1. One Night in Copenhagen


    Date: 2/25/2016, Categories: Straight Sex, Author: Sisyphus, Rating: 2, Source: LushStories

    I was broke, cold and hungry. I had arrived in Copenhagen one cold December morning with the equivalent of a dollar to my name. After working on a Norwegian freighter for several months, I signed off in Alicante, Spain and made my way north, spending time in Paris on the Left Bank, Antwerp, and other places, and eventually made my way to Copenhagen, where I arrived with my last dollar. One of the things I learned while traveling is how important it is to find a café or bar I liked and keep going there day after day and gradually you become known. Fortunately, I was able to get a small room in the home of a kind, elderly woman who took me in with the understanding I would eventually pay her once I got a job. But then I found out I would have to prove I had several hundred dollars in order to be allowed to stay in Denmark and be eligible for working papers. Catch-22. I couldn’t do that because all I had was a dollar, and there I was stuck, not sure what I would do. What I did, however, might appear foolish. I went to a really fancy restaurant and had a delicious steak dinner with a glass of wine. In those days, food was very inexpensive. I figured if I’m going to be broke, I might as well go out with a bang and not a whimper. So I had my delicious dinner, and then faced the harsh reality I was completely broke. Every morning, my kind landlady brought me coffee, toast and jam. I had a little desk and I wrote every morning and evening, but during the day would go to the café I ...
    enjoyed and, gradually got to know a lot of other travelers and had many stimulating conversations. I was never without a cup of coffee or something to eat because of the generosity of so many people. Even the waitresses got to know me and often dropped me a half a sandwich or something tasty. Many times, however, I was cold and hungry and would go to the café to see if anyone I knew was there. When there wasn’t a familiar face, I would stand, look around and see someone finishing a meal but leave food on their plate. When they put on their coat and hat and left, I would go to the vacated table and finish what was left before the busboy or waitress cleared the table. Sometimes I’d find a few French fries, a crust of bread, a remnant of a salad, or a bone with a little meat left. It was awkward, but I would do it as casually and as inconspicuously as possible, hoping no one would notice. Usually no one paid any attention, except one night, I noticed a young blonde woman sitting at a nearby table, watching me with a smile on her lips. Our eyes met as I was putting a piece of bread with a little gravy into my mouth. I was caught, red handed, as they say. Rather than try to hide what I was doing, I smiled, shrugged my shoulders and was surprised when she left her table with her cup of coffee and joined me. “I hope you don’t mind if I join you.” She smiled then looked down at the now empty plate. I was struck by her deep blue eyes, but couldn’t help notice her grapefruit sized ...
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