Chapter 6
Mary left Carol's house early the next morning and walked slowly uptown toward the 59th Street Bridge. It was a beautiful morning, though she really didn't notice, and the rising sun was warming the pavement rapidly. All around her people were hurrying to work, or to school. Now and then, a car full of young boys would be attracted by her long, bright blonde hair and her tight, firm body. They would pull over and bother her, asking if she wanted a ride, then cursing and muttering obscenities when she ignored them and kept on walking. It was just what she didn't need. Not today.
She made it to the bridge and started across. The walking lane was as deserted as the car lanes were packed and she was left alone to her thoughts. She stopped in the middle of the bridge and looked out over the water. To her left was the city, the island of Manhattan. The concrete and steel jungle looked cold and perilous, even as it was being crammed with commuters and the millions who lived there. She thought it was funny that a place with so many people could look so lonely. Behind her was Brooklyn and Long Island City, not looking much different from Manhattan, except that she was leaving one and going to the other.
Mary was tired, she had been walking for quite a while, and she welcomed the chance to rest and bask in the cool breeze and view that the altitude afforded her. But she was getting hungry and the twenty-dollar bill was burning a hole in her pocket. She wondered how long the money would have to last her, she didn't have many marketable skills. For a brief instant, she mulled over how easy it would be to climb the fence and jump into the water. Then all her troubles would be over. But that would be to immature and easy, she decided.
She was still young yet and had plenty of time to find meaning for her life.
Looking back once more over her shoulder, Mary said goodbye. To her parents, to James, to Carol. And to Tommy. Goodbye, she said out loud and moved off. The city was beckoning her and she had no where else to go.
It was already late afternoon when she found a small luncheonette that didn't look too greasy. She entered and slipped into a booth. Her feet were killing her from all the walking. It was probably the most exercise she had ever gotten. She stretched her legs out and waited for the waitress, looking around to check out her surroundings. It was a typical New York, Mom and Pop business and, as might be expected for this hour of the day, the place was deserted. The old woman came out from behind the counter, took Mary's order for a hamburger, fries and large Coke, and disappeared, into the kitchen. Mary just closed her eyes and almost tell asleep while she waited. It felt so good to sit down for a while.
After eating, Mary wandered aimlessly through the masses of humanity for hours and now the sun was beginning to fade. She stopped and rested at a doorway. She was in Greenwich Village, though she didn't know it, and the streets were filled with long-haired guys in dirty clothes, short and long-haired girls wearing next to nothing, and cops.
She needed a place to stay. Badly. She walked on, more slowly than before. Three or four wild-eyed looking guys stopped her on the street and asked her if she wanted any drugs. She stiffened fearfully when they approached but when she shook her head no, they merely moved on to the next passerby. God, she was relieved about that, though she didn't know why she was so paranoid.
Mary stopped at a corner and just looked around, not really sure of her next move. A big, shiny black car pulled to the curb and beeped loudly. Mary looked around to see who he was beeping at but there was no one behind her. He can't be honking at me, she thought. The horn was persistent and she turned to see an older man in the driver's seat, motioning frantically for her to come to the car.
It was only a few feet from her and she moved toward it apprehensively. She walked to the open passenger side window and leaned in sightly, on guard.
"Yes?"
"Hi, are you doing anything?" The guy asked, a slight, self-conscious smile on his lips. He was in his fifties, though well preseved, and he was looking around nervously.
"Wh-what do you mean?"
"You know, for the next hour." he winked lewdly at her.
Mary looked at him quizzically, not at all understanding what he was talking about. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, making a grand gesture of extracting a twenty-dollar bill. He held it up for her to see. "Is this enough?"
She didn't say a word, but stared at the money. It suddenly began to dawn on her what was going on. He was propositioning her. He was offering the money to her as if she were a common street tramp. Her face turned a bit crimson.
The man was disappointed that she didn't jump in the car when he flashed the money. He came down here often to patronize the young runaway prostitutes and the greenbacks almost always did the trick. His eyes devoured Mary's beautiful young face and well-formed tits. She probably wanted more, he reasoned, and she looked as if she would be worth it.
"You're really a doll," he said. "I'll throw in another ten for a blow-job, too."
He extracted another bill and leaned way over to her side of the car, breathing heavily in anticipation. She backed away from him.
"Drop dead, creep," she yelled in his leering face. She backed up, surprised at her own strength and emotional control. She watched as the old man hastily shoved the money back into his pocket and pulled quickly from the curb and moved down the street, squealing his tires in his haste to avoid any kind of scene. Mary's face was red from anger, and a bit of embarrassment. "That's telling him."
Mary twisted her head to see a young woman approaching her from a doorway. "Huh?" she murmured.
"That's telling the bastard," she repeated a bit more strongly as she came up to Mary.
Mary quickly looked over the stranger. 'She seemed older than herself, by a few years. She carried a wide, pretty smile, had long black kinky hair and a big, full body, covered by a pair of ripped blue jeans and a sheer blouse, through which her dark nipples pointed quite noticeably. The girl paid the exposure of her breasts no mind at all. Mary just stared into the girl's sparkling brown eyes when she stopped next to her. Mary wore at lost little girl look, a familiar look in this part of town.
"That guy," the girl said, pointing to where the car had disappeared down the street. "We have them down here all the time. Rich guys from uptown or out in the suburbs. They're out cheating on their wives and they come down to the Village to pick up young girls for the night ... or an hour or two. Funny, one girl is some other old man's daughter and somebody is fucking his daughter at the same time. It's a funny place, all right. How much did that one offer you?"
Mary was taken aback by this brash girl and her come-on, and yet, she seemed so open and honest.
And her smile was the first really friendly one she had seen all day.
"Thir ... thirty dollars," she finally felt compelled to answer.
"Thirty dollars? That's pretty good for around here. A lot of girls would do it for five or ten." She looked Mary up and down, not without admiration. "Yeah, you're really pretty. No wonder he offered you so much."
Mary blushed and brought her eyes down to the pavement.
"Oh, don't worry," the girl rushed to reassure her. "I'm not a lesbian or nothing, if that's what's bothering you. It's just that I used to do it, you know, with them." She jerked her thumb toward the street and, as if on cue, a car pulled up and beeped its horn, the driver beckoning to the two girls. The girl turned and gave the driver the finger and he sank back into his seat and moved on, stopping up the block to honk at someone else.
"You ... you mean, you were a prostitute?" Mary asked, her eyes widening, somewhat incredulous.
"A girl's got to eat, right?" A wry, kind of sad smile crossed her lips.
Mary nodded half-heartedly, unconvinced.
"You look a little hungry yourself," the girl continued. There was a momentary silence as the girl stared knowingly into Mary's eyes. "You ran away, huh?"
"What do you mean?" Mary asked suspiciously. "Come on. You have nothing to hide from me. I just want to help you. I was a runaway myself."
"You were?"
"Sure. Most of the people here are running away from one thing or another. With me, it was my parents. How about you?"
"Yeah, it was my parents, too," the young blonde answered, allowing herself a brief homesick thought. Then she remembered what it was like at home and the thought faded away.
"Well, if you want to talk about it sometime, we can. Right now, why don't we go get something to eat? I'm famished. I live right over here with some other people," she said, pointing to the doorway she had exited from.
Mary hesitated. The girl was so friendly, too friendly. She felt like there must be some kind of a catch, but it was getting dark and she had nowhere else to go. And she needed a friend.
"Come on ... come on, we don't bite," the girl said, taking Mary's arm and guiding her. Mary relaxed and let hereself be led. "By the way, my name's Jan. What's yours?"
"Mary ... Mary Johnson."
"Pleased to meet you. Don't look so glum. Things will be rough for a while, but you'll survive. We all do."
The two girls walked up the decaying wooden steps of the older apartment building. There were four doors on the ground floor and a stairway-leading up, but the girl went past it and up to the rear apartment door. It was left unlocked, there was little to steal and usually one of the occupants was home, and she opened it, stepping aside to admit Mary with a beckoning wave.
"Welcome to our mansion. You'll have to excuse the mess, our servants are off today," she joked.
"Thank you," Mary said, entering into the large living room. Her spirits were lifting rapidly.
The living room was big and roomy and messy. Two large couches faced each other in the center of the room, with an area rug between them, and straight ahead was a chair and table. There were a couple of mattresses along the wall. There were clothes and beer cans and wine bottles all over the place. Definitely lived in, Mary thought to herself. In fact, there was a guy on one of the couches right now, oblivious to their entrance. Mary could hear the sounds of someone rustling around in the kitchen beyond and she noticed four doors leading off from the living room, each to a bedroom.
"Is that you, Jan?" A girl called out from the kitchen.
"Yeah," she answered, closing the door behind them. "Is dinner almost ready? I brought a guest."
"Oh, yeah? A nice-looking stud, I hope."
"Keep your pants on, Julie. It's a girl."
A young, sweet-looking girl came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on the half-apron she wore over her jeans and T-shirt. She extended a hand, her cute face smiling brightly and her well-formed tits bouncing freely and without shame under her thin shirt.
"Hi. I'm Julie," she said as they shook hands softly.
"I'm Mary."
"Nice to meet you. If you're staying for supper, you can come in and earn your keep by setting the table." Her tone was friendly.
"Sure," Mary said, following her into the kitchen.
"I'm going to wash up," Jan called after them. She headed for the bathroom near the front door.
"Are you a runaway?" Julie asked as they began setting the table together.
"Is it that obvious?" Mary laughed.
"Sorta ... You just meet Jan?"
"Yeah."
"She's great, she really is. I was a runaway, myself. Jan took me off the street a year ago and let me stay here. And I never left. She and Zack rent the place."
"Zack?"
"Jan's old man."
"Is he the one...." Mary started to ask, pointing to the living room.
"Huh? Oh, no, that's Phil, Zack's younger brother." Her voice got low and she whispered, winking lewdly. "He's a great fuck."
Mary smiled nervously at Julie's bold remark, wondering what she had gotten into. She was beginning to have second thoughts about leaving home.