And…Picking up from where the book left off last week.
Room #104 and Neighbor Peter
When a Man Buys You Drinks Is He Entitled to More?
He lifted me up, and, making his intentions very clear, put me on the bed. I was lying on the hotel bedspread, when I thought, oh god, they never wash these things. Most 4 and 5 stars hotels wash their bedspreads pretty regularly, but this was more like a 2 star hotel – just because it is AAA approved does not always mean they wash them. As I imagined the stomach-turning stains and bodily fluids on that bedspread, there I lay, in my favorite white, designer skirt with a hot guy hovering over me – his tongue in my mouth – worrying about someone’s spilled pizza sauce and worse. I would most likely never see this man again — was he worth ruining my favorite skirt?
Suddenly, his hand went up my skirt, and I forgot all about the stain and germ-ridden bedspread. He was a skilled lover. Perhaps it was just because we knew we would never see one another again, or because he’s watched a lot of porn – within minutes, he made some specific requests that indicated the latter – but the sex was raw and uninhibited. After several hours, we fell asleep; it was around 3:00 a.m. when I awoke. Should I stay, or should I go? He was sound asleep as I snuck out of the room. Safely home, I brushed my teeth, scrubbed my face and got into my bed, glad be there alone.
Feeling the effects of the Cuervo 1800 and my night of debauchery, I got up around 9:00 a.m., having missed yoga. There were three calls from neighbor Peter on my cell phone. He had called me the night before, first thing in the morning, and sent me a bunch of emails.
It freaked me out that he was being so aggressive, so I ignored him and went to the gym to sweat out Room #104 and the 1800. On my way home, I wracked my brain to remember Room #104’s name. I felt like such a slut; the horns and tail were surely visible. I had offered to take him to the airport the next day, but I couldn’t remember his room number, either. However I did know my way back to his room, so I went back to the hotel to find him.
Usually cool and calm in most situations, my heart was pounding as I rode up in the elevator and knocked on the door. He was in his room and invited me in. It was awkward; we were both uneasy, but we survived. As we were talking, he told me about his girlfriend back home — the girlfriend that he lives with. I asked him if he has these out-of-town flings and one-night stands all the time. He looked me straight in the eye and said, “No, this is the first time I have ever done anything like this.” I can still his face at that moment, and I’m still sure he was lying. Room #104 was not only a professional paintball player; he was a professional “player,” and I fell for his game. But I was up for the adventure whatever its the outcome.
To be continued on Saturday.