Reading the text on her phone while sitting on the bed, Willma gritted her teeth and felt her blood pressure rise, making her head throb. The text came from the airlines, and it read that all flights had been canceled due to bad weather and would not resume for at least two days. After reading the message, Willma laid the phone on the hotel bed, then fell back while still dressed in her short black skirt and white cotton blouse. In an unbridled moment of frustration, Willma grabbed the pillow beside her, buried her face in the fluffy cushion, and screamed into the material.
The last year had been horrible for Willma. Her car's transmission shit the bed, costing her four grand to repair. Her company had to do cutbacks, making her do more with less. Then she caught her boyfriend in bed with her now ex-best friend. To add insult to injury, her little kitty passed her away just two months prior. The passing of her fur-baby hurt more than her cheating ex-boyfriend. Now, she was trapped in a hotel hundreds of miles away from home, down to her last clean pair of panties.
After cursing to any god that would hear her, Willma uncovered her face, lay on the bed silently, and wondered how her life had turned into a pile of shit. Finally, sitting up, Willma decided she needed a drink and hoped the hotel bar would open. She figured if she couldn't go home, she could at least go downstairs and get shit-faced drunk. Then she slipped her black heels on and walked to the sink in her room.
Out of habit and not in the hopes of getting laid, Willma looked into the mirror to check her presence. First, she touched up her makeup, and ensured that shoulder-length, silver-gray hair was still neatly done. Then she ensures that the seams of her lace-top thigh-high stockings were straight and ran along the back of her slender thighs. When she thought she was presentable, Willma grabbed her room key and headed to the bar to hunt down the drunk of all drunks.
When she arrived at the bar, Willma sighed in relief that the bar was open. Peering into the dark, she saw three tables with empty high-back chairs around them and a small defunct dance floor adjacent to them. On the other side of the room, she saw an older man wiping the bar down and heard an old jukebox playing songs from the 80s. Once her eyes adjusted to the dark room, Willma walked to the bar and ordered one beer and a shot of the cheapest whiskey they had.
Once the bartender placed the shot before her, Willma grabbed the shot glass, tossed the cheap booze down her throat, and grimaced as the liquid burned down her throat. Before the man could set the beer in front of her, Willma ordered another shot and then took a sip of the terrible brew to quench the burning sensation in her throat. Then she watched as the old man brought her another shot of whiskey. Although the drink was horrible, Willma took the second shot, slammed it back quickly, and felt the burn again.
"Another one?" The bartender asked.
"Yep! Bring one every fifteen minutes until I pass out, then bring one every twenty minutes."
The older man gave her a look of shock and awe, saying, "It's your funeral."
About thirty minutes had passed, and Willma was already five shots and two beers into her path of self-destruction and was oblivious to what was happening around her. So, when she heard a voice come from the side of her, Willma almost jumped out of her skin and let out a little squeal.
"The only time a man drinks like that is if he is trying to forget something or planning on killing someone. So, which one is it friend?" the soft voice said.
Slowly turning her head, Willma was greeted by deep brown eyes and an angelic face framed by beautiful brown hair. With a little giggle, Willma asked the stranger, "Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter?"
Watching the woman pull her silky brown hair over her ear, revealing a simple pearl earring, Willma heard her say, "So, you're a fan of bad Sci-Fi and horror movies?"
"Who isn't?" Willma replied with a giggle
The woman extended her hand and said, "Sarah."
"Willma."
Seeing the woman look at the empty shot glasses and beer mugs in front of her, Willma heard Sarah ask, "So, rough day?"
Letting a sigh escape from her lips, Willma replied. "Rough year."
"Well, we aren't going anywhere. Why don't you tell me about it?" Sarah asked.
Sipping the lousy beer, Willma proceeded to tell Sarah about her woes. As she spoke, Willma figured that the woman was fifteen years junior to her fifty-three years but looked even younger than her actual age. Like her, Sarah was also dressed professionally, but instead of a skirt, she wore a pair of form-fitted gray slacks and a pink button-down dress shirt. Willma also was a little envious of the woman's silky shoulder-length hair compared to her stringy gray hair and perfectly pouty lips. As a matter of fact, if it wasn't for Sarah being charming, Willma would have had to resist the urge to punch the poor girl in the throat for being so perfect in appearance.
As time passed, Willma slowed down her self-destructive drinking and became slightly smitten by the younger woman. She had learned that Sarah had graduated from M.I.T. with a degree in robotic engineering and started her own company, retrofitting old manufacturing plants into stream-line modern ones. Willma also discovered that Sarah, like her, developed a fondness for bad movies from watching Elvira. However, Willma saw them when they first came out, whereas Sarah did through watching re-runs. While in the middle of the conversation, the old gentleman interrupted Willma and Sarah.
"Um... ladies, because of the weather, I need to close the bar." He said, almost in an apologetic tone.
"Aww, really!?" Willma pouted.
"Yeah, we don't want to stop!" Sarah chimed in.
The older man let out a sigh and spoke. "Look, since everything is closed because of the storm, I will leave a bottle out and let the jukebox play. Just don't trash the place, okay?" Willma and the beautiful young lady squealed with delight, then they both kissed the old bartender on the cheeks.
Willma adored how the older man blushed and smiled. Then she gave him a large tip and wished him a good night. Once the man left, Willma returned her attention to Sarah.
About another hour passed, and Willma couldn't help but feel strange about the beautiful woman before her. She kept picking up the vibe that Sarah was into her, as in really into her, but couldn't prove that the young woman was a lesbian or not.
While trying to figure Sarah's sexual preference out, Willma fantasized about what it would be like to be with a woman. Then she thought to herself if she would even like to be with a woman or not. As she wondered about it, she couldn't help but feel a slight tingle in her groin, and the pink nubs of her breasts stiffened slightly. Still not wanting to embarrass herself, Willma swallowed her curiosity and enjoyed hanging out with a fellow Sci-fi nerd.
Not caring how late it was getting, Willma laughed and chatted with Sarah. Then, the old song 'Safety Dance' started to play through the jukebox speakers.
