Murder in Times Square Page 2

  By then Clem and the other clerk had taken the payment from Connie and I was following her up the rackety stairwell. My cock was real hard, from the sight of her dark nylon-covered legs weaving up the steps. I quickly went after her.

  I'll just fuck her. Then I'll get the fuck out of here. But I knew I wouldn't...

  The room was even shabbier than the hotel, which had much to be desired anyway. A bare light bulb hung from the ceiling, while along the floor, brown burn marks looked like they were dead cockroaches, shimmering as if they were going to come to life again. The bed was neatly made—someone had obviously cleaned the room—but the covering was frayed and tattered, giving an indication what might be underneath. I shivered. One side of the bed was against the wall, with a small side table standing at the head and a table lamp that didn't work. I flicked it a few times and had to settle on the ceiling fixture that did work.

  Connie just crawled into bed, removing her jacket and not caring that her skirt went up her legs, showing her dark nylon tops. I looked down at her, my cock hard, aching to be released from my pants. She let go of a snore, a deep cackling noise that repeated itself over and over.

  “Aw, shit,” I said, disappointed that she had fallen asleep. I thought about getting the hell out of there when the sight of her pubic hairs caught my eye. Man, is she hairy! I had noticed it earlier and it looked as if her cunt was covered from belly button, down to her shimmering pee hole, escaping out the sides of her panty. When we screwed at the subway station, I momentarily marveled at it, but now it was disgustingly obvious. And I didn't like it.

  Jesus Christ! Gross! I shook my head. I wasn't in my right mind, which told me to get the fuck out of there. My cock knew better and my hand felt the soft warm flesh of her thigh and went into the panty. I had no difficulty with getting the panty down, but it got a bit snagged with the garter holding up the nylons. I angrily pulled the panty down—regardless of whether I ripped or not—and had one leg freed, the panty left to dangle off the other one.

  Man, am I ready to explode! In an instant, my pants were down and I was working my way past her legs. Then I heard her quiet rumble.

  Buoah! Her chest slightly heaved up and again she belched, but this time a little more powerfully. Buoah! Buoah!

  All I could do was get out of way—which I did. An explosion of vomit spewed from her mouth, sprinkling the bed and walls before she made it to the sink. I shook my head, as I gagged, too. Each time she vomited, I felt my hard-on quickly going down.

  I got off the bed, pulling my pants up and drew the vomit-stained covers down. An array of cigarette burns stared back at me. It's incredible the place was still standing after that hotel guest's last stay.

  Connie vomited a few times more, then tried to get into bed again, slightly tripping on her panty down one leg. She easily freed it and was back in bed, curling up in a fetal position, sucking her thumb like a little girl. I felt myself getting hard again and got closer to her. If I could just fuck her one more time, I'd leave and get the hell out. There came a knock on the door. I froze, listening, as someone knocked again. I pulled the covers down over her and went to the door, afraid of whom it might be.

  The knocking sounded again, louder and more forceful.

  “Connie!” someone yelled. “Connie! It's Clem.”

  Damn, the clerk from downstairs.

  “Baby, you forgot your receipt,” he said.

  Receipt, my ass. I flung the door open.

  He looked surprised and took a step back. “Huh? You still here?” he mumbled. “Where's Connie?”

  I was pissed. “She's sleeping. What do you want?”

  It seemed like he was figuring something out when he said, “Sorry for the disturbance, buddy. Here's her receipt,” he handed me a stub, turning and about to walk away when he grimaced and squirmed. “Shit, did you vomit? It smells like someone threw up.” He grimaced again and this time spat something out, “Ptui! Christ! Just tell Connie I was here, okay, buddy?”

  I shrugged and watched him walk away. “Shit!” I mumbled, relieved and happy he was out of the way. But like hell I was going to give her up to him...no fucking way

  When I closed the door, it was amazing how much the place really did smell. Unbelievable that I would be spending time in a place like that, but that's exactly what I was doing. After a bit, I guess I got used to the smell, glanced at Connie and went through her purse. Besides the thirty or so dollars she had from Paco—the hotel cost six and change—she also had a twenty hidden in her in a makeup kit. I thought about taking the money, but on second thought left the cash—Paco's cash—intact.

  I flipped through her wallet. Consuela Sanchez it read, followed by snapshots of her and countless boyfriends, each one looking like he just gotten something—which I'm sure they did. She was eighteen her ID said, but she definitely looked a lot older. I thought she was at least twenty-five or more. I guess the drinking does that to you. There were no photos of parents or siblings, so I guess there weren't any. I put the wallet back and went to her. She seemed very peaceful, sucking her thumb, and I slowly pulled down the covers.

  Lower and lower, little by little, her bare bottom almost instantly brought back my hard-on. I undid my pants, pulling them off. It felt good, standing there with my cock sticking out and looking down at her, but I wanted something more. I lay down next to her. My cock was throbbing, desperate for a cunt to enter. I gripped my cock, aiming it into her backside and pushed myself closer. Almost instantly, my cock entered her backside and I heard a slight moan of surprise.

  “Aw, shit!” she moaned, “Paco, stop...” Almost instantly, she turned and settled back to sleep, with a stream of saliva falling from her mouth.

  I smiled. So Paco had been close with her—in more ways than one I knew. I covered her, got dressed, and was about to leave when I heard someone walk slowly by the door again.

  Damn! Like hell I'm going to leave her to Clem! Shit! Jesus! I got on the bed, clutching her hand as if to protect her, listening. “He's not coming in here!” I mumbled. “Like hell, mother fucker!”

  It was a restless night for me, listening, dozing, pissing into the sink, but somehow the night did pass. Yet each time she turned in her sleep, I bolted awake, staring at her while she just rolled over and went back to sleep, as eventually I did, too.

  Sometime in the night, I got the puked-on blanket I had discarded, covered her and myself. By then the smell was gone or at least it didn't smell so bad anymore.

  All night long, there were sounds of people walking, closing doors, going on their way. I must have given up thinking it was Clem, because a few times there were crisp female steps in the hall so the paranoia or suspicion was just that.

  Around dawn, Connie came to, yawning. She groaned and stretched. “I sure got enough sleep.” She stared at me, as if trying to remember where I fit in. “I forgot your name,” she sheepishly mumbled.

  “Eddie.”

  “Got a cigarette?”

  I gave her one and lit it for her, but she went into another coughing fit. I thought she was going to start throwing up again, but she settled down, just breathing as if still tired and taking puffs on her cigarette. I said nothing, letting the silence do its talking for us. After she smoked her cigarette, she yawned again.

  I thought she was going to sleep again.

  “Did you screw me?”

  I thought fast and said, “No, I didn't. I was drunk, too.”

  She looked at me. “Thanks honey.”

  I nodded. “But first let's get to know each other.”

  She brightened and said, “Whaddya want to know, I'll tell ‘ya anything.”

  Anything? Probably making it up as she goes along. But the biggest worry I had was why she had stabbed Paco and acted like she didn't care. As if it was no big thing. It certainly was. Still, I only wanted one thing from her, a good honest fucking, and then I didn't care one way or the other. But what was I supposed to ask her? I've always been at a loss of words when it comes to
talking with females. “How old are you?” I asked, as if I didn't know already.

  She looked at me. “Twenty. It was my birthday just a week ago.”

  “Congratulations,” I said, smiling, wondering if maybe I read her ID wrong, if the ID hers.

  She lowered the blanket that had covered her, revealing her black bra and fleshy bosom. That sure was a decent eyeful. I felt my hard-on returning, that a corner of my blanket was moving up and down.

  She noticed the slight vibration of my covered cock and slowly lowered herself. She was beneath the blanket in no time. Without a word, she nudged the blanket out of the way. My cock was red and throbbing, bom, bom, bom! Oh boy! Was it ever aching for a touch of someone's gentle, nice, luscious, fingers and mouth! Then she dipped her head to my hard cock and swallowed. Oh God! Jesus! I couldn't help but instantly cum.

  My scum spilled out of me as if it was water, gobs and gobs of thick white gooey stuff, like the paste you get in grade school, then peel it off your hand. I felt shame and frustration, like a dirty schoolboy with no chance of getting anything else.

  The blanket flipped back and Connie looked at me with some disappointment as my cock plopped out of her mouth. This was nothing that she had bargained for and there was little I could do to replace what had just occurred. It had basically become a one-sided affair, just like jerking-off is, pleasure which is really a dead end trap, with nothing that can be shared. It's closing time, asshole, take up your prick and get out of here!

  Again I felt like an idiot. She was wiping her face and lighting a cigarette. What could I do to make it up to her? Promise her the world or stay with her till we do it again? Ha! Fat chance!

  “I'm hungry,” she suddenly said, pushing herself up. “Plus I gotta get some coffee.”

  I brightened and quickly saw a way out of my shame. “Coffee would be great!” I smiled. “Good idea. Let's go and get some.”

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  * * *

  Chapter Three

  * * * *

  When we got to the front door—ignoring the new clerk now standing and looking at us. Connie shrugged. “Never saw him before.”

  The rain was pouring in torrents. Never had I given a thought to rain, and the strange dribbling sound I kept hearing through the night didn't even click that it might be rain. But we looked at each other and she shrugged, reached for a discarded pizza carton in a nearby garbage can, spread it open and held it open over her head for me. We raced across the street, where there was a coffee shop, midway up the block. We laughed like idiots, glad we made it in one piece, our feet and legs wet, but who cared? We didn't.

  After our delicious eggs, toast and coffee breakfast, we sat back and smoked. She was incredibly tired looking, more so than she was before. “You could use some more sleep.”

  “We only got a few hours left,” she explained. “If I sleep now, with the way I'm feeling, I sure as hell won't want to get up later.”

  “But you got enough cash, don't you?”

  She instantly brightened. “Yeah, we can do that. We got enough for three days.”

  The rain had abated somewhat and a coolness had settled in as we left the restaurant. It was no problem getting back, where she paid the new hotel clerk for a few days extra days. But it sure was nice to get back into bed, where she quickly fell asleep, her cigarette still burning in her fingers. I frowned. Her wrists were filled with cut marks, which were obviously done with a razor, healed and slashed again. I shook my head, put the cigarette out, undressed and joined her in needed sleep.

  A pounding noise awoke me.

  “What the hell?” I mumbled, jolted from a disturbed sleep, my eyes wide, confused.

  “Open up!” someone shouted. “You can't stay here.”

  “That asshole!” I cursed, recognizing Clem's voice. “Mother fucker!” I swung the door open, standing in my underwear.

  “Check out time's 11 AM, buddy,” he growled, glaring at my state of dress. “Show's over! Anyway, I got guests, they got reservations.” He looked very pleased with himself.

  “Hey, wait a minute,” I said. “We paid for three extra days.” But reservations in this alkie dump?

  “Like hell you did,” he said, but he wasn't sure about himself. “Got a receipt?”

  I turned and took a look at Connie. She was fast asleep and nothing could wake her. I grabbed her purse and flicked it open. I found the receipt Connie had put away and smiling, held it out for him to see. “Paid in full,” I said, grinning at him. “For three more days.”

  “What?” he angrily said, trying to grab the receipt, but I wouldn't let it go.

  “Goodbye,” I said, slamming the door shut and expecting him to beat down the door. Nothing. I waited for a minute, then shrugged, and went back to sleep.

  When I next awoke hours later, Connie was gone. Somewhere a radio was playing a news broadcast about the weather and more rain was being forecast. I cursed, seeing her nylons and garter belt draped on a chair. Just the sight of them gave me a spurt of erection. If I touched them, I'm sure I would cum. I turned away and got off the bed. It was a small room with a covered-over window making it look like as if it was night or evening all the time. Whether it was morning or dusk, who knew?

  The muted radio continued to play—sports from the Garden. Shit, I have to listen to that? I went to the window, pulling aside the window covering. Damn, gates were in place before the window. If there had been a fire, I'd never get out of this dump.

  I turned, looking for some cigarettes, but found none. Damn! Always in the morning I reached for a cigarette. It was my way to start the day. I cursed again and started to get dressed.

  Where did she go? What if she didn't come back? I looked at her nylons. Man! They looked nice, smooth, soft and sexy. I held one in my hand and inserted my fingers into the stocking. It was draping and falling like the clothes of a woman slowly coming off. Man! Am I hard! I lowered my hand to my crotch. My cock was stiff and I was beating it frantically. It wasn't normal jerking off, but angry masturbation. Where the fuck is she? The door flung open and there stood Connie, chewing gum and smoking a cigarette. I froze, embarrassed like an idiot. She was looking wickedly at me, her eyes wide. I was red-faced.

  “Please, baby,” she cooed. “Cum for mama... Pretty please?” And her lips were down-turned in a little girl mimic that aroused me even more.

  I wickedly smiled and started beating my dick. Bom! Bom! Bom!And very rapidly I was spurting and creaming jisms of wonderful cum that drained me and left me exhausted, breathing heavily, like I had just fucked a beautiful hot looking hooker. For a moment, I kept hoping she would be that hooker and take my cock, licking off the remnants of scum that clung to me, but she just sat there. I let go of my weak, limp dick, streams of sticky scum festooned along with the sides of the nylon. She went over to where the garter belt lay, raised her skirt and put that on. Without a word, she pulled on the nylons, lavishing herself in the sticky, scummy one. Man, I was getting hard all over again!

  “Let's go back to Grant's,” she finally said. “I need a drink.”

  I shrugged, but got dressed, rubbing the stickiness off my fingers.

  We made it down the stairs and there stood Clem. That asshole. Strangely, he had a smile on his face. “Hope you had enough,” he said, grinning and winking.

  I looked at Connie, her face was all red, like she had gotten caught doing something. And I wondered what?

  “Let's go,” Connie said, taking me by the arm and avoiding Clem. “Let's get outta here.”

  Clem burst out into louder guffaws.

  I'm sure something had been going on with them.

  It was drizzling outside. As we walked, I couldn't help but think of what had just happened. This old asshole, who demanded we get out, now asked for nothing, like we had become pet occupants. I looked at Connie. Her face was no longer red, but chewing gum and determined to get a drink.

  As usual, no matter the weather, 42nd Street was alive and crowded.
The continuous movie arcades gave some shelter from the rain, which had let up somewhat, but people kept on coming onto 42nd Street. This was New York City and this was its playground, a real playground for adults... Ah, the story of sexual life in the Big Apple, it goes on and on...

  I walked with Connie down 42nd Street, her dark-hosed legs drawing attention from the passersby and once more giving me a nice hard-on. Oh shit. I shook my head. Will probably cum before I can stick it in her.

  Grant's Bar was very crowded. It being a Sunday, all the seats and tables were filled with people, eating, drinking and laughing. I wondered where I would fit in. When she ordered drinks, we were standing at the crowded bar, but I didn't want any. “Just a beer,” I said. She looked at me like I was losing it, but I didn't care. Gin and tonics were her usual drinks now, which she paid from a bill she had separated from the bills she had left over from the other day. Good thing I hadn't taken any of her money, but I didn't say anything. After her red-faced response to Clem, it was obvious to what she'd been doing on the side. I shrugged. So what? I didn't care, as long as I got mine.

  We sipped our drinks, making small talk and gazing over the crowd, when someone called her name.

  “Connie!” a high-pitched voice cried, “Miera! Where ‘ya been?”

  It was an obvious Hispanic transvestite—as Miera menas look here—who was making her way past the crowds, giggling, leering, but impatient to get to Connie and tell her the news. Not a bad looker at that. Nice hairdo and pretty made-up face, but the makeup couldn't disguise the stubble that could be seen close up on her chin. Within a few more hours, she couldn't pretend what she/he was. Still, my mouth was open as a few times as I saw the tops of her fake breasts peeking out.

  "Cheeka! Where ‘ya been?” she squealed again. “Did you hear about Paco? Muerta! He got killed!”

  I froze, like something had gone through me, but didn't come out the other side.

  “No!” Connie equally squealed. “Oh, my God, what happened?”