Carnal Knowledge in the City that Never Sleeps

It was a bright, dewy and cool May morning in New York City, perhaps even a bit crisp for the time of year. Blake stood outside his Chelsea hotel taking in the street scene, businesspeople, students, sightseers and such shuffling about. The mix of smells of the city were always so intriguing, particularly in the morning, when the fading aromas of the night before were giving way to the scents of the rising day.

Last night, he thought, with a pleasurable rumble in his tummy. Fuck, what a night.

Blake looked up and down the street. Unknown to the passersby, this was Blake's 40^th birthday. He mused on this fact, wistfully, as he leaned against the wall of his hotel to stretch his legs. He took out the hotel stationary upon which he'd written his directions. To prove his stamina to himself, he was going to run up 8^th Avenue toward Central Park, then circle around the park and back toward his hotel via 9^th Avenue. He put the note back in his pocket and double-checked that his hotel key was securely in his zipped-up pocket.

Oh, last night, he thought again as he started off. Just wait till you're at the park and then you can focus on that, he told himself.

By the time he reached the park, he was zoned into stride, dodging the occasional bump on the pavements with ease, zigging and zagging around other pedestrians with ease. He stopped for a moment at the entrance and looked back southward. He could see the Empire State Building in the distance, illuminated on its eastern side by the rising sun. After a couple of deep breaths, he turned around and entered the park.

Blake kept an easy, loping pace as he started up the eastern side of the park. He took in the many smells, the spicy aromas of blooming spring flowers, the pleasant pungencies of coffee being brewed, a quick scent of hotdogs and onions on a steamer.

OK, last night! He allowed himself to get lost in thought as he continued on his journey......

It had been a beautiful spring evening. He'd gone out exploring. He dined alone at a fantastic Italian place where they'd shaved fresh truffles onto his eggplant parmesan -- just amazing. Then he strolled around Chelsea with a pleasant aimlessness, checking out different sights and sounds. As he casually ambled up a side street, he heard some great sounding mellow jazz emanating from a small club. A melancholy sax solo momentarily conjured thoughts of his mortality and his adventure. He made his way over the club and went in.

As he walked toward the bar, he noticed the place was fairly empty, which was fine with him. The bartender smiled as Blake approached and gestured at an open chair with a whimsical flourish. Welcome, she said, flashing her smile again. She had beautiful teeth.

"Thanks," Blake said. "How are you this evening?"

"Oh, we're hanging in there, you know!" She said, playfully. She nodded toward the small stage across the bar. "We've got Shan Piney here tonight. He's probably my favorite sax player in the city."

Blake looked back at the stage. It was a trio -- Shan on sax, accompanied by a keyboardist and a drummer playing a small trap set. Blake thought he recognized the song they were playing. He turned back to the bartender.

"Sounds like Equinox?" he asked.

She nodded and smiled. "I think so," she said. "You like jazz?"

"Oh, yeah," Blake responded. "I can't say I'm an aficionado or anything, but I definitely like some of it. Coltrane, for sure."

"That's cool," she said. "I really didn't know much about it till I started here. Some of it gets a little too frenetic for me and kinda winds me up too much. But this kind of jazz, more mellow and chill, I really dig it."

"Anyhow," she continued, turning back to Blake. "What'll ya have?"

"How's your vodka martini?" Blake asked.

"The best one you'll have tonight, for sure," she said, smiling again. "How dirty do you like it?" she asked, rather playfully.

Blake, feeling adventurous, played along. He nodded and attempted a serious face. "Oh, I like them dirty, but just dirty enough, you know?" He smiled and she smiled back.

"Ha, actually ... I think I do," she said, leaning forward and patting the bar close to Blake's resting arm. "Coming right up!"

Blake watched her turn around toward the bottles. She was wearing tight black jeans and a fetching dark blouse that was knotted just above her waist. Her low back was slightly exposed, and he could see her toned core muscles. Her skin was smooth and, in this light at least, flawless. She had dark auburn hair, which she'd pulled back into a stylish bun held by some hip looking hairclips. As she began shaking the mixer, he saw that her arms were also slim and toned. She was built like a yoga or Pilates instructor.

Suddenly feeling a bit guilty at ogling this pleasant woman from behind, Blake turned his attention back to the stage where the music was just ending to light, but sincere applause.

"Y'all, we're gonna take about a 15-minute break," Shan said. "But we'll be back with some more 'Trane!" More applause and then the house lights came up a bit.

Blake felt a tap on his hand. He turned around to the bar.

"Here you go," the bartender said, sliding his drink toward him. "Check out the ice on top."

"You made it skate!" Blake said. "Well done, you!" He said, employing a humorous type of accolade he'd once heard in London.

Giggling, the bartender took a dramatic bow. "My pleasure, noble sir," she said.

The place was much quieter now. Blake realized he was actually the only person sitting at the bar.

"So, what brings you to the city?" she asked.

Blake, swallowing his first sip, set the glass back down. "Now, how do know I'm not a New Yorker?" he asked with faux umbrage. "That is fucking excellent, BTW!" He said, pointing at the martini.

"Thanks," she said, smiling. She leaned on her side of the bar. Blake couldn't help but quickly look at her perky breasts and the smooth skin of her décolletage. He glanced back up and saw she was looking right at him. She was still smiling.

"You've got a Southern accent, duh!" She said, lightly toying with her hair bun, as if resetting it. "No, just kidding. You sound Southern, but, you know, it's New York, no one's really from here..."

"Fair enough," Blake said, rotating his glass on the bar. "Actually, I'm here for my birthday. I turn 40 tomorrow."

"Nice -- congrats, old man! That drink is on me!" she said.

"Oh, you don't have to do that!" Blake said.

She touched his hand again. "No worries, mate!" She said. "What's your name?"

"I'm Blake. And you?"

"I'm Emma. Nice to meet you! Are you traveling with anyone?"

"Nope, I'm all by my lonesome," Blake said, holding his hands out. "But that's how I planned it. I love traveling alone. Not all the time, but sometimes. It's like, you can really be yourself when you're alone, or you can be somebody totally different. Though, if you ask me, that's maybe like really being yourself, you know?"

Emma nodded in agreement. "Well, how long are you here? What all are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm just here until Sunday, then I'm off to California and then Mexico," Blake said. "I'm traveling for two weeks starting this weekend. As far as here, I really don't have any firm plans, just sightseeing, chilling, exploring, etc. I haven't been to NYC in years...."

"So, no plans for this evening?" Emma asked.

"Just this," Blake said. "Just you and me, babe," he added, playfully, taking another sip.

Emma smiled again and leaned forward. "Well, this may sound a little forward, but I'm just throwing it out there," she said. "We're closing when the band is done with their next set and I'll be off about 11 PM. There's a really cool club that I was planning on going to, if you'd like to meet up and come along?"

Blake liked where this was going, but he didn't want to seem too eager. He felt a stir of excitement in his belly and his groin. But he was now 40 (or would be tomorrow), he told himself. No longer was he a clumsy, oafish, sex-starved brute in his 20s...

He paused, lightly chewing on a sip of martini as he set the glass down.

"Sounds cool, but my clubbing days are mostly behind me, I'm afraid" he said.

Emma smiled. "It's not a 'da club' type of club.... It's more of a ... performance kinda club."

"Like a theatre, or something?" Blake asked.

"Yeah, more like that, sorta" Emma said, nodding. "It's a... well, it's kind of a ... kinky club," she said with a slightly pouty expression, suggesting the naughty turn their conversation had taken.

Blake lifted his eyebrows and put on a faux impression of reproach. "A kink club, do you say? Emma, do I look like a kinky guy?" he asked, playfully.

"Ha ha -- yeah, actually!" Emma retorted. "But not pervy, though." She turned a sideways glance. "Or are you?"

"Hey, I'll try anything once!" He said, laughing.

"Cool, so you're down?"

"Sounds interesting, for sure," he said. "And I'd be delighted to be joined by so pleasant companion as yourself," he added.

She smiled that brilliant smile again. "Excellent!" she exclaimed. "OK, so just two other things, though," she added. "First, it's kinda pricey.... $500 to get in, but -- here me out -- it's so, so, so worth it."

"That's cool," Blake said, nodding. "I mean, that's about what a really nice meal out for two costs, right?"

"Right," Emma said. "Plus, it includes drinks, light food, cigars if you want, ganja, other stuff if you want...."

"Great, sounds fun," Blake said. "What's the other thing?"

Just then there was a rustle of activity at the stage. Blake turned and saw that the players were back and getting situated at their instruments. Shan was speaking with someone offstage and laughing. Blake turned back to Emma.

"So....," Emma said slowly. She leaned further over the bar and motioned to him. He put his head down slightly so she would whisper in his ear.

"Here's the thing," she said softly. He could feel her soft, damp breath on his ear. An errant strand of her hair grazed his face. He could smell her slightly spicy sent. The fire in his groin and the pleasant rumble in his stomach grew.

"Like I said, it's a kink club, right?" Emma said. "But you can partake, if you want. Like, get in on the action. Whatever you want, so long as you and everyone else is willing."

Blake nodded casually in understanding.

"But to do more than spectate, you've gotta have a day-of test."

Blake nodded again and leaned back up. "Like ... an STD test?" he asked.

"Yeah," Emma said with a little smirk.

"But can you just go get that? Is that a thing?" Blake asked.

They both leaned in again.

"Get this -- they can do it there!" Emma said. "With a real doctor onsite. Last time I checked, it was only like $100 or so to get it there. It takes about 30 minutes for a rapid test and you can just chill at their front bar while you wait. And they just text you a code that gets you into the rest of the club."

With that, the band started back up. Blake finished his drink and agreed to meet Emma at a small bar across the street, "The Juniper," at 11:30 PM. She was going to run by her place, which was close, to freshen up and then join him. As Blake walked toward the bar door, he dropped a $20 bill into the tip pan on a table and gave a nod to the band. Shan, in the midst of a solo, nodded in thanks and gave Blake a wink.

Back out in the street, the amazing hustle of the city continued unabated. Blake paused at a bodega and looked at the front pages of the newspapers. He considered grabbing a pack of smokes, but decided against it.

This is wild, he thought. A sex club? With a total stranger? He looked back at the bar where he'd met Emma. "Fred's Jive and Jazz," its sign read. "Est. 1965."

Well, Emma certainly doesn't look sketch. And she's a solo bartender who works prime hours at a place that's been around over 50 years....

Blake checked his watch. 10:50 PM.... He decided to keep walking around and sightseeing.

He got to the Juniper about 15 minutes early. It was a tiny, but cozy little space situated in a short alley between another bodega and what looked like a dance school. The place was slightly subterranean. He walked down the three or so steps and entered. It had the feel of an old-school gentleman's club, though the clientele appeared to be mainly good looking 20 and 30-something hipsters. It wasn't too crowded. He was greeted by a server, who motioned him to an open table near the bar. He sat down.

"Anyone joining you?" the server asked.

"Yeah, expecting one other," Blake said. "Can I order two vodka martinis? High shelf, whatever you'd recommend."

"Sure thing," the server said and walked off.

Blake sat and pensively watched the door. He found that he was feeling pretty anxious, though not in a bad way. It was the kind of feeling he used to get before playing a basketball game when he was in college.

Soon enough, he saw the shadow of a person alighting the stairs and then he saw Emma coming through the door.

Wow, he thought, feeling his eyes widen. She'd changed into a slim-fitting dress. The neck was low and the dress was short, but it looked tasteful. And she was wearing some hot looking high heels. She'd put together a decidedly expert mix of classy and adventurous. And she'd loosened her hair, so it spilled over her shoulders. She didn't seem to have put on much more make up. Her skin seemed naturally radiant, though he noticed she'd put on some darker lipstick.

He waived and she saw him. She smiled as she approached. He stood up and took her hand, guiding her toward a seat.

"Welcome!" Blake said. "Don't you clean up real nice," he added with a thick Southern drawl. He noticed her spicy scent again, slightly stronger though still most fetching.

"Awe, shucks!" she said, playfully. "Thanks!"

Just then the server returned with their drinks.

"I ordered us martinis, hope that's OK?" Blake asked, as they sat. When the server was out of earshot, Blake added, "Though they won't hold a candle to yours, I'm sure."

"Actually," Emma responded, "I lied to you. They have fucking amazing martinis here -- the best! I've been trying to nail down how they make them forever."

"Cheers," Blake said as they held up and tinkled their glasses.

"Cheers," Emma said, taking a sip.

After a few minutes of light, desultory conversation, they quieted.

"So," Emma began. "Are you still down for this?" she asked, her eyebrows arching.

"Oh, for sure," Blake said. "But..." He looked at Emma, who was smiling slightly. "Well, honestly, I'm kinda ... nervous," he said, laughing. "I've never done anything like this."

Emma reached forward and touched his hand. "Totally normal," she said, shaking her head. "And remember, you don't have to do anything. You can just chill and watch, or whatever. There's no judging at all."

"I tell you what, though," she continued. "I've got something that might help you feel easier.... You want some ecstasy? I've got some really good shit."

Blake took another sip of his martini. Well, old friend, he thought. In for a penny, in for a pound!

"Sure," he said.

Emma reached into her purse and pulled out a small coin satchel. She casually glanced in the direction of the bar and then opened it. She then produced a small, pink colored crystal and gave it to Blake.

"Here you go," she said, smiling. "It's a little bitter, but it'll wash away completely if you take it with a sip of your drink."

She took a crystal out for herself. "Bottoms up!" she said, and they both popped the X.

They chatted for a little more. Emma had moved to the city about 5 years ago from Texas. To Blake's ears, she had practically no Southern accent. She'd studied design in college, but then just got wanderlust and decided to move in with a friend of hers who was already living in New York. She'd dated here and there, but nothing serious. She had told herself she always had plans to return to school and ultimately get a Master of Fine Art. She loved the arts and saw herself ultimately working in a gallery. But she made such good money bartending that she just hadn't made the leap yet.

Blake surmised that she was probably about 30 years old. She was just having a blast being a young person in this amazing city. For a second, Blake wistfully mused to himself about what all adventures he may have missed out on by not moving to a city like New York when he was younger.

Emma excused herself to the restroom. Blake surveyed the small crowd at the bar. The place was darkly lit, though the lighting was quite pleasant. He looked at the women there. All seemed to be dressed in roughly the same sort of attire as Emma. And all of them, all of them, were hot as fuck.

You are such a lech, Blake thought. Though he did feel quite alive, more so than he had in years. He suspected the night's events thus far were causing a surge in testosterone. He felt like his dick had been semierect and ready for action all night since he met Emma.

Blake noticed that he was grinding his teeth. The X had kicked in. Indeed, he was feeling less anxious. Emma returned looking radiant.

"Well, are you ready?" She asked.

Blake finished off his drink and paid at the bar. Outside, they hailed a cab and made their way to the night's destination, which was further uptown. Emma and Blake continued their easy small talk. She was a great conversationalist and, other than his prior nervousness about where they were going, Blake felt no angst with her.

Finally, the cab pulled up outside an elegant row of buildings. Blake wasn't sure where they were, but he suspected somewhere on the Upper Westside. Blake paid the cab fare and they got out. Emma led him up a short flight of stairs to a door that had a code box as a handle. She checked her phone for the code, which had been texted to her. She entered what seemed like 20 digits and the door opened with a buzz.

Then they were met by another door with another code box.

"It's a different code for this one," Emma said, entering the second code. "This is pretty top notch, secure stuff."

Once through that door, they approached and climbed a set of stairs. The sound of voices grew. At the top of the stairs a brass sign indicated that "sign up" was to the right and "members" was to the left.

"OK," Emma said. "At the end of this hall heading that way is 'sign up,' where you can get your test and then pay the cover. I've already paid mine. Then just join me in the members area. I'll get us a bottle of wine."

She leaned forward and kissed Blake on the lips. As she did this, she took hold of his belt just above his crotch. He felt her fingers lightly grazing his lower abdomen. He responded by reaching his hand around and placing it on her exposed lower back. His crotch continued to stir.

"Sound like a plan?" she asked as they parted.

"Perfecto!" Blake said, turning and heading toward the testing area.

Handling the cover and taking the test were both pretty straightforward. The room had a distinctly high-class spa feel to it; nothing was clinical or utilitarian about it. The lady at the desk was dressed to kill, but was most pleasant and friendly. And there was no one else in there to be tested at the time, which was nice. Blake could feel the X really coming on.

After the test, Blake easily made his way to the door for members area, where he entered a code that he'd just been texted. He entered and quickly found Emma. She was sitting with another man and a woman.

"Hey, Blake," she said. "Let me introduce you. Y'all this is Blake. He's intown for the weekend. Tomorrow his 40^th birthday! Wait...". Emma looked at an antique grandfather clock next to their table. "No -- today is your 40^th!"