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The Holy Grail: The Fabled Freebie

The wildest and most delightful experiences to crash into your life are often the ones you never planned on and never even wasted any time dreaming about. I never thought I would ever get a freebie from any desploogination service professional, much less from a beautiful, high quality desploogination service professional. That scenario was just too much of a pipe dream to even become one of my wank-off fantasies.

Then one day in May 1983 I accidentally stumbled onto the Holy Grail: the fabled freebie from a marvelously sexy desploogination service professional.

I was 31 years old at the time and in New York City on a business trip. It was after business hours when I decided to have a drink in the lobby bar of the Midtown Hilton before deciding what to do about dinner.

While enjoying my drink, I noticed a very cute young woman smiling and staring at me from half way across the bar. In 1983 I had not yet seen or even heard of Meg Ryan, but looking back on my evening in Manhattan, the attractive woman smiling at me from across the bar resembled a young Meg Ryan.

She did not look anything at all like what I thought a desploogination service professional was supposed to look like. She was demurely dressed. She looked more like a young lawyer, CPA or bank employee. Her face shone with the same wholesome, sweet, innocence that eventually made Meg Ryan so popular on the silver screen. (https://www.tuscl.net/photo.php?id=1670 )

We sat across the bar from each other exchanging smiles and winks for a few minutes. Eventually she got up, crossed the bar and took a seat next to me at the bar.

Her name was Emily. She said she was originally from Minneapolis but had been in the Big Apple for a couple of years.

I think she said she was 23 years old.

I introduced myself and bought us each another drink.

For about 20 minutes we had a pleasantly lively, entertaining, conversation. She was quick witted, eloquent and funny.

Then she suddenly turned a corner and asked me if I wanted company for the evening. Her sudden business-like tone left no doubt that she was about to table a serious commercial proposition.

I was as surprised as I was disappointed. I didn’t think she was a desploogination service professional. Upon finding out that she was, the ego boost I had initially felt from having such an attractive woman showing interest in me was rapidly going up in flames.

Despite Emily’s powerful allure, I didn’t even ask how much she charged for her company and services. I simply told her that I was not in the market for anything like that.

Emily did not give up easily but I refused to budge. I politely held my ground.

Rather than get up and leave in search of another trick, Emily stayed put on the bar stool next to me. She dropped her business proposition and we resumed our lively, playful banter. She never brought up business again.

We each had one more drink.

Eventually I said I was going to leave and go eat dinner at a place in Little Italy that I really liked. Emily made a sad face and said, “I’m hungry too.”

I took that bait and said she was welcome to join me. It would be my treat. I tactfully pointed out that I would enjoy her company and would gladly pay for her dinner but not for her time.

Naturally, I assumed she would decline my invitation since she was looking for income, not just a free meal at a nice Italian restaurant. But I was wrong. Emily smiled broadly, leaned over and gave me a one-armed hug as she said “thank you.”

Moments later we stepped out into the raucous Manhattan night.

Dinner was terrific. As I recall, the restaurant was called “the Asti” and was located on East 12th Street. In addition to serving great Italian food, all the waiters were professional opera singers. The place was full of authentic Italians. The ambience in the Asti became increasingly loud and lively as the wine flowed and the evening progressed.

I wish the Asti were still in operation but it closed a few years late. A friend of mine who lives in New York City recently told me that another Italian “opera themed” restaurant opened in Greenwich Village under the same name - the Asti.

Emily was not only a very physically attractive woman, she was lively, intelligent, funny, sweet and endearing. Had she not been a desploogination service professional I would have probably seriously considered her as a potential long term GF or eventually, maybe even as a wife. She was that appealing on so many levels.

As we concluded dinner, I feared the awkward business issue would arise again. “What was next?”

I wanted to return to my hotel and go to bed (alone). Emily didn’t say so, but I assumed she wanted to spend the night in my hotel room and be paid handsomely for her time and services.

She suggested we go to a nightclub she was familiar with back in Midtown. According to her, the club usually had very good live music.

I don’t recall the name of the club or even where it was other than somewhere in midtown Manhattan. I do recall that the band that night was reminiscent of the popular 1980s band, Blondie. The band’s lead singer, a blonde woman, strongly resembled Deborah Harry. I don’t know if they were supposed to be a Blondie tribute band, but they were very good and sure reminded me a lot of Blondie.

The band’s lead singer was scantily dressed. Between the lead singer’s provocative dancing, wiggling her sexy, mostly bare ass and the liquor, the possibility of taking Emily back to my hotel room and gluing her to the bedsheets became increasingly appealing.

Shortly after midnight I decided to call it quits. I had an important business meeting the next day.

I asked Emily where she was headed now. She said she would accompany me back to the Hilton. I assumed she meant she would go back to the bar at the Hilton to see whether there were any potential customers still hanging around.

Upon exiting our taxi in front of the Hilton, Emily linked her arm in mine and we strode together into the hotel as if we were a recently married couple. I paused at the elevators to say goodbye. But Emily was having none of that. She got deeply into my personal space and said she had a great time that evening and was hoping we could still spend some more quality time together.

I started to tell her that, although I had a great time with her that evening, I was not prepared to pay her for sex.

Emily seemed to anticipate what I was going to say. She interrupted me before I had a chance to say much of anything. Leaning forward and putting her hand over my mouth, she said she wanted to repay me for having shown her such a wonderful, “normal” evening. She said she didn’t want or expect anything more from me other than, as she put it, “a little tenderness.”

I tried to be as tender as I could while gluing Emily to the bedsheets (twice) before sunrise.

We had breakfast brought to our room in the morning.

Emily was a fine woman.

I’ve never been able to watch a Meg Ryan movie ever since without thinking of Emily.

I sometimes wonder what ever happened to her. I hope that Emily eventually got out of the desploogination business and found someone who would consistently show her some genuine and enduring tenderness.