Chapter 3: Like Home
So far, so good -- Hannah wasn't lying about the Holiday Inn, right next door to Luann's. She wasn't lying about room 217 either. If I'm murdered, Ellie thought, at least the police will know where to start.
The room was as you'd expect for a mid-tier hotel chain. The bed was still made in its stark-white duvet. Hannah's suitcase sat open on the lounge chair in the corner. There was a laptop on the desk, and one other pair of shoes -- gladiator sandals -- had been kicked off unceremoniously next to the window. Otherwise the room was immaculate.
"Make yourself comfortable," said Hannah, bee-lining for the bathroom and shutting the door.
Having absolutely no idea what to do with herself, Ellie stood rooted in the entryway for several moments. Her eyes roved to Hannah's suitcase.
Small. She packs light. Though, Ellie acknowledged, I guess I don't know how long she's in Phoenix.
Feeling herself drift over to the open suitcase, Ellie supposed she could snoop a little. Still, she dared not touch.
No toiletries. I guess they're all in the bathroom. A laptop bag sat on top. Underneath, the few articles of clothing all looked appropriate for a summer day outdoors. A floral sundress, a couple of sleeveless tops (All natural fabrics; I thought I was picking up on hippie vibes), plain grey tees (like something you'd wear in the military), and white cotton panties. No bras that she could detect passively. She guessed the shorts Hannah was currently wearing were the only pants she brought.
Didn't she say she was traveling for work? The lack of business attire was odd.
Ellie wandered uneasily to the bed and sat on the edge. She dropped her purse on the floor, grabbed the remote off the nightstand, and flipped on the TV. She scanned channels until she found a Friends rerun on TBS.
Well, Ellie thought with a smirk, at least ONE of my plans for the evening worked out.
She'd assumed Hannah would be in the bathroom for at least 15 minutes judging by how long the self-milking took her at Luann's. However, after less than five, Ellie heard the toilet flush and the faucet run, and Hannah returned carrying an electric breast pump latched to both breasts. Her shirt was gone.
"I have an unopened bottle of Chardonnay in the mini fridge if you're interested," said Hannah. "Should I crack it? I actually remembered to bring a corkscrew for once." She leaned over in front of the mini fridge. When Ellie said nothing, Hannah looked at her. "Hah! Sorry, I always forget. Is this okay? Do you want me to do this in the bathroom?"
Ellie cleared the lump out of her throat with a cough. "No, that's okay. Um... sure, I'll have some wine."
Hannah multi-tasked like a pro, setting the breast pump base down on the table and uncorking the wine while the cups sucked dutifully. The bottles under the suction cups were about a third of the way full of white liquid.
Ellie sat on the bed pretending to watch TV, but was instead transfixed by Hannah -- the gentle slope of her hips into the narrow valley of her lower back, which hitched slightly over love handles that shimmered with stretch mark striations as they emerged from the band of her denim shorts. Above these, her back curved gracefully outward to meet her broad, freckled shoulders.
Ellie could tell she had the kind of skin that freckled instead of tanned. She also noticed that the freckles didn't stop where they usually did: Where clothes usually covered.
Her feminine belly folded as she bent and straightened. She doesn't suck in her gut, Ellie noticed, realizing that she herself had been compulsively pulling her stomach in since she was probably eleven or twelve years old.
Hannah was by no means fat, but she had a tummy that she made no effort to hide, spidered with more stretch marks. Her pumping breasts... Perky? No. Heavy. Veiny. Imperial... jostled pleasantly as she worked on the two glasses of wine.
Ellie observed Hannah's walk; the nature of her steps. She did so with a liberated confidence one usually only sees in little kids. Shoulders back, leading with her navel, supremely unconcerned and unpretentious. The way one strides before the world throws insecurity and criticism at them, or teaches them to apologize for the space they occupy: Slouch, suck in, and shuffle.
Hannah turned around and handed Ellie a Holiday Inn high-ball glass full of chilled white wine. "Here."
