He slouched against me with his cheek on my right breast in the shower pointing to the wine glass in my hand that we had shared. He gasped, "It took only 500 mg. You're next in less than two minutes."

As he slid down he clawed at me like an angry cat. I felt dizzy and found myself falling and the wine glass shattering before I hit the tile wall with my head and everything went mercifully black.

But that was six months from now and we had been married for two, so I guess I have spoiled the plot and you don't want to read any more, do you?

You do? Okay.

I had newly arrived in Manhattan from nowhere, Midwest, bent on making my way in the city. Maybe a modeling career, knowing that I might have to go naked or more to get a shot at the big time. In the meantime, I was carrying my college savings of $4900 safely in my belly pouch with my suitcase still stored in a locker at the bus station where I had arrived earlier that morning.

Manhattan was so fascinating that I just walked the streets amid the crowds. I had never seen buildings so tall or people dressed so fashionably and rushing everywhere as though they were late for something. It was still early in the morning and I'd had breakfast at the bus station so I didn't have a care in the world. Just walking around and looking up to see hawks chasing pigeons, to my delight. 

But then, a rude young man bumped into me. I looked down at his dyed blonde hair and electric blue eyes for a moment and he was gone. I looked down again and my belly pouch was missing!

I was a sprinter in high school track. So, when I saw what direction he ran, I ran after him and caught up with him within a block. This was no touch football, so I tackled him on the street and we both got skinned up a bit on the pavement as I slapped his face until it was red and he held up my pouch in defense so I could grab it back.

"Why did you do that?” I yelled at him, as a small crowd gathered round.

"I'm hungry and don't have any money. I just saw your pouch and took it."

Someone in the crowd said, "Should I get a cop? Call 911?

I naïvely said, "No, if this guy is just hungry, I'll get him fed."

"It's your funeral," the guy said.

The crowd dissipated as I helped my attacker up. He was thin and street hardened, but his eyes fascinated me and his sleight-of-hand in getting my pouch that was securely fastened around my waist to keep it from being stolen. Some girls just can't resist danger, can we?

I asked him what his name was and where he was from as we walked down the street looking for a restaurant where I would buy him breakfast.

"I'm Rory. I came from Kansas City a year ago to be a songwriter for Broadway. But the competition here is fierce and I ran out of my savings two months ago and had to give up the flat I was renting. I can't go home because I had stolen much of my savings and am not welcome back there. I've been living here on the streets learning pickpocketing from the pros just to eat and find a place to sleep at night."

"Thanks for leveling with me. I'm Becky. From the start I had an intuition that you were here to do legitimate work like me. But I have no qualms about that. My parents wanted me to go to college to be an accountant or something. But while I have my good looks, I thought I would try to break into modeling or acting."

"Good luck with that. This town is filled with wannabe models and actresses. If they don't go home they end up as whores or on the streets like me. Or worse, druggies. Nameless corpses in the morgue."

"My, aren't we cheerful… Is that what I can expect for breakfast conversation?"

"Just stating the facts ma'am." They both laughed at his lame joke.

A sidewalk restaurant that Rory was familiar with appeared ahead. And they found a suitable table in the sun. A waitress, dark skinned, young and beautiful, came quickly to the table, eyeing me as though I were competition and said, "Your usual, Rory? And what does this little lady you picked up want?" Tapping her pencil stub against her notepad nervously or angrily.

Rory sheepishly answered, his face turning a bit pink. "You know I'm broke. She picked me up, Rose, so you'll have to ask her what she's buying for me."

I sensed the tension and had a bit of jealousy creeping in even though Rory had unabashedly mugged me a few minutes before. "I'll buy him his usual, whatever that is, and more if he wants it, since he's starving from the way he looks. I'll have coffee, a small glass of juice, one egg sunny side up, and toast. No hash browns or other sides."

That sent Rose scurrying off inside while it demanded an explanation. Rory had the good sense to fill me in.

"I dated Rose a couple of times. She's one of those wannabe actresses and models I told you about. She's been here at least five years and gone to countless auditions. Only landed a few bit parts in off Broadway productions. Waitressing keeps her alive. She only likes me when I have money to spend on her. Definitely not my type."

"Your type! Have you become a gigolo dependent upon women stupid enough to buy breakfast for you like me?"

I started having my doubts about this pretty boy's ability to be dependable. Someone I was hopeful of finding in the big city to keep me out of trouble with my impulsive ways. My high school counselor told me that. I always made good decisions, didn't I? Was this guy just another impulsive act on my part? Too many questions. Only time would provide the answers.

Lost in my thoughts, it didn't register right away when Rory responded. "No way. Three or four women who have come to me have wanted me to support them. What did you do, watch that old movie, Twilight Cowboy?"

Shaking off the bad thoughts, I laughed. "How did you know I saw the movie?"

"Didn't everybody?"

That broke the ice and we started chatting civilly. Started asking him where I could stay and what I needed to do to look for a job and how to get into auditions like Rose. All the while I was scanning him and what he was saying nonverbally was more pleasant than what he was saying in response to my questions. In my own impulsive way I was beginning to like the apparent honesty beyond Rory's stoic blue eyes, and the body of this pickpocket that had tried to rob me less than an hour before.

When we finished eating, I gave Rose a generous tip of 20%.

Rory said as we rose from our chairs, "Let me give you a tour. Show you my Manhattan."

We got on the subway and then took ferries to Staten Island and the Statue of Liberty. It was a blast, him talking about "suffering from altitude sickness" when we were in the crown looking out over the water.

I told him, "You need to write a song about this." He agreed.

Back on the island, with Rory deftly using the subway after getting me a pass, we  went to the top of the Empire State Building, Carnegie Hall, Rockefeller Plaza, Tiffany's, where he sang me that song about a moon river that melted my heart and told me that he would, "Buy that diamond necklace in the window for you when I get rich."

I knew it was in jest because there was no way that I would ever wear anything like that except in a modeling shoot. He knew and I knew it. But I was on the best date of my life and we both were thoroughly enjoying it.

Along the way we bought a sidewalk hotdog for lunch and made it all the way down by subway to Battery Park, Wall Street, and a 102 elevator ride to the One World Trade Center's observation room and glass floor, which was disappointing. We weren't outside the building and only look down on the floors below.  

But Rory had a cure for that. We hurried on over to Hudson Yards and took the elevator to the Edge just at sunset when the air was still except for the sound of gulls far below lofting up, and the dramatic light show in the clouds to the west as the sun died slowly. It was so romantic I kissed him.

After that, foot sore and sunburned, we returned to a sidewalk café in Greenwich Village and listened to jazz until we both were dozing from all the excitement and I asked him, "Do you know a hotel around here that we can go to?"

"Most hotels of any class won't take cash, only credit or debit cards. We can crash with my friend Barry, who's been letting me stay there until I couldn't help him with the rent and utilities and he kicked me out last week."

"Looks like I would have to pay him something for us to stay and I'd like a little privacy for my first night in Manhattan."

"I get what you mean. There is a hotel nearby that I think will take cash. That is if you don't mind the occasional ugly looking pimp guarding his women. There are some nice rooms that are well furnished at the top for a reasonable price, except by the hour." He chuckled. I got his point.

Thankfully, it wasn't a very long walk. A surly looking man holding a cell phone to his ear guarded the unobtrusive entrance to the hotel… "F-ing this and f-ing that" loudly as we passed. Rory waved at him that went unnoticed.

Inside in the lobby were three lavishly dressed guys lounging around, showing enough gold to announce their importance. The female clerk that looked like she had seen better days took my $50 bill for the night on a top floor semi-suite without any room service.

On the elevator when we reached the top floor, a scantily dressed, and overly made up woman got on with a man in a service uniform. He definitely appeared to be her John, looking like he got off work and stopped by on his way home to a bitchy wife. Her perfume followed us down the hall.

The spacious room with a little living room off to the side and a beautiful bathroom looked like it never had been used. We went to the window and I gazed out over the city of lights to a great view. Once again, I couldn't help but kiss him. We found our way to the bathroom, out of our clothes and into the bathtub for two. Once again, being impulsive. But I couldn't help myself.

Once we washed off the sweat of the day we headed for bed and made love like we were born partners. He certainly knew what he was doing because it thrilled me to the core. I told him that I wasn't a virgin, but my high school boyfriend was clumsy and I'm glad I made him put on protection before he made me bleed for the first time.

Rory was so different, slowly bringing me to ecstasy and then, pulling out before anything happened that we both would regret. Showering me with his manly seed that tasted as good as it looked and felt. I was in love but tried not to tell him. I think Rory knew. The way he talked afterward, so gently and kindly until we went to sleep, made me know he was for real.

We lounged in the room while we waited for our clothes to dry that I had washed the sweat out of from the day before. Getting hungrier by the minute. We ended up putting them on while still damp to go downstairs and grab something to eat.

At another sidewalk café I told Rory, "I don't think I can afford a hotel like that every night. Any suggestions?"

"I agree. We probably could get back into my old place with cash. The turnover there is great and that Jewish woman that owns the place will have a short memory of me if we have cash."

"Okay, no more touring. Will you help me carry my suitcase and protect it from snatch and run thieves like you?"

Rory laughed. "It's a deal. Let me show you the way."

We took the subway to the bus station, picked up the suitcase and took the subway back uptown to where Rory's walk up was. As expected, the landlord was sitting next to the steps under an awning to keep the sun off her aging wrinkled skin, sipping on lemonade with the ice long gone. Something that she did daily on good days to make sure that she collected the rent from those entering and leaving.

Those who owed rent knew enough to avoid leaving or entering their apartments when she was at her station. Occasionally, she would take her private elevator to her top floor apartment to refill her lemonade and deposit the money she had collected. But the neighborhood knew that if anyone tried to rob her, she would send some thugs to get it back and it wouldn't be very pleasant getting caught by them.

"Hello, Mrs. Rosenstein, how is your day going?" Rory cheerfully called out as we approached.

"It was going good until I saw you, schlepper! You got what you owe me?" Expecting nothing but sweet-talk with that sweetie he was with wanting to ride rent-free. She scowled.

"I want to pay you what I owe you and pay you two months in advance for the two of us in apartment 301. I believe that one's available?"

"You got cash?" She did some calculation on a pad of lined paper and told him how much. I was surprised. Not as much as I thought it would be.

"Yeah." Rory began digging in my pouch without asking me until he had the right bills and promptly paid her.

Seeing the money, she finally smiled and tore off the corner of the page writing "301" on it along with her signature. Handing it to Rory, she said, "Take this to Arnie in 101. He'll give you the key. Two, if he's got 'em.

We got the keys from Rubinstein's nephew on the first floor and walked up the two floors to our apartment that was on the front of the building above Arnie's. The good news was that it was on the street and had lots of big window light as well as plenty of room and well used, but serviceable furniture, including a queen size bed. And the mattress wasn't worn out and smelly.

We could look down on the street action. Downstairs, on the street, it was a short, two block, walk to Central Park.

The bad news was street noise and light at night that would keep us awake without earplugs. But it was better than looking out at a brick wall next door. The first thing we did was shed our clothes and try out that mattress that turned out to be very comfortable while doing the deed.

Another shower together after, and finding some shorts and a top for me to wear, we were ready to head out onto the street again for some other necessary stuff. Like going to a bank and depositing the $4000 something that was left of my money, picking up a checkbook and a Visa card along the way.

Going to a local pawn shop, Rory saw a tambourine that he liked and I bought that for him. I picked up a late-model laptop for my job search at half the price of a new one. Rory assured me that we could use the Wi-Fi in the building of his friend Barry for $25 a month. He had a cell phone with his stuff that he had stashed in the basement after Barry threw him out. Luckily, the two duffel bags were still there when we checked.

By that time we were super hungry and ate outside another restaurant. In the evening, we took a walk in Central Park. I was beginning to think that New York City was one of the most romantic places for young couples to be, ever. Wondering where Rory would take me next. But I also soberly realized that my money would not last, and that we had better get real, real soon. We stopped at a deli on the way back to the apartment and picked up groceries. The start of that reality. We both needed a job.

That evening, Rory got out his guitar and started playing and singing some of his compositions for me.

I told him, "You have a great voice and I like the way you sing. Have you ever played on the street?"

"No, I felt like that was too much like begging."

"Let's try it tomorrow in the subway. We can use that old fedora of yours for them to drop money in and I'll dress provocatively to get the onlookers to stay and listen while they watch me playing that tambourine with you, showing a little leg. What do you say?"

"Sounds like a good idea. I haven't tried it. We'll have to watch out for the subway police or other acts that may have that same place staked out as theirs. We'll see…" He didn't sound encouraging.

To be continued in Part 2…

Copyright 2022 © Ronald W. Hull

6/12/22