Richard David stepped out of his
Cadillac with his navy blue executive suitcase that matched his suit pants. A
strong afternoon breeze threatened to dishevel him, but he smoothed his hair
back into place before proceeding to the front door. His suitcase rolled behind
him as he made his way to the front door of the hotel. The front doors slid
open on his approach, his wingtips clacked coldly on the peach tiles as he made
his way to the front desk. A clean shaven young man with cold blue eyes peering
out from large lenses stood opposite him behind the desk.
“Name?”
“Richard David,” Richard replied,
holding out his credit card.
Checking in
had become routine for Richard. Twice a month, each month, Richard found himself in
front of a green marble desk facing another faceless staff member taking his credit
card information. A brief glimpse of eye contact followed by a series of
clacking and clicks at the keyboard before the next question. He asked for his
standard room package: three days in a quiet corner room next to the
stairwell—preferably on the third floor so he wasn’t so close to anyone on the
main floor and not so far up that he couldn't escape —with nobody in the adjacent room. He usually paid for the
second room just to be sure. This was all capped off with the addition of two
unlimited porno packages.
One unlimited porno package could
more than satiate any normal man with 24 consecutive hours of film documenting
the orifices of women and the filling thereof.
However, Richard was not any normal man. He was 40 years old, a father
of four, each kid as expensive as the next, and husband to what was once a
woman, but quit being so the moment she became a mother. He needed someone
desirable, someone that would make him feel fulfilled. Seventy-two days of the
year he had the chance to do just that.
The clacking and clicking came to
an abrupt halt. “Alright Mr. David, here is your credit card and room key, and you have yourself a happy Friday,” a
peach key-card emblazoned with a golden cursive “C” was slide along the
pseudo-jade countertop along with his credit card. Richard grabbed both cards,
entered the nearby elevator with a mother and child soaking in their swimming
suits, and he pressed the third floor button. He grimaced at the idea of sharing the elevator with a child and silently hoped that it wouldn't make any noise.
“This place is pretty, mommy. Can
we stay here?” The little kid pressed herself against the back wall of the
glass elevator, bewildered by the atrium and its hanging flora from white
pillars that pointed down to the blushing peach tiled ground floor where street
lamps and trees pointed up toward the massive roof skylight. The elevator
chimed and opened its gold doors to the third floor. As Richard passed along
the side railing of the third floor to the back of the hotel, he noticed the
same things the young girl saw—the fountain, the hanging vines, and the rows of
green doors punctuated by windows for each room to see out into the atrium—but
he also noticed the grime growing among the vents along the ceiling of the
atrium. He continued on his way to his room and closed the door behind him,
drew the curtain, sat down on the mustard yellow sofa, and picked up the hand
set to the phone.
He punched zero into the keypad.
The pencil-necked nobody at the front desk picked up, “Front desk, how may I help
you?”
“This is Richard David in room 333.
Please hold all calls to this room for the rest of the night.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Dav-“ Richard hung
up before the front desk nobody could finish. He pulled out his cell phone and
texted his wife.
Long drive. Turning in for the night.
She replied back, Sounds
good, sweetie. I <3 U. He didn't reply back
He turned to his suitcase and
removed the contents: two collared shirts, two ties, two undershirts, two pairs
of pressed dress pants, two sets of dress socks, two sets of boxer briefs, two
bottles of Ajax dish detergent, two Shout stain remover Sticks, two large
Trojan pleasure packs with 12 individual condoms each, two bars of lavender
scented soap, one travel toothbrush pack with two brushes, one silk rope, one
eye mask, one ball gag, and one 32 ounce bottle of Astroglide lubricant. His
fingers felt along the inside lining of the suitcase and pulled out a small
slip of paper and used the landline to dial the number on it.
“Milwaukee Escorts, Milwaukee’s
premier dating service, how may I help you,” asked a dull, heavy voice.
“I’m looking for a date for the
night.”
“What kind of date are you looking
to have this evening?”
“I’m looking for someone young and
lively that is willing to stay out late.”
“Sir, this is a legitimate dating
service, nothing more.” They always pulled this safeguarding crap.
“I assure you, nothing terrible
will happen tonight. I’m looking for a free spirit to join me for some nearby
shopping.”
“Where
might this shopping take place?”
“I was
thinking we might go to Bed, Bath, & Beyond.”
“Is that
the one half a block from the Brownstones Shopping Center?”
“Yes and I
am thinking of taking my black sedan.” There was a long pause.
“Very well,
Mr.David. It will be the standard fee, cash on the night stand.”
“Understood.”
Any names and likenesses in this story are entirely coincidental.
