Tiffany’s Ass, West Village – June 1, 2003

“Puppies are just so cute! You know?”
“Yeah sure baby, they’re cute.”
“Awwwww! Just look at the cute little puppy smile! Look Bud! Can’t you just see that leetle-puppy-smile! Oh my goodness isn’t he sooo cute! Look at you, you cutey! Yes, you are! Yes you are! You are just the most darling little puppy I’ve ever seen! Yes, that’s right you darling little cutey! Yes! Cute-cute-cutey-cute-cutey! Yes you are!”
“Awright awright, he’s cute. Enough awready! Christ Tiffany!”
“Aww geez Bud,” Tiffany said, stamping her foot, but only just. “Why ya’ gotta be such a goon alla the time?”

He slung his hairy arm around her slender waist and hastily planted a world-class kiss right on her cheek. But it was an open mouth kiss, making it apparent that the intended target of Bud’s affection wasn’t her cheek after all, which was fair and powdery and altogether lovely, but rather her budding mouth. Her mouth, however, was busy cooing at the three little puppies in the window at the pet shop where they’d stopped. Truth be told, she hardly seemed to notice Bud’s slimy term of endearment aside from the damage it’d inflicted on her cheek.

“Buuud!” she squealed, ripping a tissue from her handbag and turning to face him. A look of offense, but only just, shone on her face.

“What? What’d I do?” he mumbled softly into her neck.
Bud’s was holding her close, his hand now adequately clenched around the perimeter of her right butt-cheek, his index finger straying menacingly close to the crack. She began dabbing her cheek lightly, furtively, like a bird pecking at an uncertain berry.

“Bud, baby, you know how hard I work to look good, doncha?”
This seemed to strike an unfamiliar chord with Bud; he suddenly unclenched his buttock-grip and plunged his hand into his back pocket curtly, pulling out a brass money-clip stuffed with crisp twenty-dollar bills.

“Cut it out Bud!”
“You wanna puppy?” he asked, sternly peeling the bills off in typical wise-guy style. It was quite impressive really.

“Is that it? Is that what you want Tiffany? ‘Cause I’ll buy you a friggin’ puppy if that’s what it takes!”

She was dabbing with a fresh tissue now, accompanied by a little compact mirror.

“Tiffany? Are you even listening to me?”

It’s worth pointing out just now that this conversation, if we can really call it that, seemed to have less, really to do with those dough-headed little puppies in the window than it did with Tiffany’s scrumptiously perfect ass, which, as soon as Bud replaced his billfold, he clenched again, this time, lower and with more torque than before.

“Wow, hold up dude! Check out that chick!”
“Where?”
“Across the street, over there,” Howard pointed to the pet store awning across the street where stood a tallish, thinnish, high-lighted blonde in tight western-style, pocketless blue jeans and soft brown spaghetti-strap heels. She wore a sundressy blouse, and large hoop earrings; her fingernails were pink, and when her neck moved a certain way, a wave of glitter rolled across it. She had the most wonderful dunny elbows, a little lighter and softer than the rest of her skin. She wore a giant silver belt buckle in the shape of a sheriff’s star, and between two of the star’s points, you could just make out her belly button. She had shiny, pouting, vaginal lips that probably tasted like watermelon, or mango, or vanilla bean, and her breasts were plump and pulled the front of her blouse taut so you could make out her nipples underneath.
“Dude, I think I’m in love,” said Howard.
“Yeah. Wow,” said Bobby, who was staring across the street too. “Very fuckable, that’s for sure.”
“No dude,” Howard said, very matter-of-factly. “You don’t understand. I want her.”
“Who doesn’t? Get your head out of your ass dude.”

Tiffany’s blooming, peach-shaped bottom sat betwixt her torso and legs like a rare jewel. And nary a man walked behind her in New York City without imagining what kind of fool’s paradise, what kind of honey-colored porno-epic, what kind of howling, loin-busting fantasia would await them were they given the opportunity to nudge and peel those knickers down over her hips, to reveal what every man no doubt dreamed of: their own name staring back at them.
Bobby clapped Howard on the back ruefully.
“Yep buddy, it’s really too bad she has a boyfriend, or I’d go over there myself.”
“Who?” said Howard suddenly indignant. “That guy?”
He pointed toward Bud, whose hairy paw was still clamped securely around Tiffany’s hindquarters.
“Listen to me Bobby,” he continued. “That guy is a fucking creep. He has no business with a wonderful woman like that. My God, just look at him!”

Bud was shorter than Tiffany, and as you might expect, barrel-chested and built like a steak. He wore an expensive-looking black leather jacket and white jeans. He had a glimmering diamond earring in his left ear and lengthy sideburns.

“He sure looks like her boyfriend to me,” said Bobby.
“Boyfriend? He’s practically raping her! Hands all over her ass like that. You can’t tell me she actually enjoys that. A beautiful, compassionate woman like that demands respect.”
“She doesn’t really seem to mind,” said Bobby.
“Oh sure,” said Howard. “Probably because he beats the shit out of her if she makes a peep.”
“Shut up dude!” said Bobby. “He’ll fucking hear us.”
“I don’t care if he does!” Said Howard, projecting his voice across the street.“Fucking wife-beater!”
“You’re an idiot dude. Let’s go.”

“Hey Bud honey,” said Tiffany, tilting her head toward Howard and Bobby.
“Mmm, yeah babe?” said Bud.
“See those two guys over there?”
“Yeah so? What about ‘em?”
“I think they like you,” she sang, throwing a playful wink towards them. “If ya know what I mean.”
“What? They’re faggots?”
“God Bud!” she said. “Don’t be such a loser. This is the Village after all. Just look at ‘em, the poor guys. They probably just want a little love. C’mon, blow ‘em a little kiss huh?”
“You gotta be kiddin’ me Tiff.”
“Really Bud!” she said, pulling away slightly. “I thought you were a modern man. Now just blow ‘em a little kiss, go on!”

“Holy Shit dude! Did you see that?” said Howard. “She just winked at me! I fucking knew it man!”
“That was definitely a wink dude,” said Bobby.
“Should I go talk to her?” asked Howard nervously.
“I dunno man. What happens if her boyfriend kicks your ass?”
“Well fuck dude! I can’t just leave. I’d feel horrible if anything happened to her. She’s probably scared out of her mind at this guy. I gotta do something.”
“She does have an incredible ass,” said Bobby.
“This could be serious dude. Alright, I’m just gunna go over there and ask if she’s okay. You got my back?”
“Whatever dude, I got it. Just get it over with.”

“Oh my God Bud! Look! He’s coming over to talk to you babe! I toldya they like you!”
“Tiffany!”
Bud shot a wary glance from beneath her chin.
“Did you set this up or something?”
Bud disengaged his hand from Tiffany’s ass and tugged at her hand.
“C’mon, we’re leaving,” he said.
“No! I’m telling ya’ honey! Just blow him a little kiss, then we’ll go, I promise. C’mon honey,” said Tiffany, winding her beautiful arm around his neck. “For me?”
“You are outta your friggin’ mind,” said Bud.

Howard was tense as he approached. His stomach was suddenly sour and his hands grew clammy as he imagined the prospect of a physical altercation with Bud. Mustering all the courage he knew how, he passed around a double-parked car and stepped onto their side of the curb. He fixed his coldest, meanest stare on the monster of a man he was sure would rip him limb from limb momentarily.

But before Howard even said a word, Bud, in the most florid, blushingly opulent gesture imaginable, suddenly swing his arm out, kissed the palm of his hand with a sloppy “mwah” sound and then blew the kiss (smack!) right at Howard, before running away, giggling like a school girl, arm in arm with his girlfriend.

Despite himself, Howard leaned over to get one more good look at Tiffany’s ass before walking back across the street.