Sodomanhattan

The door slammed and Steven jumped out of sleep.  Autumn walked into the room with headphones around neck and her face glossy with perspiration. 

     “What’s up Lennon, you gonna sleep all day?”

     “You go for a jog?” 

     “I don’t jog, I run.  And don’t I everyday at the same time?  I’m jumping in the shower.  You should shave.”

     Steven rummaged his hands across the sharp stubble. 

     Autumn showered as Steven rid his face of hair. 

     “So when are we leaving for the Boogie Down?”

     “You know what I was thinking,” he said, carefully sliding the blade upwards on his right cheek under ear.  “I was thinking we’d both play hooky and just chill here in the City.”

     “But baby, you have school and don’t tell me all of a sudden you stopped caring one semester before graduation.” 

     “No, it’s not like that.”  He wiped the splotches of cream off his face.  “My lit class doesn’t meet today, it’s Friday and I’m in serious need of fun.  I need to have fun.  I don’t even know what that means.”

     “Well, hello there.”  Steven had entered the shower, wrapping his cold arms around her waist and smacking his body into her back.  He slid his hands down and his fingers penetrated Autumn’s opening.  She placed her hands on the wall in front of her and began to pant.  “Oh fuck Steven.  Faster, baby.  Oh yeah, right there.  Fuck.”  Steven crouched, just hovering over the white tub, turned his body around and began to massage Autumn’s vagina with his tongue.  At some point she turned off the shower and Steven continued to lick her until she laid on top of him and rode him until both climaxed within thirty seconds of the other. 

     After a quick clean-up shower, they were dressed.  Steven filled two small cups with cold water.  Autumn took her pill.  Steven looked down at the City, opening the window a sliver.  The wind smacked his tight, newly shaven face.  All was serene from the perch of the fifteenth floor throne.  Central Park bare branch trees the background for the scene of the new day unfolding.  The main actor, Steven Lennon, in a world he was enrolled in by the girl one room over.  A boy from the lower-class suburbs, never intended to see the sight from this apartment in this section of town.  The heroine placing slight amounts of make-up to an already gorgeous face.  The antagonists were all down there somewhere on the outside: His defeated, drunkard mother who helped her boy age beyond his years and held Steven in hometown; his cheating, deceased, drunkard father whose ghost could appear anytime to remind his only son of how one is always tied to their roots; a bitter, drunkard father of girlfriend who was on to him and was certainly holding the idea to remove him from the society he, perhaps, was destined to remain on the outskirts of.  The play was sobering from this balcony seat.  It was only the hero and heroine today, above the people who would see to their demise.  Above the sycophants and stereotypes and loneliness and people who wallow in another’s defeat.  The breeze attacked his lips and he opened his mouth, French kissing the air. 

     “You ready Lennon?”  He was.  They went out into the day without thought of return.

 

***        

    

     Into the unknown Friday, they agreed this would be a day of fun.  Nothing more, nothing less.  No expectations, no plans, no arguments.  They were going to do what they felt like doing when they felt like doing it.  Autumn epitomized this by saying, “If we feel like fucking in the middle of Times Square, we’re fucking.”  If one wanted something, the other had to oblige to allow that.  Steven could not remember the last time he woke up and had not planned the day by the hour.  ‘God, this feels good,’ he thought over and over.  Here he was inhaling the chilly early morning, wad of money in pocket, pretty girl on arm, most vibrant city in world.  Steven was ready to enjoy himself away from the battered, bereaved masses in Yonkers.  Away from the lives like those that rode the two bus.

     The day turned into afternoon with nothing substantial to show.  They were having fun but nothing extraordinarily exciting.  Just the way Steven liked things to go.  As dusk descended in a creepy fade, his senses were awakening.  He had a physical energy not known to him in years.  Just being, doing whatever comes to mind, was like an elixir.  His legs were hitting a frenetic stride, Autumn tugging on his arms like a jockey pulls on a galloping race horse. 

    

     “Can you slow down, God.”

     “No arguments.”

     “Shut up.”  She stuck her tongue out at him.  He wrapped his arms around her waist and she pretended to go limp.  “I need to eat something or I’m seriously going to pass out.” 

     “Okay.  You feel like Italian?  We can order a bottle of wine, we’ll get ...”

     “Whatever!  I really could care less if you feed me a dirty dog or goddamn caviar.  Just get me food or I swear I’ll strangle you Lennon.”  Steven kissed her cheek.  “You think I’m kidding?”

     “Follow me little girl,” he said taking her by the hand.  “There’s a nice Italian place up here on Eighth.” 

     “Really.  And can we walk fifty miles an hour too because, just so you know, that’s what I call fun.”

     “Okay! Oi Vai!”  Steven took hold of her and ran for a few paces.  He looked back at Autumn, a face on the verge of break.  “I’m sorry.  I love you.”

     “Yeah, yeah.”  She bit his upper arm.  “Feed me!”

    

     The restaurant was nearly empty.  Their table was in the far corner in the back of the restaurant, with one large candle on their table the only light in their area.  Waiters in the distance were silhouettes, tables and walls too.  The placement of candles gave a summer feel, like sunset after long day.  The walls were painted in thick mahogany, chairs and tables a similar color.  Steven stared at Autumn, her left face invisible by shadows.  Her right side an orange hue of flickering flame, the gold hair turning auburn.  She looked as her name implied.  Her blue eyes were gone in the darkness.  She was devilish and he was wanting to sin.  A fantasy took him over for a brief moment.  He would kiss her, throw her on table, pull her black dress pants to ankles, push legs apart so knees glide on his hips, and make love to her as waiters and waitresses stood in the outer shadows applauding.  He would get up, bow and wave while saying, ‘Graci, Graci.’  Autumn rubbed her foot on his leg and they joined hands. 

     The waitress wore a tight button-down white blouse and a tighter black skirt.  In her left hand two glasses, her right hand a silver metallic pitcher.  Her hair the color of a raven, her smile complacent. 

     “Bonjourno,” she said slowly.

     “Hello,” the couple said in unison.

 

 

     Small talk ensued, mostly between Autumn and the waitress, Isabella.  Her strong, sultry Italian accent was a compliment to her voluptuous body.  Large round breasts and bronze colored legs that shone.  Steven smiled and watched, taking in the sensual beauty of the waitress who was pouring water and leaning her hand on the back of Autumn’s chair as she did so.  The shadows made everything seem romantic, Steven unsure if it was the lighting, or in true reality what he was perceiving to be happening in the moment.  This breathtaking waitress, Isabella, seemed to be in a flirtatious discussion with the couple.  Her compliments were followed with a head tilt, a seductive smile, a hand to Autumn’s shoulder. 

     This, of course, could only happen in Manhattan.  Steven and Dan one time talked about how Manhattan girls spoil simple outer borough and suburban guys.  They throw off the beauty standard.  Any girl considered average in Manhattan could rule beauty contests on the streets of Boston, Cincinnati or anywhere else Steven had been to in the country.  Everywhere you went in Manhattan, amazing looking girls popped into vision.  From the Latina charms in upper Manhattan, to the dolled up wives on the Upper East Side, down to the subtle magnetism of innocense and freshness the Village girls kept from their small-town childhood.  There were the stone faced midtown career girls and sexy SoHo whored-out clubbers.  After a while, you expected to pass a hundred girls on the way from one place to another that were very pretty, but all bled into a quick look and look away. When you stopped, followed with eyes and shook your head muttering a damn, you knew it was a worldly beauty.  Steven repeated the word again and again while sizing up Isabella’s florid lips and howling thighs where the black skirt met flesh.

     She was at least in her late twenties, maybe thirty, no more than thirty-three.  Steven was absorbing the looks Autumn was throwing across the table at him.  It was a mesmerizing scene, like a front-row seat to an improv play, where you felt like jumping in at any time, but preferred to sit back with daft smile and let the play act itself out.  The conversation kept up as a teen in all white spread bread, a pan of oil, dishes and silver wrapped in heavy red napkins.  Isabella took the couple’s order and with one more suggestive smile left them to talk. 

    

     “What are you thinking?”  Autumn was sliding her lower lip across the front of her upper teeth.

     “What am I thinking?  What am I thinking?”  He was being sarcastic but in a sense completely honest. 

     “Okay.”  She let silence and two sips of water pass before asking again.  “What are you thinking, Steven?”

     “I’m thinking that I’m glad we went for Italian tonight.” 

     “Was she flirting with me?”

     “Was she flirting with you?”  He threw a monosyllabic cough.  “Flirtation works two ways.”

     “No it doesn’t.”

     “Of course it does, it takes two to flirt.”

     “That is so untrue.  There are guys that flirt with me everyday.  Are you telling me that I was a participant in their flirting with me?”  She raised her eyebrows.

     “Do you flirt back?” 

     She tucked her jaw into her neck and sat open-mouthed and eyed.  “What do you think?”

     “Like I know what you do when I’m not around?”

     “You’re serious?”

     “Flirting is not a crime, hell, I do it every night at Revellese.  I mean my intent is never to act on who I am flirting with, but...”

     “Whoa, whoa, whoa.”  Autumn leaned forward as Steven remained erect with right hand on table, left hand facing inward on left knee.  “You think I’m cheating on you?”

     “No, no, no.  I don’t think you are.  Relax.  Stop getting all panicky.  You’re pissed off?”

     “What do you think?”

     “Let’s back up.  You asked me if I thought the waitress...”

     “Isabella.”

     “Isabella.  If she was flirting with you.”  Steven looked at the waitress at the bar, wiping off the bottle of wine Steven had ordered.  “All I’m trying to say is that if a person comes up to you.  Starts talking to you out of the blue and you start to feel there is a ... a let’s say, sexual tone going on.  You know like, ‘so you waiting for your boyfriend?’”

     “Okay,” Autumn squinted her eyes in focus. 

     “Okay.  So you now have two choices.  You either continue the dialogue with the same tone.  You go, ‘actually I just got out of a relationship, blah, blah, blah.’  Which means you’re now flirting with that person.  Or you opt for the other path.  You thwart the come on.  You say, ‘I’m a big lesbian pal, take your penis elsewhere.’  Right?”

     Autumn chuckled and her demeanor fell relaxed.  “You’re right.  But that’s what I’m saying, was the waitress flirting with me?”

     “Isabella.”

     “Ha, ha.”  They held hands in the center of the table.  “Was she?”

     “You were flirting, yes.”

     “What do you mean, I was flirting?”

     “The plural you.  Both of you.”

     “There’s no plural you.” 

     “I’ll give you a plural, you.”

     “You’re a dork.”

   

     Isabella interrupted the debate by placing a bottle of southern French cabernet down by Steven, slowly pouring their glasses full of the purple wine. 

     “You two are in love.  I can tell.”  Nervous laughter ensued. 

     “How can you tell?” Autumn gushed, her toes breezing on Steven’s leg.

     “I can tell, you know?  When people walk in, you watch.  You say hello.  You look at eyes, you just know.  You know?”

     “We’re actually brother and sister,” Steven said poker-faced. 

     “How do you say here, yeah right!”  Everyone chuckled real laughter.  “If you two are brother and sister, your mother might be mad you hold hands the way you do.”

     “You got me.  I tried to make a joke but, as you just observed, I’m not funny.”

     “You are sweet.”  She stood next to Autumn, who sat back with a relaxed, entertained demeanor.  “He is a sweetheart, yes?”

     “Sometimes,” Autumn shot. 

     “Sometimes?”  Steven put on a sad face. 

     “I’ll keep him.”

    

     Isabella left and soon returned with the entree dishes.  Every few minutes, light banter would be interrupted by Isabella.  A wine glass refilled, more pepper on the pasta, inquiry as to satisfaction on the food and drink.  With each visit, a cute comment or wink. 

     Their candle blew out.  Isabella walked over, lit a match and from over Autumn’s left shoulder, bent down to light the candle.  She stayed hunched over, giving Steven a clear view to benevolent breasts.  Her right hand rested on Autumn’s shoulder.  She looked at Autumn and quickly at Steven.  With a casual tone and wide grin she spoke. 

     “You’re girlfriend is very beautiful.”

     “Thank you, Isabella,” Autumn said letting her left hand clasp Isabella’s slightly shoulder rubbing hand.  “You’re beautiful yourself.”

     “Graci.”

 

    

Candle flames flickered furiously, shadows dancing on the walls and silhouettes like dark spirits moving languidly behind Autumn’s outline.  The girls talked about which salons they went to, where they shopped for accessories, which part of the city they live in.  Steven sat back, almost breathless.  He was unsure of what was occurring, only knowing he was caught up in it.  He was not listening attentively until he saw Isabella move away from Autumn to a position equally in between the diners. 

     “You are going out later on?”

     Autumn looked at Steven with a confused snarl.  “I don’t know what we’re going to do.  We don’t have plans do we?”

     “No,” Steven chimed. 

     “So we should go out.  You show me around?”

     “That’s sounds fun!  Steven, what do you think.  Let’s show Isabella around.”

     “Show her around?”

     “I get here two months ago.  Everyone I meet is Italian.  Everywhere I go is Italian places.  I love my country, okay.  But I feel like I come from Italy to Italy, yes?”

     “I know what you mean,” Steven nodded. 

     “So you show me New York?”

     “Does that mean I don’t have to leave a tip?”

     “Steven,” Autumn snarled shaking her head.  “What did you want us to show you, like what do you want to do?”

     “What you want to do, I will want to do.”

     “What should we do Steven?”

     “Well, if someone at this table was not so young, I would say let’s hit the Upper East Side bars.”

     “So coked out, steroid freaks could grope us to the backdrop of way too loud Justin fucking Timberlake songs

... no thank you, very much.”

     “Just trying to think of something, hon.”

     “Well think harder, babe.”

     “Okay, schmoopie.” 

     “Isabella you have to excuse Steven.  He may seem cute and charming, but he is one hundred percent dork.”

     “No,” Isabella said with niceness.  “Actually, I don’t know what that word means.” 

     “We’re just kidding around.”  Autumn looked at Steven for a second, their eyes asking the other what they

were thinking.  Steven could not detect an answer.  “Do you like good red wine?”

     “Of course, it is, how do you say, in my blood.” 

     “My father has a really extensive collection of red wines.”

     “From where?”

     “I have no fucking idea.  I don’t know where he got the idea that I actually enjoy hearing about the ‘subtle nuances of northern Napa merlot compared to southern Napa merlot.’  But whenever he is walking around the house, there he goes thinking he’s a connoisseur and I could give a fuck.  I don’t know the difference between wines besides one is red and one is white.”

     “Okay.  That is so, how do you say ...”

     “American.”  Steven said and the girls laughed. 

     “I guess so.”

     “If you wanted to come to my place after you get out of here, my father’s gone.  We can open a bottle or two and just hang out.”

     “Is okay with you Steven?”

     “Yeah.”

     Isabella asked again.  “Yeah?”

     “Absolutely.” 

     “Well you are my final table.  After you, I go.  So maybe I go get changed now, yeah?”

     “Okay.  We’ll wait for you.  Yay!  This is going to be fun.”  Autumn clapped her hands together and sat with her feet on the chair.  As if she was in the comfort of her own home.  Steven noticed how Autumn could do things that were far from good etiquette, but something about her made every thing she did classy and chic.  She defined what was appropriate because that is who she was. 

 

     Isabella brought the check and Steven shoveled the cash into the black book.  Autumn left for the bathroom, Isabella to turn the cash in and get changed.  Steven sat alone watching the shadowy figures sitting and standing.  Everyone was an outline.  There was no definition or depth to anyone.  People were basic figures.  Fat or skinny, tall or short.  Here was Steven watching it all in silence.  One of the shadows moved closer to him and only until she touched his hand could he be certain it was Autumn.

    

     “What a great place, isn’t it?”

     “Phenomenal.  I came here once a while back, in the afternoon, and it was nothing like this.  It’s very meditative.  Almost like a little bistro that is sort of like it’s own world.” 

     There was silence for a few moments.  “She’s beautiful isn’t she?”

     “Who?”

     “The waitress, hello.”

     “Isabella?”

     “Yes.  Isn’t she so exotic.  Her face, her voice.”

     “Yeah, she’s pretty.”

     “She’s beautiful.  It’s okay, you can call another girl beautiful in front of me.”

     “You’re beautiful.  She’s pretty.  I think you can only call one girl beautiful at one time.  And that girl is the only beautiful girl until someone else comes along and gets that label.  So you’re beautiful.  She’s pretty.”

     “That’s sweet.”  Autumn raised his hand and kissed it.  She let her tongue creep out and lick the palm.  Steven slid his pointer finger onto her lips and after three grazes on her soft lips, she stuck the finger in her mouth and twirled her tongue around it.  “You excited about tonight?”

     “Should I be?” Steven’s voice was a hushing breath of erotic want.

     “If you want what I want, you should be.”  Autumn moved her hot mouth onto the middle finger, her foot resting on Steven’s hardening penis.    

     “What do you want?”

     “When I was a little girl,” Autumn was moving her mouth faster.  “My daddy always said, ‘what Autumn wants, Autumn gets.’  I like that idea.”

     “Uh huh,” Steven’s breaths were quick, audible.  Nobody was near them so he was able to let go. 

     “You know what Autumn wants right now?”

     “What does Autumn want right now?” 

     “You don’t know?”

     “Please ... tell me.” 

     “The waitress.”

     “You gonna let me watch?”

     “Watch?”  Without letting Steven’s hand go, Autumn stood up and sat on his lap.  Their noses were touching.  “Baby, I’ll let you join in.”

     “You’ll let me join?  What does that...”

     “I’ll let you fuck her.”