I let myself fall backwards onto the hotel bed, my spine softly pressing against the mattress as my phone also fell by my side. The e-mail to my boss about how the meeting went had been sent, meaning my work for the night was done. My hands found their ways up to my face, fingers rubbing against my heavy eyelids and no doubt smearing the small amount of eyeliner I put on before dinner.
I still need that third drink. Wonder if Paul got his
.
After gradually slipping off my shoes, I approached the fridge in my bare feet and recalled Paul hurriedly pacing away from the restaurant once our client's car was out of sight. I was sure he was going to drown himself in alcohol that night, especially after how he embarrassed himself at the meeting. Our client didn't seem nearly as interested in our offer as he did on the phone, which really caught me off guard and I had to practically beg him to go with our company for his business' software insurance. That had caused Paul to panic during the business dinner, since I had told him it would be an easy sell earlier that day.
At least we pulled it off
.
I pulled open the fridge door, spilling light onto the green carpeted floor, and grabbed the first can I saw. I didn't even care what it was and, after opening the can and starting to take gulps big enough to make my throat sore, I realized it was some kind of IPA. While I was more of a wine girl, I chugged until nothing remained in the can.
I tossed the empty can into the closest trash bin and picked my phone up from the bed, sighing as I found Will's name in my contacts and pressed on it with my thumb.
I held the phone against my ear and listened to several rings. I thought it was going to go to voicemail, a part of me somewhat hoping it would.
"Hello?" Will's voice came, interrupting the cyclical rings.
"Hi," I said, sitting on the edge of the bed and crossing my legs. "Just wanted to call and say I'm back in my room."
"Ah, that's good."
Silence.
Really? That's all you can say?
"I don't know if good's the right word for it. Client was kind second-guessing going with us. Had to re-talk him into it."
"Wow. What a pain."
"Yeah. And Paul... Remember Paul? The new guy I told you about?"
"Uh-huh."
"I still think he's nervous being at a new company. He kind of got tongue tied near the end and there was the longest pause between the three of us. I swooped in and saved it, though."
"That's great."
"Yeah. Gonna turn in soon. Was kind of a long dinner. Flight's at eleven in the morning too. So sleep is sounding very appealing right now."
"Okay. Sleep well."
"What are you up to? How was your day?"
"It was okay. Nothing to really write home about. Gonna read a bit and then go to bed."
"Okay. Sounds like you're having a more relaxing night than I am. How's Helen?"
"Sleeping. She had some homework but I helped her with it."
"That's good. Glad you had an all right day. Oh! Don't forget. You're picking me up at the airport tomorrow."
"I'll be there. You left a note on my nightstand."
"I wanted to remind you. You know, just in case. Good night, Will."
"Good night."
I pulled the phone away from my ear and, before I could hit the cherry-red end call button, Will's name and the buttons below it all disappeared. I was left facing the list of recent calls.
Wasn't in a chatty mood tonight. Typical.
Feeling the skin on the backside of my neck growing a little warm with anger, I returned to the fridge and chugged another beer after setting my phone down. This time, I happened to grab what tasted like a blonde ale and was able to drink it twice as fast as I did the IPA.
I'm probably going to regret this tomorrow, but who cares? I can take a nap on the flight home.
I tossed the now-empty can into the trash bin. Then, I proceeded to change out of my dress. After taking off what I jokingly referred to as "the red queen" in my head, I bent over in my underwear to dig some pajamas out of my suitcase. When I stood up, I happened to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror hanging above the desk in my room's corner.
God, no wonder Will hasn't been interested in you lately.
I had no way of arguing with the thought, at least not with what I saw in the mirror. For starters, I was a redhead, which caused my face to sometimes be naturally flushed and make me look like I had a slight sunburn all the time. And the parts of my body that weren't slightly red were somewhat pale, as I never tanned well. Naturally, I also had a few scattered freckles across my face and down my arms. My bra and panties were both nude. It didn't help that my bra only held B-cup sized breasts, which had seen better days before I had my daughter. The panties themselves were nothing spectacular either, just your standard classic briefs. I couldn't remember the last time I wore any of my more sexy underwear, which probably no longer even fit. While continuing to gaze at own reflection, my free hand rose to my belly and traced my fingers along some of the stretch marks pregnancy had left me with. My fingers slowly brushed against them, eventually reaching my C-section scar. My hand twitched and pulled itself away once I felt the scar, as if the mark was a scolding hot frying pan.
At least I'm married. Nobody wants to date a lady who looks like me.
I sighed and shook my head, tossing my pajamas onto the bed and taking off my underwear.
Come on. Don't talk about yourself like that. No point. Just... You lost most of the baby weight, remember?
And some guys are into mom-bods. Most of them are probably really young, but still. MILF is a thing for a reason, right?
I stuffed my underwear into my suitcase and put on my pajamas. Tonight, I was wearing a plain white shirt and my favorite bottoms, which were fuzzy and had long blue legs with huskies scattered across them. I had assumed I would be in a good mood that night, given how the sale seemed to be a sure thing when I originally packed. I figured wearing my husky pajamas would be a good way to ride that positivity high.
So much for that.
I then took my makeup wipes out of my suitcase and headed to the bathroom to take my face off.
When I came out of the bathroom to put the makeup wipes away, my head was feeling slightly lighter and I didn't feel as tired as I did when I returned to my room.
Sometimes being a lightweight has advantages.
Wait. What time is it?
I dug through my pajama pockets for my phone, only finding air and fuzz. The phone also wasn't on the nightstand where my charger was plugged in.
Fuck, I must be drunker than I thought if I can't even find my phone.
Eventually, I saw the phone on my room's tiny brown couch, which was just in front of the window and next to the AC unit. I picked it up, pressing the power button, noticing that I had a missed call from my co-worker, Paul.
8pm? It's really only been an hour since I left the restaurant? Shit. Still too early to sleep. Maybe one more beer would knock me out.
A knock came from the door.
"Christine? You haven't turned in yet have you?" an unusually loud voice asked from outside in the hall, Paul's voice. "You weren't answering your phone."
I plugged my phone into the charger and placed it on the nightstand, making a strong mental note of doing so for future reference. Then, I went to open the door.
Standing before me in the hallway was Paul, towering over me at what must have been a height of 6"2. On top of being a tall man, Paul was very big in terms of his body type. Now, I don't mean fat. Don't get me wrong. He was somewhere in between fat and muscular, like a lumberjack The sleeves of his light blue dress shirt were rolled up, showing off arms that seemed to nearly be twice as thick as mine and were covered in a field of black hairs. His left hand was stroking his dark beard, which looked almost as thick as moss. Meanwhile, his right hand tightly held the paper handle of a six pack of beer bottles. I always had a soft spot for men with body's like Paul's, the big and burly kind you just want to snuggle up to. I'll admit, I thought he was very attractive when he was first hired at the office and still did. But the fact that I was married obviously meant that nothing could happen. I would also learn soon after his hiring that Paul was married too, despite only being in his late twenties. That was another reason why nothing could happen between us, that ten year age gap. I was thirty-five and he was twenty-six. Still, that didn't prevent the occasional thought or fantasy on my part.
"Care for a nightcap?" Paul said, raising the six pick a little too quickly and almost causing the bottles to fall out of their paper box. He seemed to be aware of how awkward the gesture was and nervously tugged at his tie.
"You've been drinking too?" I giggled.
He's kind of a cute drunk, on top of being cute in general.
"Drinking too?" Paul said, stepping into the room as I moved aside to allow him in.
"Oh. I kind of raided the minibar," I admitted with warm cheeks, both from alcohol and shame. I closed the door and watched Paul set the beer down on the desk.
"Sweet. Honestly, can't judge. I hit the first bar I found. Was a gay bar but I didn't give a shit. Just needed booze in me as soon as possible."
"Any cute guys try picking you up? Or buy you a drink?"
"No," Paul said, kicking off his shoes and standing in the middle of my room in black socks. "I probably looked too depressed. Had several beers. Then I figured I'd probably buy you some as a thank you for saving my ass tonight."
"Both our asses," I pointed out, walking across the room and sitting on the couch. "I would have been in as much trouble as you if Mr. Samson backed out."
"Yeah, but," Paul said, opening one of the beer bottles with the hotel desk's corner, "you still saved the day. And that's worth some free booze."
"Thanks. Appreciate it. Was starting to wonder what to do until bedtime."
"Any ideas?" Paul asked, popping off another bottle cap.
"More booze. Then you showed up."
"That's me," Paul said in a forced high-pitched voice and walked towards me with two beers, one in each hand. "Think of me as The Fairy Beer-Father."
I took a beer from Paul's outstretched hand. "Are your services free, Fairy Beer-Father, or do I have to give you a tip?"
Paul took a seat next to me on the tiny couch, sighing as he sank into the cushions. "No charge. I happily come to those most in need, which, tonight, is you."
"Cheers," I said, holding out my bottle.
Paul clinked his bottle against mine. "Bet I can chug this faster than you."
I pretended to be offended, giving him a fake gasp. "We're not at some frat party. Why would you chug your beer?"
"You just scared of losing?"
"I mean, if I wasn't so old, I could probably put up a decent fight."
