CHAPTER 1: MONDAY
"So then I said, 'Darlin, if you want to see the whole thing, you'll need to take a bus to the next city'!" The man's sudden braying laughter startled the couple at the table next to him. His face was flushed from the martinis and he seemed to have no idea how loud he was talking. The clear liquid of his drink sloshed over the glass and onto the table while he tried to catch his breath.
Victoria had to run the last bit of the conversation in her head a few times to get the joke. Weren't they just talking about his money? No, his wallet. So then what...? Oh. Huh. He was trying to make a joke about his dick, wasn't he? Some feeble attempt at sexual innuendo. She spared an apologetic glance at the man and woman next to their table. The lady gave her a look of commiseration back.
The man's laughter died down to chortles before his eyes focused on his drink again. He took a loud slurp before talking. "What kinda name is Victoria Resta, anyway? Is it Eye-talion?" His eyes wandered from his drink to stare openly at Victoria's chest, as if he could see through the cream colored button-down shirt she was wearing.
"No, it's not Italian." She took a breath, wanting to end this. "My..."
"Can I call ya 'Vicky'?" He slurred, spilling the rest of his drink on their table.
"I don't think so. Look, John, I appreciate the dinner but I'm going back up to my room now. I can't say it's been a great evening." Victoria stood, gathering her small clutch purse in her hand.
"Well, hey! Hey, wait! Don't just..." He stood and grabbed at her wrist. "Don't just leave me here, dammit. Have a drink. Talk with me." Victoria could see the broken veins in his nose and cheeks. He wasn't even forty years old yet but he was well on his way to drinking himself into a grave.
Victoria brought her eyes slowly down to the man's hand on her sleeve. This was her favorite shirt. Silk. She saved up to buy it. The man looked down after a moment and he stared at his own hand, stupidly not understanding the problem.
Thankfully, their waiter seemed to sense the mood and drifted over to their table. He was well dressed in his white shirt and black pants with his hair cut short. "Is there anything I can help with?" He asked, politely. He was trained too well to make a scene in the restaurant and John had thirty pounds and five inches on him. Of course, the extra weight wasn't muscle but it still made a small difference.
"No, thank you. I was just leaving. John here will take care of the bill." She placed her hand on John's hand. He looked back up at her, still not comprehending. Victoria sighed and tugged his hand off of her. She almost screamed when she saw a faint smear of steak sauce on the cuff.
Barely controlling her anger, she turned and stalked off. She received a few approving glances from the men around her as she left. She wasn't a beauty but she was attractive and her heels showed the nice definition in her calf muscles. Unlike a lot of the scarecrow women around her, she seemed to gain weight quite easily so she worked hard at her shape by jogging daily. She swore her hips laughed at her attempts to stay lean. Her mother told her they were good "child bearing hips" and Victoria reminded her every time that this wasn't the 1900s. Being five feet, three inches didn't help her self image, either. She always wanted to be taller even though quite a few guys told her she was beautiful the way she was. They all say that. It's easy for them to say.
The restaurant was attached to the hotel she was staying in so the walk back to her room was brief. Her heels came off her feet as soon as she was inside her room. She appreciated what they did for her legs but her toes wept every time she wore them. After making sure the curtains were shut, she stripped down to her panties and bra - sensible, inexpensive, comfortable and black.
She padded into the small bathroom with her shirt in one hand. The hotel used liquid face soap, so she filled the sink with hot water and mixed in some soap, swirling it around. She gently laid her shirt on the counter to let the sleeve soak in the water.
She looked at herself in the mirror. "Oh, Victoria. What are you doing?" She asked herself. At 28 years old she was showing small wrinkles at the corners of her large, dark brown eyes. Her curly hair hung loose behind her and she pulled back some strands from her face. She prided herself on her thick, dark red curls. Her hair was almost brown but when the light caught her right, the red came through like dark copper. Her heart-shaped face stared back at her, lips full and dark brown from the lipstick. She fingered the small cross on her necklace as she studied herself.
It was Monday night, the first night of the conference. She worked in a real estate office in Arizona and her company had sent her to Seattle for a conference on the housing market and its future. She'd done well supporting the real estate agents so they were prepping her to take over a junior member's accounts. It was a great opportunity for her and she hoped it'd help her afford more than ramen noodles every night.
Being in a strange city threw her off. What was there to do in the evenings in a city she didn't know? She couldn't get over how cold and dark it was, even at 4 pm when the conference ended for the day. And the rain. Dear God, the rain. Didn't the city know it was January? She wondered. What started as a drizzle in the morning turned into a steady rain of fat raindrops. It wasn't even respectable hard driving rain like you'd get in a rainstorm. No, this was a lazy rain that seemed like it could go on forever.
Victoria sighed and grabbed her toothbrush. She scrubbed gently at the spot on her sleeve to try and get it out.
She didn't have the energy to go out in this dark, dreary rain so she'd haunted the hotel bar. When John offered to buy her a drink, she'd accepted. He seemed okay at the time and was dressed well enough. She let him buy her dinner because her per diem was small and prices were crazy. Also, McDonalds didn't deliver and packs of noodles took up a surprising amount of suitcase space so she didn't take food with her.
Hah. The stain was coming out a little. That was a small victory, at least. She told herself.
She had thought maybe it'd be fun to live a little by meeting a stranger in a bar for a drink. She'd been shy growing up so she mostly kept to herself. Now that she was in a new place for a short time why shouldn't she meet some guys and let them pay for her dinner? She wasn't dumb enough to get drunk or sleep with them and it beat just staying in her hotel room the entire time. Unless they were all like this John guy, of course.
When she finished with the sleeve she could barely see the stain. The damn shirt had cost her over $300. She had to save up several paychecks just to make sure she could afford it with her bills. She was immensely glad her mother taught her how to take care of herself; dry cleaning was absolutely out of the question with her income. She laid out the shirt with the cuff on a hand towel to dry.
While she washed off her toothbrush she noticed some dry skin on her right hand. How in the world did she go from Arizona to a wet city like Seattle and get dried out? She wondered. The dryness started near her thumb, ran up to her index finger and around the side of it. She made a mental note to buy some cheap lotion on her lunch break tomorrow. The TSA had confiscated several of her containers at the airport in Phoenix even though she was sure they were the right size.
She stopped herself from scratching at her hand and worked at removing her makeup. She shook her head. What a waste. I might as well have gone without makeup for all the good it did me tonight. I even used my good lipstick. She tsked at herself.
Finally, she brushed her teeth with the complimentary tooth paste. It still tasted like soap but even soapy breath was better than having pieces of salad stuck between her teeth. At least, that's what she told herself.
For a reason she could never quite figure out, she hated sleeping in just a bra and panties in bed. The hotel bed was no different -- she wore a plain t-shirt over her bra. She tucked herself in bed and tried to arrange the pillows to work better. All of them were much harder than she liked but they would work. She propped herself up to watch some television but it was mostly crap. Even HBO was just showing some old Adam Sandler movie. She tolerated it a bit before clicking it off.
Victoria turned off the bedside lamp and laid her necklace near the alarm clock. Lying down, she pushed the blankets down to her thighs. She'd need to shave again, she thought. Her legs felt a little rough and she really wanted to try out some miniskirts tomorrow.
Victoria pulled her panties down a little to expose the smooth, shaved skin of her crotch. She reached her fingers down and gently played with her labia and clit. There was another dry area on the skin of her left thigh, running close to her pussy.
She ignored the dry sking and rubbed herself slowly - it was early and she wasn't in any hurry. She brought her shirt up over her breasts - nice c-cups with big fat nipples. She'd been teased about them when she was a young girl but her breasts filled out and now they matched her shape. She caressed her left breast with her left hand, trailing a finger over the nipple and around the aureole. The nipple stiffened lazily.
She could feel her own arousal and she teased herself by dipping two fingers inside the warm wetness between her legs. She bit her lip and twisted her feet against the feeling. The heel of her hand settled against her clit and she rubbed it up and down as she brought her fingers slowly in and out of herself. The rough, dried skin on her right hand actually made the feeling more intense and she found herself rubbing the side of her index finger against her pussy lips. She wasn't quite as wet as she liked but the roughness felt different to her -- different in a way she liked.