The Extraordinary Journey

by ahorsewithnoname

7:22 am

It was a particularly ordinary Tuesday morning, the din of traffic no more troublesome to my ears than most every other morning. Waiting for the crosstown bus I could feel the heat perspiring from the sidewalks and buildings. It was going to be one hellish day.

The Yankees were opening a three-game series against the White Sox, and since I had the Tuesday game plan, tonight I'd get outta' work a few minutes early, go pick up Sam, and we'd enjoy our night at the Stadium. Being divorced sucked, but at least my boy and I got to spend some quality time together.

The bus ride was always part of the morning challenge. People rushing to work, whether by subway, bus, taxi, or the crazy ones who drove their own vehicle, all were part of some master logjam of the human trafficking puzzle. Sometimes there'd even be an altercation. I practiced forbearance recently though I'll admit it isn't always easy. I recall just a month ago I was sitting and there was standing room only. An elderly man got on the bus and as he looked around I caught his eye and nodded toward my seat, silently offering to give it up to him. He smiled and started to walk toward me, so I got up, and as soon as my ass was off the plastic some young punk shot into the opening. When I told him that I was getting up to give the older man my seat he said "What older man?" and then told me to fuck off. I'm not one to start a bar fight or a bus fight for that matter, but this asshole had quickly pushed my buttons.

It was the strong grip on my wrist by the older man that saved the young punk from a public ass-kicking and possibly saved me from getting arrested.

"It is your kindness that will be remembered. Please, let it go," and he smiled once again, then shuffled toward another free spot that opened up as the bus reached a stop.

The bus ride wasn't memorable, thankfully. In fact, the forty to fifty minutes per day that I spend commuting by bus, walking and the elevator ride up to the office usually gives me time to zone out and indulge in some daydreaming.

8:19 am

"Mrs. Winston? Good morning, ma'am, it's William, returning your call." I settled back in my chair a bit, made a slight adjustment to my headset, and then closed my eyes and willed myself to concentrate. Mrs. Winston was my largest account. In the overall scope of investments at Cantor Fitzgerald, she wasn't a large fish, but then again, I was barely breaking into mid-management with accounts, so to me, she was very important. Still, we had these talks once a week.

"Yes, Mrs. Winston, I do believe that Apple is a strong company and highly encourage you to retain your investment in the firm," I said, careful not to reveal what I had learned from a friend of mine who worked for the company, about their impending new product line that might well revolutionize the music industry. iPod...what a silly name.

"Yes ma'am, it is true that I don't make a commission unless you either sell stock or buy stock," knowing where this was going. "Yes, ma'am, I thank you for your gracious concern, but I'm okay." She was always asking if I was making enough money, should she send me a check, etc.

"You have a good day too, Mrs. Winston, and yes, I'll make sure to tell Sam that you said hello. He was so grateful for the autographed baseball that you got him for his birthday. Thank you and goodbye, ma'am." As I disconnected I didn't roll my eyes like some of my contemporaries. My Mom was getting up there in years too, and I knew that Mrs. Winston's concern was simply a mother's love unrequited. I never took advantage of that from her or any of my clients, which meant I slept just fine at night.

The thought of sleeping reminded me to give Jenna a call, and with it, memories of last night's midnight tryst saturated my caffeine-deprived brain.

"G'mornin'," she said in a throaty whisper that ratcheted up my morning horniness a magnitude or two.

"Hey babe, just checking in, making sure you're up and--"

"Yes, I'm up. Speaking of up, lover...you were certainly 'up' last night now weren't you?"

I could hear the mirth in her voice and could picture the half-smirk of a smile.

"Maybe there is something in those little blue pills. Weird name though. Viagra. Not sure they'll ever get anywhere with that name."

We chatted for a few more moments and then she was off to teach class at Columbia and I was back on the phone.

8:43 am

Coffee, to me, is one of the four pillars of the food pyramid infrastructure, and I needed a refill. One thing about this job; coffee was never in short supply. My mug had a pic of my kid on it, a present from him to me for Christmas last year. Poured some coffee and added plenty of sugar.

"Takin' Sammy to the game tonight?"

That was Joe Mantle, another mid-level guy, no relation to Mickey Mantle, although it made for interesting stories.

"Yep. Clemens is pitching tonight. Going for win number 20, man!"

"Amazing year he's having. Yankees too. They're gonna win it all this year, pal! See ya later tonight." He punched me lightly on the shoulder and shouted out "Go Yanks!" as he left the kitchen area. Joe also had tickets and was a great fan.

That was a preview of Five Non-Erotic Well-Written Short Stories. To read the rest purchase the book.

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