Notes, from the Upper West Side. A novel by Dan Wrench. Chapter 19, I flirt with Cami. When I got done with my close-up, the film tarts immediately started setting up the next one without even a five minute break.
That was pretty cool, because no break meant they wouldn't be bugging me in Cami with chit-chat. So I jammed up to where Cami was sitting on the risers. I practically ran. I would have run too, but I didn't want to lose that cool, gnoll-coured-tude just yet.
So in my mind, I still had the cocktail glass in one hand and that cigarette in the other. But as soon as I got up to her for some reason, I forgot all about gnoll. I get cackled. She furrowed her brow at me so I cleared my throat and lowered my voice.
Rather a lot of fuss, no. She giggled. Would you mind, frightfully, if I took a seat? I asked.
Now, it's a tiny space so up on the risers we were kind of an earshot of even Lenny and Maine cunt on the stage. I mean, unless we wanted to whisper really low, which is no way to continue breaking ice that got started breaking by a chick framing her cunt at me. There was no way we could have a private conversation in that theater. And what made my mind up for me was the fact that I could see Bangalore's Springfield looking around for somebody to chat up.
I figured it would be a matter of seconds before he horned in so I said, you know what? They're not going to need me for a while. I'm going to go grab a smoke. Want to get a coffee or something?
I mean, it's what? Half an hour till we're done for the day anyway? She said okay and we jammed out of there before a bang or anyone else could interrupt. Yeah.
She jammed out after me. So there we are on the sidewalk and I unpack a smoke and light it up while we're walking. You know. I said, forgetting all about gnoll cowering out.
I can remember when we used to call these fags. Right then I'm thinking, look, she followed me out. I've been getting pussy for decades with the same gig cackle. Maybe I shouldn't try to hide it.
Besides, trying to remember to be all suave and low voice was starting to bruise my forehead. Where we going? She asked. Fair enough.
I just started down the sidewalk with kind of a swagger. I thought we'd grab a coffee. I said, yeah, I heard but where? Bucks?
Yeah, I don't think so. It's two blocks away. I gotta get back from Belinda before she runs where I went. Belinda?
She's the photog? Yeah. Okay, this Belinda chick she was talking about was the still photographer. If you've been out to lulurroundjewishhat, the video dot com, you've seen her work.
It's all that behind the scenes crap. Much all I knew about her back then though was that she had an ass like my Kansas City Babes. Nice and big. A big firm fung-varing cot cushion under a thin waist.
She was wearing the same style low-rise jeans as cami. Bell bottoms except cammies were button fly. I've always favored buttons on the country. And Belinda had really curly red hair and was hanging aloof from the crowd and clicking away and every now and then laughing with parp.
When I saw that, Belinda laughing with parp, I was afraid it meant she might be wanting him to fuck her sometime soon. Of course, I felt the urge to intervene for her sake. But I was distracted by the cot-gobler lips of main cot and then of course the whole cami thing happened. She doesn't drive.
Cami said, I'm her ride. There goes the blowjob. Yeah, alright. I said, you want to just stand here and talk while I smoke?
Is that okay? Sure. She squinted and pushed her hair out of her eyes. I swung around so she wouldn't be looking into the sun that was pretty much down already.
Sometimes I'm thoughtful like that and I bank on chicks noticing. And remember. Definitely like your jeans. I said, I started to giggle, but caught it in time to turn it into a hiss.
A friendly hiss. She smiled kind of shy. I think it was the first and last time she ever blushed in front of me. Then she giggled and I noticed she had kind of an odd laugh herself, sort of between a giggle and a chuckle.
I didn't find it objectionable, but I knew that I could pretend that I did if it ever came to recriminations. What's all your parts, friend? She asked. Yeah, so is it just my imagination or did you frame your cunt at me?
She giggled. I framed it. She said, you want to lick it. Now we were back on track.
Well, it kind of crossed my mind with some other stuff. Other stuff. Gonna teach me some stuff. Daddy.
That was weird. I may have gauled. Does that bother you? She asked, want me to pretend you're 30?
Nah, I said I'm pretty good at my own skin. How you gonna be in my eyes? She said, that's what's important. I get cackled.
She furrowed her brow. Again. That's such a weird thing you do that laugh. She said, it's like you want to be taken seriously, but then the laugh says you're just kidding or it's all lighthearted or something.
So the giggle was definitely out. It's just a laugh. I said, it's nothing psychological or anything. It's just the way I laugh.
No, it's fine. It's just, it sounds like what a little boy does when you want to be taken seriously and not seriously at the same time. Like he wants something but he doesn't want to get blamed. It turns out that what he wants is bad.
You know, hey, so's a wannick out the wits so I can fuck you in your butt. Only joking so's a, but hey Auntie Karen, you want to lick my cock chaff. Hahaha. I couldn't believe she was riffing on me like this.
It's a laugh for fuck's sake. It was quiet for a few seconds after she said that and just puffed my cigarette so she said, hey, I'm sorry. I do that a lot. I think it's because I'm, well, kind of a writer.
So I'm always like trying to figure out what it means when people do stuff. You know the stuff they do. Oh look, a chicken man hat and it was kind of a writer. What are the odds?
That's okay. I said, parp thinks he's kind of a writer and he's always doing that kind of stuff with me. It's okay, really. I've never really met parp.
She said, so what's he like? Fuck my life. I had to mention parp. He's wound a little tight.
I'm off telling you won't put any pill in your mouth unless it's FDA approved. He has a really thin waist, like a feet. And with that tight shirt, it's like you can see the muscles in his abs. That isn't muscle.
It's loose skin, but gay men are into him. She laughed. I'll bet. Somebody say bye.
He says he's straight. I said, who knows? I can definitely see parp with dick in his face. Big black dick.
I thought that would get a big laugh out of her, but she looked at her watch instead. Bling does look informing. She's saying, then she laughed. I better be getting back to the theater.
We gotta be in NASA County at 730. Okay, I said, so I wonder we gonna, you know, we have plenty of time. You sing song again. I know I wind kind of like a little boy.
She gigg chuckled at that. Your email was on the contact sheet, right? She said, and don't you want to tell me something first? Oh yeah, hey, I said, I'm really glad we met, you know.
You're, um, you're Jesus, I don't want to hear that. Oh, I mean, why don't you come and tell me you're married or something? Yeah, I'm married or something. That's okay.
I guess you won't be telling my boyfriend, then I'm yours, yours, huh? I get cackled. And you better fix that laugh. Okay, I said, marriage in, laugh out.
Yeah, married men give the best rim jobs. See you tomorrow. And she turned and dashed away to the theater. I kind of gulped and watched that perfectly round ass as it went.
I mean, for me, actual rim jobs are definitely out, but hearing her say those words gave me a cock that could punch out Sissies. Notes from the Upper West Side is a work of fiction. The people depicted in this work do not exist. Notes from the Upper West Side, copyright 2013 to 2015 by Dan Rench.