‘Minnie and Me’

Stephen P. Conrad
7 min readFeb 21, 2023

Some would say I’m a swine. Totally corrupted, morally bankrupt, incorrigible, an unforgivable deviant of unimaginable proportions. But hey, I’m lovable.

Okay, well, maybe I’m being a bit hard of myself. Sure, I’m all those things mentioned but just not to the degree I at times imagine myself to be. At least, I hope not. But at least I’m lovable. How do I know this? Because my mother told me so.

I’m redeemable and worthy of having my soul saved. Shit, who am I kidding, I’m having so much fun I’m not even sure I want to be saved.

Nor was she. She, being that girl. What girl you ask? That girl! I met her mid-day as she meandered up Halsted Street through Chicago’s Boystown somewhere between high on life and stoned out of her mind.

Her skin glistened with a light sweat, this being those dogdays of summer.

From the swell of her pouty ruby red lips, inviting coy smile and the slits of her eyes I was pretty sure she wasn’t seeking rescue or redemption either. I think that’s why we were drawn to each other. Like savages. Cave dwellers. You cross paths, gaze into each other’s eyes, and know you need to fuck like animals.

I think her name was Maggie or Margaret, Minerva, Melanie or maybe it was Gina or Pam. It was something like that. No matter, I doubt she remembers mine either. She just kept calling me Papi, and I happily answered to it.

All I knew were the important facts like, she was a nineteen maybe twenty-year-old rave baby nymphet. You’ve not lived until you’ve had a seductive Puerto Rican Mami heat your insides up.

In situations like these, names don’t matter as much as one of you having a place you can go to claw each other’s clothes off then engage in the most primal sex imaginable. But first, especially in this neighborhood, I had to make sure she wasn’t packing dick beneath the hem of her schoolgirl outfit.

You never can be too careful when you’re out and about in Boystown. I suppose, opportunity at hand I just had to take that chance. There’s never an easy way to go about a thing like that.

The stars were aligned! As it just so happened, I lived a few buildings east on Aldine Street.

Having the top floor of a third-floor walkup of a wood frame, non-descript Northside apartment-house that looked like every other walkup on any block in Lakeview, as my dwelling, was a gift from the gods. It’s the kind of shit can work in your favor in these types of situations.

Dumb luck I suppose. Especially when you don’t want the girl you just met a literal five minutes ago remembering exactly where it is you live.

Yes, I was cognizant of the sociopathic impulsiveness of this type of thought pattern. I just didn’t give a shit. I’ve always had a proclivity for sociopathic tendencies and questionable woman. It was usually my own tendencies and another’s woman.

My general type was the girl who was already attached, committed, in love or married. A close second to that, I hold a special place in my heart for slightly damaged, carefree party girl, nymphomaniacs with daddy-issues. What does that say about me? Yeah, that’s a whole other story. Point being, this one was right up my alley.

So, Minerva, Melanie, Gina or Pam or whatever the fuck her name was, and I huffed, puffed laboriously climbed the staircase three steep floors up as I did multiple times a day, every day. This day being no less labor intensive than any other. Imagine, this was back when I was in some sort of physical shape.

The blood rushed to my hard on then to my head as I wondered if at this rate, I would have any energy left to fuck even if we made it to the top. That’s when, quite unexpectedly, she, barely a step behind me did a reach around and grabbed my stiff-as-a-board hard-on that so obviously stretched out the fabric on my joggers. Mama didn’t raise no dumb mother fucker; I never look a gift horse in the mouth.

It wasn’t every day I met some hot Borinquen baby on the street mid-stroll, made eye contact and within five minutes of, “oh excuse me” and “hi Papi Chulo”, I found myself walking up my staircase ready to turn her and my living room upside down. These were the benefits of being young, dumb, recently sprung from the can and on parole.

The though had crossed my mind that Minnie, (let’s just call her Minnie already), climbing up directly behind me could easily be some psycho chick who could shiv me in the back, grab my rubber band tied wad of cash and make a mad dash for it.

Once again, those sociopathic tendencies kicked in, I just didn’t give a shit.

Fully cognizant of this fact, I figured, hey, there was a hell of a lot worse ways a fella could check out of this life. If she stuck me at least I would have a hard-on and a smile when I bled-out. How many guys can say that?

I didn’t have that much cash rolled up in my rubber band anyway. A couple of C-Notes rolled up around mostly singles. The spacone roll I call it. The jokes on her, I thought. She didn’t stick me.

Sliding my key into the door while blocking the move with my body, I slyly jiggled the key to my castle just right that way I always did when I opened the door. Even if she did glom my house keys on the way out, she could never ace the two jiggle this way, three jiggle that way, turn hard, combo it took to unlock my castle.

Slightly paranoid you say? Probably so, but hey, I wasn’t that long out of the Joliet where a little paranoia goes a long way. You had to keep a watchful eye on your few items of value. That, and after years of being a street guy I was, you can say, naturally, generally paranoid.

Anyway, I figured, if she wanted to break into my pad, God bless, she could have it. Pawn what she can, which wasn’t much. Most of it was stolen or fell off the back of a truck and I didn’t plan on paying the next month’s rent or any subsequent month after that anyway.

There we were the door not even shut before we had tongues jammed down each other’s throat clinging on for dear life. For a moment I thought she was trying to eat my face. My kind of girl and we weren’t even high yet.

She did inquire about party favors, to which offer I had to unfortunately decline her request. I had none. This was during one of those periods in which I was trying to cold turkey it, get off the shit and booze, clean up my act, and build some semblance of what I could call a real life. Little did I know the work I would have to put in for that head trip.

Fortunately, I was skinny and good looking, had a smile, and a good line of bullshit when I said, “Nah, I’m dry, I ain’t got shit here.” She shrugged and said, “Okay Papi, it’s all good.” Then proceeded to jam her tongue back down my throat. I didn’t fight it, all the time thinking, there just might be a future with this girl.

We tossed around on the couch falling to the hardwood floors then eventually clawing our way to the bed for hours until we lay in a pool of hot sticky sweat when as dusk set in. Suddenly, Minnie jumped up out of bed and said, “Papi baby, it’s late, I got to go.”

Usually in these situations I’m ready to chew my arm off then quietly slide out of bed and sneak out, but not this time. I’m not sure which part, but part of me was sad to see her go.

I couldn’t even call Minnie an honest hooker. She was just a girl who wanted to have fun. We had at least that much in common.

Boy I was gonna miss this one that is for sure. But alas, it may not be the case I thought as she grabbed a pen from my desk and scribbled down her digits.

She didn’t even ask me for anything not even a few bucks, other than my digits as I half-heartedly, and cautiously, maybe not wisely, scribbled mine down for her.

Being my chivalrous self, I sat up to slide my legs into my joggers to walk her out until she pushed me down forcefully with a giggle, stating in her slight Chicago Latina accent, “I can let myself out Papi, but I’ll see you soon.”

I cracked a smile unsure if that was a threat, promise or invitation. I was open to all three.

I watched on as she pulled her one piece stretch dress over her taut lean body and pantie-less heart shaped ass. She had panties when she arrived but coyly slip them under the pillow my head lay on as she leaned in for a peck on my lips.

Then Minnie turned slipped out of the bedroom. I heard the apartment door shut lightly and slowly crawled out of my bed fighting off an unfamiliar slight desire to run out after her. Instead, I peeked out my front room window to catch a glimpse of Minnie in mid-run to the corner to catch the number 8 Halsted Street bus.

What a sight of this pantie-less Borinquen baby running down the street. One that got away. We would just have to wait and see I thought to myself.

Minnie jumped on the bus, and it raced away. I shut the curtain and proceeded to make my cursory check on my personal effects to ensure all was safe and sound. I felt a strange twinge of guilt for even considering she might pilfer my possessions on her way out.

She didn’t seem to be made of that.

As I sat on my messy couch, I lit a smoke and smiled slightly. I had a feeling and a hope that it would not be the last I saw of Minnie.

(To be continued.)



Stephen P. Conrad

A nomad, a gypsy at heart, writer, actor, artist, anti-sycophant, socially maladjusted and comfortably near complete insanity.