Recruiting 101

As a sophomore in college, I frequently was asked by my coach to show visiting water polo recruits around the campus and local sites. This wasn't because I wanted to, but rather because I had a car and could form complete sentences. And with the added quality of being from Texas (i.e., reasonably unoffensive), I quickly became the default ambassador to out-of-state high school seniors seeking to play for our team (why couldn't I have that job NOW??).

One such recruit was a goalie named Trent, whom I had met on the Junior National Team at the Olympic Training Center just the year before. He was visiting from Portland, my roommate's home town. Because of this, I figured I'd try to show Trent an extra-good time while he was in NY--much more than the standard drive around New Rochelle pointing out bars and laundrymats. When I asked him where he'd like to go, or what he'd really like to see, he answered me without hesitation.

"I wanna go to see some titties in Times Square, dude!"

These days, Times Square is more like a Disney theme park than the crack-infested porn capital of the world it was in 1989. When I was in NYC just last month, I remember being amazed at how many people were walking around after midnight in the glow (and safety) of the myriad advertisements above. It really made me long for the days when 6'4" prostitutes with smudged lipstick called you "Baby" at every corner, and you could stop and shoot some heroin right there on the curb while you waited for the bus. Ahh, those were the days. Anyway, back to my story...

Trent and I took the train--in the afteroon--directly to Grand Central and walked the few blocks over to the endless stream of porn stores and "movie theaters." This was slightly rauchier than my preferred hang outs, but my coach had given me $50 to have some fun, and hell, Trent was a good time. We picked the nicest one we could find and went inside. Trent was clearly excited and hopped right into a booth, but I pulled him out and directed him to the change machine instead (I had read in a book that's what you were supposed to do, ahem). I, too, reluctantly took some quarters and we found our way to adjoining booths.

The booth was bright orange with a yellow door and had a plexiglass screen that faced the main attraction. It looked very much like the circular porn theater featured in one of Madonna's videos, but with terrible lighting and a stench of lunch-break masturbation. I stood as close to the center of the booth as possible so that nothing got on me.

"Oh my god, she is HOT," says Trent in a way that only a straight high-school kid from Oregon would. And I had to admit, she was actually kind of sexy--tall, blond and leggy. I hear Trent drop more coins in the machine and unbuckle his belt. He was making very loud, attention-seeking noises--no doubt to impress me with his sexual prowess.

I watched her take her robe off and stand only in her bra and underwear. Trent moaned jokingly with pleasure. Then she slowly took off her bra to expose very large breasts. Trent's moans were now getting louder but a bit less showmanly. His tone of voice implied that he was REALLY enjoying this. Though I couldn't see him, I was absolutely convinced that Trent was rock-hard and masturbating inside the booth. This alone was worth the price of the quarter for me.

The dancing and Trent's moaning continued for several minutes. Somehow, they caught each others' attention and were as close to frottage as you can get between a piece of glass. She was all about the skinny, long-haired Trent, and he was all about her. And then, with an "ooohhh yeeaaahhh" from Trent, the dancer began to slowly slip off her panties. "Oh yeah, you want this, baby," I heard Trent say in adolescent bravado. "Show me what you got, oh yeah." And then, as close to the glass as she could get while still being in everyone else's view, down went the panties.

FLOP.

All five inches of her flaccid penis came lunging towards Trent's face. I swear I heard a gasp, but can't remember if it was from Trent, or from me inhaling for a very loud laugh. Either way, I knew it was my duty to verbalize the moment in his mind forever. I said, at the top of my lungs:

"Trent, welcome to New York!"