Chapter 7: Concourse Yards

Mandy had instructed me not to arrive at her apartment until 9:00 PM. When I asked her why, she replied, “That should be obvious; it will be dark out by then.” Instantly I knew she had another one of her wild plans worked out for me.

Rather than ask her about it, I drove over to Kingsbridge Heights and parked as close to her building as possible, which was still three blocks away. Upstairs, she was in the living room with Vivian, but she invited me into her room and closed the door.

We kissed, and I got in the in the first words, “You told me you’ve been a bad girl today, walking around the streets without your panties on.”

“Yes, but I didn’t tell you the truth when I was on the phone with you. I am wearing them now.”

I remembered, “Oh yeah, I did ask you to forego them when I got here.”

She lifted her skirt above her waist. This time she had on a white garter with white straps that I had never seen before. Somehow, I hadn’t noticed that she was also wearing nylon stockings when I first came in.

And she had panties on top of everything. These were also white, quite ample, and very sheer. They were virtually transparent and I could see right through them.

I said, “Mandy, I forgive you for changing your mind. I just love what you’ve got on tonight.”

I made a move to grab her, but she stepped back and dropped her skirt. “No, no, not yet. Have a little patience. Let’s sit on the bed and we’ll talk about things.”

“Could I at least have a glass of wine or something?”

“Oh sure, I should have been more thoughtful.” She left the room and came back a few moments later with glasses for both of us. During her brief absence, I wondered what Vivian in the other room thought of her wild roommate.

When Mandy was back, we sat on the edge of her bed and she talked about her pantyless experience that day. “When I got home, I was so turned on I masturbated three times in here. The first was in the living room, the next two were here in this bed.”

I wasn’t that surprised, because she had already heard about her doing it three times after she had walked around with just her orange garter on. She didn’t have underpants on that time either.

“So what happened to your orange one?”

“I told you I was getting more with different colors, didn’t I? That was that day at Woodlawn Cemetery I think.”

“I don’t remember exactly where I heard it, but yeah, that might have been it.” I was still grateful we had gotten away with that outdoor stunt in the middle of the afternoon.

“These see-through underpants are so cute, I had to get a pair to go along with my new garter.”

“Hey, I’m glad you did. I certainly like them.”

“So, do you want to hear what my fantasies were today?” It was a rhetorical question. Any guy would want to know what his girlfriend was thinking about while pleasuring herself. I assumed that this would inspire us both for some intense copulation afterwards. Since Vivian was around, I figured we’d get in my car for some backseat screwing.

She said, “For the first one I didn’t need to think of anything. I just rubbed my clit and went off in about two minutes.” Oh, my sweet Miranda, I’m so lucky to have a piece of pussy as hot as you are.

Then she went on, “For the second one, I imagined that two cops caught me and spanked me on a bench on Bailey Avenue.”

“Since when is not wearing underwear a crime?”

“Public lewdness, they called in. Apparently, I was sitting there with my legs splayed out – not in reality of course. I imagined a small crowd of people gathering to watch my punishment.”

“I never knew you had exhibitionism as a fetish.”

“I didn’t either until today, I suppose. But then, as I said, I didn’t actually expose myself; I just thought about it. Now, the third time was interesting because it involved you.”

“I’m glad I made the cut in your jerk-off rotation.”

“You often have! The way I pictured it, I was sitting by myself, late at night on the #1 Train. You came into the car – it was the last one – and you were a complete stranger. I bared my ass for you, and then we did it cowgirl style right on the seat.”

“Doesn’t sound too comfortable, but I guess it could be done.” Of course, it was completely unrealistic. Years later I would see Tom Cruise and Rebecca De Mornay getting it on in a late-night Chicago el train, and I noted how unlikely that would be. Risky Business, that was the name of the film, and what an apt name it was.

Mandy had another movie in mind. “The way I saw it, you were a vigilante like that guy in the Death Wish film. Another Paul, Paul Kersey was his name.

“So I was out hunting for muggers and I stopped for a quickie with you?”

“God, it was so exciting, banging someone armed and dangerous.”

I had known a number of girls, and I had never heard one mention anything erotic about Death Wish. There was a graphic rape scene of Kersey’s daughter at the beginning, but one would have to be extremely perverse to get turned on by that.

Then, of course, Mandy started to tell me how she would make much of her scenario become true. Knowing her as well as I did, I should have expected it. She said, “I think we should re-enact my fantasy, tonight, on a real train.”

I didn’t say a thing; I suppose I was just sitting there trying to grasp the concept. She continued, “Come on, I didn’t mean on a moving train, one that was actually in service. I meant one that was parked in a yard.”

My voice came back, “Miranda, you know I’d do almost anything for you, but this...”

“You haven’t heard what I have to say yet.”

I figured I’d let her describe it. It’s never going to happen anyway. “Okay, talk about it, tell me your scheme.”

“I think it would work in the Concourse Yards, right on the other side of the reservoir there.” I remembered that I could see a tall smokestack from her fifth-floor windows, about a mile away, but I didn’t know what it was used for.

“And what are we going to do? Just walk in through the gate?”

“No, there’s a gap in the fence at the very southern end, right by 198th and Jerome.”

“Is this like how you found Jay Gould’s mausoleum in the cemetery?”

“Exactly.”

Miss Grossman always did her homework. For a moment I wished I had a girlfriend who wanted sex in bed, on the sofa, on the floor, in cars, or maybe even a park once in a while. A train yard: that was out of the question.

She gave me a chance to pull my thoughts together. “First of all, it’s completely illegal. If we got caught in there, especially if we were fooling around with sex – it would be worse than trespassing. I don’t feel like seeing the inside of a police station, or the Bronx House of Detention.”

“Well, it’s not that well-lit in there.” It was true that it didn’t yet have the tall light stanchions that were installed in later years.

I said, “That brings up the second problem. There are third-rails with nearly every track. If one of us touches one of those by accident – we’d surely be dead.”

She ignored that, and she reached over to her nightstand to get something. It was a plastic gun, still in the wrapper from the toy store. “Here, this is a prop you can use.”

“You get turned on by guys who shoot other guys on trains? And most of them only have knives, not guns.”

“It’s just a fantasy.”

“That’s the point; what you’re proposing mostly isn’t a fantasy.”

Mandy could be quite persuasive when she had to be. She remained calm as she explained more. “The yards are about eight blocks from end to end, and there is a bridge across the middle.” That was the one for Bedford Park Boulevard. “Anybody with any authority is going to be further north. You’ll see that many of the trains are parked right down at the southern end where we will be. It’s not very far to go.”

“And how do we get into them?”

“The end doors aren’t locked. We’ll just climb up the grab-holds like the motormen do.”

I looked into her dark eyes. She’s sane, isn’t she? I was truly impressed by her grasp of details. I looked down at her shoes, and they were comfortable brown ones, suitable for the stunt she wanted to pull off tonight.

“And what are we going to do in there?”

“You know. You’ll come in from the adjacent car, then you’ll spank me because I’m a bad girl who doesn’t wear panties. After that, I’ll do a cowgirl on you. Just like in my fantasy. It shouldn’t take that long.”

“Long enough. And I didn’t spank you in the fantasy. The cops did that earlier if I remember correctly. Maybe they should do it for real.”

Mandy laughed that. I wanted to ask Vivian about the whole thing, but it seemed disloyal to reveal Mandy’s plans. Vivian would surely hear about it later, assuming we weren’t in jail or dead by then. Maybe I belong with a normal girl like Vivian.

I said, “Haven’t you had enough orgasms today?”

“It’s not like with guys. Sometimes the horniness in ladies just keeps building.”

“I have the feeling that if it was just in this bed, it wouldn’t be so compelling.”

She smiled and shrugged, “I admit, doing it in strange places turns me on. Let’s at least drive over there and have a look.” Yes, have a look; she always drew me into these stunts by first suggesting some reconnaissance of the area. Maybe I didn’t want to admit to myself that her crazy ideas appealed to me.

On the drive over there, which wasn’t very long, she said, “Park someplace near the very southern end of the yards.”

“What is that, around 198th and Jerome?”

“That’s the place.”

After we parked, we walked over to the chain-link fence that surrounded the facility. Somebody had made a gap in it and it had never been repaired, which was typical of the Transit Authority at that time.

There was a slope down to the tracks, and trains were parked in rows, awaiting tomorrow’s rush hour. The first cars of almost every train were within a few yards of the bumper posts that marked the end of the rails.

I said, “It looks kind of dark down there.”

“Yeah, but there is enough light from the street lights up here so that we can see what we’re doing.” There was a street, called Paul Avenue (how ironic) that run between the yard and Lehman College across the way. “Look, all of those graffiti artists go in there, all of the time; sometimes they paint those big murals. That must take some time.”

“It would be kind of funny if we run into some of those guys – and gals too.” I looked at her and I grabbed her hand. “I just want you to know, if something goes wrong, that I really love you Miranda.”

“And I love you too! But really, you’re a bit of a pessimist.”

I looked down at her sensible brown shoes. “At least you’re not wearing high heels.”

She tapped her head, “Hey, I’m a really smart chick. I went to Bronx Science, remember?”

“That’s just up the street. And you went to Lehman too. In all of your years of schooling around here, did you ever imagine taking a guy into one of these trains?”

“No, never, it just occurred to me today.”

I looked into the yard again. “Okay, so let’s use the train on the far left. That should be getting the most light from up on the street.”

“So you’re really going to do it!” She sounded delighted.

I tried to sound gruff as I said, “Mandy, if you weren’t such a great lay, I wouldn’t even consider this.” I saw her frowning at me. I said, “Come on, let’s go already.”

Back then, the Transit Authority had newer trains made of stainless steel – like the one I had picked – and older ones that were painted in a silver-gray scheme. All of them had a fair amount of graffiti both on the exteriors and inside the cars. By 1977 the riders hardly noticed it and some had forgotten what the more pristine old days had been like.

We stood next to our train and I said, “So now what?”

“I’ll climb between the first and second cars, and sit in the first one. You’ll go a bit further down and get into the second one. Give me a moment to get settled in, and then come into my car. Oh, here’s your gun.”

She had the plastic toy in her purse; I noticed it was a revolver. “We’re really going to do that stupid vigilante bit?”

She seemed a bit impatient, “Look, just come into my car and I’ll get the scene rolling. You just improvise whatever you think is best. I’ve already told you the basic plotline, haven’t I?”

“You have to get up in there first.” I was aware of the electrified third rails around us. I was hit by a wave of regret, and I knew I could never forgive myself if my lovely Miranda accidentally touched one of those and fried herself right in front of me.

She didn’t seem at all concerned, and I was struck by how gracefully she climbed up between the cars. In a moment, she was standing on the end platform and she waved at me before she slid the storm door open and stepped inside.

How it was my turn to climb between the second and third cars, and I wasn’t so nimble in my efforts. But then I was inside my car, and I was struck by how quiet it was in there. How many hundreds of thousands, even millions of people, had ridden in that thing over the years? Maybe one of them had been me. I felt the plastic gun in my pocket. Hadn’t Bronson used a semi-automatic in the movie? A minor quibble, I supposed.

I wondered what Mandy would say when I entered her car. Ladies on late-night trains didn’t get into conversations with strange men. They generally rode in the same car as the conductor. And I wondered what I would say. Subway vigilantes didn’t discuss their activities in casual chat with other passengers. In fact, I never even heard of a train vigilante until Bernie Goetz came along seven years later.

You’re overthinking this. It wasn’t supposed to make sense, like the Death Wish movie itself was totally improbable.

I pulled myself together and went through the doors to the first car. Mandy was sitting in the middle of one of those long seats that lined the walls. There was indeed enough light coming in from the street that I could see her quite well.

She seemed almost modest there, with her dark skirt coming down just above her knees. She had folded her hands in her lap. I knew her nylon stockings were being held up by her white garter and straps, and that thought gave me some motivation to continue the scene. She’s going to come through for me – sexually I mean – as she always had before.

I thought she was going to get things rolling – that’s what she had told me – but she just smiled at me as I stopped right in front of her. I was confused for a moment, then I said, “Good evening miss; how are you tonight?”

Man, that sounds so lame. I had done successful “cold” approaches to girls before, but those had been on a college campus, not a train. I didn’t seem to have much to work with in there.

Mandy didn’t seem to care. “I’m doing quite well, thank you. By the way, my name is Miranda, but you can call me Mandy.”