My time overseas was a blur of 10 years. I would deploy for 6, 8, 10 months. Come back stateside for a couple of weeks or a few months then head back and do it all over again. I was an orphan with no real roots so I would couch hop and visit friends while stateside or enjoy luxurious hotels until I was ready for my next contract. After the initial stay at this hotel and my night inside a college cheerleader I decided this hotel would be my go to for a hotel stays when I initially get stateside. Call it superstition, or a ritual but thats what I did. I knew the odds of lightening striking twice were slim but you never know.
When I checked in I walked past the bar. It's the bartender from the night of the pep rally and she waved. Luck was possibly on my side because a trophy blonde was sitting where I usually sat and when the bartender waved she looked my way. I was making sure to subtly show off my arms and fitness by carrying my big duffel bag and pelican case.
I usually shower first but I wanted to bee line to the bar. I saw the small swarm of businessmen eyeing the blonde, working up the courage to go in for the kill. I wanted to get down there before she is spoken for.
I get to the bar and pull up the empty stool next to the blonde, "Mind if I sit here?" I can tell she has been crying, is a couple of drinks into the night and barely looks up as she welcomes my company. Even through her depressed, emotional state, I can tell she is more beautiful than I initially thought. She is practically a Barbie doll.
I greet the bartender and order my usual. The conversation with the bartender about how I've been and asking if I've earned anymore cool scars gets the blondes attention. I can already see the gears in the Barbie dolls eyes turning. We make small talk about me and I turn it to her.
I find out she is a sports reporter for a major network. "I knew I recognized you. You are prettier in real life. Well, when you aren't crying in your beer."
She giggles and says thank you. She also corrects me, "It's vodka. Not beer."
She then proceeds to tell me how she had promised her producer and the network a huge interview with one of the athletes or coaches in town. Honestly, I wasn't listening, I was just looking for a way to get in this phillies love canal. Anyway, the interview plans shit the bed, her career is on the rocks and she is afraid she will be banned to hosting dog shows forever.
I have successfully kept her talking and helped her lose track of how much vodka and soda she has consumed. We talk so much that the bar is closing. If I didn't know any better I would say the bartender is an accomplice since this might very well be the second time she has helped me get laid.
My companion, Kristine, tells me that she appreciates the company and is ready to call it a night. As she steps off the bar stool she tries to stand up but rolls her ankle in her high heels. I offer my arm for stability, and place it around her waist. She grabs my bicep and tells me thank you. I offer to walk her to her room and she says ok.
We arrive to her room and she says thank you again. She gives me a kiss on the cheek. I let go of her and she staggers, then struggles with her key. This is my chance to not say goodnight yet. I help her through the door and sit her down on the bed. I offer to get her a glass of water.
When I get back from the bathroom with her water she is sitting on the bed, leaning back on her hands.
"Here you go."
"Thank you..." She reaches for it and starts sipping it. She tells me she has NEVER had anyone in her room before while working. She is so career oriented and focused she never lets her guard down. "Fuck it..." she says looking back on how her career might be a wash. She then proclaims that she needs to pee. She stands up, and walks to the bathroom. I admire her perfect body. I'm sitting on the bed by this point, contemplating my next move. So, like any other guy, I turn on the TV. But I had more in mind than channel hoping. I'm lucky and find just what I was hoping for.
