A Vacancy

There was this sleazy hotel out on route 15 back where I come from. Sometimes late at night I used to imagine what it might be like to take a lover there. To hold her hand as we got out of the car and walk past the blue neon sign that constantly flashed "vacancy" outside the small dive hotel.

I wonder if she would look nervous when we walked up to the front counter and waited for the fat man to turn around. I imagined to the very smallest detail the way that I would smile and wink at him when she turned her head to nervously look around the lobby. It would have been one of those -- yeah, I'M here for the reason you think I'm here, winks. I would have paid in cash and given the fat man some ludicrous name. Every time I dreamed of this I would change the name to something different. One night it would be Jen McMurphy, the next it would be Roxy Smyth. I took my time grinning, while thinking up what name I would use that night. The man would take my cash and with short stubby fingers slide a large plastic key ring under the grill across the counter.

I thought about how I would twine my fingers in hers and lead her outside and too our room. I would tell her the number and let her lead the way. Giving her a sense of power, and me a great view of her round perky ass. Most of the times my lover was wearing a pair of low cut jeans, but sometimes I have her in one of those little black dresses that makes you just want to melt. When we got to the door I had a few different witty sayings planned out, but I knew that I would just hand her the key and walk in behind her.

It was always a control thing in my fantasy. The letting her walk first, the making her open the door. It was me making her ask for everything, in the most silent way possible. We would walk in and I would put a blindfold on her. Something in a deep red or black, but not silk. I would use a rough cotton to offset the softness of my hands and skin.

From driving by the place I knew that the curtains were fairly thin. They blocked out forms, but not the light. It would send shivers down my spine thinking about her standing there in black high heals, her hands at her sides, blindfold across her face. I thought about the way the blue neon light would cast shadows on the tops of those lush round breasts, and how I would just have her stand there, bathed in the light.

It would be cold in the room. Cold enough that after just a few moments of sitting there her nipples would begin to perk up and small goosebumps would form on the backs of her arms and neck. I would walk around behind her and just take in the smell of her hair, leaning in close so that every time I exhaled the warmth of me sent shivers down her spine. My hands would slowly and softly move to her hips, and then down around the curves of her. She was always curvy, my lover, but with smaller breasts. She had B cups mostly, and very few times wore a bra. I would press my body against the back of her and cup her breasts in my hands, slowly moving my thumbs over her already perky nipples. My lips would softly caress the tender meeting places between her neck and her shoulders, leaving her shuddering and softly mewing under her breath.

I imagined myself muttering to her to be still and quite. It would be then that I would back away from her, leave her standing there in the middle of that blue bathed room to wonder what was next. I would let her wonder for a while. Eventually I would pull out a small bottle of bubbly from my bag. Something cheep and sleazy to match the hotel. Pop it open and take a few sips. When I walked up to her and kissed her, she would still taste the bitter sweet tang on my lips and tongue. It would go on like that for some time, me drinking and then letting her taste or even sip from my mouth. She would grin each and every time I pulled away from her, enjoying this part.

When I finally couldn't stand watching her any longer I would take her hand in mine again and lead her to the bed farthest away from the window. Softly and slowly I would undress her. She would then with blind but deft fingers undress me. There was always a lot of kissing in my sweet dreams. Not just on the lips but trails of kisses leading from one place to another. The bed would be hard, and the covers thin, but we wouldn't notice being so engrossed with one another.

Its not odd to say that around this point everything would always become a bit hazy. You know how dreams and fantasies go. They always seem to start to weave in and out a bit in the end. All I know is that I would usually fall asleep well those nights. Thinking of her breasts in the blue light, in a cheesy hotel on route 15.