Spillane, Me, & The Trans Swede

"OK, genius, let's go," said Mick as we walked out of the building. When the bright sunlight hit my eyes, I snapped out of my mental trip down memory lane.

"So, is Sue the type of girl who turns you on, the one you'd like to take home to Mama?" Mickey was teasing me.

"No, Mick, I don't want a girl without tits; in my family, my mother, sisters, and aunts all have big tits; only me and my dad have none."

That got a deserved chuckle out of my boss, and the subject was forgotten.

When we got to the car, a wino was standing guard.

"Excuse us," said Mick, flipping the guy a fifty-cent piece. The bum caught the coin, stepped aside, and we got inside the Jag.

I asked, "Where to Mick?"

Mick took out the clipping Sue had given him and read the address. It was just past the Lincoln Tunnel in Weehawken, New Jersey.

"Here, Truman, let's go," passing me the paper.

I wasn't too familiar with Weehawken, but I checked the map book Mick kept under the seat and headed to the Lincoln Tunnel.

"What a stupid name," I thought, "Is honest Abe buried here." Most places in New York with presidents' names are tombs.

Once we got inside, the tunnel walls of gleaming bright tiles were lit by neon lights. I marveled at how clean the walls were and wondered if the river should break through if we might survive.

At this point in our trip, driving straight through the tunnel, Mickey knew I could not make a wrong turn, so he started grilling me about my dating practices.

"So you didn't like that midget girl with no tits.

"She wasn't a midget, just short."

OK, how d'ya do with that Jewish girl you were dating? She had 38 double D's, in my humble estimation."

"No, they were 32 double D's."

"How do you know? Ya get her bra off?'

"Yeah, and her panties too."

"Oh, boy! So you got to 3rd base?"

"And beyond."

"Good for you. So when is the wedding?"

"Nope, I think Ariel is no longer a done deal."

"Why so?"

Ariel kept saying how she loved the theater, so I got tickets to 'The Man of La Mancha,' and the tickets were not cheap. When we got there, we had to climb upstairs. It was like climbing Mt. Everest. We probably would have been closer to the stage if we'd never crossed the Street. Ariel looked around and said,

"Did you get these fuck'en seats from a blind man? Or are you blind? And she wasn't one to talk like that."

"Jeez," said Mickey.

"That kinda put the kibosh on getting my dick off between her sweet tits again. She was saving her vag until after marriage, but she was pretty cooperative about a titty fuck."

"Why don't ya stick with a nice Irish girl? But don't try to fuck'em with a rubber. They'll chew it up before you can get it on your dick."

"OK, Mick, I get it. The Irish don't use birth control."

"Not the ones who go to Catholic School."

"I love those short skirts they wear; very sexy."

Now that I could see daylight at the end of the tunnel,

"What do I do once we get outta here?"

Mick's had his reading glasses on and had his nose in the map book. He barked out the directions, and twenty minutes later, we were in a large empty parking lot in front of a mustard-yellow building, #2 Eldridge Drive.

We were both wearing trench coats and looked like two rejects from the FBI academy. I followed Mick to the front door. On the door was a nameplate, 'International Maharishi Brotherhood.'

We pressed the buzzer, and there was a click from the lock when the big door smoothly swung open. Inside, the air conditioning was running high even though it was breezy outside. A big-breasted Swedish gal seated at her desk; stood up and walked like a fashion model to the Formica counter between us.

"Ja, I vill help you."

"Ask her what you want," I nudged Mick.

I watched the girl walk up to the counter. The sub-zero temperature of the new-fangled air conditioning must've made her nipples taut and puckered. After watching her twin mammaries doing the mambo, my dick was doing push-ups in my boxers.

"Hi, Missy," said Mick, looking her over, "We are looking for one of your members, Miss Diane Baker. She joined the other night."

Mick was winging it. We had no idea if there was any connection between his comments and reality.

"Vat is yo nama?"

"Mickey."

"Vell, I'll take a look," said the Swedish doll, who turned and went into the back of the office to open a file cabinet drawer. She was wearing a short red dress with a cut-out back; it was apparent she wasn't wearing a bra.

"Quit a babe," said Mick.

We waited a while before Miss Sweden returned with a yellow index card,

"Ya, she joined up dis week and ist now in training."

"Training for what?"

"Training to serve the master, what you stupid, the Maharishi Ginzu."

"Oh, how nice, but where is she now? Her Mom is anxious."

"Oh ya, vell, you can't see her till the training ends."

"When will that be?"

"I donna know, maybe a month."

"That's nice. Where is Diane now?"

"Oh, Mister Mickey, you know I can't telly dat."

Mick pulled out his police badge and said,

"Listen, Bimba, you tell me now, or I'll take ya downtown and have ya locked in a cell with three lesbians on Rikers Island."

"Oh ya, dat sounds like a good time, Mista Mickey, but everyone here ist part of the diplomatic embassy. I'm not subject to your laws, how you say, Diplomatic immunity, zo you can take yo badge and stick it up yo ass."

"Listen, lady..."

"No, you listen, I ama no lady, I'ama pre-op transsexual candidate."

"You're not a cunt," said Mick?

She reached down and pulled up her short dress. There, in plain sight, wrapped in transparent panties, was a cock that would win a prize at a 4H fair.

"OK, says Mickey, "maybe we got off on the wrong foot."

"Ya, maybe."

"How would you like to earn some extra pocket change?"

"Ya, how much, Mr. Mickey?"

"How about two hundred smackers?"

"Oh yes, dat vould be very nice, ve don't get much pay here. I can't afford a room at the gay club."

"OK, dolly," Mick took out his worn brown wallet and pulled out two crisp C-notes.

Seeing his billfold loaded, the Swede said, "Vun more, Mr. Mickey."

Grudgingly, Mick took out another C-Note and slammed his fist down on the three bills.

"OK, Greta/Garry, where do we find Diane Baker? She better be a virgin when we find her."

"The training begins," she begins to laugh, "dat she still a virgin, you have to find out for yourself. You know how to check?"

"Yeah, we know how to check, and if she ain't, I'll cut off what you got what you got floating around in your panties."

"Oh, you a nasty man, Mr. Mickey."

The Swede handed the index card to Mick. On the back was the hotel address in Hoboken where they'd stashed the girl.

'Thank, Miss/Mr., whatever you are."

The doll turned to me, 'Who are you?"

"Truman."

"Truman Capote?"

Before I could answer, she said,

"Maybe you'd like to take a valk-on da vild side mit me."

"Don't wait up at night milking your udder," said Mick answering for me.

At that, I piped up,

"Don't pay any attention to the old guy. I'd be up for that, Miss. Do you have a phone number?"

She pulled out a pink business card and slid it across the counter.

"Ya, if yo fanny ist up for it, gib me ein call," she said.

"Oh, I will. You'll be hearing from me, Miss," I fumbled, looking at the business card, "a -a Miss Greta."

"Ya, call me anytime."

I smiled, "Been there, done that," although I wasn't sure what I meant.

She quickly threw out, "I don't use no con-dumbs. I got a latex allergy."

"Yeah, me too."

At that point, Mick said, "I hate to break up this budding romance, but we got stuff to do."

Mickey grabbed me by the arm and rushed me out of the place before my hard-on had waned.

When we got out to the car, Mick said,

"Truman, are you really interested in that sort of thing?"

"I thought she was gorgeous, and that cock was enormous," I winked.

"Well, don't lose her number. We might need to get back to Manfred if the address on the card doesn't pan out."

"Who the fuck is Manfred?"

"The Swede with the big dick."

"No, her name is Greta."

"Gretta in fretta has two nice tetta," said Mick.

"Ok, Mickey, stop with the jokes. How do you get to Hoboken from Weehawken?"

Mich handed me the map.

I looked at the open page, "We are in luck. We will be there in about ten minutes if we take Garden Street."

"OK, so get the Swede's dick out of your mouth, and let's go."

"You are so cruel. I was just getting used to it," I said.

We drove on to Hoboken. I took a right turn off Garden Street and stopped at Washington Street in front of a five-story walkup. It was an old building abandoned by time. Where there were once buzzers at the side of the door, someone had torn out the metal panel, and only bare wires were hanging there like tentacles from a beached man-of-war. The building's deco entry door made of heavy metal had a small crisscross grate over the dirty yellow glass.

Mick took out a lock pick, and in two shakes of a mare's tail, the front door swung open.

"Not a problem," said Mick, "I thought I'd have to use a shim."

We entered the extensive lobby. A large wall mirror whose best years were long behind it hung there. Time had burned off much of the mirror's surface. When you looked into it, it made your image look like a zebra.

"You smell dat, said Micky.

"What the fuck is it? Did someone die down here?"

"Pea soup, every one of the lousy tenements reeks of green Irish pea soap. What you are smelling is probably fifty years old, and that stench attaches to the walls like a tapeworm attaches to your intestine."

"Where is Diane supposed to be?"

We were standing in front of the winding staircase.

"Oh shit, it's another fuck'en walk up. The kid's supposed to be in #502. Let's get climbing."

We trudged up the old marble steps, carefully walking over broken, cracked stairs. When we got to the fifth floor, Mick was winded, and my legs were close to cramping, but at the top, #502 was right in front of us, and the door was wide open.

"What the fuck," said Mick, "That Swedish cock sucker must have rat-ed us out. They've fled the coop."

Out of curiosity, I walked inside. It was a two-room apartment with a view of the pier and the cobblestone walkway. If you squinted your eyes, you could see Sinatra's mother's house, where she famously performed abortions. This apartment had white lead peeling paint; years ago, a painter had forgotten to use a decent primer, and the furniture was missing. Someone had pissed in the toilet and not flushed it. A dirty sleeping bag lay in the corner. I put my hand inside, and I could feel the warmth of someone's body.

"They must have just left, Mick. The bag is still warm."

"Call up the Swede and make a date with her. He/she must know where they've taken her. If Diane ain't a virgin when we find her tell the bitch I'll cut off his dick and give it to you as a back scratcher."

"Thanks, Mick, just what I need, a long back scratcher with a big knob on the end."

"No Tru, I'm serious. That bitch was hot to get in your pants. Call her up. You got the number and made a date."

I stepped into the hall where a pay phone cabin smelled of piss, held my nose with a handkerchief, and dialed the number on her pink visiting card.

Instantly he/she picked up the phone and used his/her girly voice.

"Ya, you call me so soon; vat ya got in mind, Mr. Capote? Ya got a big cock, or are ya built like a capon?

"Don't worry about my cock; you're gonna love it."

"Oh ya, I hoping so."

Yeah, sweetie, I was feeling lonely. I'd like to see ya again. It is surprising how much I missed you after gave us a quick view of your exquisite pussy."

"Ya, dat act gets them every time."

"So let's get together and try things out. You gotta taste my Swedish meatballs."

"Oh ya, I'll suck dem till you shoot all over me, and I will swallow all of it."

"That turns me on; my balls love a good suck."

"You coming alone, or you bring the fat guy? I'm not up for threesomes."

"Just me. Why, you got a thing against old fat guys."

"No, I'd take on a roomful on the right day. Ladies, no, I don't like cunt. So tell me, vat do you like to do, blow me, get your sweet ass fucked, or vat?"

"I'd like to fuck you."

"That sounds nice. How big is your dick?"

"Nothing monster, about eight inches, but it's a pretty cock. All the girls liked it."

"Please don't tell me about other women. I get very jealous."

"Sure, I understand."

"And your balls, how are you hung."

"I've got pretty big balls at the right height, both hanging together nicely, even-steven, like twin eight balls, not one up and one down."

"You making me horny. One udder ting," said the Swede, "I like a rim job before being fucked, but you need to get yo tongue deep in my ass."

"No problem, it will be my pleasure. A deep rimming? Sounds good. Where should we meet?"

"Come down to the Westside Men's Club. Tell them to page me when you get there."

"You got it."

"I'll rent a room with fatso's money."

"Sure sounds good, but to be clear, you say you are clean 'cause I don't like to use condoms."

"My ass is cleaner than a virgin's pussy."

"Sounds good, honey. See you at 8 pm. And be juiced up, if you know what I mean. Don't let anyone fuck you before I get there."

"I save my pussy for you, Sweet cakes."

"Sure, babe, my dick will be at high mass."

"Just ass the desk clerk to page Marylyn."

She giggled, and I hung up. I had a strong erection.

I walked back into the empty living room.

"OK, Mick, I got a date with her at 8 pm, West Side Men's Club."

"Well, buddy, you're on your own. I wouldn't go near that place with a ten-foot pole."

"With a ten-foot dick, I'm sure they'd welcome you."

I took the subway from Hell's Kitchen down to 27 West 20th St. It was an old office building that looked like a dive. A few malingerers stood in the lobby, and a sign on the side wall with an arrow pointed up the stairs to the club. As I walked upstairs, a few pretty boys were excited and took long looks at me before stepping aside so I could pass.

When I approached the desk clerk, he asked me immediately to see my membership card.

"I'm a friend of Marilyn, she's got a room, and she's waiting for me."

"I don't give a flying fuck who's waiting for you. You gotta purchase a membership, or you can't go in."

"OK, how much?"

"$20 for a month, $95 for the year."

"The month will do."

I filled out the membership card, signed a pledge that I wasn't a vice-cop, and Derick, the cashier, sold me the temporary membership. I started walking toward Marylyn's room, but the clerk started waving his arms so much I thought he was trying to fly.

"Hey, you can't go in with clothes. You gotta strip and leave your clothes here or carry them in."

"I'll carry."

"Your choice."

I stripped down to my briefs, but Derick said, "Take them off too." Every guy nearby was looking at my package.

"Where is Marylyn?"

"Room 17A, to your left down the alley, last room on the right. If you finish up with her, I get a break at 9, don't be a stranger. I can get a free room."

"Thanks. I'll remember that."

"One of the perks," said Derick.

I carried my clothes and walked past many open doors with guys sucking cock, fucking ass, or blowing one another. A few tried to wave me into their rooms. Finally, I got to row 17, where the smell of poppers (nitrates) was so intense I got a headache. Before I reached Marylyn, I passed a skinny guy covered in tattoos seated on the floor, and another guy was tying him up with a small link chain. There must have been a hundred feet of chain. I had no idea what that was all about. I guess some sort of SM.

At the end of the row, the last cubicle, 17E's door was yellow.

The door was closed. I knocked. A very fem voice with Marylyn's unmistakable Swedish accent said,

"Ist dat you honey?"

"It's me, Truman Capote"

The door swung open.

The Swede, in red 5-inch heels, was taller than I. She ran to me, pulling me inside like a spider dragging in her prey, kissing me all over the face, embracing me, and pressing her body against me.

"Oh, sweetheart, zo glad to see you. I've been fighting off di otter boys who wanted to see me, but I was waiting yust for you."

"Thanks, Marilyn."

She grabbed me by the waist and continued wet kissing me all over my face, neck and nibbling on my nipples.

The next thing I knew, she had dropped to her knees on a green towel and was sucking my cock. Marylyn wore a skintight short t-shirt, and the bottoms of her big tits were hanging out at the bottom. Her cock was as stiff as a sailboat's rudder.

She released my dick and raised herself to eye level. Marylyn had beautiful blue eyes, light blond hair and, having completed her preliminaries, was ready for sex.

"Fuck me, baby," said Marylyn, and got into position on the narrow bed facing away from me, providing her naked fleshy lily-white curved bubble butt as a target for my affection.

What could I do? I leaned forward and embraced her. Marylyn reached back, grabbed my stiff dick, and guided it inside her well-lubed asshole. I fucked her like she was the last woman on the earth.

Marylyn was the first 'girl' I'd ever fucked in the ass. Her insides were as slippery and smooth as a banana peel. There was no tactile texture like a cunt, my dick slid in with no resistance, and it was the most fantastic fuck I'd ever experienced. I tried to take my time but was overcome with excitement. Holding her bare tits under her t-shirt with both hands, I came with more strong ejaculations than I could count as her ass vibrated like a milking machine. It was marvelous.

Out of breath, my heart was beating like a time bomb, but finally, my heart began to slow as the pleasure of the moment overwhelmed me, as I lay motionless, my softened dick flopped out of her.

"Oh honey, you make zo much sperm. I afraid you'll get me preg-nant!" She laughed., Her voice was not the femme fatale of the early evening, but now lower in pitch but still charming.

"Zo, did you guys find the girl you wanted?"

"I meant to ask you, Marylyn, the apartment door was opened, but no one was there."

"Oh gosh, dey must have moved her to the ferry. Da girls dat are quick learners get moved dere. I give you da address, down near Hudson Yards., where da trains go. The cult owns a ferry docked dere. I'm sure they moved her dere. Dey don't always tell me vat they are doing."

I stood up.

"You're not going zo soon," she reached out to grab my wet dick. "Maybe you vant me to fuck you. Vould you like that?"

I guess the idea excited her because her erection started moving up and down like an elevator.

"That some muscle control you've got," I didn't know what else to say.

"Vait till yo feel it inside yo tushy."

"I'll be honest, Marylyn; you are a woman to me. Your big dick doesn't put me off, but if I let you slip it in my asshole, the illusion of your femininity might be lost. Maybe I could let you do that eventually because after giving me such pleasure, it's only fair that I reciprocate."

"Ya, I could do you little by little till you get used to it."

"Well, we can see about that, but let's not put the cart before the horse."

"You Americans have such quaint sayings, cart-horse. Zo, you're going to leave me now. Let me suck your dick clean before you go."

I had little choice. Marylyn was on me like a wolf seizing a lost sheep. It felt terrific. To my chagrin, her sucking got my cock erect again, and it was me who didn't want to leave her.

"I could stay with you forever."

"Stay mit me, my sweet man."

"Marylyn, the boss will fire me if the girl doesn't turn up."

"Are you going to come back and be with me again? I get zo lonely for a good cock."