We hopped on a bus going uptown. Not being able to find two seats, Jay sat down on one of the handicap seats and pulled me down on his lap.

"What's it like to have a man come on to you?" I whispered.

"You should know that," he said, grabbing the length of my brown hair, kind of straightening it out.

He did seem to be into me.

At Carlos' Mexican Imports, we found the same kind of merchandise--hand woven blankets, hand blown glasses, gold jewelry, but no blue and grey wine glasses. By this time it was 10:15

"We've got to think of something fast," Jay said, standing outside the store.

"I've got an idea," I said.

"Whenever I want something really nice, I go to Macy's basement.

They have tons of imported stuff from everywhere."

"C.O. loves Macy's. I'll bet he got them down there."

We walked to Macy's. It was another beautiful day, and I was with a beautiful guy. One could not be in a hurry with this guy.

When we went in, Jay sampled the men's cologne at a small counter. I liked the smell--crushed, wet leaves. Then, we went straight to the basement and found the glassware department. We saw tons of clear glasses and green glasses, even purple glasses.

"We're screwed," I said.

But then, there, in the corner, were blue and grey glasses.

He was so happy; he grabbed me and kissed me again. "How did you know?" he asked.

"I didn't."

"Let's buy three, in case we break one," he said, scooping up three glasses and taking them to the nearest counter.

The clerk quietly wrapped the precious goblets in handfuls of tissue. They were $17.00 a piece. Not too precious, but precious to us. Jay put them on a credit card.

We were almost to the loft when we ran into none other than C.O. C.O. was bald and wore tiny, round, gold glasses. His beard was greying, and he had a pleasing pot belly and a kind of sweet smile. He wore a black, velour jogging suit with white stripes down the sides of the arms and legs. When he smiled at Jay, you could tell there was something there.

"What a surprise!" C.O. said.

I was carrying the Macy's bag, which I almost dropped.

"What are you doing down here?" Jay asked.

"I needed something from the loft, and I thought I'd take a walk.

Who's this?"

"This is Anne," Jay said. "A new friend. She's staying at NYU."

I smiled at him, and he seemed to be contemplating me, not with pleasure, but with curiosity.

"A friend," C.O. said.

"Yes."

"Where do you live?" I asked C.O.

"Uptown."

"It's a nice day for a walk," I said.

"I have to run my own errands when Jay's not around."

"You need the exercise," Jay said.

"I do. Hey, I have an idea," C.O. said. "Let's show Anne the loft!"

This was starting to make me nervous.

"Terrific," Jay said.

We continued walking downtown.

"So has Jay been showing you the city?" C.O. asked.

"How do you know I'm from out of town?" I asked.

"You don't seem like a New Yorker."
I was a bit offended.

"We like to go to Marie's," Jay said.

"Oh, Marie's. Best cakes in town," C.O. said. "What kind do you like?" he asked me.

"Chocolate."

"Of course," he said.

By then, the three of us were inside the little elevator. I could smell C.O.'s cologne. It mingled with the stuff Jay had put on at Macy's. They both smelled pretty damn good.

Soon, we were in the loft. I quickly looked to see if there was any wine anywhere that had splashed, that we'd missed. There was no wine, but there on the floor, was a sharp, blue shard.

"Welcome to my loft," C.O. said. "I use it for parties and for walking, getting some exercise."

"You use it for skateboarding," Jay said.

"I do," said C.O., hopping on the skateboard and skating around.

"It's beautiful," I said, like I'd never been there before.

Jay was now holding the bag. I wondered how he was going to get the glasses in the cabinet without C.O. noticing.

C.O. skated a good five minutes with us watching him. Among other things, C.O. seemed to be a big ham. Then, he got off the board and went into the bathroom.

That was our chance. We quickly unwrapped the glasses, only two of them.

Just then, C.O. came out of the john, carrying a small pill bottle. "I ran out of Xanax," he said to Jay, who was holding the two blue glasses.

"Are you two in the mood for some wine this early?" he asked, walking over to us. He noticed the tissue paper and the Macy's bag, but he didn't put it all together until he saw the blue shard on the floor.

"You don't want wine, do you?" he asked.

"No," we said.

"When were you here?" he asked Jay.

"Last night," Jay said.

"And you broke two glasses."

"We were replacing them," I said.

"You don't understand," C.O. said.

"I did not authorize my loft as an entertainment spot." He stared at Jay, who stared back at him.

"She's just a friend," Jay said.

"That's right. You know Jay, I can't have this. I can't have you bringing strangers up here without my permission."

"What are you going to do about it?" Jay asked, not like an employee, but a lover.

"You're fired."

Jay and I lay on my bed in my dorm room. He seemed happy to be free of C.O. He pulled off my shirt and began kissing my nipple, which made me incredibly hot.

"I'm unemployed," he whispered.

"But only temporarily," I said.

I called off my job, and we spent the next week in bed, only going out for Indian food, which he bought.

Sometimes, I'd sneak into the cafeteria and steal enough ham sandwiches for both of us.

The thing I loved about Jay was that he seemed to anticipate my actions. In short, he was a beautiful lover.

"Had you ever had a woman before?" I asked.

"No."

My bathtub in my room was a huge, white porcelain tub, an old one. We climbed in and lay in each other's arms. Jay seemed much older than I, more worldly, but to this day, I never thought it would be like that. His bisexuality didn't bother me. It made him who he was. It enhanced the situation.

He seemed particularly interested in my clitoris. He loved my breasts. It was something new for me, being a man's first woman.

With nowhere to go, we stayed in and talked. He was a good conversationalist.

"I would love to skateboard down the Guggenheim," he said.

"Do you miss C.O.?"

"No. I miss being employed. I've got to get a job. This has got to stop soon. It can't go on like this forever." He laughed.

"If I gave you the Guggenheim, would you take it?"

"Of course."

"Would you turn it into a classy skate boarding arena?"

"I'd run it. I have good business sense."

"I know. What do you like about C.O.?" I asked.

"C.O. is scared, and he's not afraid to admit it. He's weak. Not like you. You're strong."

"I'm young. Would you like me to be weak?"

"No. I'd like you to be you."

"The kitchen would be here," Jay said, pointing to a corner of my dorm room. "Stove, refrigerator and sink." He moved to the middle of the room. "You could actually build a partition and create a little bedroom here."

I watched him as I sprawled on my bed, with curtains wide open and the light from the street pouring in. We had just made love. I was aware that there was a middle-aged woman watching us through the window, but we had agreed that we felt sorry for her and had decided not to close the curtains. The city was full of people watching each other. That's just one of the things I loved about it. We had nothing to hide.

"I'd put the living room along the windows," he said.

"Could we have a navy blue couch?" I asked.

"Sure."

On Wednesday of the next week, there was a knock at my door. I knew who it was. There was only one person who could find out where I lived. It was C.O.

Jay and I lay quietly on my twin bed, covered with the pink tablecloth. We didn't quite know what to do.

"Jay!" It was C.O.

We didn't say a word.

"Jay, I need you to come back," C.O. said through the door. "My business is falling apart. I need help. Everything's a mess. Anne? Are you in there?"

"I'm going to let him in," I said, not really knowing what I was doing, not knowing that if I opened that door, it would be over between Jay and me.

Jay let me do it. He would tell me later in a letter that he let me open the door because C.O. lived in New York. I was just a visitor. I think that label bothered me most.

"Hi," I said to C.O. I was stark naked.

"I knew you were a nice girl," C.O. said, looking me up and down. He looked at Jay who still lay on my bed.

"You look comfortable, " C.O. said to Jay.

"I am."

"How are you?"

"I'm great." Jay enunciated the "t" on "great."

"Would you like to sit down?" I asked C.O., still not realizing that I was losing Jay.

"Thank you," C.O. said, sitting on the other unmade twin bed.

"How did you find us?" Jay asked.

"I have a close friend who works for NYU. I gave him the particulars. He asked around."

"It's good to have friends in high places," Jay said.

"Will you come back?" C.O. said.
Jay rolled over on his stomach.

"Can we talk about this later?"

"If I walk out that door, you'll never see me again," C.O. said.

"Why should I?"

"Because I love you. The girl is passing through."

"I plan to move here after I go to graduate school," I said, defending myself.

"That could be years," C.O. said.

"Why don't you put some clothes on?"

"I'm perfectly comfortable," I said. I don't know what had gotten into me. I guess, I was protecting what I thought was my territory.

"Do you always greet guests in the nude?" he asked.

"Only the uninvited ones."

Jay put on a pair of boxers. "Leave her alone," he said.

"Did you enjoy it?" C.O. asked.

"What?"

"Your flower."

"You're disgusting. Just leave us alone." Jay said. And then he smiled a private smile to C.O.

At that point, I did know Jay was gone. As quickly as he'd come, he was gone.

I went home early that summer. Without Jay, the city seemed cold.

About three months later, I received a package, a heavy one. In it, was the set of seven, hand-blown, blue and grey glasses. No note.

The glasses moved when I moved, traveling from Ohio to Iowa to Pennsylvania and back to New York again. New York City. Now, 20 years later, on 72nd Street, I only have one goblet left.

I saw C.O. and Jay in Zabar's about a month ago. C.O. looked old, and Jay looked magnificent, greying around the temples, just perfect. They were buying a brick of white cheese.

I was with my husband of ten years, an even, brilliant man with no tendencies toward other men. Or women, for that matter. We were purchasing coffee and olives for a party we were throwing.

I had put down roots, could not be accused of just passing through. If it would have happened again that day and everything was different, I would have gotten Jay; I knew it.

I repeat; if Jay had wanted me that day at Zabar's, I would have had him. Sure. I wouldn't have turned him away. But it would have always bothered me. Would he leave me for another man? My doorman? My next door neighbor, Bill? The pizza man?

Would it be the pizza man?

I guessed I was glad I'd never had another opportunity to be with Jay. I had no animosity toward him because we all eventually end up with whom we're most comfortable, if we're lucky.

My husband, Vern, would never know the complexity of another man, but he had a way of loving me that made me feel right. And he was a native New Yorker. Did I mention that?

He was a native New Yorker.

Finally, feeling completely over Jay, I decided to donate the glass to the Salvation Army. Someone would buy it, drink out of it, and carry on its legacy, the one of falling in love with anyone one pleased. It would retail for at least $2.00. It was a special glass, full of history, legend. One day, the glass would even be half price--$1.00. I hoped Jay would wander into the Salvation Army looking for Classics and pick up this glass. I hoped he would buy it. Then, he and C.O. would drink a Merlot toast to me, knowing that for a few weeks I loved Jay, and Jay loved me, and C.O. couldn't do a thing about it.

It could happen.

In fact, it did.