Apartment 6B The Tipsy Fashionista
(An original story Copyright 2013)
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Intro: Don the degenerate doorman 'helps out' drunk fashionista Emily.
It wasn't the first time Wednesday night that I stood and stretched my tired body to help prevent my muscles from cramping up on me. It was a quarter to eleven and my double shift was mercifully drawing to a close. Ivan, the regular doorman during the three to eleven shift had needed to take a few days off and as was often the case in the building some of us had filled the breach with me taking this particular shift.
Stan, the doorman who'd be relieving me to work the graveyard shift, had already arrived and was in the locker room changing into his uniform. Stifling a yawn I headed outside to get a sniff of the pleasant spring air. It was a relatively quiet night in the heart of Manhattan and in spite of the seasonable May temperature the street was mostly deserted with only a few stragglers out and about.
I was just about to return to the lobby and in fact my hand was on the door handle when I heard a car pull up in front of the building. Turning I saw a yellow taxi had stopped there and it seemed as if the driver was engaged in an animated conversation with the passenger in back. Waiting out front in case it was necessary to hold the door I watched as the driver appeared to be pleading with the passenger until he threw his hands up in the air in apparent frustration. When he observed me watching he climbed out of the cab and headed in my direction.
"Hello sir," he said with a heavy accent, "but maybe it is possible that you help me. You work in this building, no?"
"Yes I do. What seems to be the problem?" I inquired.
"My passenger says she lives here in building but I can't get her out of car. She give me the address and I drive her here but she is just sitting in back crying. I think she is drunk, I don't want to call police but what else can I do?"
"You did the right thing in coming to me, my friend," I told him as I walked to the cab and looked inside. "How much does she owe you?"
"Eighteen dollars sir."
"Here you go. Can you print me a receipt while I help her out? For tax purposes," I explained as I handed him thirty dollars.
"Thank you sir. I get for you right away."
I then turned my attention to the passenger huddled in the back seat who did indeed live in the building and I'd even held the door for her when she left earlier in the evening. She was subletting an apartment on the 6th floor from a long time tenant who was abroad for a year on business. Opening the door to the back seat I stuck my head inside after first removing my doorman hat.
"Good evening miss," I said in my most soothing tone, "do you require any assistance getting out?"
"Huh, what?" she replied as she turned to look at me and her face was a mess.
Don't misunderstand, she was a very striking and attractive young woman but at that moment her eyes were swollen and puffy and her mascara had left black streaks down the length of her face. Her designer blouse had what appeared to be a big wine stain on it while her short skirt had ridden up so high I caught a tantalizing glimpse of her black panties. Normally she was very put together with not a hair out of place but it was plain that something had upset her badly for when she'd left a few hours before she had seemed in high spirits. She stared blankly at me for a moment when sudden recognition lit up her pretty, tear stained face.
"I know you, don't I? You opened the door for me tonight, right?"
"That's correct miss and now I'm here to hold it for you again. You've arrived home."
"Oh, did I? Okay," she replied after which she wiped the tears from her eyes then struggled to get out of the car.
I took a step back to give her some room and at that moment the cabby handed me the receipt which I took with a nod and slipped into my pocket. Fortunately for her I turned my attention back in her direction at that instant for no sooner had she clambered from the cab than she stumbled over the curb. Springing into action I caught her in my arms before she could execute a perfect face dive.
She had let out a shriek which was cut short when her body collided with mine and my strong arms encircled and drew her into my chest. It felt so nice having her soft, pliant body pressed against mine that for a moment I just cradled her. We remained like that until I realized we were standing on the street where anyone could see. My hands moved to her shoulders where they steadied her body before releasing her.
"Are you all right Miss?" I asked her, my voice dripping with concern.
She took a minute to answer as she took stock of herself to make sure everything was okay before then blinking a couple of times as her big, blue eyes met mine and she considered what I'd said.
"Yes I'm okay, but only because of you. Thanks for catching me, if you hadn't..."
"Well no worries since I did. You ladies have to be careful when you wear such high heels," I told her in a matter of fact tone as my eyes fell upon the very high Jimmy Choo heels that adorned her seemingly perfect feet.
"Oh those, yeah they're high, I think almost five inches. But it's probably because I had too much wine to drink tonight."
"Really. Well let's get you into the building then so there won't be any more problems tonight. May I offer you my arm, Miss?" I asked solicitously.
"Okay, but I can trust you right...sorry I don't even know your name. I suppose I should though, I've lived here for three months now."
"No need to be sorry Miss. My name is Don and yes you may trust me for I'm here to help," I told her as I guided her to the front door.
It took a bit of doing to hold the door open while still steadying her but I managed to accomplish this and get her inside the lobby before Stan managed to get off his lazy ass to hold the door. He saw the condition she was in and raised his eyebrows and all I could do was shrug helplessly in reply as I assisted her toward the elevators.