New York City, the Mecca of city vacations, and I was ready. Not all vacations are created equal. Not to say some are better or worse, but the experiences are different. Some people prefer to lay around a pool or beach with a drink in hand all day, some prefer hiking, biking or otherwise straining through their trip. I like cities exploring them, eating dancing and drinking in them, and New York Does not disappoint.
My husband planned everything, he likes to do that, and I like to turn off my brain and go into autopilot as I go on the guided tour. His itinerary, his menu, his hotel room, all curated to perfection.
Most vacations are like this for us, whether Paris, Berlin, or Prague, you can find me hanging off his arm or being dragged along some cobblestone streets from spot to spot. He takes care of everything, and in return, I take care of him.
We like to leave early, usually we're leaving the hotel as the sun comes up. This means I have to be up before 6 am getting myself ready. I don't normally need a long make up routine, but I do need to find an outfit that's both comfortable, and shows off my assets.
I like to think of myself as pretty, but mostly I'm told i'm hot lately. I'm perfectly fine up top, with perky little breasts, that are just small enough to stay high after 30. Down below I'm a goddess. My husband says I have an ass like a dinner bell, that rings its way down the streets inviting everyone to come eat.
I like my ass. I love my ass. It's big, it's shapely, and it's gotten me everything from free drinks to the perfect husband. That's why I like to show it off. Whether I"m in a jumper or a short skirt, I always make sure my cheeks are out.
I'll spare the details that you can find anywhere else online about New York. There were Michelin stars, Disney movies turned into mediocre plays on broadway, a big park, street food, and subways. All of this was just fine.
We stayed downtown, in a corner of the city reserved for fashion, and clubs, and, for some reason, brunch. My husband helped me out of the cab and we worked our way into a bit of a tight lobby. I was surprised, to say the least. I expect grand lobbies and shows of wealth in the hotels he picks, though I wouldn't call the hotel cheap, just not... grand.
I'm not some gold digger. Quite the opposite actually. I was a young woman who fell in love with a broke older man. When we met he was living in a small apartment, and living off of boxed meals. Many girls would run at the site of his place, but, he was charming in a self deprecating way, funny, and he fucked like he was exorcizing his inner demons.
Over time he built his small business into a successful one. We move every couple of years into a slightly larger place. We got married. His gifts to me became more lavish, and arrived on more than just holidays.
He liked to dress me up. As often as I ordered for myself, I would still find surprise boxes of lacy underwear, or slinky dresses, at our door. He said he wanted the whole world to see how beautiful I am. I loved it.
Slowly, his presents would morph from packages to appointments. I found myself at nail salons, stylists. Within a few years I had lasered all the hair off my body permanently. Skin treatments became botox, became lip fillers.
I've stayed me, I haven't have any implants or face lifts. I haven't changed the shape of my face or body, just some ironing out and plumping here and there. I was smooth and shiny like a trophy.
We never spoke much about the work I had done. I just knew I liked how it looked, and he did too. He made me his sexy little arm piece and I loved playing the part. I loved being dressed up, taken out, and showed off.
In that time, our vacations went from short drives to long flights. We went from staying in tents and motels, to jacuzzi suites and penthouses. I had become accustomed to cavernous marble lobbies, uniformed hotel staff, rooms that comes with cars.... grandeur, which this hotel lacked.
What the lobby lacked in grandeur, it made up for in sexiness; dim lights, bawdy art and hidden nooks were everywhere. Fashion forward staff with sheer fabrics draped delicately around them smiled at us. It felt flirty.
There were hints of perfume in the air. Modelesque women wandered in and out along with men in sharp suits. I would have felt out of place around such beautiful people in my youth, but I rarely felt out of place at my age. I guess I was part of the scenery at that point.
My next small surprise was that we got out on a relatively low floor to head to our room. I don't want a top floor every time we travel.. but I expect it at this point. I was lead down corridors, turning randomly and walking further, unsure of where we're going, but following behind like I'm accustomed to do on trips, when we finally reached our room.
We all know what a hotel room looks like, even at the highest level there's some uniformity to them. The door opens to a bathroom on one side, closet the other, then a place to sleep. I was thrown because that's not what I walked into. I walked into a long dimly lit hall that I couldn't see the end of. I wandered my way down, past a turn and into a split of three rooms, and that's when I saw it.
