One afternoon Holly and I were hanging out at a coffee shop in Manhattan. Along the way we got to talking about role-play games. We had already done some of those, but she proposed a new one.

Holly started describing it. “We’re going to be playing a pick-up game. Have you heard of those?”

“No; I’m not up on them.”

“What they are is this: two people pretend they don’t know each other. Then one picks up, or tries to pick up, the other one, as if they had just met. Presumably, this has to be in some public place, like maybe a bar, but it could be in a store, a library, on the street, whatever.”

“Okay, that seems simple enough. But it sounds like the pick-up can fail too; is that what you meant?”

“Yes, it could fail depending on how the plot is going. But that seems pretty boring. In this case, I’m going to pick up you, and I assume you won’t refuse me.”

“Well, of course not. So, where will this happen?”

“On the subway.”

“You’re kidding me.” I knew one of these ladies would talk me into some stunt like this.

“Hear me out. First of all, we’re going to play versions of ourselves; we’ll use our real names. Dress like you usually do at City College.”

“Those clothes, you know, are kind of downscale.”

“That’s fine; it will seem more authentic that way. Carry a notebook too, like you usually do.”

“Okay, so what is the plan?”

“The timing for this has to be right. The way I see it, I’ll get on a southbound 1 train at, I think, 28th Street.”

“And I have to be on it.”

“I’ll give you a fifteen-minute grace period for whatever time we agree on. You can’t be really late, or I’ll just leave.” Of course this was long before cellphones. She continued, “It will be a Sunday, so the trains won’t be too busy. Also, the southbound 1 train gets emptier as it goes along, especially in the rear cars.”

“That’s because of the short platform at South Ferry. The rear five cars don’t open there.”

“Exactly. So you’ll be in, say, the ninth car.” That would be the next to last one. “Sit on the far side so I can see you when you ride in. Don’t acknowledge that you know me when I get on.”

“Where are we going?”

“Ah, you’ll be going in cold. You won’t know until we get there, and I’m not telling you now.”

“So you have been thinking this through.”

“Yes, I have. I will tell you one thing. At the end of all this, we are going to part and I, or my character, will tell you that we are never going to see each other again.”

“Why is that?”

“Because my character wants it that way. At that point you can protest, or pretend to really, but it won’t get you anywhere.” She looked at me for a moment. “Sounds interesting?”

“I guess so.”

“I think you’ll find the whole thing quite intriguing.”

******

On the designated day, my train rolled into 28th Street, and I saw a tall, dark-blonde woman on the platform. It was Holly, of course. She got on and looked around the car with a look of disdain. She then sat down directly across from me.

Her outfit that day was pretty amazing. She looked great, as usual, and it really was as if I had never seen her before. She was wearing a sort of off-white jacket and skirt ensemble. Her jacket had a plunging neckline, and I could the the lacy top of what might have been her bra. There was some kind of thick bracelet around her throat.

The most notable accessory was her large, brimmed hat, which was also off-white. To complete it all, she had nylon stockings and black, medium-heeled shoes.

Meanwhile, I was sitting there in my horrible college-boy cIothes, plus I really needed a haircut as usual.  Holly was beautiful but haughty, I thought; I was actually intimidated by her. In fact, I couldn’t imagine why she’d go for the likes of me. It’s a good thing she’s going to approach me, because I wouldn’t have the nerve to approach her. Yet I was also touched that she had done all this to please me.

I had a soft-cover book as a prop, and I pretended to read it. Yet I tried to keep track of what she was doing.

She seemed kind of fidgety. She’d cross and uncross her legs, and then she'd hold her own knee. Her glances went around the car, but never at me. There were only about five other people there, and none of them were close to Holly.

We were between 23rd and 18th Street when she stretched her legs out. Her skirt went below her knees, but she pulled it back and splayed her legs open enough so I could look up her skirt. She finally looked at me, and she had an expression of disapproval. Finally, she slammed her knees together.

In a minute, she was back at it. Her legs went even further apart, and she yanked her skirt up even more. Now I could see that she had white garter straps holding up her stockings, which was hardly a surprise. My view went right up to the crotch of skimpy white panties. Those hardly covered her pussy at all.

She went through the whole process again: looking annoyed, closing her legs, and then spreading them even further on the next go-round. By now I had stopped pretending to read, and I was frankly staring at her

After closing her legs this time, she crooked a finger at me. I pointed to myself, me?

She nodded, yes, you.

I went over and sat to her left. She said, “You’ve been looking up my skirt. You should keep your eyes to yourself.”

There was some reserve of boldness in me. “With all due respect, Miss, you’ve been flashing your panties at me.”

“I must say that you are a very impertinent young man.” She looked away from me, but not for long. “Okay, I admit it, but it was just some harmless teasing.”

I couldn’t think of a response. She crossed he legs and started to ask questions about me. “You must be in college. How old are you?”

“I’m at City College uptown...”

“I know the place.”

“Anyway, I turned twenty-one in May.”

She got more personal, “I assume you have a girlfriend up there?”

Actually, I didn’t have one at that time, but I lied. After all, this was a game in which I was supposed to make up dialogue. “I do; her name is Michelle. By the way, I’m Paul.”

“Hello, I’m Holly.” She didn’t say, pleased to meet you, but I didn’t expect her to.

I could see that she was pondering something, “Paul, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but does this girl satisfy you, I mean physically?”

Well, Michelle wasn’t around any longer – not since the previous December - but I lied my ass off about what she had been like.

“Not really.” I said something I would normally never tell a stranger. “All she does is sit somewhere and expose her body, or parts of it, and I can sit opposite her and, you know.”

“Masturbate. You don’t have to mince words with me.”

Michelle had actually done everything sexual with me that I wanted, and a lot of it too. She had an apartment in Long Island City that I'd often visited.

Holly said, “I’m surprised you are not doing better. What are there, like 4,000 girls attending that school?”

I just shrugged. Actually, I was doing very well that summer banging lonely Manhattan matrons.

“Anyway, I imagine a young guy like yourself masturbates all the time.”

I felt myself blushing, which was surprising, because Holly also did everything sexual that I had wanted. She gave me a little tap on the arm. “Don’t be embarrassed, it’s only natural. And, this girl isn’t being fair to you. However, I can help you help you with your, ah, physical problems.”

I thought for a second that she was going to set me up with somebody, but that couldn’t possibly be it.

“All right, how?”

“Get off with me at South Ferry, and I’ll show you.”

What the hell are we going to do there? I remembered Tiffany making a tentative plan for us to drive a car onto the lower level of a Staten Island ferry and using the thirty-minute trip for, well, something. But I had shot down her proposal as impractical. Now, Holly and I didn’t even have the automobile.

We were now at Chambers Street, just three stations from the last stop. Our timing had been almost perfect. I noticed more about her, like her red lipstick and the complicated design of her hat. It had a band and some kind of bluish thing that I supposed represented flowers.

“By the way, did you like what I showed to you?”

“Oh yeah, of course.”

“Especially my panties, I bet. Well, there is a lot more where that came from. We should move to the forward cars now if we want to get off.”

At South Ferry we went up to the street and I looked around. It was a Sunday, but we were on foot in Manhattan during the middle of the day. What could she possibly be planning? She simply walked and I fell into place next to her.  We must have presented quite a sight. What is that young guy in sneakers doing with a woman like that?

We left the area of the 1950s-era ferry terminal and walked east to the old one next to it. This was a big building, sheaved in copper that had turned a dark green in the sixty-seven years since it had been built. The Coast Guard ran a single, infrequent ferry service to its base on Governors Island.

She turned into the first bay and we walked along the wall. Security was lax in those days and hardly anybody was around. People were only checked if they were on line at the single slip still in use.

About halfway down, she opened a door and we stepped inside. When she closed it, the room was completely dark, but she flipped on a single overhead light. Of course, she must have been in here before; that’s how she knew where the switch was.

It was a fairly small room that looked like it was used sparingly, if at all. About the only things in it were a desk (but no chair) and some storage boxes.

The first thing she did was lock the door; then she walked over and leaned against the desk. She said her first words since Chambers Street, “I think we’re safe in here, but keep the noise level down.” Then she beckoned me to come over to her. .

She immediately grabbed me and started kissing me passionately. Her hat fell back and landed on the desktop. Soon after the make-out started, she was rubbing me all over, starting with my back. Then her hands were on my ass and my thighs. In turn, I did the same to her.

Holly unbuttoned her jacket, and I saw the top half of what was a white full-length slip; however, she didn’t undo that. She said, “Please feel me up.”

“How do you want it?”

“Silly, fondle my pussy.” She sat on the desk and she yanked her skirt up. Now I could fully see her white garter belt and straps and her skimpy white panties. I obliged her request by putting my right hand up her thigh and into her panties. Then I played with her cunt, putting my fingers into her, then moving them up to her clitoris. It was surprising that she was already wet. Had merely anticipating this aroused her so much?

She obviously liked it a lot; she put her head back and moaned. It definitely wasn’t acting. For the sake of variety, I sometimes moved my hand to the back and squeezed her behind. I couldn’t see it now, but I remembered how shapely it was.

“Let me get these panties off.” She dropped them on the desktop.

There was a natural progression to the next steps. Her hand rubbed my crotch. “My, someone has a big boner.” Holly, you’ve seen it before; what did you expect? That was revealed when she unzipped me and took out my erect cock. As she stroked it, she said, “I’m surprised the girls at your school aren’t flocking to get this.”

I thought, well, classy but horny New York ladies are doing the flocking. Besides my youth, I wasn’t sure what they saw in me. It doesn’t matter; it’s their choice.

Holly was soon quite blunt, “Paul, fuck me, fuck me right now.”

“Ah, shouldn’t I lower my pants first?”

“No, just stick it in, as is.” However, after a few thrust, she giggled, “Sorry, you’re right; the zipper is catching on my crotch. Here, I’ll take care of it.”

She unbuckled my pants and lowered my clothes; I guided myself back into her. She hugged my body; sometimes she wrapped her legs around me too. At other times, she spread her legs wide. When that happened, I steadied her with one hand on her waist and the other on one her thighs.

Holly was able to talk near the beginning. “I’m such a horny slut; I crave young men and I pick them up on the street, at colleges, wherever I can.” That doesn’t sound like the woman I know; but how can I be sure what she does when I’m not around?

She continued, “Afterwards, I just discard these guys.” Well, I had been with her for over two months now, which seemed like a good sign. A stray thought came to me. She has a thirteen-year-old daughter; could this girl imagine that her mom fucks her young lover in a ferry terminal?

She also talked about me, “I know you really needed to get laid; I know how much you must have masturbated.” That didn’t sound like a compliment. but I accepted it as a minor quibble.

I, in turn, was blunt with her although not particularly witty, “You look like a classy dame, but I’m going to fuck the hell out of you.”

She came first, and when she did she held on to my shoulders and lifted herself off the desktop. Her hips thrusted on me instead of the other way around. I think she tried to keep her voice down, but she failed at that.

I was too busy to worry about it. I babbled the usual things for these situations, “I’m going in deep and hard; I’m going to shoot it into you.”

She replied, “Well come on, shoot it already.” I went up on my toes and put my head back at the climax. At least I was quieter than she had been.

Afterwards, I stayed in her and we held each other; I kissed her face and her hair. Now she was my Holly again, not a mere stranger. As I relaxed, a familiar uncomfortable feeling came to me – one I knew from other sexual encounters in odd places. I wanted a bed or couch where I could hang out with her, but of course there was none.

She seemed to understand that too. She pushed me back and said, “We really should go now.” We got her clothes together, although she put her underpants into her purse. She turned off the light before opening the door. After looking out, she said, “Come on, the coast is clear.” She looked back, “Don’t forget your books.” They were still on the desktop.

Outside, on South Street, we blinked in the sunlight. As usual after these abrupt encounters, I felt disoriented to be out in public again, and I think she did too.

She said “I’m leaving you now, and we’re never going to each other again.”

“Why is that? Is this your idea of a zipless fuck?”

She smiled at me, “So you’ve read that book too. That is just the way I want it.” She took her panties out of her purse. “Here, you can keep these as a souvenir.”

How thoughtful of her. I had no place to stow them except by jamming them into a back pocket.

She said, “If you ever see me on the street, which is very unlikely in a city this large, please don’t try to talk to me. I’ll just shoo you away.”

With that, she turned and started walking west in the direction we had come from. I could see her ass swaying inside her tight skirt. She must have guessed I was looking at her, because she briefly turned her head and frowned at me.

Even though I knew this was all a game, I still felt upset. She hadn't even kissed me good-bye. Well, the sex hadn’t been made up; that had been very real. But now I was standing on the sidewalk with nowhere to go. The thought of the long ride back home irked me. I went east and then north along South Street. For a while I hung on a railing and watched barges and other passing craft in the East River. I was actually feeling sorry for myself. Maybe his game wasn’t that great after all.

Holly must have been trying for more authenticity, because for three days she didn’t return the messages I left on her answering machine.

*********

On Wednesday evening, she finally relented and called me. I was invited to have coffee with her in Manhattan the next day. I remember her saying, “We need to decompress from this thing, I mean discharge any feelings we have about it.”

When we were in the booth of a diner, I took her little white panties out of a bag and handed them to her.

“Why thank you; that’s very thoughtful of you.” She then said in a deadpan voice, “I assume you ejaculated into them at least once.”

I was deadpan too, “I did, but I washed and dried them afterwards.”

She looked askance at me. “Holly, you’re so gullible.” She was amused by that. “In fact, if you sniff them, you’ll find that your scent is still on them.”

“So, you’re one of those panty-sniffing perverts, I see. I should guard my laundry hamper when you’re at my place.”

“And speaking of masturbation . . .”

“We were?”

As well as I knew her, I still hesitated before telling her the next fact. “Okay, before I came down on the train on Sunday, I sneaked in a quick jerk-off at home. I wanted to be sure I had enough stamina to please you.”

She blinked at me and said, “You know, under your mild exterior, you’re actually rather perverse.”

“And under your classy exterior, so are you.”

“Also, it was rather presumptuous of you to assume I was going to bang you that day.”

“I was in the Boy Scouts. ‘Be prepared.’ ” Then I said, “The weird thing is, I did feel a regret when you said you were never going to see me again.”

“These things start as games, but they can feel very vivid as they go along. Real emotions come up. It’s like some version of method acting.”

As I sat across the table from her I thought, Holly, I love you. But I couldn’t say that and I didn’t think she’d ever say it to me.

Now I did feel a pang. What was going to happen when the new semester started? I assumed I’d be looking for a girl close to my own age. Could I do that and still “date” my two mature Manhattan ladies? Something would have to give. I assumed that Holly and her friend Tiffany were aware of this. However, they never mentioned it. Everything on the surface was open-ended. All three of us were just living in the moment.

I did a quick calculation in my head; they had been born around 1939. When they were twenty-one, I was in pre-Kindergarten nursery school. Yet, somehow they were my lovers now. The fact that they seemed not to be jealous of each other was puzzling.

I distracted myself by asking her, “By the way, how did you find that room in the first place?”

“Just luck I guess as I wandered around the area. You see, if a man walks into some place where he doesn’t belong, people can get suspicious. But if it’s a woman, and she’s well-dressed, they relax and give her a pass. Some remnant of chivalry, I suppose. Or they just assume she couldn’t be a threat.”

She give me a crooked little smile that I had seen before. It made her look younger and a bit shy. I knew she did have a bit of reserve or insecurity in her, and that smile usually confirmed it.

Then she said, “Tiffany and I have cooked up something new for you.”

“And may I ask what it is going to be?”

“Oh, we’ll tell you when the time is right. It will be soon, however.”

######

The building described here is now called The Battery Maritime Building. It still has ferry service, but the Coast Guard has turned Governors Island over to civilian use.