written by  Domenic
What a crazy weekend that was! Either way, he had forgotten all about the girl until he ran into her on his lunch break. He was walking outside with his co-workers after getting a soup and half a sandwich.  The last weekend was pretty wild. His friends had thrown a couple of really fun parties. He always seemed to be able to meet girls at parties but never seal the deal. Then if he did he would hook up with them for a few weeks and then one of the two parties would lose interest. He would never want the commitment of being with a girl. Or she would just be crazy.

                He and his co-workers would always talk about their most recent sexual conquests. Some you could tell were lying others either were great liars or actually got laid from time to time. They were a pretty funny bunch. He was one of two American born white dudes in his crew of colleagues that he would hang out with. Other than those two there was a Jamaican, a Puerto Rican, a Guyanese, a Turk and three African-Americans, two of whom were white. They all dug woman, sunshine and cold beer. They loved to shoot the shit, talk shit and make remarks to whatever pretty ladies would walk by when they went out for a sandwich for lunch. The only other American white guy was the most vocal of the group. He was in his mid-thirties and couldn’t stop playing around with women; never settling down, always on the prowl and always in some shade of a hangover. He always seemed to be making moves and plans. They liked the freaky chicks and, as the Jamaican would say, if they aren’t freaky yet, when we get to them, we’ll freak ‘em out. He always thought that was funny. This particular day they had decided to run downtown a bit to grab lunch. Funny he would see her then, he thought.

                The day had gone from crappy to beautiful. The clouds left before noon and the sun came out to dry up everything. The temperature had climbed to around 75 degrees Fahrenheit by 2 O’clock. As they were bouncing around outside at work, plans were forged to get drinks after work in the sun somewhere. They all worked uptown on the east side so they decided a good spot would be across town on the Hudson River. There were 2-for-1 drinks on the roof deck. They could catch some rays and get buzzed. At 3:30 they all jetted across town save Jack, who had to stay back and finish up. When he finally did, at around 5, he was ready for a cold one. He left work so quickly he had forgotten to take off his work boots as he walked across town on 125th street, the sun beginning to set in front of him. He had a backpack on, a cheap pair of sunglasses, a t-shirt and dirty jeans. The street was crowded, people were out in full force. He walked with a purpose.

                He made it there and met up with his co-workers, who had also invited some females along and everybody already had a few in them. They ordered more and more drinks as the day grew dimmer. Amtrak trains would occasionally rumble by on the elevated track between the bar and the Hudson River. The mood had a hint of lust. Finally, when they had had their fill of liquor and cheap beer, they stumbled down to Dinosaur BBQ. The beer kept flowing. Eventually, after quarts of beer and tons of laughs they left, carousing down Riverside Drive. It was a Friday and some of the crew wanted to go home and others wanted to continue. A few left, disappearing down into the 1 train nearby to zoom to wherever their homes were. The rest piled into the only other American’s pick-up truck. Their mission was to drop off a girl on the east side then head downtown or to Brooklyn to keep the buzz going. Once they dropped off the girl they hit the FDR and sped downtown. Blasting music and singing at the top of their lungs. After passing under the Williamsburg Bridge an axle on the truck gave out the truck started drifting across the highway, miraculously not hitting anyone. Coming to a smoky stop at, unbelievably, an exit ramp, they all got out and pushed it the smoking heap the rest of the way.

                Ditching the car on a side street they wandered around the far east side of Manhattan. In the no-mans-land just north of the Manhattan bridge and near the river they came across a bar with some drink specials and a jazz band playing. Shots and more shots and then finally the blackout arriving at full speed. While dancing to some jazz Jack had taken one of his female co-workers in his arms, spun her around and then back into his arms and they locked lips. Jack didn’t remember much, an image here and so forth. As he came to the next day lying naked on top of the covers of a strange bed, he still had his work boots on. As he looked to his right memories came flooding back. He at once remembered a her, a female he had know for a while and who he saw everyday, riding him. Her large breasts bouncing up and down and her moaning. She, lying there naked as well, began to stir and her eyes open. She was stunned in an ‘I knew this was going to happen’ kind of way. He got up, took off his boots, put his jeans on; put his boots back on, put his previously sweat soaked t-shirt back on. He looked out of her window, it looked like a gorgeous day and it seemed like they were in the financial district.   About as far downtown in Manhattan you could get before ending up in the water, or Brooklyn. He was tired and hungover but in that good way. Maybe it was because it was finally springtime, or maybe because he could feel the mid morning sun on his face through the window. He turned around to find her wearing solely a sock, laying on her bed in a fake half sleep. They had both awoke above the covers. He walked over to her side of the bed to retrieve his backpack. As he did, she rolled over, sat up with her breasts bouncing and her hands grasped his belt buckle, undoing it and removed his jeans.

                After he was finished he put his pants back on, again, said thanks and made his way to the door. On his way out he could hear her say ‘don’t tell anyone about this’. He smirked, put on his glasses and stepped out into the sun. 

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