Manhattan

Eventually our last energy reserves were drained. We lay together on the big divan, and the intensity of before had been replaced by a slow, sloppy caressing. I was sucking on her nipple and she was gently stroking my balls. We were both soaked from sweat and other ungodly things, and the divan itself was drowned in champagne after we got the bright idea to plunder the bar a few climaxes ago. Moët Chandon and sex juice is actually quite a tasty mix. The confusion for the owner of this den when he'd find it literally fucked up upon coming home was a thought far removed from my mind. We'd be long gone by then, and whomever it was that owned it could afford to buy himself a clue.

I was almost, almost drifting off into sleep, but knowing that no dreams could ever match the bliss I was in right then kept me on the right side of that border.

"You have to kill him," she suddenly said. Her voice was soft, warm and gentle.

"What do you…"

"Ssh. Just listen, and don't argue. Trust me on this. I feel you now, all facets of you, and you scare me. That part of you, this…Mr Hyde. He's feeding off you. A parasite in your head. Killing the real you. I know you think he's helping you cope with life, but the truth is that you don't need him, all he does is stopping your true self from experiencing life to the fullest. So listen. Please, listen. You have to leave me. I mean, leave this island. Mr Hyde wins here. And every time you're here, he takes a bite out of you. Don't you…don't you feel that?"

"Yes," I whispered. "I know. I don't even like this shit anymore. This hollow, superficial, dumbass craze. But I don't know what to do. I can't stop."

"Yes you can. I will help you. Stay away, Christopher. Wait him out, and you'll starve him to death. Stay away, stay away…"

With those words echoing like a mantra in my head, I finally let go of my consciousness and drifted off into a deep sleep.

I woke up in my own bed in New Jersey, fully dressed and with a motherlode of a hangover. Weird shapes of a yesterday that must had been wild beyond belief danced around in my memory. But most of it was a blur. There had been a bar, a shabby hotel and some fancy private love shack. And sex. Lots of sex. It was all shapeless, but the sounds, skin slapping against skin, creaking beds and tell-tale moaning, were more vivid recollections.

The sharp pang of regret came like on cue. I must have shacked up with one, if not two women that night, but obviously I'd been so stoned that I couldn't remember anything. Which meant I'd probably been too stoned to think of such things as protection. Who knows what shit I might have caught or what trouble I might have gotten myself into.

That was it, no more nightly adventures for me. I couldn't go on like that much longer anyway. It wore me out the same way any other addiction would. I made my decision there and then. Manhattan meant trouble, and was off limit for an undisclosed period of time. I'd go cold turkey on the bitch. Until I had grown the fuck up enough to handle it.

That was over a year ago, and until this summer, I did not remember anything else of that amazing, unreal night than that pointless blur. But something happened that brought it all back again.

I went back.

Not for the cheap thrills of black clubbing and white spirits, or for the prospect of a fast erotic fix with some drugged up party bimbo. I had no such desires to mess up my life anymore. No, this was just me having a day off from work after a particularly successful deal closure. The weather was stellar, everyone I knew was busy at their own jobs, and it just felt…right. Why not head over to the Big Apple, find some good place for lunch, and take an afternoon stroll through Central Park? I realised that I had lived all those years just a short ride away from it without ever actually doing that. So why the hell not?

Short of reasons not to, I called for a cab and was soon heading straight towards that familiar skyline. As I rolled off the bridge and in between the tall buildings, I had the briefest notion of tasting peppermint on my tongue, but it faded away before I had the chance to reflect on it.

There I finally stood, at the edge of a place I'd only seen in movies, or passing by at night in a taxi. The ridiculously long stretch of Central Park, a green haven lined by steel, glass and concrete was a sight that took a while to take in.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

The voice was smooth and warm and hauntingly familiar. I turned around and saw a stunning young woman in a pale purple summer dress. I was sure I had seen her somewhere before, but I couldn't quite place where or when. Then I noticed her hair. It flowed in the most remarkable way. Neural pathways in my memory bank that had been unused for months finally started trickling information. Was this the girl from that last wild night ten moths ago? The one I slept with in some rich guy's penthouse? Yes, it was definitely her. Oh, damn.

She didn't look like I remembered girls from back then looked though. Her eyes were full of warmth and intelligence. Those high-class junkies' eyes usually looked like they belonged on dead fish.

Then she smiled, reached out and took my hand. Like a dam bursting, the whole magic night rushed back into my consciousness. I remembered every little detail. All the fantastic things she showed me, all the fantastic things we did, every sound, every sensation, every taste and touch. It was her, the soul of the city in a flesh and bone incarnation. She who saved me from myself.

"Don't freak out," she laughed. "This is a public street, it might scare people."

"I'm not freaking out," I replied. "That was just a bit too much information at the same time for my tiny man-brain."

"Oh, I'm sorry.

"It's ok. I'm fine now."

I took a second to just look her over, top to bottom and back. God, she was beautiful.

"Hello again," she said as our eyes met. "I see that you finally won."

"I guess I did," I said. "No more Mr Hyde."

"Good. I'm happy for you. So, what now? Are you staying?"

"Just for the afternoon."

"Come on then," she said and took hold of my arm. "Let me show you the real me. Manhattan is at its best in the summer sun, if I can be the judge."

"Well, if anyone knows, you should."

We crossed the street and strolled in between the trees. The sun was already high in the sky and the park was slowly getting populated with the normal daytime clientele. Here were everything from sun worshippers in bikinis to buttoned up old ladies and suit and tie slaves on a well deserved lunch break.

We walked and chatted in equally aimless ways like only a pair of old friends or new lovers can. For some reason, an encore of the events in the penthouse was pretty far from my mind. I'm not saying that that didn't happen. She was still very much into exploring that part of human life, and I'd be a complete moron if I didn't offer my cooperation, now wouldn't I? Let's just say that we kept ourselves busy for a few weeks that summer.

I still stop by from time to time for a chat, but she has taken new lovers since then. It was never just about satisfying an urge for her, but about exploring the outer limits of it. Eventually to the extent that my own tastes and where I was willing to go were not enough. So in that aspect, I let her go, to seek out new prospects on her journey of debauchery. Lucky bastards.

Not that I'd want to keep on doing the horizontal tango with her. That was never my major fascination with her, more like an interesting bonus. Since I met this new girl, I have no eyes for her in that aspect anyway.

It was a morning in September. The summer heat had lingered on for longer than usual, and the air was fresh from a light breeze from the east. I was in my office, trying to sort out some delayed paperwork, when there was a careful tapping on the window of my open door. I looked up and saw a woman in wavy auburn hair and a dark green blouse making big eyes at me. I know I should know her name, but the answer evaded me.

"Hello, Chris," she said, and the quarter finally dropped. My own reply came out a babbling mess.

"Wow. Um... Hi! I haven't seen you in ages. What are you doing here? Did you dye your hair? How did you find me? Hot outside today, huh? It looks great. Um, your hair, I mean. N-not that there's anything wrong with the rest. But…eh…I meant the hair."

"Really? Do you like it?" she said and blushed at that clumsy little compliment like a little schoolgirl. My god. She was even prettier now than I remembered her.

She wasn't there because she wanted our services, but because she happened to see our ad in the paper and recognised my name from back home, up in Minnesota. I had been in her class all the way up to High School graduation. Apparently I had made some kind of impression on her, an impression I could only have dreamed of.

From that day, we could barely let each other out of sight. I skipped work and took her for a long lunch in the city. After a delightful meal of more talking and laughing than actual eating, we took a walk down to the gigantic green oasis of so many stories. Our stroll and appearance perfectly mimicked the walk I had taken with another girl, or ghost, or angel, or…well…you know, a couple of weeks earlier.

The same gallery of people as always met us in all directions. Kids with frisbees, ladies with poodles, Wall Street puppets deciding not to give a damn and sprawl on the lawns with their jackets as blankets, and sunbathing beauties in bikinis taking a last chance at a natural tan.

I didn't exactly check those women out, but one of them caught my eye. She raised her head from her book and pushed her sunglasses down her nose as we passed by. She had playful, dark eyes, and a blond mane with multi coloured strands that flowed in a strange way, almost as if gravity didn't apply to it. She raised a questioning eyebrow at the new acquaintance by my side, and all I could do was smile sheepishly back. She was far away enough not to be heard, but I could see her gentle laugh and a big, happy smile aimed at us. She blew me a little kiss, and returned to her book. I pushed her out of my mind, and turned my attention to the wonder by my side instead.

Her name is Rebecca Sommerfeld, but if things go my way, she'll be Rebecca Blaine by the end of next summer. I'm thinking a Manhattan wedding. Maybe in the park?