9/16/01

All of Manhattan is out. We are stuck on this island like rats on a garbage barge, and the only thing to do is drink. The smell of burning lingers. Burning metal, concrete, bodies. People are sitting on stoops that are not theirs, waiting on corners, leaning against doorways. We are all avoiding going home, being alone.

I am standing on the sidewalk, waiting for TJ to finish his cigarette. We are headed to Lucy’s where Angela will meet us after she closes up at work. He and Angela think no one knows they are fucking, but I’m pretty sure everyone does. TJ and Crystal have had a thing for a little while too, but nothing exclusive. Crystal is a little infatuated with him, but who could blame her? TJ is a male model who just moved to NY from Texas, and is already up to his neck in pussy. He and I are just friends though. I’ve never been one to join a harem or chase after the guy everybody likes. I get mine. I don’t need to compete. This makes TJ and I cohorts in his eyes. He feels comfortable sharing his secrets with me because he knows I am not trying to fuck him like every other woman in New York. But with the events of the past week, everyone is trying to fuck everyone in a drunken frenzy of need and grief. TJ and I have increased our flirting level, and a couple nights ago he and Crystal and I slow danced at Pyramid, all our hands roaming and lingering. The lines are blurring. 

That smell and the yellow dust that settled down in the days following is becoming less like knives in the throat. Thursday was the worst, but now at least the fires are mostly out. People wear bandanas or medical masks over their mouths during the heat of the day to avoid inhaling loved ones. The air has been so acrid, we have all developed a cough and temporary asthma. I almost don’t mind TJ’s cigarette smoke.

“All my friends are dead,” I overhear as an unshaven man in a wrinkled blue dress shirt he has clearly been wearing for the last 5 days, pushes down the crowded block. He says this to a guy with tattoos of stars across his forehead and several lip and nostril piercings. This is a rare moment in time in NYC. A time when class and social status do not matter, and people band together. We just need each other right now. But in all fairness, he is probably buying heroin.

I feel I am uniquely prepared for this situation. A year prior, the year 2000, my 24th year, was the worst year a person could hope to have. In the span of a month I had a kidney stone, and wracked up thousands of dollars in emergency room bills, my father was diagnosed with leukemia and died, then after his funeral my apartment caught fire in the middle of the night, and I had to crawl out of the flames in my underwear. I have been tested in my resolve and my quick thinking survival skills. Tested in my heart and in my sanity. When I saw the towers come down, earlier this week, Iw as shocked, like everyone, but I did not fear. I did not panic. I simply hugged everyone around me a little tighter. It is all we have. Love. Affection. Each other. Now as I stand on the corner of 6 and A watching the sea of human grief before me, in all its different forms, drunkenness, free flowing tears, excessive laughter, outward joy, savage sexuality, I want to hold them all closer. All of humanity. 

We make our way to Lucy’s. Predictably the place is not full. This is why we come here. It might be the dingiest bar on the block, and that is saying something, but as long as it’s not ass to elbows all over the place we are happy. Lucy knows us. She smiles revealing a gap where her left front tooth would be. She pours us both well tequila shots and a draft beer. We toast and do the shots first. The beer we sip while we play pool. 

Angela shows up while we are halfway through a game. She introduces us to her friend from back in Australia, Mabel (another model, apparently Angela has a thing). She has only just arrived to the city a few weeks ago, and her parents are freaking out, calling her whenever they can get through. She isn’t afraid though, and wants to stay. This is a unique moment in history, she says, and she’ll get to say I was there when. I am finding her absolutely fascinating. She is funny and quick, and her accent is captivating, if not difficult to understand at times with the colloquialisms. I catch myself staring at her, just smiling. I suppose this is why she is a model. Beautiful things are easy to love. 

The night goes from Lucy’s, to Doc Holiday’s, to getting a falafel, to TJ’s rooftop. It is the four of us plus two guys who somehow attached themselves to us. Both levying for Mabel’s affection. The loser will have to settle for me, if I feel like it. So far she hasn’t made her pick, and it is nearly dawn. She doesn’t seem to care though. Genuinely unaffected, she rolls spliff after spliff and talks about Australia. The rugged red land where everything is poison, or spiked, or drops and bites you, or attacks you in the night. Her parents kept saying she would get shot coming to the states, but they couldn’t have imagined this. Everyone is silent for 10 seconds or so with occasional interruption of each of us coughing respectively.. We pass around the spliff one more time. The sky begins to light up slowly. The cloud of yellow over lower Manhattan turns a hazy green. We decide to go downstairs lest we disintegrate in the stark morning sun as it refracts through the low clinging smoke. TJ and Angela have disappeared. 

Back in TJ’s apartment, the sound of them fucking can be heard as soon as you enter the front door. We all notice and turn to each other and laugh a little. Quickly it is clear we are not going to interrupt. We are standing there at attention. Keenly listening to every grunt, every Yes Yes. The apartment is a “one bedroom” with the bathtub in the “kitchen” and the toilet in a closet. A thin wall has been thrown up between the “kitchen” and the “bedroom.” The door to the bedroom is ajar, but while the noise is unmistakable, nothing can be seen. Mabel pushes the door just a little with her foot, and we all look at her in shock. Only for a second though, we want to see what is happening.

With the two inches of space her kick gave us, we can see that Angela is on the dresser, knees in her armpits, while TJ is standing in front of her giving it to her proper. They look absolutely lovely, and I am transfixed for a moment. His body is more beautiful than I had thought. Lean and muscular, with wide shoulders and a tapered waist. Why am I so shocked that people who are models are exceptionally attractive? 

Mabel and I are blocking the guys, and they silently let us know they want to see too. We switch places with them and have an eyebrows only discussion about what we want to do with them. Neither one of us are into them, it seems, and we now just have to relieve ourselves of their presence, whilst not interrupting the coitus in the bedroom. She indicates that she has a plan. She taps them on the shoulder and beckons them to follow her. They no doubt think they are in for a rare treat, a red desert rose to be shared between them, and they are palpably excited. She leads them out the front door and gently closes it behind her. 

Alone, I immediately wander back to the view in the bedroom. Now Angela is getting it from behind whilst she is leaning over the dresser. Their bodies come together making the slapping noise I always love when I am in the same position. And wouldn’t you know, I like it just as much as the observer. I’m looking at TJ’s reflection in the mirror, and our eyes meet. He smiles and keeps going, looking at me.. My hips move back and forth in rhythm with his. I can feel an energetic orgasm beginning to rise. 

Then Mabel returns without the guys. I wonder what she said or did to get rid of them, but it can wait. She moves next to me at the door. We stand in silence as TJ watches us in the mirror. Angela sounds so cute swearing and coming with her accent. “Oh, Bloody Christ,” she says over and over. I have never heard anything quite so blasphemous. TJ is building up, getting really turned on knowing we are watching him. He slows down and slaps Angela’s ass a couple times, she howls, loving it. Mabel leans into the door jam, pushing her crotch into it lightly. She wants more. My sex begins to throb again, and the energetic orgasm arrises. I want to come when TJ comes. Angela is an endless sea of orgasms, but he will have one singular blast that will be the build up of the entire evening and this unexpected moment now. I can’t help it anymore, and press my fingers onto my clitoris outside of my clothes with smooth steady pressure. It makes me exhale with a slight moan. I’m gonna come already with everything that is happening. I think Mabel is to. TJ is certainly gearing toward it, and if he is not I am concerned for Angela’s well being. Everything is surreal. 

I don’t know if I should touch Mabel, even though I want to. The thought of it is exciting and frightening, but I don’t know how to act. I have never touched a woman like that before, even though  have seen it in movies many times. I don’t want her to think I am weird, but we are standing here watching our friends have sex, and masturbating, so how weird would she think I am, really? Shyness overwhelms me and I remain there pressing my magic button. Mabel has moved on from the door jam and has her hand down her pants. She looks at me with half lidded eyes, and encourages me to copy her. I do.

TJ looks at us both and pants, “I’m gonna come.” Mabel and I are ready and lean into each other for support. My face is in her small round breasts and I can feel her braless nipples on my cheek. She wraps her unoccupied arm around my waist and leans in to whisper encouragement for us all to come at once. I am already there and as TJ lets out a roar, the three of us, possibly four of us, come in synchronicity. 

Seconds later Angela is walking out the bedroom, naked, heading to the toilet. She screams when she sees us and actually says “Crikey” at the top of her voice. Mabel and I die laughing at this. 

“How long have you been here?” She asks.

“Long enough, mate,” Mabel replies, and winks at her friend, “looks like nothing much has changed with you, eh?” Angela laughs.

“I’m gonna wash up. Come sleep with us. There is no where out here except the bathtub,” she says. TJ is passed out in the bed. Mabel and I go in and snuggle on either side of him. He puts his arms around us, and sighs. We are spent, all of us. 

“Mabel, how did you get rid of those guys?” I ask in a sleepy voice.

“I told them it was time to leave.” Oh, of course. And they obeyed no doubt without question.

When Angela comes back she puts on a big t-shirt and snuggles on top of TJ. He is already snoring lightly. I’m beginning to drift off in his armpit as the room becomes bright with the light of day creeping in through the blinds. For now we are safe and cozy. When we finally awake it is nearing dark and the endless city night begins all over again.