Literotic asexstories – Lost in New York by Member389,Member389
An apology, to anyone that reads or speaks Polish. I do not and it may become painfully obvious that I used the Internet to translate many of the words and phrases. It’s on me if they’re confusing or outright incorrect. I did my best to convey my meaning. I hope you can look past that and enjoy the story.
Dla Ewy…
* * * * *
She caught my eye as I walked passed. The young woman seemed rigid, her shoulders squared and back straight. She looked out at the cold spring rain beating on the pavement. I took the table next to hers, as I turned I saw her shoulders shudder, goosebumps rose along her arms. She wore a sleeveless dress which would be fine for a sunny day at this time of the year, but the cold rain made it chilly even indoors. She didn’t appear to have a coat or sweater. I stood and removed my coat.
“Excuse me Miss. I don’t want to appear forward but you seem to be very cold. Please take my coat while you enjoy your coffee.”
She looked up at me, the café light lit her bright eyes. She stared a moment as if she hadn’t understood and just shook her head gently. She was absolutely ravishing. She peered up at me from an arched brow, a slight crease in the center indicated a lack of understanding. She had gray eyes, like the sky during a storm. Her lips were full and soft pink, and they parted as her brow drew together. The only detraction to her appearance was the redness in her eyes and the dark circles below.
“Please, I insist. You’re shivering, and as you can see I’m dressed for the weather.” I slipped the coat between her and the chair and laid it across her shoulders and her eyes half closed as the latent warmth soaked into her. She looked up at me, a small smile appeared on her lips.
“Thank you.” She said, her voice was soft and heavily accented.
“You’re very welcome.” I wondered at the accent but didn’t want to seem rude to ask where she was from. Foreign accents are hardly unusual in New York City what with it being the melting pot and tourist destination that it is.
I sat and her face filled my mind. It was an almost perfect oval, those bright eyes shone from a distinct brow, her nose straight and narrow, her lips full, and a pointed chin with the slightest dimple. Her smile had brightened her visage, bringing her eyes to narrow slits and a dimple to her cheek too. I put her out of mind for the moment and placed my order for coffee and a cinnamon scone before diving into the notes I’d brought for my meeting. I accepted a refill on my coffee and the waitress took the empty plate and wandered off. I used the bathroom to wash up before leaving and came back to my table to find the table next to mine cleaned and the young lady gone, along with my coat. I sat and flagged down the waitress to see if she’d left it with them, she had not.
“Do you know her?” The waitress appeared annoyed.
“No. Why do you ask?”
“She stiffed me on the bill.” The waitress added, understandably angered.
“How much was it? I’ll cover it.”
“I should have spotted her for a runner, but thanks.”
“What did she have? It can’t be that bad.”
“Just coffee.”
I insisted on covering it and paid my own bill leaving her enough to cover the girls coffee as well. I only wish I hadn’t lost the things in my coat. I wasn’t so attached to the coat itself by it had some mail and a few twenty dollar bills tucked into the inside pocket. A necessary habit I’d picked up while living in the city was to never have all my eggs in one basket. It was only emergency pin money, nothing more, and she was welcome to it. She looked like she might need it more than I did, considering I was about to go sign the contract to publish my latest book. I picked up my things and made it out into the cold, hoping the mist wouldn’t ruin my sweater. My meeting concluded and I made my way home by the subway.
* * * * *
I wouldn’t have any more classes until the fall, giving me more time to work on my next book. I had a slew of material I’d cached from a recent trip to the UK. I’d been putting the information together in the living room of my small Manhattan apartment and it looked rather like a bomb had gone off. Notebooks piled on the coffee table, my laptop open in the middle, papers strewn next to it.
I put on the kettle, having picked up on the habit of afternoon tea after my many trips to the UK and Ireland over the past few years. I started digging into my work, reading and taking notes. The window light had begun to wane so I turned on a lamp and made another cup of tea. The buzzer rang and I looked at the clock wondering who it could be at this hour. I went to the intercom and answered.
“Mister Christopher Wilson?” The voice came through with a halting accent.
“Yes?”
“I have coat. I have, your coat.” She repeated. I realized that it must be the young woman from the coffee shop and immediately pressed the button to let her in. I met her at the stairs she stood at the bottom looking like nothing more than a very soggy, stray kitten.
“Hello. Come on up.” I waved her up the stairs as she pulled the lapels of my drenched coat together. She stopped a few steps short of the landing, naked fear in her eyes.
“I no thief.” She declared with more tenacity than necessary.
“Well the waitress at the coffee shop didn’t agree but I covered that.” I said offering a smile and extended my hand. I thought she misunderstood and reached to take the coat off and I waved her off and took her hand gently pulling her up the last few steps. “Come in, you look colder now than you did before.”
She walked into the apartment just far enough for me to close the door. She peeled the wet coat off and I got a good look at her as she held it out. I took it and hung it over the hook behind the door which caused her to dodge into the corner to avoid me. The dress, once pretty, was dirty in spots along with her shoes and legs. I was fairly certain she was recently homeless. She had a defiant look in her eye.
“You found me by the letters in the pocket I assume?”
She nodded. “I pay back money, soon.”
“It was just a cup of coffee, it was my pleasure.”
She shook her head and tapped her chest, then turned and reached into the coat where I had kept the extra few twenties for emergencies. There was a neatly folded wet bill and a few crumpled ones.
“I find, buy food.” She handed me the wet bills which I laid aside on the table to dry. A quick glance at what was left and I wondered what she had eaten in this neighborhood that only had cost about eight dollars. I wasn’t worried about the money and was about to tell her so when I looked up and saw her expression twist up, tears flowing freely from her eyes.
I brought her in and sat her on a chair and went to the linen closet and brought her a towel to dry off with.
“What is your name?” She looked frightened to tell me but eventually replied.
“Margo Nowak.” She added her last name after a pause. I went and found a quilt in the closet and brought it out and thought better of using it.
“Well Miss Nowak rather than soil a perfectly good quilt I’m thinking you might warm up a little more quickly in a bath or shower. Would you like to wash up?”
She looked apprehensive, but despite her fear she nodded. I showed her to the bathroom and set out a clean towel for her. After she closed the door I went to the bedroom and dug through the dresser drawers for sweatpants, a t-shirt and sweatshirt. I knocked on the bathroom door but heard nothing but the spray of the shower. I opened the door just far enough to set the clothes on the washstand and closed it.
“Thank you.” She said surprising me as I put a fresh kettle on next to a simmering pot of soup. I turned to see her in my bulky college sweatshirt, sleeves pushed up, the sweat pants bunched up around her ankles. She looked much more relaxed, her hair still wet but clean.
“I was just going to make us some grilled ham and cheese sandwiches to go with the soup. You look like you could use another feeding.”
She nodded vigorously a slight smile crossed her lips as she watched me assemble them and warm the pan. Being a bachelor I was pretty adept at grilled cheese. She leaned in and peeked into the soup pot and smiled.
“Pomidor?”
“Tomato, yes.” I said recognizing the word. “Where are you from Margo? Your name sounds Eastern European, and I think your accent gives you away.”
“I from Poland.” Her smile was warm. She leaned against the door jamb with her arms crossed as she watched me cook. I ladled up two mugs of the soup and cut the grilled cheese in half and placed them on plates placing it all on a tray.
“Unfortunately I have no dining table so we’ll be forced to relax on the sofa while we eat.” She dodged out of the way and followed me like a puppy following its dinner bowl. I went to set the tray down and stopped. She understood and carefully gathered the papers and stacked them on the other side of the coffee table. She sat in the chair and I at the end of the sofa. She waited to be served rather than jump at the food.
“Why you kind to me?”
I grinned at the thought. “I think your understanding of English is better than your speech, that’s not a criticism mind you, just an observation. So I will tell you a little story. I travel for my work and once when I was in trouble in the far north of Scotland. I asked an old man, who took me in and helped me, the very same question you just asked me. He reminded me of a passage in the Bible that spoke of treating strangers with hospitality for they may be angels in disguise.”
“You think me angel?” She sipped her soup straight from the mug, the heat visibly relaxing her.
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t want to take a chance and be wrong when it cost me so little effort to do so.”
She looked around at the large book case and the piles of work she’d moved. “You are ah…” Her face screwed up as she looked for the word.
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