In the darkness I made out the bed, the little cabinet, the chair, and the mirror that stood like a sentinel waiting for me. I’d already removed my T-shirt and was unzipping my pants when I heard Mom walking around. I clicked my light on.
“Oh, you’re in,” she mumbled, as if to herself. “I thought that was you. Have a good night out?”
“The usual, Mom,” I answered, clicking my light off again as I heard her go into the bathroom.
I sat in the armchair and watched my dim reflection as I gently stroked myself. I heard Mom go back to her bedroom and get into bed. I stretched, then put my hands on the chair arms as I watched my dick. It was standing up, desperate for a jerking-off, which I wouldn’t give it. The beauty of resistance was just that. Not jerking off and cuming when you desperately wanted to, like a punishment you’d given yourself, but you delighted in resisting, anyway. Definitely masochism. I loved sitting there, getting hotter and hotter as I let my erotic imaginings permeate my being. Ejaculation would be beautiful!
Maybe an hour went by, maybe longer, as I thought about Sissy and Tonya. I smelled smoke. That’s smoke, for sure!
I bolted up, flipping on the light and saw that my room had filled with smoke, and it was quickly getting thicker. I jumped up and bolted to Mom’s room; the smoke was even thicker there.
“Mom! Mom, wake up, fire!” I shouted, shaking her. “We gotta get outta here, right now!”
Mom grabbed her robe and my hand, pulled me out of the apartment. We could hardly see on the landing for the smoke. Pips’ door was shut “You go down, Mom,” I said, shaking her hand off. “I’m going to get Pips, we’ll be right behind you.”
Mom looked at me and started coughing. “Get who?”
“Mr. Phillips,” I corrected myself. “Meet you outside,” I said, and bolted to his door.
Mom ran down the stairs, coughing. The thick smoke was making me choke as I opened Pips’ door.
The apartment was even smokier than the hall, but I held my arm to my face, breathing into the crook of my elbow, gagging really. I ran into the kitchen; no one there. In the bedroom I saw Sissy on the bed, probably passed out, and Tonya lying next to her. I knew I couldn’t pick Tonya up, but Sissy was lighter. I had my arms around her before I knew it. I picked her up and ran out of the room, gagging and hardly able to breathe, but making my way down the stairs, floor after floor. It seemed to take forever, and the other tenants shoved and cursed me as they tried to get out, too. I heard a fire truck blare as I stepped out of the building, gagging, my face running with sweat and tears. I tried to get farther away, get through the crowd, when someone took Sissy from my arms and put a blanket over her, and another blanket on my shoulders. I realized we were both naked.
“Matka Boza, synok!” someone gasped (oh, my God, son!), but it wasn’t Mom’s voice. I blacked out.
I came to on a gurney, almost buried in Mom’s arms, being cradled and cuddled as she cried. I struggled to sit up but Mom held me down.
“Thank God, you’re all right!” Mom shouted. “Thank God, sweet Jesus!” More tearful weeping and crying.
Sissy lay on another gurney close to me, her mom, bigbreasted Sophie, the Polish cashier from the diner crouched at her side. It turned out Sophie’d been working late and had gone out onto the sidewalk to see the fire, then saw her son being carried out. Sissy’s real name was Joseph, or Joey, I remembered. Sophie sneered at me as if I’d caused the fire.
“Matka Boza,” she said over and over, now and then glaring at me and mumbling curses in Polish until they took Sissy off in an ambulance.
I finally managed to get Mom enough off me so I could sit up and watch the firemen. They were going in and out, and two fire hoses streamed into our building’s top floor. I learned later that the fire had started on our floor, in Pips’ apartment. The firemen said the fire had started in the bathroom, where they’d found an old man naked. He’d been smoking, and had dropped his cigarette onto some greasy towels; they’d smoldered, then caught. The old man had inhaled too much smoke and they couldn’t save him. Asphyxiation, they called it, choked to death. And they’d found a big-breasted, black transvestite passed out on the bed and pulled her out in time. Poor Pips. They buried him in a pauper’s grave somewhere in Long Island, but I always wondered if he’d died holding onto his dick. At least it had made him happy.
They took me to Bellevue along with Sissy and Tonya, but we went in separate ambulances and didn’t see each other while we were there.
They kept me overnight and let me go the next day; my breathing was good enough by then. We weren’t allowed back into our apartment until late that day. The smell of smoke stayed for weeks.
“All faggots in that building,” I heard strangers say as they passed our building after the fire. “Yeah, must be a cool, hot place.” They smirked as they went their way.
The summer’s heat eased and the days got cooler. And the cool weather brought out the neighborhood boys. They taunted and jibed at me whenever they saw me, calling me sissy names and hissing and throwing out kisses. They’d heard about the fire and how some naked faggot had carried a naked sissy boy down the stairs. I always squirmed. But I didn’t know why.
“Carry me out, too, you sissy,” they shouted. Kid Paulie, who’d wanted me to set him up with Sissy, was the bitterest of the lot when I ran into him in Tompkins Square Park.
The fall and winter went by and summer came again. I was stealing my way through the Lower East Side, trying to avoid all the bullies when a vaguely familiar voice said behind me, “long time no see, eh, Vinnie?”
I turned and saw a young lady in a short skirt and a Vneck blouse that showed off her flat bosom. She winked and smiled at me. I almost shot off in my pants. It was Sissy Godiva!
“My God, is that you?” I cried, going up to her. “Haven’t seen you in months!”
She laughed. “The one and only,” she said, pulling her hand away from mine and reaching for a cigarette. “How you been, sweetie?”
I shrugged. “Surviving, but a lot of good that does me,” I looked her up and down. “Looks like you’re doing pretty good, yourself.”
“What, this?” she exclaimed, glancing down at herself. “I gotta look good when I go to work,” she said. “I work now, and they think Josephine is a girl’s name, which I suppose it is. A girl is what I’ve always wanted to be, anyway, so it worked out very nicely, don’t you think?”
“Wow, that’s great,” I said. “But you always dressed up so pretty, man, you were hot! I mean, as a girl you were.” I blushed. “What kind of job is it?”
“Oh, boring dumb secretarial work. It was pretty good at the start but now all I do is type and yawn all day.” She mimed a wide yawn. “And I make too many mistakes,” she shrugged, then giggled and took my hand.
“Been there long?”
“Nah, about two weeks. Think they’ll get rid of me any day now, anyway, it’s too stupid and boring,” she yawned for real this time. “Plus I don’t think they don’t like me.”
“Where is it, uptown? Downtown?
“Not far, 23rd and Madison.” I nodded, feeling myself blush. “You know that old big building with the clock tower? I’m on the twelfth floor.”
I nodded again, and reddened still more. Mom was on the fourteenth floor.
We were silent a moment. “Hey, I’m sorry about Pips going like that.”
She shrugged. “I know, but he was an old man, an old jerking-off geezer,” she shrugged. “Anyway, it’s not my fault he had heart trouble. We each go our own way, we live and then we die, but life goes on.”
I looked at her and shook my head again. “Man, you’re hot! Hard to believe you’re getting away with it.”
She grinned and winked. “Yeah, I know. But we all get away with whatever we can, right?”
I grinned back at her. We were standing very close.
“And what about Blowjob Tonya, what happened to her?”
She nodded. “Bad smoke; she was in Bellevue a few days
and then her Grandma put her on a plane back to Georgia. But she came back pretty soon after. Can’t keep a good fairy down, right?”
I looked at her. “Georgia? She was from Georgia?
“Uh-huh, but I’m sure that by now she has sucked a whole lot of New York City cocks, some three or four times.” She laughed. “As soon as she could walk again, she was giving blowjobs to every medic, orderly, and doctor in Bellevue, and showing off her big tits. I guess it takes all kinds, don’t it? After all, she’s Blowjob Tonya—Tony’s her real name. But I think Blowjob Tonya has more pizzazz, don’t you?” She giggled and lit a cigarette. “How’s things with you?”
“The usual, always trying to find a job but never finding one, you know how that goes.” I shrugged. “I look and look and go home, day in, day out. That’s my life. Nothing, really.”
She nodded. “Don’t I know it. But hey, you ever go to the Giddy Up! Bar on Avenue A? That’s one swinging club, gay guys all over the place just picking up what they want.” The Giddy Up! was a cowboy bar on Avenue A in the East Village. It didn’t promote itself as a cowboy bar, because there weren’t any real cowboys in New York City, but it was a transvestite bar that attracted brawlers who fought it out for the pretty pseudo-ladies who sat around the bar.
I shook my head. “Nah, I stay away from those queer clubs. Too weird and kinky for me. Anyway, I’m not gay, like you.”
She burst out laughing. “But you were in that famous gay fire in the East Village, even the Village Voice had a drawing on the front page of you carrying a naked me out of the blaze.” She threw her cigarette away.
“They did that? I never saw it.”
She shrugged. “Must be around somewhere, we’ll have to find you a copy. Of course, we knew it was mostly smoke, but who’s going to tell the press that?” She nodded. “They write about those blazes burning up apartments, think smoke and fires are everywhere. Uh-huh, leave it to the Village Voice to report the truth, they know better. Bullshit!” She flicked her cigarette away. “Anyway, you should come by the Giddy Up! You never know who you might meet.” She winked a mascaraed and turquoise-shadowed eye at me. And I’m sure if that if I was Pips, I would have ejaculated right then.
“Maybe. I’ll see.”
We said goodbye on 2nd Avenue, promising to meet at the Giddy Up! I walked home, thinking, transvestite? But I’m not queer! But my aching hard-on said I was.
Chapter 19 The Lower East Side was crawling with drunks and party people going after whatever they could get on Friday nights. No bar turned a drinker away—they might check some kid’s phony ID—but after glancing at it they’d let you in, as long as you had some kind of ID.
So one Friday I stood outside the Giddy Up! on Avenue A. I stood looking at the women, transvestites really, some dressed like hookers, others like elegant movie stars, as they went inside. As usual, my dick was stiff and eager for satisfaction. I stood in a nearby doorway and the six-foot bouncer kept looking my way, finally dismissing me as unimportant. I was glad I he’d dismissed me. I was always trying to be invisible.
I finally saw beautiful Sissy Godiva coming down the street. My penis had been aching for her the past few days and I instantly grew harder. It was like an ocean wave pushing aside the inconsequential things in my life and leaving nothing but her. At first I thought she was wearing pants, but then I saw she was wearing dark pantyhose that barely covered her skimpy panties. She wore a small bra, like a girl’s training bra, on her flat chest. My mouth fell open and I started drooling. Sissy melted, oozed, gelled down the street. I stood up from my slouch, certain that she’d recognize me, but she just looked at me and kept walking. Christ! Suddenly she turned back.
“Oh, my God, it’s Vinnie!” she shrieked, rushing at me, then grabbing my face and kissing me. “He saved my life, carried me down four flights of stairs in a burning building and saved my life! Oh, my God, I love him so much!” She planted wet kisses on my face, and I did what came naturally: I kissed her back.
We finally broke from each other, exhausted, but she kept saying “he saved my life” to everyone who passed by. “Carried me out of a burning building, risked his own life to save mine.” Some people looked, some nodded and smiled, others just glared and went their way.
I grinned and felt myself blush. “It wasn’t really burning, just smoky. A little fire, nothing big,” I said, shrugging off her praises. She shook her head, dismissing my words. “So bad that I passed out, me and my girlfriend Tonya, but you carried me in your arms,” she blushed, “and we were both naked like little babies. Imagine that, my naked hero!” And she smothered me with kisses. It was great to be the center of attention for once! Though I suspected that she’d had more than a few drinks before she got here. And I knew she was into drugs, too, but I didn’t care.
She pulled me over to the door, winking at the big bouncer. “This is my savior,” she whispered, holding my hand. “He carried me out of a burning building, my hero,” she fluttered her eyelashes so passionately that I felt I really was her savior and that she was in love with me.
“Did he, now?” the bouncer asked, looking me over but lowering the guard rope and winking at Sissy. “My treat, baby,” he said, then leered at me. “Can you carry me out of a burning building, too?” I felt myself blush as I followed Sissy inside, the bouncer laughing behind us.
Country-western music blasted from the jukebox as we walked past men talking and eyeing me. A group of schoolgirls was at the other end of the bar; Sissy pulled me over to them. I lowered my head as I followed, suddenly realizing that they weren’t schoolgirls but guys pretending to be little girls in hopes of getting a big man for some action: the usual Friday night scene.
“Meet Vinnie, my hero,” Sissy gushed, and told the story again. You’ll do that when you’re drunk, you’ll gab and gab all night, telling the same story that no one’s interested in. “He saved me from a burning building and I’ll always be grateful to him.” She pecked my cheek as the schoolgirls sneered and went back to their talking and drinking. Two or three came over, though, looking as exciting as real women with real tits, and gossiped around us.
“Oh, my God,” Sissy squealed, “I love this song!” She shut her eyes as she started swaying to Gershwin’s Summertime, sung by Janice Joplin. It couldn’t be a favorite in the Giddy Up! bar, but I felt the song’s erotic mood as Sissy sang and swayed against me. It focused my attention on sex, made me want to fuck her, and fuck her right there!
Sissy rubbed against my crotch and I shut my eyes and swayed with her, our two hard dicks straining to reach each other. Sweat poured between our bodies. I ejaculated, and I’m sure she did, too, spilling onto ourselves, cuming in our clothes and with each other.
When the music stopped and a steel guitar started up, we were braced against each other, lost in our closeness, our bodies pressed together and our arms around each other, feeling that nothing would ever tear us apart.
“Let’s got out of here,” Sissy shouted, finishing her rum and Coke. “I wanna be alone with you.”
I gulped my screwdriver and we put our arms around each other and staggered to the door. The street noise was as loud as the music behind us, but we didn’t care. We were one.
Only when we’d climbed the FDR Drive overpass and had started down into the East River Park did I suddenly realize where we were. “Why are we going into the park? There’s nothing there at this hour.”
“Exactly. That’s the point. We’ll be there and we’ll be alone together. Don’t you want that?”
I pulled her tighter as we entered the wide, desolate East River Park, eerie at this hour. Making our way to the concourse over the river, we saw a tugboat chugging under the Williamsburg Bridge. High above us, the bridge traffic streamed, into and out of the city. At night the park looked enticing. I loved it!
We walked a little way into the park and she pulled me onto a bench. She started kissing me, undoing my zipper and reaching for my penis. I did the same, reaching into her skimpy nylon pants
and then I’d quickly stripped her. We were both naked. But we didn’t care, lost in our togetherness we kissed and sucked, our hungry longings sweeping over us. We fucked each other over and over through the night.
It wasn’t until dawn, after we’d spent all night romping, laughing, and chasing each other through the grass, playgrounds, and paths, hugging, kissing, and giving ourselves to our passions, that I suddenly came to.
“Where are our clothes?” I asked, looking at the quiet park and the single car moving along FDR Drive.
We were lying naked on the playing field. She cuddled closer, shrugging and yawning. “Somewhere, anywhere, who gives a shit?” She shut her eyes and looked like she was going to fall asleep.
But I sprang up. I’m naked! Where are our clothes?
The playing field was empty. I found some shorts by a fence near the river. Were they mine? I pulled them on, then saw a pair of skimpy panties under a clump of bushes. But where were the rest of our clothes? Had we tossed them into the river in the giddiness we were feeling in the night? I almost thought so, with the large shorts hanging loose on me.
I walked some more. Near a playground on 10th Street, under a clump of bushes, was a man’s black raincoat. It looked like it had been there for days, if not weeks. I picked it up. It was moldy and faded, but I shook it I out and saw it was big enough for her to wear. I hurried back across the lightening playing field. She looked so peaceful. I bent down to her as a few more cars moved along the Drive.
“Sissy, wake up,” I said. “We gotta go, it’s almost dawn. Sissy! Sissy Godiva!”
She stretched and groaned. “Oh, man, I was sleeping so peaceful. You go, leave me here, where I belong.” She curled up, her thumb in her mouth like a little baby. She didn’t seem to care that she was lying on the grass.
“Sissy, get up! I just found these panties, at least put them on.”
She opened her eyes and sat up. “Those aren’t mine,” she shook her head. “Mine had colored polka dots. Those are boring green ones, and they’re torn, too. Who’s gonna wear that? Not me!”
Sissy Godiva Page 6
