A teenage boy comes by, strokes the woman's thigh affectionately, like he's done this many times before. In New York everyone's anonymous, so you can do what you want, knowing that no one will notice, let alone object. Sometimes this goes for murdering people, but much more often it goes for being sexy in public, or unconventional in some other benign way. I notice the boy caressing the statue because I happen to be taking a picture of it at the time. The boy grins at me, unembarrassed, knowing I understand.
Sex is, simple as that.
We go into the hotel to find out the story of the statue. Max, the general manager, tells us he was working at the hotel in 1984 when the statue first arrived, is working there again now, knows the whole story. He leans back in his leather armchair and settles into telling a good tale. He liked it. He bought it as a present for his wife.