She looked at the empty room. Nothing quite as sad as a bare room after you have lived there for a long time. Where did the memories go? They weren't "in" the room anymore. Somehow they had vanished entirely when she did the final cleaning this morning. Pictures taken off the wall, knick knacks packed up. The wood floor swept. Little balls of dust that seemed impossible to get rid of. And then it was empty. She took one last look, feeling tears forming in her eyes. Time to go. Go. Go before you regret it. And she turned around, shut the door behind her, and with it a chapter of her life.
Driving down the highway later, she kept her phone streaming loud music, and was dancing in her seat, banging on the steering wheel. It was a hot, sunny, end of the summer day. She cruised along trying not to think too much. Of the past, or future. Trying instead to look at things she passed by. Farms and cattle, an occasional stand of trees. She stopped for gas, and a cold drink. Her clothes were damp from her sweat, in the little time she was out of the car. Another stop for dinner, eaten alone in corner booth of an overly bright diner. The sounds of dishes clinking and shouted orders. She looked around at the people eating, chatting. Wondering what they were saying. Where they were from. Where they were going.
The first day she drove late into the night, only pulling off when she was afraid she'd fall asleep and wreck the car. She found a cheap, slightly seedy motel right off the highway. All she remembered was opening the door, then the next morning, and she was driving again, drinking a horrible cup of coffee, that she got for free in the motel lobby.
In the mid-late afternoon she had enough of driving for one day. Though still pretty early she felt the need to stop. Come to earth. Get rid of the road noise. A series of road signs proclaimed a town ahead with, gas, food, lodging. She pulled off and followed a sign to one of the hotels, The Alamo. Surprisingly it was quite big, built fairly recently out of adobe. It looked promising for a comfortable night's sleep.
She parked and rolled her suitcase into the lobby. She was glad to see a woman behind the counter. She had always had trouble with men. Her eyes were piercingly beautiful, as was her face. She had noticeably firm breasts and a nice round bottom. Men always tried to prolong the conversation with her. Said all kinds of stupid things, eyed her breasts whenever they thought they could get away with it. But she knew they were looking. She avoided contact with men whenever possible, but came to accept that she was ogled at, and just stared ahead or tried to cut short conversations.
Soon she had her key card, was in her room, and crashed on the bed. The road noise still humming in her head. She didn't feel like staying in the room though. The pool. Yes it would be nice to get outside and enjoy a pool. She had packed a swimsuit luckily. Put it on. Took her tablet to read a book. Sunglasses, lotion, ball cap, sandals. She was ready to go. The area pool was very nice, lots of shaded lounge chairs. Though somewhat crowded, she found one. She could feel the eyes watching her, from behind sunglasses as she walked along. She spent the rest of the afternoon reading, and occasionally dipping into the pool. She was starting to feel human again.
She had a nice dinner at the hotel restaurant, which was surprisingly good, then thought she would have a drink before heading off to bed. Something to knock the edge off. She sat down at the bar. Unfortunately, the bartender was male and tried to keeping her in conversation after delivering her drink. She was only saved by someone else needing his attention.
It wasn't long before a man sat down next to her. She knew all the signs. He was trying to pretend he wasn't looking at her, and desperately trying to think of the first line to say to her. To get his foot in the door. It was an oldie and not goodie. "Can I buy you a drink". She turned her head and looked at him. A salesman type, who spent too many hours on the seat of his pants. Slightly doughy. "No I'm good." He wouldn't let it go though. "Where are you from?" She felt trapped and just wanted to be left alone. She wasn't really sure where the next words came from. "You look like a nice enough fellow. I am sure your wife thinks so. But you don't look like someone who could possibly give me a hard enough fuck. So just get the fuck lost". Maybe it was the drink talking. The guy looked angry, mad. "Fuck you, bitch". And got up and left. Now her calm was all shattered. She ordered another drink. Then another.
Then she started to get that feeling, she knew only too well. Thoughts ran through her mind when she had been places just like this before, alone or with her girlfriends, and thoughts of where it had ended up. Her mind was twirling the images around and around. She could feel an ache in between her legs building. Her cheeks flushing. She turned around on the stool and scanned the room. It was pretty packed really. Mostly with men. And most looked like the guy that had tried hitting her up. She kept looking. Then she saw him. Rugged, older than her, mature. His body looked like it had gotten that way from hard work, not lifting weights in a gym. He looked like he could snap the other men in the room in two just by looking at them. They would run and hide. But she could tell by the way he was sitting there, very relaxed, occasionally laughing, he wasn't full of himself. She definitely felt herself getting wet looking at him. Ok. Another drink.
She patiently waited nursing her drink, until she saw him get up to go to the bathroom. She followed him back to where the restrooms were. It was very quiet there. She waited for him to come out. He was going to walk right by her, when she grabbed at him. He looked startled. "Yes? Can I do anything for you?" She looked up at him and decided. "Just a second." She open her clutch and pulled out a room key card. "Room 312. Don't knock. I'll be waiting." And then she turned and walked away very fast. She could feel her adrenaline pumping as she made her way back to her room. Ok, that was awkward, usually she was able to just talk to someone and take them home fairly easily. She had to admit she had a thing for being fucked by strange men. But they had to be the right type. She needed a hard fucking. Really hard, dangerous. This wasn't her "first rodeo", not even close. But this was out there, even for her.
