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For five years, from April of 1979 until this last April, I worked part- time 
at this funky non-commercial radio station in New York. Non-commercial, by the 
way, means you do it for love and not for money. I was part of the public 
affairs department and I produced programs on nuclear weapons, South Africa, 
utilities, alternate energy, housing, all sorts of things. 
 
During the time I worked at this station  I occasionally supervised two 
interns, Caroline and Eve, who worked on a couple of programs, turned out to 
be very nice folks, but who did not realize that producing a regular radio 
program takes a shitload of work. Eight to ten hours sometimes for one hour of 
finished product, and that does not count travelling to and from wherever the 
person you're interviewing is 
located. So after some much needed help, Caroline and Eve sort  of faded off 
into other things. I once met Caroline briefly in Penn Station and said hello, 
but I never saw Eve again until yesterday. 
 
When they were working with me, I was at least somewhat attracted to both of 
them. I was in a long running relationship which was sometimes monogamous (on 
both our parts) and sometimes not. At that time, I was in a monogamous mood so 
I would not allow myself to interpret the interns' smiles and warmth as 
anything other than friendliness. I also had a certain misgiving about getting 
involved with station interns. Some of the long time "famous" personalities at 
the station were often surrounded (figuratively) with women and they would 
take advantage of the psychological situation by getting laid. Now it's not 
that these events were involuntary, by any means, its just that I want people 
to like me or be attracted to me for who I am and not for whatever image they 
may have of me. It's also not as if this occasional groupie phenomenon was 
something of the level of teenyboppers standing on line to get at Mick Jagger. 
Although there were real fans of many of the station's live radio producers, 
this station only has maybe 30,000 or so regular listeners, so there are 
limits to the social importance of this phenomenon. And in the case of 
Caroline and Eve, it certainly was not a case of my dealing with teenagers. 
Both were very mature, very bright women in their mid twenties while I was in 
my late twenties at that time. 
 
All of this is just introduction. The real start of this story begins with the 
fact that our little station gets 80% of its money from fundraisers and 
listener subscriptions. Every December we hold our annual Holiday Crafts Fair, 
which features lots of really high class craftspeople from the Northeast and 
Midwest. I made one of my vists to the Fair last night. I still get in free as 
a "retirement benefit" from the station. 
 
Weekday evenings are much easier than Saturday and Sunday afternoons, which 
are totally packed. I was walking through the main hall when my eye caught 
something from a distance. I wasn't sure but it looked a lot like the fedora 
hat that Eve always used to wear and the head and form underneath the hat 
likewise looked familiar. I eased my way through the crowd to get closer, and 
yes, it was Eve. I came up to her side and caught her eye. 
 
"hey, it's good to see you." 
 
She looked happy but a bit sheepish. I suspected she felt a bit guilty about 
leaving the intern position two and one-half years ago. 
 
"You know, I never harbored expectations about people who come in as interns. 
No one really seems to realize that producing radio is much more time 
consuming than whatever preconceptions you arrive with." 
 
We walked into the snack bar that was adjacent to the main exhibition hall, 
sat down and had a bite. We talked for over half an hour and my original im- 
pression of her was only being reinforced. Degree in biology (like me), worked 
in a couple of medical labs, travelled around, worked as a telephone company 
repair technician (very impressive to me, not having any idea how the phones 
 
work) and now she was still in the same job she'd been in when she interned, 
the enforcement division of NYC's environmental protection agency. On one 
level this was all a friendly conversation. On another, that of eye and body 
laguage, it was flirtation. She maintained eye contact with me almost 
constant- ly, something I find very attractive. She was interested in my life 
in the last couple of years, why I'd left the station, what sort of stuff I'd 
been writing about transmission lines, nuclear waste and depressing stuff like 
that. 
 
She asked if I was in a hurry or would I like to share a bottle of champagne 
with her back at her place in Brooklyn. People in NYC may wear jeans and 
sneakers but a lot of us seem to like expensive wine. 
 
The subway ride from the upper west side of manhattan to the Park Slope 
section of Brooklyn takes about 45 minutes. You can't talk much during most of 
the ride because subway brakes are too noisy. Lots of people in New York stick 
their fingers in their ears while a subway is screeching because of the 
decibel level. It actually hurts at times. 
 
Exiting the relatively warm subway into the 25 degree cold on December 22 at 
7Pm was a bit of a shock. It's been raining and the combined effect of cold 
rain and cold air meant for a less than leisurely walk to her house. Even 
today I still am a bit shy with women, especially initially, so when I reached 
out and touched and then held her hand as we walked, I felt much better and 
warmer when she smiled broadly. 
 
Apartments in New York are generally heated by steam, which is nice but as a 
rule they are usually too cold or downright hot, with little in between. Hers 
was the latter and despite the fact that it was just below freezing outside, 
we were greeted at the front door by Eve's roomate, Helen, who was wearing a 
T-shirt. Helen had heard of me thru Eve and was very friendly, asking about 
her favorite talk show hosts at the station, some of whom I told her I did not 
know beyond saying 'hello' in the hallways. 
 
The champagne was nice, bubbles tickling our throats and noses and sliding 
right up into our heads. Helen went off to her room to get dressed to go out. 
She began taking off her shirt just before she got to her room and the flash 
of firm back muscles and breast I got before she disappeared gave me a bit of 
a rush. 
 
We went into Eve's room, sitting on the floor over a backgammon board. I play 
only once every so often so I usually have to relearn a bit each time. Eve, on 
the other hand, played like a grand master, as a Charlie Parker album 
played in the background. 
 
After an hour or so of play I was reaching for the dice, looking down at the 
board when Eve's hand came forward and stopped me. I looked up at her, she 
looked at me, took my hand and kissed my on the palm. I leaned over, pulled 
her slightly closer and kissed her, one hand moving onto her shoulder and 
rubbing her there. Her hand went behind my head, ran through my hair and then 
to my neck, finally fingers brushing me behind the ears. Her lips were very 
full strong and warm. Wonderfully responsive, as kissing should be: both 
loving and erotic. 
 
We paused, she hesitated and then said, "Are you going to freak out if I tell 
you that I've wanted to fuck you for the last two years?" 
 
I smiled , she did likewise and then motioned with her head in the direction 
of her bed. 
 
We undressed slowly, stopping to kiss again, feeling a bit uncomfortable about 
removing our attention from each other to deal with something as mundane as 
taking off our clothes. We undressed ourselves and each other. We lay on the 
bed in the warm apartment, the radiator hissing in the background, the Charlie 
Parker tape still supplying a soundtrack. We lay on our sides, facing each 
other and separated by only three or four inches. One set of hands near the 
bed were held, fingers entwined, the other pair stroked each other's back and 
sides, slowly, learning new bodies and their uniqueness. 
 
My free hand slid down her stomach and began very gently brushing her pubic 
hair, first above her vagina and then lower, but still out side. The backs of 
my fingers slowly moved through the silky fur. She parted her legs by sliding 
her upper leg over mine. Her hand moved down and fingers gently encirled by 
cock, which was beginning to harden in a serious way. For fifteen minutes we 
lay there, her fingers holding my cock while her thumb slowly rubbed the 
sensitive part below the underside of the tip. The backs of my fingers to 
lightly brush the outside of her vagina, feeling her start to moisten. We 
maintained almost constant eye contact. 
 
As I felt wetness I let my middle finger protrude between her lips. Not 
actualy inside, but between the edges of her lips, up to the edge of her clit. 
 
She moved closer, and we began to kiss. Our mouths and tongues were more 
insistant now, passionate rather than just friendly, reflecting what was 
occurring below. Entwined fingers held each other tight as did tongues. 
 
I slipped my middle finger inside and as soon as I did so her grip on my cock 
tightened noticably in response. I stiffened and so did she. I slid the finger 
in as far as it could go, sliding it slowly up and down the walls of her cunt, 
turning the finger, moving it up to reach her clit. Wet finger against wet 
clitoris. 
 
I'm not sure if I pulled her over on top of me or whether she rolled over on 
top, but that's how we ended up. She planted her slit right on top of my now 
hard dick and lay with her weight on top of me kissing deeply and moving 
against me. Her arms crooked under my shoulders and mine curled around her 
back. I wasn't inside her but it was a missionary position in reverse. 
 
Eve lifted herself off me ,straddling my body with one leg on each side. She 
took my cock in her hand but did not impale herself. She held it and began to 
slide her wet vagina up and down its length. She repositioned herself so that 
my cock was lying flat against my stomach and her slit was right on top of it, 
sliding up and down. I never realized how truly sensitive a cock is until I 
realized how conscious I was of the lips of her vagina draped over my cock, 
her inner lips pressing on the top. I looked up at her and saw that she was 
thoroughly enjoying this, obviously getting some very effective clitoral 
rushes from having the head and shaft of my cock rubbing her almost 
constantly. 
 
She bit her lip , her eyes half closed and was taken with what she was doing 
to both of us. It was a very special feeling and I wondered whether I was 
going to lose control and spurt all over my stomach. 
 
Finally she raised herself up a bit, held my cock and placed the tip just 
where she began. She looked down at me, stared into my eyes with a look only 
people in this condition have, and, very, very, very slowly impaled herself. 
 
I always find this sensation exquisate and this time it was even more so. I 
felt that I could detect and warmth and contour of every fold inside her 
vagina. When she reached bottom she paused and I felt consumed, firmly and 
warmly held. 
 
She began to move, slowly at first. Sometimes it was up and down drawing me in 
and almost letting me slip out, then she rotated her hips for a while or 
leaned forward a bit to wantonly rub her clit against my pubic bone. We went 
on like this for a long time, slowly moving together. 
 
Years ago I took mescaline and one of the interesting effects was the fact 
that in the initial stages my entire body felt the way my cock does when it's 
hard and hot. I was lying on my bed and concentrated on my arms, my legs, my 
torso, my neck and head. My entire body felt like a hard penis onits way to 
orgasm. 
 
Eve was placing me in the same state without drugs. 
 
I lay there moving up aagainst her, drinking in the feeling and watching her 
She was very high, now, breathing heavily, her hands on my chest supporting 
her self, arms beginning to shiver slightly from the strain and the passion. 
The muscles in her stomach were flexed, her ass was beginning to quiver and 
her body in the candlelight was flushed pink. 
 
I had been running my hands over her back and sides and rubbing her ass. Now I 
reached up to cup her breasts, her nipples already very hard. I moistened my 
fingers and held them against the sides of her nipples, gently rubbing, and 
then lightly held the palms of my hands against them as they brushed as she 
moved up and down. 
 
She began to move faster and whispered to me to keep it up. I could feel 
myself building in my balls. She was giving herslef extra impact on her 
downstrokes and her breathing was labored. She began whispering my name over 
and over again and her fingers on my chest dug themselves in slightly, a bit 
of pain mixing with the pleasure. I felt her muscles grab my cock tightly, her 
back stiffened and she came, head shaking side to side. She tried to catch a 
scream but didn't succeed. 
 
I didn't even try. Two more strokes in her suddenly tightened cunt and I 
followed her over the edge, tumbling down, just missing unconsciousness. When 
she was finished she slumped on top of me kissing, licking whispering promises 
of love and satisfaction. I kissed back and held her tight. 
 
When we finally came down, lying there in the glow of lovemaking and the 
hissing radiator, we looked out the window into the night. It had begun 
snowing. Large beautiful flakes drifting slowly down to earth amidst the haze 
of the streetlights. A wonder that can make even the dirty, deadly streets of 
New York, new and beautiful. The blood and grime covered by the white cold 
shining snow. Peace. 
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