Last night I stayed out late on the streets, sleazing from Max's to CBGBs and then to the Crow's Nest on Avenue A to shove quarters into the illegal slot machine. A loser. No one wins on that thief. I ended up at a go-go dancer's apartment. Carol Smith and I snorted coke, but I restrained from fucking her, worried about a soft dick and coming back to Alice smelling of someone else, then remembered that Alice was staying at her friend, Susan's loft. Carol gave me $20 to suck my dick.
"I don't care you're not hard. I just feel like it."
After I came in her mouth, she gave me $20.
I thanked her and left wanting more. Sex not money.
Bodega workers were opening various businesses on First Avenue in the soft gray before the dawn. Darkness was surrendering to a rainy dawn. THe streetlights had yet to shut off. Feet slapping on the concrete behind me. Too close and I looked over my shoulder. A white boy. Brad, Clover's pseudo-brother/hustler and I asked, "Have you heard from Clover."
"Not since she left for Germany." I had received two postcards. From Berlin and Poland. "How's it going?"
"It sucks. I had to walk here from 53rd and 3rd?"
"No action." The Loop on 53rd and 3rd supported boys with money for sex from older men. Brad was near-sighted, a blessing for hustlers when shadows don't hide the ugliness of tricks. "I stood untaken by the few creeps like no one wanted to get fucked or sucked or fuck me."
"Tragic."
We walked together to for a few blocks, taking the turn on East 10th Street. Even the sinse dealers on the corner had retired for the night.
Brad asked for money. I wasn't giving him anything.
"Sorry, I don't have."
"Can I suck you off?"
"No, I'm not into that anymore."
"Too bad, I'm really good."
"I'm sure you are."
I left him on the stairs and climbed three flights to my empty apartment. No Alice. Not even her scent on the pillows. She was really leaving me.
Later
I phoned my baby brother Michael in Amherst to wish him a belated Happy Birthday. He answered with a groggy night. After my evening I must have sounded the same, because he was unable to recognize my voice at first.I warned him about Mark Amitin.
"He said you two had spoken. He's not to be trusted."
"We spoke about the theater a little, because he talked at length about sex. He never mentioned you, but he was creepy about my staying with him and I wondered, if you had sold me into sex slavery."
"Not a chance. If you come to New York, stay with me." I was pissed at Amitin, but I was surprised at his backstabbing intrigue. Other than theater his only love is sex.
"Don't worry, I can take care of myself."
"I know."
As a young man I had wondered about Michael sexual orientation, which was confirmed by coming home to my parents' house and discovering him dragged out as much younger version of my mother.
"Happy birthday. See you at Christmas."
"With Alice?"
"Who knows."
I hung up remembering holding him as a baby in my arms and thought about Alice and I having a child on the way. Anything was possible
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