Two Tales of a City- Pt. 32


“Well, hello.  Are you lost this morning?”

Oh, how I prayed the lovely voice belonged to the friendly and pretty girl who worked at the Hotel Edison.  I slowly turned around with the sincere hope of greeting a new friend.  To my dismay, it wasn’t her.

Standing before me was a beautiful woman who appeared to be of Latin American descent.  With long raven hair and ruby red lipstick, she was a stunner.  Her hourglass figure was draped with a form-fitting dress that stopped several inches above her knees.  Her legs were divine and ended at a pair of heels that matched her dress.

“Uhhhhh, what?” was all I could muster.  This was a new experience for me.  I had a difficult time getting comfortable enough to talk with the pretty girls in high school, and, no offense to them, this twenty-something beauty was far prettier than anyone I knew.

She made the sweetest little giggle and flashed a big smile that showed off her pearly whites.  “I asked if you were lost.”

I was starting to compose myself enough that answering straight forward “Yes” or “No” questions would be a snap.  “No,” I answered confidently.

“What are you doing out here at this time of day, honey?” she asked as she sidled up next to me, her smile a radiant distraction.

Honey?  HONEY?  My brain was starting to sizzle like a fried egg.  I knew what to say but couldn’t make the connection to my voice box.  Nothing upstairs was working right.  I just kept looking down at her and her ample cleavage which she wasn’t shy about showing.  That’s when I noticed that certain things downstairs were in proper working condition.

“Oh, no!” I squeaked out at an inaudible level.

“What’s that?” my lovely companion asked.

“Oh, um, no, I’m not lost.  I was out all night with my friends and we got back late and they fell asleep but I couldn’t so I went for a walk and then I noticed the Empire State Building so I decided to stop and admire it and then here we are.”  I took a deep breath to keep from going dizzy.

She giggled that lovely giggle again.  “What’s your name, honey?”

“Todd,” I told her.  By this time I had found it much easier to lie about my name with someone I would never meet again.  I had wasted too many minutes of my life repeating “Thad” or explaining that it wasn’t short for “Thaddeus” or answering any other questions about my name.

“Hi, Todd,” she cooed.  “Nice to meet you.”  She gave me a coy look that drove me crazy.  “Where you from?”

“Indiana,” I answered.  I worried that I sounded like a dope.

“Well, Todd from Indiana,” she said with a now deeper and sultrier tone than before, “I think you’re rather cute.”  She stuck her left arm in my right and cozied up next to me.

Now, I’ve long felt that I was of above average intelligence.  I basically skated through thirteen years of school working only as hard as I needed to get mostly A’s and a few B’s.  Had I decided to, I felt that I could have been a straight A student.

That was book smart.

When it came to street smarts, I was on the wrong side of the curve.  Oh, I talked a good game but didn’t have the skills to back it up.  Up until this moment with this woman I had no idea what I had gotten into.

I looked at her again.  She was beautiful, dressed to the nines, and walking the empty streets at 6:00 a.m. on a Friday morning.

I looked at myself.  I was showing the signs of a new pimple coming on and my mane of hair was a mess. I was wearing an old pair of tennis shoes, a Q-95 baseball-sleeved t-shirt, and a pair of faded blue nut huggers that did nothing to hide what I was feeling at the moment.

She thinks I’m cute?

It finally hit me.  Oh, shit!  She’s a prostitute!

My mind snapped back to reality and began searching for a way out of this mess.

It was too late.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s