Vivian Hannity was still in a Catholic high school in the three stories within the series "Vivian and Cathy.” Certain incidents from that time more than four years earlier are mentioned here. The narrator, Paul D’Amato, was in his first years at City College during the series “My Summer with Nora.” His affair with her only lasted four months. The immediate prequel to this story is “Vivian and Miranda,” in which Vivian mov...

I was having a hard time with the scene in that basement. Here was this nice high school girl in her strange state of undress, and I knew she was going to talk about some provocative topics. I had a sudden attack of prudishness. She seemed to understand what I was thinking. “You know, Hank, let me put my skirt back on. I get the feeling that the sight of my bare crotch is unnerving you a bit.” Odd, being half-dressed does...

A few days later Margery had a new version of the schoolgirl/knee-socks look for me to examine. We met after school on her block, and she looked better than ever. She had changed her appearance notably from the rather sloppy look she had when I first met her. For one thing, she had trimmed her hair so that it fell only to her shoulders, and she had a hairband to hold it in place. It was her clothes, however, that really g...

The next week, the last one in September, was a time for Margery and me to have introductions to various friends and family. The one I want to talk about here is when Margery met my two best friends from high school, Mark Zimmerman and Dan Behrens. I had met Mark in the West Bronx back in 1966 when we were eleven years old and starting junior high. If someone was going to play him in a movie, I might have picked Woody All...

When Nora and I started our final year at City College, we were both still on the student newspaper The Salient. In the two years since our break-up, we talked to each other at times, but we didn’t have a lot of interactions elsewhere. Mostly we saw each other in the office on the third floor, and that was about it. One day in early October she came up to me and said, “Paul, I’d like to talk to you about something. Let’s...

People have asked me: what is it like to turn a trick? They want to know the mechanics of it for sure, but they are also curious about the emotional state of the lady who does the work and gets paid for it. I do remember a certain incident that happened in April 1974 near the end of my first stint as a hooker. Nothing unusual happened in that particular pay-to-play event, but the details of what I did and what the john di...

In mid-September, after I had accepted the dominatrix position offered by Gilda Wasserman, she met me in front of the building I would be using for the “sessions,” as she called them. I was surprised when she had told me these would happen in the basement of a loft building on West 27th Street. My first client, a guy named Kevin, had already been lined up with me. When talking to Gilda on the phone, I mentioned that I had...

I was going to wait two days before calling Margery, figuring that I wanted to appear interested but not desperate either. That was about the limit of my knowledge about handling dating situations. However, she was the one who called me the very next day. She had suggested that she might do something like that, but I hadn’t taken her very seriously. It was a Friday, and I had just gotten home from school. “Hey Hank, how a...

Within a week of starting my hooking gigs, a lot of guys at CCNY had my home phone number and I’d arrange many of my transactions through that medium. Sometimes I’d still do it the old-fashioned street prostitute way. I’d lounge around inside the Finley Student Center or just stand outside that building or maybe Wagner Wall, and invariably some dude would approach me. My first ever customer, that Greg with the big Ford, p...

I met my first girlfriend just two blocks from where I lived in Williamsbridge, The Bronx. It was September 1972 and I had started my senior year at high school. I was seventeen years old and my romantic experiences at school had been, frankly, non-existent. Maybe high school was overrated as a dating location, but I hadn’t found a single prospect during my three years there. By that point, I was starting to think ahead t...

One day in late September, I made one of my usual trips out to Maspeth to visit Nora at her house. I was surprised by her appearance when she opened the door. She was wearing a business outfit: a dark-gray suit with a tight skirt, dark nylon stockings, and high heels. I had seen those clothes before during her first visit to the college newspaper, The Salient. Her dark-blonde hair was pinned up on her head. Her most notic...

About a week after she had joined The Salient in September, Nora and I were together in the office. She was near me, sitting at a desk, banging away at an old Smith-Corona manual typewriter. Not only did she have her Burger King memoirs to write, but she also had been assigned a news story by senior editor Lilith. As the latter had said, “She needs to pay her dues here, like everyone else.” That actually wasn’t true. I ha...

On Saturday, as promised, Margery did call me around one o’clock. As on the day before, she asked me to meet her in the park in front of her building. I figured that since it was a weekend, we’d probably do something together for those two days. Then, when the school week started again, perhaps we should both concentrate on our homework. At that time, I had no idea about how to deal with a girlfriend. I had initiated the...

One day in early September, the time came for Nora to join The Salient newspaper at City College. She was going to attend the first staff meeting of the new semester with me. I had joined nearly a year earlier in the fall of my freshman year. In October they ran a tongue-in-cheek help-wanted ad. Jeff Kimmel and I – we had met each other in high school – discussed joining. One line in the ad caught my attention: “If you li...

In August Nora asked me to meet her in a park near her Maspeth house, something we had never done before. I was sitting on a bench when she came up and stood in front of me. Her outfit was surprising; she had a white blouse, a dark blue skirt that went below her knees, white ankle socks, and brown shoes. She said nothing, so I just looked her over. Her hands were folded in front of her. Finally, I said, “What are you supp...