How does a woman refuse an all-expense-paid weekend in Manhattan right before Christmas? She doesn’t! Or at least I didn’t. When my guy-friend, and occasional sex partner invited me, I was surprised but excited. After all, my last foray into NYC was impulsive, and included a couple of female friends. My column detailing our adventures became the most highly read Sex Crap column up to that time. This one would be different. Partly because I was excited to be in NYC around the holidays, partly because I needed sex, and partly because I was ripe for an adventure. Minimally, I expected the following things to happen:

1. I would finally see (in person) the big tree at Rockefeller Center.
2. Even though late notice, we would be guided around the city for an afternoon by NY’s own (actually, NJ’s own) Bag, the E-Crap site owner and (supposedly) exceptional tour-guide.
3. I would finally get laid in the Big Apple.

They all happened, and more. Here’s how it all went down, with as many Sex Crap sexual references as I can remember.

Bag does know Manhattan. Or was it that we were such tourists, we were impressed by even the slightest bit of city knowledge? Whichever was true, Bag made a special trip into NYC to meet us that first Saturday afternoon. He was to meet us near Rockefeller Center. We were staying on the upper west side, and after a nice breakfast in the hotel, took a taxi to meet him. We were early, and I got my first look at the big tree. It was nice, and was probably even nicer at night. I could not believe how many tourists were there. It was mobbed, and the closer one got to the tree, the more I felt like I was participating in a human pinball machine. Finally Bag arrived, and he promptly gave us our courtesy subway "fun passes," for unlimited subway rides. A subway ride? Me? Hardly! He must have seen my frown, and he went on to explain to be a real New Yorker, even for a day, I needed to use the dirty, stinking, filthy, downright scary subway system (my words).

We walked around the theater district for about an hour, and feasted on some kind of beef-kabobs from a street vendor while we saw all the cool theater marquis’ and Times Square, where the big ball would drop a week or so later to ring in 2003. Finally, we took a number 1 subway downtown to the Houston Street exit (pronounced "How-stin," not like the city in Texas). This put us in Greenwich Village. I'd been there before (read my other NYC column :) but always at night, and never to shop! We went to a few cool stores and I was able to buy the neatest "Tag Heuer" watches for $10 each. I bought about ten to complete my Christmas shopping! Okay, I bought three, one was for a gift but more of a gag.

By about 4PM, after covering most of the "village" by foot, Bag took us to a Mexican Restaurant called Gonzalez y Gonzalez. Quite simply, it was the best Mexican food I have ever eaten. What a marvelous restaurant (the Sex Crap seal of approval – it is on Broadway between Houston and Bleeker for those of you who know where that is). The complimentary nachos and salsa were the best! But even better than the food was the waitress, a young Shakira look-a-like, with nicer hair, and an even better body. Both guys I was with knew of my "girl fantasy" and they started teasing me about her. Actually, I was way ahead of them, having been slightly stirred when she approached the table for the first time. Partly because I was horny (and needing sex), partly because of the lighting in the restaurant, and partly because of her sexy walk and smile. Bag, being married, tried to be the teaser and not the teasee (to Mrs. Bag, he was the perfect gentleman :), asking me if "Shakira" could be the "one." The thought turned me on beyond belief, enough to jokingly tell my guy friend about an episode of "Sex and the City" last season, when Kim Cattrall decided to surprise her boyfriend with another girl for a threesome. She picked her out at a restaurant also (she was the hostess, who had shown an attraction toward her boyfriend), and when she approached her about her, she was all for it. I wondered if my guy friend would be as bold, and if he would be willing to perhaps jokingly proposition her in the same way?

As I joked about him propositioning her, I wondered if he realized that I was actually totally serious. Nervous, but more serious than I had ever been. So much so, that I started shaking when I saw her approach with our entrees. Part of me was hoping that someone else would serve the food, and another part of me nearly kicked him to make sure he knew how serious I was about this little flirtation. He seemed to wink at me as she began distributing the food, and tried to make small talk with Shakira. She smiled at him repeatedly, but did not respond as he had hoped. He had one more chance after the meal, as we ordered dessert. He seductively asked her what she liked on the menu, while he moved his chair closer to me and began stroking my leg. I waited and saw her eyes make contact as his hand went a bit further up my thigh. I thought for a moment he had succeeded, but her eyes returned to Bag, and to the menu. It was not going to happen. Not unless he had the balls (or insanity) to spit it out. And he did not. But Shakira furthered my need for sex that night, and for the fantasies she succeeded in performing in, earned a very nice tip.

The exit from Gonzalez y Gonzalez left me hornier than thou, and we headed back to the subway. During the meal, Bag gave me my Christmas bonus – two tickets to the sold out performance by the Trans Siberian Orchestra at a theater in NYC (okay, he also picked up the tab at the Mexican Restaurant, minus the big tip). We said our goodbyes, and we now had plans for that night. Once he left, we quickly discarded our subway passes (sorry Bag, we’re cab people) and arrived at the Beacon Theater about two hours early. Since the doors were not yet open. We started to stroll north on Broadway, and saw several restaurants, but we had just eaten. Instead, we stumbled upon a bar, simply identified outside as "bar" with no other name. Naturally, we had to enter. We had time to kill, we needed alcohol, and a bar called "bar" was too cool to miss out on.

Entering "bar," we were quickly transformed into another dimension. Velvet Elvis on the wall behind the bar, and hanging from a hook were about a hundred brassieres, apparently left by former ample-chested patrons. Amid the loud country music, we made it to the end of the bar and found an open stool. I sat down with my friend shadowing over me. The barmaid asked what I wanted, as I stared into her massive chest. Wearing a blouse about three sizes too small, she was literally hanging out of it. And the music got louder. We looked around at the patrons, many of which were women with, you guessed it, big chests. We had entered hooter heaven. My friend was in his glory, and I must admit after a few brews, I was enjoying the time and scenery as well. The gals all had big chests, and the guys all had big... cowboy hats. Turned out to be a country bar where apparently the only women allowed (other than me) were women with big chests. And there were quite a few of them. Many a bit overweight, but guys, this place looked like a "can’t miss." It turned out the bar’s name was Yogi’s. And I recommend it to all you guys reading!

The concert was great. I had heard a lot of the Trans Siberian Orchestra’s music without even knowing it. They are former members of the metal band Savatage, who now do metal versions of Christmas and classical music. The crowd was great, and it was over by 10. By 11, we were back at the hotel and I finally got what I needed that day. To coin another "Sex and the City" episode, the last few of the season showed Carrie needing sex. Yes, she even exclaimed more than once "I need to have sex." I felt the same way, so I left little to chance. When we arrived back at the hotel, I excused myself to go into the bathroom, and emerged wearing my latest Victoria’s Secret purchase (This outfit!). I was feeling very sexy, even without Shakira joining us. And my sexuality seemed to exude, as evidenced by the reaction I got from my friend. As he commented on my outfit, he was almost literally speechless, stumbling over words like he had never done before. Certainly worth the $100 spent the day before on an impulse.

We spent a good deal of time just touching, massaging, and licking, while I remained in some, or most, of my new outfit. Actually, it seemed he may have needed sex as well, as I managed to bring him to orgasm before any real sex, and only a little oral and manual stimulation. Actually, he kept his boxers on for a good while, and I think he really liked it when I kept grinding my legs and hips into his crotch, while still wearing the garter skirt. I guess I didn't believe him when he said he was ready to explode, and to slow down. I gently removed the boxers, barely made my way to give his shaft a nice, long lick... and off he went. I kept the outfit on, and after we cleaned up a bit, proceeded to give him a little dance that I sometimes do when inclined, and was amazed how fast he was ready for round two. But he owed me this time, so round two became "pleasure Jenn" round. I needed (and required) a massive amount of oral sex, and he succeeded.  So much so, that I owed him a round three. Without any of the outfit, I still managed to get him back for a third go. Yes, we were horny.