Times Square

It should be obvious. I mean, where else would I go? Times Square is one of the busiest places on Earth. If that's not a fine location to test out just how 'Released' I am, then nothing is. It's only a fifteen-minute walk, after all. But first, damn it's cold out here. I need to put on something warmer. Should I just go get my coat? Come to think of it, what else did I leave at the office?

My wallet. Useless. I don't need money anymore. Or licenses, or IDs, for that matter.

My briefcase. Also useless. I'm probably never going to go back to that job again. Unless it's to get **** on... Gah, just let her go already, man.

My phone. I guess I could keep that around, even though nobody non-Released is ever gonna call me again. I may still want to make calls. How am I gonna be paying for my cell contract? The same as ever? Whatever, that's the least of my worries right now.

My keys, to my home and my car. Maybe I should get those. Even if I can live anywhere I want and travel however I want, there's still something agreeable about having your own hardware to work with.

The only thing I'd really like to go back and get right now is the coat, but it's an old raggedy piece of shit that I should exchange for something nicer as soon as I can. Just that, the phone, and the keys, then.

A couple minutes later I'm out of the building again with my keys in hand. Examining my car, a very run-of-the-mill vehicle, I wonder if there's some way to stop it from getting a ticket. Probably not. I mean, if we Released could declare objects and aggregate entities other than ourselves to be ignored, what's stopping someone from instantly making the entirety of this city universally ignored? What kind of societal changes would that kind of stunt even result in? Questions too complex to answer. I'll just leave the car here and hope it'll be ignored. Trying to drive through Manhattan during rush hour doesn't seem smart.

Manhattan's traffic is just as hellish as I remembered, so I'm glad I walked. I turn the corner, and... There it is! The pedestrian plaza of Times Square. The usual mass of people gathered here, some are sitting down and talking while others are pacing from here to there, off on whatever matters they find important. Funny how in comparison nothing seems important to me anymore. I don't actually come here very often. The sheer multitude of people is a bit of a headache. Now standing in the middle of the crowd, I turn a full circle while letting my eyes browse through the flashy advertisements scattered along the tall buildings. Wonders of capitalism on full display. The Christmas ornaments around and over the square only add to the evening's lightshow. Never cared much for Christmas, to be honest.

Huh. I know for a fact that I'm far from the only Released in the world, but where am I supposed to find the others? Where and how? As far as I know, they look just like anyone else. I mean, do I look any different?

Just as I finish pondering, I see what looks like a bottomless woman standing on the red stairs behind the statue of Francis P. Duffy, holding a bow-legged pose, very dexterously urinating on the heads of a gaggle on five oblivious teen girls sitting a few steps below.

I suppose that answers my question.

Alright, this should have been expected. Why would someone who can get away with anything remain sane and sound in their behavior if left unattended for long enough? Does this turn her on or something? Am I going to become like her one day? Do I even dare make myself known to her, lest she try pulling that on me? Christ, I don't know which of those questions to begin answering. It's just so surreal to see a grown-ass woman piss on a group of teenage girls in public without anyone as much as batting an eye. All five of the girls, probably no older than nineteen, are absolutely drenched in fresh urine to the point of visibly steaming in the cool evening air. Did I really see things like this all the time and just didn't care? I almost feel jealous of the Non-Released now, funnily enough.

This might be the only chance I'll get to meet an another Released for a long time. Fuck it, seems like her bladder is empty now, so I might as well.

I very anxiously creep closer to the lady, who I now get a better look at. Everything about her speaks of an awkward, nerdy girl who still hasn't quite matured enough mentally to consider herself an adult, despite being one. She has a very warm and comfortable looking sweater on under which I spot some suitable and sizeable sweater puppies, along with some stockings on her legs and skate shoes on her feet. Her brown hair is long and unkempt, her face fairly round and naturally attractive. Fuck, I can't believe I can find her cute after I just saw her do... What she did. To top it all off, she is indeed bottomless, her hairless pussylips staring right back at me from above as she's sitting down with her legs spread wide open on the top row of the red stairwell. I can't see much of her bare butt from this angle, but it looks pretty plump. Good lord, I can even see her asshole from here.

Holy shit. Calm down down there, little buddy. She might notice you.

Despite my efforts to relax, I do get the beginnings of a hard-on. My jeans do an alright job of containing it, though. I shift my bulge around a little so it's less uncomfortable.

She must be accepting of the possibility that some other Released can see her like this. There's no way she wouldn't think of that. Enough worrying, time for contact.

I climb the stairs, trying to look like I haven't noticed her, and sit down right next to her. Great, she hasn't yet realized that I'm also Released. I pull my phone out and pretend to type something on it while occasionally peeking at the half-dressed young lady next to me.

Brave enough to engage her, I begin: "Um... Ahem... Hey, you."

She jumps a little in place and gasps, clearly having not expected to be approached. Wonderful, now I've gone and scared her off. She was some eye candy, though...

"H-Hey. Phantom..?"

-she says, settling down as quickly as she got startled. My heart is about to jump into my throat. All I can muster is the word that she probably wants to hear:

"...Window."

The look on her face is indescribable. I'm wondering when was the last time she's seen an another Released. Showing bashfulness, she seems to cross her legs a little. I put my hand upon her knee and encourage her: "It's okay. Just pretend I'm like all the others." With a smile, I make it known I mean no harm. She lets out a phew and slouches back, parting her legs again, thus showing off her glistening pussy. My eyes are fixed on it, sheer angelic beauty not even beginning to describe the perfect innie this woman sports. I have no clue how she keeps it warm, or if it is indeed a little cool and she just doesn't mind. Trying not to make her feel any tenser than she already does, I pull my gaze away from her snatch and stare at my shoes instead, for the lack of a better target.

"I'm Lewis. Lewis Edam... You?" -I inquire.

"Dahlia Preston." -she answers as quietly as she can while still being heard.

A beautiful name, just like the flower. A filthy, pee-stained flower. An awkward silence ensues as I try to figure out something else to say.

Man, those girls below are really starting to stink. I yell at them: "HEY! Could you all move a little? Like, somewhere where I can't smell you?" They shrug and shuffle away to the other end of the stairwell, leaving a puddle where they used to sit. I wonder if they even know they've been pissed on. Probably yes, but they just don't care, if I'm understanding my ability correctly. Dahlia looks at the stain she's caused and blushes, twiddling her thumbs.

Do I dare keep this conversation going?