Walter’s Diary pt.6 – NY Blues

Well now.
I’ve just got out of a jail cell, after spending three nights “chatting” with some lovely police officers from NY’s finest.

My video shop friend, Big Al, let me spend some time in his store on Monday.
“That lady’s always in here, sitting in one of the booths and frigging herself silly!” he told me; I didn’t like to ask how he knew this… I’ve a vague recollection of him once offering to show me some “home movies” once. No doubt he had some elaborate video-camera set-up back there.
I made a mental note not to get myself into one of the booths, just in case.

After seven hours of serving (yes, he let me stay in his shop by making me work there) the “dirty mac” brigade, Mary wandered in.
She didn’t recognise me, and flounced straight out to the back of the store, where Big Al keeps his booths. Al told me this was what she always did, and why didn’t I head back there?

I called the hotel, but Deadfast didn’t answer…. I’d made the mistake of letting him into the mini-bar, and now he was no doubt unconscious.
So, after a few minutes of thinking, I called Al over to mind the till, and I headed out back.

Big Al has four booths back there, and three of them were empty.
The one on the far right had its door shut, so I deduced that Mary was ensconced within.
I crept into the neighbouring booth, and quietly shut the door…. with no plan whatsoever.

I couldn’t see a thing… there was no light in there.
I could barely make out a coin-slot on my left, so I fumbled for some change and put in a coin, expecting a light to come on.
Instead, a tv screen flickered on infront of me (behind a slightly-stained plastic window) and I was suddenly confronted with some very saucy material!
I averted my eyes, and saw a hole in the wall… a hole that would lead directly into Mary’s booth!

As I looked, I saw a finger poke through, and make a beckoning “come hither” gesture.
I was looking at a gloryhole!
I’d been told about such things by Deadfast once or twice during a long winter night around the fire, but put that (and his tales of a “no-hands bar” in Thailand in which you would recieve oral sex by an unseen mouth whilst sitting at the bar) down to his active imagination.
This was real… ye gads!

I knew what was expected of me, but… I couldn’t do such a thing!
However, here I was, in a booth next to Mary Hellthwaite, and she wanted my… special purpose.
This was unexpected!

What was I to do?

Well… I knew that I had to make some form of contact with her, and so… yes, dear reader, I did something that I regretted, and … well … after many minutes of self-doubt … and I am blushing as I type … I presented myself to her!

I undid my trousers (making sure the door was locked) and slipped my underwear down, and stepped forward… the blood was rushing, and so I poked through the hole just fine.

And that’s when the lights in the booth came on, and a voice boomed out “You’re under arrest, sir, please get yourself dressed and step out”.

Oh, bother.

Turns out, I wasn’t in a booth next to Mary at all.
That swine Big Al had seen Mary slip out the back a little while before, and had not said anything to me.
Instead, he had phoned the police and informed them that there was a sex pest in his store!
The blighter then sat back and watched as I headed back there and… well… you know the rest.

I was carted down to the station, and questioned as to what I was doing in New York, who I knew there, and so on.

Luckily, after a few days of there rather inept questioning, Deadfast had bailed me out (with, I hasten to add, my own money that he had pilfered from my bank account whislt I had been “missing in action”), and we headed back to the hotel.

“Walter,” he said through the door of the bathroom as I slipped into the hot bath I’d just ran. “I know where Mary is.”
“Oh,” I stuttered, somewhat in shock. Surely he couldn’t have done some actual work?
“I bumped into her in the bar downstairs, appologised for your behaviour on Saturday night..>”
“My behaviour?”
“Yes, of course,” he said, oblivious to the real world. “I then invited her back here for a chat and, when she left in the morning, she agreed to come home with us.”
“Has she ran out of money?”
“Yes.”
“You two got along, didn’t you…” I muttered, sinking under the bubbles.

In a few hours, we are going to be sitting on a plane, headed back to London.
We’ve spoke to Mary over the phone (well, Deadfast made some strange cooing noises when he had the mouthpiece, whilst it was left to me to arrange things) and she is due to meet us in the lobby in twenty minutes.

I must go and wake Deadfast now… I’ll inform you of the reunion with Lord Hellthwaite and his daughter when we get back to the UK.

I’d kill for a chip buttie right now…

 

Posted by Walter

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