Saturday Night Seduction

I was only 23 when I first moved to New York in the late 70s. It was a great time for me. I hit the ground running and relished the fact that I was living there.

Being young and new I was up for anything, and that was exactly the right attitude to have to make the most of living in Manhattan. I had a studio on the Upper East Side and was earning a good salary.

I had plenty to do and lots of girlfriends. New York girls at the time (who knows? maybe still) were just as horny as the guys, as far as I could tell.

There were plenty of times I would hook up with a girl I’d just met in my local bar that night and have a couple of weeks together and then move on. No recriminations. It took me by surprise at first but that approach suited me perfectly.

I could smoke weed and jerk off at home if nothing better came along. Hey, it was my own place. No worries about who was coming in unexpectedly. I loved the freedom.

I was on my way home from the bar one Saturday night, solo this time. As usual I stopped at the newsagent at 79th and First Ave which got the early editions of the Sunday NY Times. This night I picked up a couple of skin mags to read later. Folded them into my paper for the couple of blocks walk home. Those days, that was it for porn. There was no internet and not even VHS.

There were ads in the back of the men’s magazines for 2-minute 8mm loops of smut and you could buy a hand-held viewer to watch them on. Not much money but it did seem like a lot of trouble so I never bothered.

But those little ads at the back of the mags also sometimes had little thumbnail images with them and I found them to be more erotic than the full page girls in the meat of the magazine. They were tiny and blurred, but these were obviously people actually fucking, not just girls posing, so it was more exciting and I would strain to see. I even came to know which publications had the best ad section and bought accordingly.

Sometimes the ads would include one or two gay or bi images. These were the first ones I had ever seen. I found myself imagining what it would be like to be with another guy. Purely as a fantasy exercise… but I would get off more quickly and more intensely when I imagined …… well… I didn’t have a clue, really. I had no idea what I would like or would want to do. It was the differentness of it that set me off.

So this Saturday night I was walking home with my paper. It was about 2am and I was pretty toasted. As I walked down 1st, I passed a guy, maybe late 30s, leaning against a car.

He asked me something. I didn’t hear him so, being the nice polite naive 23 year old small town boy that I was, I stopped and asked him to repeat himself. We got to talking. Well, he was talking and I was too polite to cut him off, as I recall.

I still don’t remember what his pitch was but it must have been convincing. He talked me into his car. I remember having no sense of his intentions but he’d talked about some interesting bootleg music and did I want to come and listen to it. I was kinda drunk and my ‘game for anything’ attitude had worked well so far. I think that was about the entire reasoning process.

His apartment building was in the 50s so only a few minutes drive away and I remember being impressed that he had underground parking and a doorman.

We entered his apartment and he got me a beer and pulled out some ready-rolled joints and offered me one. So yeah, why not? And then put on a studio tape of John Lennon – which was pretty fucking cool, to be honest. Then he said he just go change, so I just sat in his living room getting high and listening to the music.

When he came back, he’d put on a robe. As far as I could tell he had no clothes on underneath.

I thought this was a bit weird but was stoned by then and still didn’t catch on what was up.

So then he said he’d had a real busy day in the studio and could I massage his shoulders?