It was the picture that caught me. No not one of those mags, Penthouse or whatever, rather the cover of the "Now", our city's free, racy guide to the arts this week. I don't always pick it up, pretty well out of that loop, but my sister-in-law brought home last week's issue, and somehow the coverpage stayed in my car for a few days of commuting.
The picture in question shows three young women, clothed, sitting on rusty chairs against a light concrete background. The woman in the center, a brunette with sunglasses, a straw hat and dark blue T-shit and shorts, has lifted her arms in a "V." Her mouth is open and one leg is thrown over the chair leg. To her right another brunette, wearing a leopard halter-top and blue jeans has thrown her head back her arms pushing against the chair, abandoning herself to the pleasure of the day. On the pavement under their legs lies a copy of National Geographic, which brings to mind yet another preadolescent fantasy, but I ramble. Finally on the left, a woman with reddish blonde hair, falling out of a loose bun, her sunglasses wedged in her hair. She is wearing a short cotton dress molded to her luscious body and suspended by thin strings across her shoulders. She is smiling and there is a golden name locket round her neck but I cannot make out the letters. Her right leg is extended and crosses the left leg of the center woman, with her shoe, black, resting against the sandal of the woman on the far right. Her left hand is behind her head while her right, which bears a large watch with a leather band, rests between her thighs. Perhaps she suddenly realized how short her dress was or...
Later that week, I was cutting between streets at the back of an apartment courtyard or something, not really looking forward to a long hot subway ride in my jacket shirt and tie, something I wear only for downtown meetings. It had been worth it, however, my presentation was the highlight of the meeting, lunch had been more than cordial and it looked like we had more work over the summer. Passing by the courtyard, I stopped short, caught by the sight of the three young women from that picture. They were sitting on rusty chairs, enjoying what must have been one of the few sunny days we've had this year. But what really stopped me was the sign in front of the middle woman "Oral Purrversions - $ 100.00." With the new laws about topless and all, the papers were full of warnings about Sex on the Streets, but this was the first I'd come across. What most surprised me was that there were no customers.
