N.B.: For the next few days, I will be guest blogging at Judgment Call, along with MAK, whom I dated briefly but tawdrily a couple years ago; it’s only appropriate, as the proprietor of Judgment Call was the one who introduced us. I have started things off there with a gauntlet of sorts. It remains to be seen which–if either–of us will survive.
E.S. recently moved from his apartment in Brooklyn to an apartment in Manhattan across the street from Beth Israel, where he’s doing his residency. Though the new apartment is about a third the size of the old apartment, he gains at least a half hour in travel time, which, when your work day starts at 6:30 in the morning and can end as late as 11:00 at night (except on the days when it doesn’t end til 10:00 the next morning), is nothing to sniff at. Furthermore, the new apartment is on the 21st floor of the building, which means it has a fabulous view. Unfortunately it seems to be a myth that street noise doesn’t reach apartments above the 12th floor of a building; however, the occasional noisiness of the apartment is made up for by the fact that it’s above all the surrounding buildings, which means that we don’t have to close the curtains when we fuck, which is good, since there aren’t any curtains yet.
Friday morning, after E.S. had left at whatever ungodly hour he’d left at and I’d gone back to bed for another three hours, I lazed around the apartment before heading home. I turned on the computer, checked my e-mail, surfed the web, and then decided to find out what kind of pornography E.S. enjoys looking at when I’m not there to satisfy his needs. It took no time at all to figure out that it was in the folders called “surgical selectives” and “clinical therapeutics” (the porn on my computer is in a folder named “W-2 Info”).
As the street noise got louder (from the morning rush-hour traffic), I started examining what I’d found. I naturally felt the urge to do what one often does when one is examining this sort of material; as I was already naked, this was easily accomplished. Although E.S.’s taste in porn is somewhat different from mine, there was enough overlap for it to suit my fancy. As I began to approach the state of excitement that would enable me to reach my goal, however, the street noise got louder and louder, eventually reaching a level annoying enough to interfere with my concentration on the task at hand.
Then I looked over at the window and saw that the noise was coming not from the street but from the suspended scaffold right outside the window on which a construction worker stood.
The scaffold was rising slowly towards the roof, but he was looking so resolutely in the other direction that it was simply impossible for him not to have seen me.
If this had been a porn movie, of course, he would have opened the window from the outside, entered the apartment, and ravished me before continuing up to the roof; or perhaps I would have gone naked out on to the suspended scaffold and been ravished there.
This was not, alas, a porn movie. I leapt out of my chair and managed to reach the kitchen before dying of shame; I stayed there until the noise of the scaffold had stopped. Then I darted out, put my clothes on, and fled the building.