quickienewyork:
I once knew a girl who had New York wrapped around her finger.
She made trains appear out of nowhere, gigantic bouncers step to one side, and cabbies skid to a stop. Her hair called over bartenders all on its own, and I wanted her to look at me like she wanted something.
We eventually had four days. Four days of clawing and fucking, and four days of the look that I longed for. She kissed me at unexpected moments, and I blushed and got hard at the same time. It was four days of breakfast, wine, and long showers that while designed to wash away our sin, always just led to more.
The last day I pulled her to me in bed, held her hair in my hand, and slid my knee between her thighs until she begged. She threw open her legs with a soft fierceness I had never seen before, and I slid inside her with a groan. Instead of slipping and sliding we ground our bones and bodies together, biting lips and shoulders as we worked our way towards release. When we came, the whole city heard us, and the open window shook in the first warm breeze of spring.
When she left I was as fine as can be. I didn’t really cry at all, and if one or two tears did touch my face it was only because I knew the city lost the one girl who made the trains run on time.
Guy New York