Standing in the lobby of the somewhat decrepit Moore Hotel in downtown Seattle, Josie wondered if it was really necessary to rent a hotel room. Sure, it was New Year's Eve, and sure she had been planning this big night out with her best friends for weeks, but renting a bed seemed like an invitation to trouble. Lately she'd noticed herself getting wilder, more reckless. She had been...impulsive with a few men at work and had promised herself she'd just stick with the girls tonight. In fact, she planned to make a midnight resolution to keep out of supply closets with strange men. Or at least severely limit the frequency. But on New Year's Eve heavy drinking was practically required, and as the tide of alcohol came in, her best intentions were likely to be swept out to sea. Was a hotel room tempting fate?
No, she had resolve. She had self-control. She had her best friends to keep her in check. In fact, maybe she could get Sarah or Maureen to stay with her, make it a sleep over.
Approaching the counter, she laid down her credit card for a standard room. The desk attendant apologized that the elevator was down and that she would need to take the stairs to the third floor. Josie decided to run up to drop off her overnight bag and freshen up.
The room bordered on shabby but had a few nice antique-y features like a claw foot tub and a leather wrapped headboard that made the bed seem sort of majestic. Larger than the queen size it was supposed to be. Lying down for a second, Josie started up at the water stained ceiling. She saw the shape of an old fashioned telephone and another blob that looked like a tulip. It felt strange to be alone, away from the clamoring of her family. She'd been deep in mommy mode through flu season and felt like a shuttle van driver with all the activities her kids were signed up for. A break, a much needed break from the madness, was finally happening. A night to recapture her sense of self. Hallelujah.
Not a moment later her phone buzzed. It was Maureen.
"Sorry, babe, can't make it tonight. My husband's mother just called from the hospital, she's having chest pains. Dave is going to spend the night with her, so I'm home with the wee ones."
Josie understood, of course. But it was still a bummer. They vowed to try again next month.
Due to meet Sarah in fifteen, Josie got up to make repairs to her make up after a trot through the rain. She was rocking some new boots -- these black, sort of equestrian looking numbers that she paired with some tight black pants. Up top she decided to go glam and switched her oversized sweater for a gold sequined butterfly top that bared one shoulder. She belted it tightly at the smallest part of her waist. Appraising the look in the mirror, she thought it was pretty sharp. Maybe she didn't look twenty anymore, but at least she could clean up nice occasionally.
The look was completed with a smoky eye and bedroom hair and some pink gloss on her lips. And, to add a touch of class, a silver plastic crown with 2011 spelled across it in pink glitter.
Downstairs she found her friend waiting inside the hotel dive bar. Maybe she shouldn't have wasted time upstairs, because it seemed like Sarah had gotten a hell of a head start on her at the bar.
"Jo!" Sarah yelled over the jukebox, "Come over here! Meet, wait, was' your name again?" A tall man with long black hair next to her replied, "Snake oil".
Sara giggled, her low cut dress barely containing her cleavage. "Thas' right! But your mama didn't give you that name. What does your family call you?"
"Usually collect from jail," the man quipped. Sarah laughed like this was hilarious.
Josie sat down and talked to her friend for a while. The last bastion of single life in the city, Sarah told her that one of the firm partners had taken everyone out for happy hour. Effectively, she'd been celebrating new year's since three-thirty. "We were at one of those fancy cocktail lounges," she sneered, "an' all the execs were trying to get in my pantyhose. I was glad we were comin' here instead, you know? I like real people who don't fuck on commission."
She laughed and laughed, almost knocking herself off her stool. Josie was rapidly seeing her night out go down the tubes. It looked more like she'd be taking care of dear Sarah, instead. Probably cleaning up something disgusting by the time it was all said and done.
Josie thought she might be less annoyed by her friend if she had a few drinks herself and rapidly downed two Long Island Ice Teas. Good stuff, deceptively smooth going down. She went to the restroom and came back to Sarah giving Snake oil a lap dance. She peeled her friend from his leather clad jock and ushered her toward a booth where they would have more privacy. Snake oil glowered at them from across the bar.
"We should invite him over here," slurred Sarah. "He's real interesting. Works for the Gates Foundation."
Josie took in his biker apparel and long black hair that hinted at a Native American ancestry. She also took in the missing tooth and the neck tattoo. "Hmmm, not so sure about that."
Part of her wanted to back off, let Sarah have a fling with the grungy guy if she wanted to. There was something to be said for dirty, drunken sex. On the other hand...there was the girl code to think of. Sarah might be a little lonely tonight, but it was probably because her long term boyfriend had been out of the country for almost two months. At least, she hoped that was why she was intervening. It could be she was just in cock block mode and was forcing it on Sarah, too.
But Sarah was too drunk to make any decisions about her vagina tonight. And soon her wasted friend was blubbering incoherently about her a botched eyebrow wax and the dreadful haircut repercussions. "I like your bangs," Josie said loyally.
Over a few more Long Island's, they traded salacious sex stories. Since Sarah was obliterated anyway, Josie even confided her recent shameful behavior with the elevator repair man. Sarah was shocked. And titillated.
Before the clock struck ten, it was clear that Sarah was turning into a pumpkin. Her eyes were drooping and she was listing sideways. Even blowing a paper kazoo in her face repeatedly didn't snap her out of her trance.
"Do you want to sleep in my room?" she asked her friend, helping her find her coat and umbrella under the table. Sarah, who really was very organized, blearily checked her planner and saw that she had a fireplace cleaning scheduled at her condo in the morning. "I have to be there to let them in."
Josie summoned a cab and tucked her friend inside. "Thanks for the good time," she murmured, slipping the cabbie an extra twenty to deposit her friend into the hands of her doorman unscathed.
Oh, jeez, it was so early. She had assumed she would be watching the Space Needle fireworks show with her besties, but that plan had obviously fizzled. Josie found herself considering downloading a book on her Kindle and reading until she felt tired.
But no, that would be pathetic. Surely there was something between a whore and a nun she could aspire to be. She could make her own fun. Strike up a conversation with someone new. She travelled a few blocks into Beltown and found a martini bar.
Usually Josie was a wine girl, but she decided to stick with the hard stuff tonight. She had just plopped down at an open bar stool when the seat next to her swiveled and a nice looking young woman looked at her nervously.
"Are you...Sheila?" she asked tentatively. Her cute little pixie face would not have been out of place in a middle school gymnasium.
"Oh, no. I'm Josie. Sorry, were you saving this seat for someone?"
The woman chewed on her lower lip. "No, not exactly. I thought I was meeting someone, but I guess they didn't show. She was supposed to be here over an hour ago."
"That's lame," said Josie, feeling uninhibited by her Long Island buzz. "My night didn't go as planned either, but I'm determined to make it to midnight. We can hang, if you want."
The woman considered that and smiled a little. "Thanks. I made all these elaborate arrangements for a night out, I'd like to have a little fun."
"Me, too!" squealed Josie. "Sounds like we are in the exact same boat! It's fate that we met!"
Soon she and Meg were laughing like old friends. They started drinking blackberry mojitos and shared an appetizer that was hardly recognizable through the fancy garnish. Josie held two radishes carved like roses up to her nipples and batted her eyelashes at a man through the window. He paused, smiled, and moved on.
"Were you flirting with that guy?" Meg asked.
"No. I don't know. I've been kind of sexually insatiable lately. Things turn me on all the sudden that never used to."
Meg eagerly chimed in, "Oh my God, me too! I was raised ultra conservatively and didn't really understand what got me hot until last year. When I realized it wasn't my husband."
Josie winced, "That's rough. Still married?"
Meg shook her head, "No. He didn't want to try the stuff I was interested in. He wanted good old missionary-style baby-making. I decided to cut my losses. Still, even with my freedom, it's been hard to, you know, initiate."
Josie figured she'd been lucky. Each of the sexual experiences she'd collected lately had been at the hands of commanding men. All she had to do was submit. Meg looked shy, with light brown shoulder length hair and a slender build. Probably men wouldn't see her as a candidate for sexual experimentation. Even in her too snug black dress she looked a little uncomfortable.
"Well, liquor and a wing-woman is a good first step," Josie replied, clinking glasses. "I can be Sheila and help you hook up."
Meg ducked her head, fumbling with her purse a bit. "Ah, Sheila was the hook-up."
Surprised, Josie looked at her new friend inquiringly. "Oh, are you gay? Sorry, I didn't pick up on that. Not that it matters, of course, I'm cool with it." Oh man, she was babbling. Meg just didn't give off the lesbian vibe. She seemed like a Sunday school teacher, more than anything.
