Tracy Wilcox wove through the stream of pedestrians, intent on catching the next subway and arriving early to the Mid-Manhattan branch library. She hoped to make a good first impression without seeming to have tried too hard, a precarious balancing act that brought on two changes of outfits before the normally self-assured young woman felt ready. She'd settled on a black vintage dress hemmed short enough to expose her long legs and give a peek at the tattoo on her right thigh, a typewriter with two birds pulling at a sheet of protruding paper. An observant eye would notice the word "Writer" on the page, more of an aspiration than a declaration since Tracy still saw herself as a novice.
Her motivation in joining a writers group had been to get help with her craft, but you never know. The potential to meet single literate men certainly exceeded "Petals," where she spent her days selling flowers to brides or men who already had a love interest. At the very least, she hoped to meet some friends who shared her passion for writing.
Once seated, she realized she'd forgotten to bring a book and cursed herself for stepping onto a train with no shield against unwanted attention. Sure enough, she immediately noticed a guy in a Yankees cap pass all the empty seats in the car to make his way over to her. She pulled at the hem of her dress in an attempt to hide the tattoo, an all-too-easy target for conversation. But the effort was pointless, and as the guy took the seat next to her, his opening line was, "Nice tat."
"Thanks," Tracy muttered as she took out her manuscript.
"Watcha studyin'?" asked Yankees Fan.
"A piece on modern capitalism as seen through the lens of feminist-philosophy," Tracy replied crisply, knowing if she admitted, "My own book about an aging hooker trying to earn a living," she would never get rid of him.
"Oh, an intellectual," he grinned, revealing a chipped front tooth, his face far too close for Tracy's liking. "I like smart girls."
"Oh really? Me too." Already impatient with him, Tracy went straight to the lesbian card.
The guy drew his head back, confused for a moment before a crooked grin grew across his face, "Oh yeah? Do you bat for both teams?"
"Nope," Tracy answered simply, hoping for a swift and clean end to the conversation.
Yankees Fan shook his head and mumbled "Muff diver" under his breath as he moved away, but Tracy let the nasty slur glance off her -- a small price to pay for solitude on a New York subway.
* * * * *
William gazed sullenly at the three stacks of resumes covering his desk and sighed. The piles were divided and labeled with sticky notes reading "No," "Hell no," and "If it comes down to that..." He was not surprised by the number of applicants, for he had expected hordes of bibliophiles to make a mad rush for the highly coveted position at the venerable Mid-Manhattan branch of the New York City Public Library. What disappointed him was that their accompanying cover letters -- every last one of them nondescript and forgettable -- betrayed a distressing lack of initiative and imagination.
He glanced at the fourth stack on his desk, consisting solely of a manuscript Ray had given him. It was the writing of a friend of Ray's, and while William seldom had patience for neophyte writers, anything was preferable to the mound of banality otherwise cluttering his desk. The work of this unknown author suddenly cast an irresistible allure.
A few minutes later, William looked up and rubbed his eyes, surprised to find that the reading left him with a pleasant tingle.
Who is this author?
He went in search of Ray, whom he found in the foyer passing time with his girlfriend, Alicia. He was dismayed to learn that Ray's writer-friend was actually in the library at that very moment attending a writers group. After admitting how much he was enjoying the reading, he excused himself to go back to his desk and finish the manuscript before the writing group concluded. He wanted to meet the author who poured out her soul in such a fresh and captivating manner. That gave him twelve minutes, and at exactly 8:00 p.m. he made his way back to the foyer. That is when he first laid eyes on her.
Standing with Ray and Alicia was a striking young woman with jet black hair cut in a short bob, wearing glasses and dressed stylishly in a short black dress with red boots. She was speaking animatedly -- effervescence is the word that sprang to William's mind -- and she was showing a lot of leg. Colorful tattoos adorned one arm (not a plus in William's mind) but those legs...
As he got closer, he could hear their conversation. "So they didn't read your writing yet?" Ray asked.
"No!" Tracy answered, "I am supposed to just observe the first time. Next time I will critique other people's work, and then I get to submit mine!" She did an excited little dance by stepping in place as she added, "But just listening to them gave me some insight into some changes I need to make to improve my story."
"I wouldn't change a thing," William said.
All three turned their heads towards him. "Oh hey, William," Ray said, then turning back to Tracy, "This is my friend William I told you about, the librarian. The guy I wanted to read your Andy-Vera Story." Turning to William, he gestured toward Tracy saying, "William, meet my friend Tracy."
Tracy stuck out her hand and asked with seeming nonchalance, "What did you think?"
Behind the chunky black glasses were bright blue eyes that demanded a decision of him: maintain the reserve his normal, professional manner of speaking was designed to project, or give in to a sudden, uncanny desire to be authentic with this woman. But the decision stubbornly refused to make itself, and he became aware that the conversational lull must be broken somehow. "Um, I thought it was... well, there is so much to say... I... I... I don't know where to start..."
"What?" Ray looked confused.
There was an awkward pause before Alicia interjected, "Well, you did tell us you were impressed."
"Um... yes, well, yes... very pleasantly surprised, and... well, I would really like to talk to you about it in more detail," William answered.
"Well, hey, why don't you call me or email or something? When you're not busy at work?" Tracy pulled out one of her business cards and handed it to him.
William looked at the card with the business name "Petals" and asked, "Did you draw the tiger lily yourself?"
"I did. How'd you guess? is it obvious?" Tracy laughed.
"I am in the presence of a true artist, and am -- uncharacteristically -- at a loss for words," William said.
"That's okay, William. A librarian who can identify specific flowers can be forgiven a momentary lapse in wit." Tracy winked at him, "I didn't mean to put you on the spot. Why don't you just email me when you get a chance? I'd love to hear your thoughts on my writing."
William smiled at how effortlessly he had obtained her contact information and that he now had the opportunity to collect his thoughts before engaging her in conversation. He smiled and said goodbye.
* * * * *
Vera opened the door for Andy and apologized for her appearance. "Sorry, Andy, something came up with my brother and I have not had a chance to change yet." She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt as opposed to the sheer baby-doll nightie she usually greeted him in.
"I like it. You look so different. I can undress you; it will be like unwrapping a present. Besides, I think you look great," he said sincerely.
Vera laughed, "Oh, you are so easy to please, Andy. You are too kind to me, really. I have not even showered yet today, so you will have to excuse me for a minute."
"Oh, you don't have to shower if you don't want to... unless..."
"Oh no, you are my first client today, my only client, aside from some online stuff that did not even require me to undress. Would you like a drink while I shower?"
"I'd like to shower with you."
Vera turned and looked at him. Andy hoped he had not overstepped a boundary, but if he had, he knew Vera would only laugh it off and say no. She looked at him for a moment, and then smiled. "Wow. That would be a first. Now that I think about it, I am a little surprised we've never ever showered together. Did you know it has been ten years, Andy?"
"Really?" Andy feigned surprise. It had been ten years and two months, but he felt like he should not let on how aware he was, that he should be more blasé. "I hadn't realized. Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure because yesterday was the eight year anniversary of my brother's accident. I can't believe that either situation has gone on this long." She laughed, shaking her head as she went to gather towels from a hall closet.
Andy did not expect it to go on this long either. He first started seeing Vera when she worked as a call girl for an escort service. It was two years after Andy's failed marriage, and after a hiatus from and reentry into the dating scene, he discovered that he absolutely sucked at dating and really did not want a relationship. But he missed having sex, so he called the service thinking it was just a temporary solution. The first few escorts had been exciting, but Andy always felt like the women secretly loathed him and he felt creepy when it was over. Until Vera. Either she was the best actress on the planet, or she actually liked her job. Now Andy knew her well enough to know that both assumptions were true.
"Is there an extra charge for showering?" The thought had just occurred to Andy that he did not have any extra money. In fact, things were especially tight since his work started forcing furlough days.
"Andy-sweetie, have I ever charged you extra for anything? You get the same rate as always. Unless you want me to put a leash on you and give you a spanking! That'll cost you, mister."
"Uh, no, thanks." Andy laughed, "That doesn't really work for me."
"Well if you change your mind, I'm sure I can find a collar in your size," she joked. "I'm kidding of course. You don't know how refreshing it is to have regular sex sometimes."
"Oh, I think I understand. But I am a little hurt to hear you refer to me as 'regular.'"
Vera laughed and said, "You know what I mean, silly," as she began undressing him. "I look forward to Tuesdays, you know that." Andy smiled as he dug his hands into her hair. He was crazy over her hair, especially since he had so little himself. It seemed Vera had enough hair for three people, dark curly hair that got bigger as it got longer. Vera's exotic appearance confused him when they first met and he asked if she was from South America or Portugal. She had olive skin and dark curly hair, but a sprinkling of freckles across her nose that gave her a youthful appearance in spite of her age. "Half Chinese, half Irish," she had explained, resulting in an exotic look that had most people guessing Hispanic. Andy was not exactly sure of her age, but knew she was over forty. Her waist had thickened over the years and her large breasts hung lower than they once did, but that sweet freckled face broke his heart each week as she looked up at him, as she was doing now, on her knees in the bathroom. The water had not even been turned on, as Vera had obviously decided to take Andy in her mouth first.
Tracy was jarred back into reality by the sound of someone coming into the shop and it took a few seconds to register the familiar face in front of her. Alicia, Ray's girlfriend, gave a friendly, "Hey Tracy!"
"Hi, Alicia, how are you?"
