Loneliest Man Who Ever Lived Ch. 02

The Loneliest Man Who Ever Lived

by Gary L.M. Martin

[Note: This is a romance story with some erotic scenes. It is not a story with erotic scenes in every chapter. Some chapters have incredible sex scenes, but many others have none.]

Chapter 2: Monday

On Tuesday, Harry was out on the promenade hour earlier than usual. He walked up and down the walkway along the waterfront, a number of times, scanning left and right. Looking for her.

He spent two hours like that, walking back and forth, back and forth. He was so distracted that he didn't even think to go onto the wharf and make his daily decision. Finally, tired and flustered, he sat on a bench, and moodily looked out at the water. He had blown it. He should have pursued her when he had the chance. But even if he had caught up to her, what could he possibly have said? It was the ultimate no-win scenario. Harry kicked back his feet and watched the water and settled in on the bench, feeling thoroughly uncomfortable.

"No suicide today?"

Harry nearly jumped in his seat. He slowly turned, and saw her. She was wearing the same beige hat and coat. She had a pretty face. She looked young, maybe a little younger than him.

"I'm so sorry about yesterday," said the woman. She moved to sit down next to him. "Is anyone sitting here?"

Harry shook his head.

"I felt so bad," said the woman. "I mean, if you had decided to drown yourself yesterday, I spoiled everything for you. I felt so guilty thinking you had to wait a whole extra day to kill yourself. And yet, here you are. I gather you didn't kill yourself today, either?"

Harry shook his head a second time.

"So... maybe you never had any intention of killing yourself, did you?"

Harry shook his head a third time.

"But what about today? I didn't see you out on the dock today. Did you forget? If you start to forget, you may miss a chance to kill yourself, Harry."

Harry.

"Who are you?" Harry asked.

"Oh good, you can speak! I was beginning to wonder," she smiled. She extended a hand. "Goldie."

Harry automatically reached out, and shook it. It had been the first time he had touched a girl in... he didn't remember how long. He held onto it, pondering.

"Do you like my hand? I do too," said Goldie. But she was smiling as she said it.

"Oh, sorry," said Harry, releasing her hand.

"Do you like coffee, Harry?" Goldie asked.

Harry shook his head.

"Neither do I. Why don't we go get some?"

********

Ten minutes later they were seated in The Cove, a cozy diner in Battery Park City. Actually, as it turned out, Goldie drank tea. Harry had a glass of water.

"So how has the whole killing yourself thing been working out for you, Harry?" Goldie asked, taking a sip of tea. "I suppose you could say it's going poorly, if your goal is to kill yourself. Or, if your goal is not to kill yourself, you could say it's going well. Quite well."

"Who are you?" Harry asked.

Goldie took off her hat. Underneath was a very cute girl. She had dirty blonde hair, part light brown, part blonde. She had blue eyes and a pert little nose, and high cheekbones, and thick red lips. She looked adorable.

"I told you, my name is Goldie," she said, smiling at him.

"What do you want?" Harry asked, sipping his water.

"I'm sitting here with a young, attractive man, apparently a quite eligible young bachelor, and you have to ask the question?"

"What do you want?" Harry asked again.

"I like you, Harry," said Goldie. "I liked you from the very first moment I saw you, even as you were thinking about killing yourself. That's all I've been doing for the past three days, coming out and watching you think about killing yourself. You're very predictable when it comes to time, manner, and location. I could practically set my chrono to your near-death attempts."

Harry just looked at her.

"And then there's the second thing I like about you. You're blunt, and direct, like a rock smack between the eyes," said Goldie. "That's the candor that New York City people are famous for. You have an attractive woman sitting right next to you, eager to cozy up to you, and what do you do? You ask, in a deadpan voice," and she imitated his deep voice, "What do you want?"

Harry looked at Goldie for a long moment. Then, warily, he broke out into a small smile.

"So you can smile! I was beginning to wonder," said Goldie, giving him one of her own. "I wonder what else you can do?"

"What brings you here, Goldie?" Harry asked.

"Vacation," said Goldie promptly. "I'm burned out. Need a break."

"A break from what?"

"My job," said Goldie, smiling again. "Do you know any nice touristy places a young, single woman should visit in New York City, Harry?"

"Well...." Harry paused, considering.

"Harry!" said Goldie sharply.

Harry looked up at her.

"Harry, let me give you a tip. When a young woman, apparently unaccompanied, asks a man for tourist tips, she's really asking if he wants to show her around."

"I was getting to that possibility," said Harry.

"They told me you were bright, Harry," said Goldie mockingly.

"They?"

"So, will you?"

"Will I what?" Harry asked, apparently in a daze.

"Harry, you're not overimpressing on our very first date," said Goldie.

"This is a first date?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowing.

"It is whatever you want it to be," said Goldie. She looked so wonderful, sitting there in her beige coat, sipping her tea with her elegant brown leather gloves, smiling at him. She was so charming, so beautiful, with her dirty blonde hair, and blue eyes, and lush red lips. And she was interested in him! It was all like a dream. It was too much like a dream, Harry cautioned himself. Could this really be happening?

Harry paused. "Are you... attached?"

Goldie looked around, and smiled. "Not at present."

"Are you married?" Harry asked.

"No," said Goldie. "Though that wouldn't stop some men. But I know you're such an ethical man, Harry."

Harry looked at her closely. He couldn't tell if she was mocking him or not.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Harry asked.

Goldie took a deep breath and raised her eyebrows. "Ahhh... I have been seeing someone."

"Have been?"

"Everything is black and white with you, isn't it, Harry? I have a boyfriend and won't see other men, or I don't have a boyfriend, and will see other men. Isn't it enough to know that I'm interested in getting to know you? Isn't it enough to know that an attractive woman wants to spend some time with you, with no strings attached?"

"There are always strings attached," said Harry.

"Quite right. But they haven't been attached yet," said Goldie. "What if I were married? Which I'm not. But what if I were, trapped in a miserable marriage, and I fell head over heels in love with you, Harry?"

"I'd tell you to get a divorce, first," said Harry.

Goldie laughed. It was like a sprinkling of fresh, delicious water over Harry's face on a hot day. "You're so moral, Harry. And so thoroughly decent. I'm beginning to like you, Harry, but just beginning to. And I have a feeling you can do even better. So, will you show me around?

Harry paused, considering. Why not? "Sure."

"Good," said Goldie.

Harry took out his Pad. "Let me just make a quick note."

"Sure thing. Wouldn't want you to forget," said Goldie. "That's Goldie with a G. Not a Z. And better write your own name too, so you won't forget who I'm supposed to be meeting. Harry with an 'H', I think." She watched as Harry took out his Pad, and manipulated it. She heard the tiniest click.

"Do it again, Harry."

"Do what again?"

"Snap another image. This time you can catch me smiling."

Goldie gave a broad smile. "Come on, Harry. You want to. You know you do."

Harry, feeling embarrassed, took another image of her, this time overtly.

"You don't know how good that makes me feel, Harry. You find me attractive enough to take a photo of. I think we're going to get along well, Harry, I really think we are."

"How can I get in touch with you?" Harry asked, hoping for a comm code.

"I'm staying at the Hilton. In the World Trade Center." She stood up, and reached for her hat. "Walk me there?"

Harry did. He tried to ask her questions, but she had a way of answering which gave him no real information. When they got to the hotel, she said, "Here we are. You got me here safe and sound! Who said chivalry is dead? You are such a gallant knight, Harry!" She reached out and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "See you in the lobby tomorrow around noon. Goodnight!"

He watched her turn and enter the hotel.

********

"It will take some time to identify her from this photo," said Carl.

"Top priority," said Harry. He worked quickly to remove his shirt.

"What do you think she wants from you?" Carl asked.

"I don't know," said Harry, unzipping his pants.

"Do you find her attractive?" Carl asked.

Harry pulled down his underwear, with difficulty. He was already erect. "Report back to me when you have some answers. Off."

Harry got some lubricant, and spread it on his penis. "Veronika!" he said.

The holoimage of a woman shimmered into being in front of him.

Veronika was brunette, and had a very shapely body. All she wore was a black bra and panties. "It's good to see you again, Harry. Are you eager to serve your mistress?"

"Yes," said Harry, starting to touch himself.

"Then pump it, Harry. Pump it good," said Veronika.

Harry wrapped a fist around his penis and started to work it.

"Good, baby. Real good," said Veronika. She gave him words of encouragement, but also disparagement. "Can't you make it any harder than that?"

"I'm trying, Veronika," said Harry. He gritted his teeth as he fisted himself.

"Yeah, baby, you're getting there," she said, looking at his organ approvingly. She took off her bra, revealing her large, heavy breasts. "Do these excite you, baby?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Yes what?" said Veronika, brandishing a riding crop.

"Yes, Mistress," said Harry.

"Better," said Veronika. She smiled and offered more words of encouragement, as she scooped and played with her breasts, rubbing her nipples to get them erect. "You make me so hot, Harry. Do I do the same for you?"

"Yes, Mistress," said Harry, starting to pant. He stood there, rigidly, his legs wide apart, completely naked in his living room, fisting his organ vividly in front of her.

Veronika pulled down her panties and smiled slyly at him. Her pubic hair was dark and full. She spread her vaginal lips. "I'm getting wet, Harry. Tell me, where do you want to put it?"

"Inside you, Mistress!"

"Only real men get to come inside me, Harry. Are you a real man?"

"Yes, Mistress!" said Harry. His hand was working faster now, and he felt a tightening around his shaft and balls.

"Then show me, Harry," said Veronika, her spread pink slit still on display. "Show me how manly you are. Show me what you can put inside me. Come for me, Harry, come for me now."

Harry felt an eruption, and he cried out, spraying through Veronika, and across the room.

"That's a good boy, Harry," said Veronika. "Did that feel good, Harry?"

"Yes, Mistress," said Harry, breathing heavily as he came down from his high.

"Are you going to do this again for me, Harry?"

"Yes Mistress."

"That's good, because I always love it when you give it to me, Harry."

After spending 99.9% of his life in involuntary celibacy, this was Harry's idea of sex.

********

"How did it go?"

Goldie casually removed her earrings as she studied herself in the mirror. In it she could also see the holographic image behind her.

"Fine. Exactly as planned," said Goldie.

"What is he like?"

Goldie smiled as she thought back to her encounter with Harry. He was so smart, so brilliant, and yet, also so vulnerable. "Exactly as we expected."

"Did you give him the first equation?"

"Not yet," said Goldie, combing her hair slowly.

"Goldie?"

"I want to spend a full day with him, first," said Goldie. "Call it... instinct."

"All right. Do you think we're going to be successful?"

"Too early to tell," said Goldie. "I'll check back with you tomorrow, Mr. Slattery."

********

[THE PAST]

Harry hadn't always been Harry.

Originally, Harry had been someone else.

He was born Abraham Maslovsky just over 31 years ago. His father, Benjamin Maslovsky, emigrated to America from Russia twelve years before Harry was born. In America, he met his future wife, Sylvia, and they soon married. Their first child was a girl, who they named Rachel.

Rachel was three when Harry was born. Neither Ben nor Sylvia were quite happy with what they named him.

Ben was well aware that in America, Maslovsky was a mouthful. Sylvia felt the same way about Abraham. And so when Harry was two, and Benjamin proposed they change the family's last name, Sylvia agreed, as long as they could also change Harry's first name.

Benjamin wanted to change their last name to Crater.

Sylvia was aghast.

"Crater? What is Crater?"

"It is big, very big," said Benjamin, with a gleam in his eye.

"Ben, it is a hole! A big hole, usually on the moon," said Sylvia.

"It is big. It will command attention. I think little Abraham will be one to command attention in his life. I can feel it," said Benjamin.

"He will be ridiculed by the other children."

"No he will not. Or if he is, it will only make him a more independent thinker," said Ben.

Sylvia thought about that for a while. She eventually came around and agreed to change the family name to Crater, on the condition that Abraham's name be changed to Harry. Ben had as much enthusiasm for Harry as Sylvia had for Crater.

"Harry? What is Harry?" Ben asked. "It sounds like an adjective to describe a rat."

"It is a normal American name."

"I do not like it."

"And I do not like Crater, but it is my price for agreeing," said Sylvia.

And so court papers were filed, and Abraham Maslovsky became Harry Crater. Harry, being two at the time, barely noticed the change.

********

Awareness slowly crept up on Harry. Awareness that he was different from the other children. Why did the other children tease him? Why did they shun him? At first, Harry assumed that it was normal. That he was put into a world where he was made to be teased and shunned, that it was perfectly natural.

But by the time he was seven years old, and in the second grade, he slowly was coming to a very different conclusion. That he, Harry Crater, was different from the other kids, and that it was definitely not normal. He saw other kids accept each other, and play with each other, and realized that he could have been like them.

But he wasn't.

It began in the classroom.

Harry Crater always knew the answers to all the questions. He always had his hand up to answer questions. Rarely, very rarely, he would give a wrong answer, and quite often, even Harry's "wrong" answer turned out to be right, as the teacher would later discover.

"But teacher, Carbon Dioxide is only.01% of the atmosphere. Not 30%," said Harry, waving a Pad in the teacher's face.

Teacher noticed all eyes on her. She looked at the entry in Harry's Pad. "That could be wrong. We must rely on the textbook, Harry."

"But-"

"Harry!"

Harry became known as Harry Know It All. And that was one of the kinder names he was called. As his father Ben had feared, he was called Harry Rat first and foremost. Kids would chase him on the playground, playing a one-sided game called "Bomb the Crater!" where they would tackle Harry. Harry was held up as an object of scorn and ridicule because he was a "brain", like "Teacher". For his own safety, Harry had to trail the teacher aides who patrolled the playground, to avoid being bombed.

So Harry never got to play kickball with the other kids. But he participated in his own way. In his mind. So he imagined that Robbie, the pitcher, was controlled by an alien, in the form of the ball. He imagined Robbie striking out with the ball, hitting other kids, and putting them under the control of the alien too. He imagined pitched battles between the kids under and not under control of the alien.

Or he imagined the kids, being programmed like robots, walking around and performing tasks set to them by their masters. Harry would laugh as Susan Greenleaf would walk around the playing field in jerky motions, or Bob Tumult would bob his head up and down, or twirl his arms as a test of his flexibility demanded by his robot masters. The kids would see Harry laughing, and would think him all the more strange for it.

Harry's dreamworld would extend to classes, which were so slow that they bored him. His mind wandered far afield. He dreamed that he was a spaceship, flying to other planets, exploring strange worlds, fighting alien species. Every so often people sitting around him could hear him mutter, "Boom!" or "Zap!" during fierce space battles in his mind, and think him even stranger.

As a result Harry was thoroughly ostracized. One day when Mother was preparing a list of friends to invite to his birthday party, Harry realized he had no one to invite. He sat down on his bed and started to cry.

Mother tried to console him. "What's wrong, Harry?"

"The kids don't like me," Harry sobbed.

"What makes you say that?" Mother asked.

"Because I'm different."

"Harry, look me in the eye. Harry, look at me."

Harry looked up at his mother.

"Harry, you are no different from any other kid."

"Really? Are you sure?"

"You are exactly like them."

"No he's not," said Benjamin, who had been standing there, listening. "You are different, Harry."

"Benjamin! Don't fill his head with such nonsense."

"It's the truth. And we must all face the truth." Benjamin got down on his knees, and looked Harry in the eye. "You are different, Harry. There's no escaping it. But you must be tough, you must be strong. You must walk around wearing a suit of armor."

Suit of armor? "Like... like a spacesuit?"

"Yes, like a spacesuit," said Ben. "You must be strong. Only the strong survive."

********

Goldie MacPherson had always been called Goldie MacPherson, but there was a time when her parents considered changing her name.

Her parents, Edgar MacPherson and Matilda Rakowsky, grew up in an affluent suburb of Dayton, Ohio. Goldie had an older sister named Claire. There had been some thought of changing Goldie's name when she turned five.

When Claire had been born, she had beautiful blonde hair. Matilda had wanted to name her Goldie, but Edgar resisted, so they had named her Claire. And then when Goldie was born, she had the same beautiful blonde hair, so it seemed. This time Edgar relented, and agreed to name their second child Goldie.

But as they got older, Claire's hair stayed brilliantly blonde, while Goldie's hair became darker, a mix of blonde and brown. Matilda realized the daughter they had named Goldie had much darker hair than the child they had named Claire. She talked to Edgar about a name change.

"What?" said Edgar. "You want them to switch names with each other?"

"But dear, Claire is the one with the beautiful blonde hair."

"Both our daughters have beautiful hair," Edgar snapped.

"Yes, of course they do, but Claire's is much blonder."

"So you want them to switch names. Claire is 7, and Goldie is 5. Do you realize how incredibly confusing that will be for both of them?"

"Only for a short time. They'll get used to it."

"No," said Edgar. "Chances are, by the time they are 25, both of them will have brown hair, like everyone else. This is utter foolishness."

And so Goldie had remained Goldie.