I hate elevators. The way they bounce along their cables creeps me out. Mostly, I hate elevators because I get stuck in a small space with unfamiliar people in my bubble.
Today I had the pleasure of sharing a lift with a middle-aged bald man getting off on seven. Well, I wasn't sure if he would be getting off tonight, but we were at a hotel, so the probability was fifty-fifty.
Two. Three. I had pressed the button for twelve.
Four. Five. Please, please, please don't stop!
Six. Heh, that's what she said.
Seven. Seven, SEVEN!
The doors opened and the man nodded as he departed. He's definitely not getting laid tonight. I returned his smile and hit the "door close" button repeatedly before some other idiot could come running down the hallway and hop on.
The doors closed. On to twelve.
As I stepped out, I pulled my key cards out of my pocket and hoped they would work the first time. I really didn't want to ride the hellbox back down to the lobby just yet.
Room 1202.
I placed the card in the door reader, feeling some resistance from the thickness of it, and slowly pressed it in as far as the slot would allow. It beeped its acceptance and I quickly pulled it out.
The room wasn't huge; a king sized bed, the usual television and dressers, and a bar that separated the bedroom from the makeup vanity. The bathroom appeared clean and- ooh, look at that! The shower head is detachable!
I clicked the television and Miranda Lambert began to belt out Hell On Heels as I made my way to the windows. Pushing the curtains back, I could see the sun already setting over the few buildings that surrounded the hotel. It was surprising to see fields from here, but this hotel is located on the outskirts of the city, so maybe it wasn't so odd after all.
Amelia and I had planned on meeting in the bar downstairs right after work. It was getting close to time for her to get here, so I freshened my face, threw on a short tan dress, black cardigan and a pair of heels.
Before the doors closed on the elevator, I glimpsed myself in the hall mirrors. Hell on heels indeed.
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Amelia walked into the massive hotel, glad to be out of rush hour traffic, and looked around for the bar. The receptionist smiled warmly as Amelia looked her way. Ahead of her, blown glass sculptures hung from the hall ceiling like giant tentacles; small sculptures and vases seemed to sit on every available surface and the walls were all lined with art.
The rich smell of coffee interrupted her observations. The Starbucks experience was being enjoyed by several of the hotel guests - some on computers, others on phones and a few more enjoying each others company as much as, if not more than, they were enjoying their little cup of heaven.
She found the bar just before she would be walking down the beautiful octopus hallway. The bar was high end, but after looking around, she decided she'd dressed appropriately. There were several little tables around to choose from, as it was still early in the evening, but a seat had just opened up at the bar.
"And what can I get for you this evening, my dear?" the mixologist inquired. He was handsome with his smooth face, prominent nose, dark blue eyes, and short brown hair styled into a faux-hawk. "Can I get you a margarita, cherry martini, or a gin and tonic?" he continued.
"I'll just have a beer - Corona Light, please," Amelia replied.
"And for you, ma'am?" he asked, looking over Amelia's shoulder.
"I would like a Lipstick Lesbian."
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Amelia's green eyes lit up when she turned and saw me.
"Is that really a drink?" she asked.
"Yes," the bartender replied for me, "but unfortunately, we don't have all of the ingredients." To me, he said,"Is there something else that I can get for you?"
"Rum and Coke will do just fine."
I hugged Amelia and whispered, "I have my lipstick lesbian right here after all."
I took the seat next to her, admiring her slight blush. She was wearing a retro white dress with cherries and a green cardigan. Amelia's pinup look suited her well.
The bartender set our drinks in front of us.
Amelia lifted her beer just enough to scoot the coaster closer to her. "How have you been, Cass?"
Her red hair was getting long. It was several inches farther down her back since the last time I had seen her.
"I'm good. I'm glad to be back in the city for a night and even happier to be spending the evening with you. What have you been up to lately?"
"Work, kids, laundry," she smirked, "world domination in my spare moments. You?"
Her smile, even the slightest ones, never failed to hypnotize me. I love watching her lips move. Her teeth are perfect, her bottom lip is pouty, and she didn't seem to have the slightest clue as to how damn sexy it could be when she bit it.
