills were 12in above the floor, a common feature in old buildings to maximize light. Anne's furnishings were sparse. Many of her things were still in boxes. Most of her furnishings were portable: card tables, folding chairs, a portable clothes rack etc. Other than a reading lamp near her bed, she used the overhead lights. There were no curtains. A treadmill that kept her fit for tennis was near a window by the stairs.

My appointment was at 8 PM. Anne was running late. She had just come home and poured herself a glass of white wine from a large jug bottle. With her sloppy grammar and her unsteady steps, I knew that she'd been drinking, making me wonder if tutoring her would be futile. She wanted the computer on a card table between the two front windows near her bed. I said that she needed curtains. She said that they were too expensive for a temporary home. She just turned off the overhead lights to undress. While I was setting up, Anne took a quick shower to re-energize herself. She emerged from her bath in a loosely tied short white terry cloth robe. It was obvious that she was not wearing a bra.

I showed her the computer's features and connected the dial up modem. I then showed her how to install the webcam drivers from a floppy disk. Once everything was working, we went online. When she asked about webcam groups online, I told her to explore Yahoo's user groups. I casually told her about the article that I was writing regarding webcam users. She asked several questions about it.

Skipping forward, we ended up watching WebcamNow. She was amazed that normal looking people were sitting naked around their computers, talking to complete strangers from around the world. Her first concern, being a paralegal, was if it was legal. Otherwise, Anne barely spoke. After 15 minutes, she needed a bathroom break. She made me a cup of instant coffee and poured herself more wine.

Anne admitted that she had been drinking more than usual. Earlier, she met a girlfriend at a bar after work. The friend worked at her husbands law firm. She told Anne about a cute receptionist, hired by her husband, who wore mini skirts and low cut blouses to work. Modesty was not her strongest attribute. The men clients loved her.

The office gossip was that her husband might be having an affair with the girl, but nobody really knew. Her husband's first wife had caught him cheating, so there was a history. It was his wandering eyes that led to Anne's confrontation with her husband. In a moment of jealous fury, Anne moved out.

As she spoke, tears were streaming down Anne's cheeks. She feared that her husband did not find her desirable any more, that she lost her sex appeal. She told me that a few days ago, she spoke to my ex-wife when playing tennis at their health club. My ex told her to make the husband jealous. Wear revealing clothes that attract male eyes. My ex had always attracted attention that way. I advised her to be wary about my ex's advice because Anne had a professional reputation to protect. My ex was a full blown exhibitionist without an off button. Her public behavior had damaged our family.

I was concerned about the tone of the conversation. Anne was a client. I had no interest in her marriage issues, especially if my ex was involved. I told her as much. Anne asked me to please be patient. She filled her glass and walked back to the computer. Suddenly, Anne turned and opened her robe. She asked me if she had a nice body. It was an awkward moment. She had obviously been thinking about her own desirability since talking to her friend. Her attitude was impersonal, she just wanted an honest opinion. She was bare breasted but was wearing white nylon bikini panties.

Anne did have a nice body for her age. Her largish breasts sagged a bit, and there was a small tummy bulge. A trimmed pubic hair shadow showed through her white panties above well toned tennis player legs. However, not only was I not even slightly aroused, I was repelled by her behavior. I felt like I was in a trap. I said that I did not want to be used to make her hubby jealous or to be accused later of improper behavior. I was worried enough to write a note about showing her how to go online with her webcam, mentioning the $50 fee. She signed it.

Once Anne was online, I was part of the furniture. She was obsessed about testing her sex appeal with anonymous strangers. I helped her create a WebcamNow user account. When her name showed up on the active list, she joined a popular chat room. Once she knew that she had viewers, she took a deep breath, unsteadily stood up and removed her robe. After a rash of positive comments, she stripped her panties off and tried to fulfill viewer requests for poses, bending over, spreading etc., all while standing up. She never smiled or indicated that she was having fun. She then masturbated while squeezing her breasts. After about 20 minutes from signing in, she was finished. She sat down to read all of the comments. They were very positive. Then, with a grim expression on her face, she used her panties to block the camera lens. Throughout her WebcamNow session, she never said a word.

She had almost forgotten that I was there. I was just the hired help. Hugging herself, she slouched onto the edge of her bed, slump shouldered with an open mouthed blank look on her face. I shut down the computer and handed her robe and panties back to her. I also turned off the overhead lights. I asked her to look out of the window. Did she see the sidewalk across the wide street? She nodded yes. Then anyone on that side of the street could see her. I was concerned about her attracting stalkers. There was a **** problem in our downtown area at that time. She just shrugged.

She suddenly rushed to the bathroom and threw up. When she returned, she put on her panties and robe. She was silently crying. Was what just happened my fault? I introduced an obviously impaired lady to WebcamNow. I found myself feeling sorry for her. While I was thinking about it, Anne suddenly spoke up. Staring at the floor, she begged me not to talk about what had just transpired. She had to process how she felt. She was confused. She didn't really care what I thought of her, but it had to remain our secret. I agreed, although I said that I might generally mention it in my article. When Anne wrote my check for the fee, it was for $100. Hush money? After assuring Anne that I was available if she had computer trouble, I left. It was a surreal evening.

When I left her studio, I walked across the street and looked at her window. I could see Anne, with her robe open at the waist, lying on top of her bed. Her panties were visible. I called a sobered up Anne the next evening and reiterated how visible she was from the street. She was actually indignant that I called. She thought that my looking in her window was creepy and that I should mind my own business. Go figure. I guess that there is a difference between sober and sloppy drunk.

There was another Anne situation, without the drunken drama, that was kind of cute given the context. If anyone cares, I might follow up.