There are many stories in the Naked City - but who cares? You are more interested in those who are naked in the city, aren't you?
Distaff And Datstaff - Displace And Datplace was the working title for a possible book which will probably never be published. I had made notes over the years from the sights and sounds that I had observed and heard perched upon a bar stool. The notes were anecdotes of the adventures and misadventures of the human animal, on the prowl before closing time.
From an all but forgotten cigar box, I began to study them the other day. Inspired by the subject matter of several blogs of late, namely drinking, I thought that since they never made it to manuscript, maybe I could post them here. As I was sorting through them, I realized that some of those stories were just too funny to be stashed away. Some of them have been scrawled onto napkins, scraps of paper, and the margins of some newspaper.
This will be the first in a series of anecdotal tales of the desperate and the not so desperate, of the lucky and the not so lucky, and of the memorable and not so memorable exploits of real barflies. In part from memory and in part from these notes, I will try to entertain you with their stories as they were related to and/or witnessed by this author.
The names and places, of course, have been changed to protect the guilty. The innocent have been left hanging out to dry because it is they who had divulged most of the secrets about to appear before your eyes. As such, I may or may not be so innocent myself. I am at least guilty of telling, and if I have anything to do with the kissing parts, I might even be counted among the protected guilty. That's my position and I am sticking to it. It is always possible that any one or more of them might someday stumble across this site and this posting.
John was not anxious to fly to New York for a weekend Dividend Convention. He had tried to beg out in lieu of someone else, but to no avail. His wife was pregnant with their third child and he didn't relish leaving her to deal with the two and four-year-olds in her condition. Quite a few of us in the office, however, were well aware of his propensity after work to seek out some "strange." I don't think he was prepared for the upcoming strange weekend.
....Although the events of that weekend and the "dividend" he received are hearsay, there was a certain amount of physical evidence that put any doubt to rest. He gave the juicy details of his adventure that weekend to the closest of his office friends, who had sworn to secrecy. They kept that pact until a gathering at a favorite watering hole that same evening.
....It seems that he met a blonde bimbette (an under 21 bimbo) from Brooklyn at the convention. Their chat led to lunch, which led to drinks, which finally led him to her place, a flat just across the river from the Wall Street convention. He spent all of his free time with her. When he brought up the subject of the one striking feature he admired about her, she promptly asked him if he would like the honors. You see, blondie liked the comfort of a close shave. He must have been thinking "Wait till those guys back in Boston hear about this!" She laid back and allowed him to lather and to shave the fresh stubble. (I must say, she sure had some courage to allow him near such a sensitive area with a shaving razor.)
....Why, I don't know, and I'll bet he didn't know either at the time, but she convinced him to allow her to return the favor. She began with his chest and abdomen before shaving his arms and armpits. She then used the razor like a lawn mower over the entirety of his legs. He told his buddies that she was withholding all sexual activity until she was finished. He claimed that he was both too drunk and too horny at the same time and was unable to refuse her demands.
....He said that he was erect all the while she was lathering and shaving the areas of his groin. (I must say, he showed a lot of courage to allow her near such a sensitive area with a shaving razor.) Save his head, his body was completely defoliated as he turned his attention to the more pressing matters at hand. He claims it was the wildest and best sex he had experienced in a long time.
....Perhaps not wanting to appear that he did not rule the roost at home, it was only later, again with his closest buddies, that he discussed the difficult time he had to hide his new "smooth body." He had to dress and undress away from his wife's eyes. The fact that she was far enough long in her pregnancy, provided him with a built-in excuse to avoid contact with her.
....I don't know how he did it, if in fact he did manage to pull it off. The physical evidence mentioned above, was confirmed by his bare arms and chest, and as far as I know no one asked for any more proof.
....For several months, John had to endure the sobriquet "Fuzzy Wuzzy," because he wasn't very fuzzy was he?
.This ends the first installment of these hormonal anecdotes. I counted at least 24 notes from that cigar box. That means there are many more to come in future posts. But as a teaser, here are some of the scheduled possible titles: Bat Man, The Park Bench,
The Robe, Smokin' In The Boy's Room, Window Sill Thrill, I Feel a Draft, The Coat Hanger, and Puppy Love.
....Hmm, I have an idea. Why not let you readers pick which title(s) you would like to be included in the next post of this series? If there is enough interest, I will gladly comply. Otherwise I'll choose them myself. (Blows raspberry!)
Disclaimer: Please don't think that I condone the activities of these individuals. Those showing despicable traits such as John above, are to be considered understood. The fact that they may be bastards and bitches is not the purpose for these postings, but rather just my attempt to uncover the humor even at the expense of the inculpable.