For my beautiful wife
I may be writing this out of my own madness. Perhaps this is some pathetic cry for help. Or better yet, maybe this is simply to serve as a warning for others that may be subject to obsession. Not your ordinary obsession over owning a possession or completing some meaningless task. No, this is a different kind of obsession, one that takes hold of your very soul, one that if un-satisfied may lead to complete and total insanity.
I was driving to the hotel pondering just how miserable my day was going. It started out positively dreadfully with another epic battle with my current girlfriend Mari and went downhill rapidly from there. Mari, you see, is what most would call "high- maintenance." She was, by all accounts, a knock-out. The kind of woman that you dream of spending time with, and appearances did not disappoint. Not only was she a beauty, but she shared my adventurous side in the bedroom as well. That is about all we had in common. While the sex was great, that's where great ended. When not sending each other to various heights of orgasm, we pretty much spent most of our time together arguing about some meaningless topic. Our friends began defining our relationship as "fighting or fucking" and I was beginning to think that one was no longer worth the other.
After escaping our latest bout, I left the apartment in plenty of time to make my flight from LAX. The familiar tones from my Blackberry, which had become my preferred method of communicating with the human race, alerted me that my flight would be 2 hours late. Could it get any worse? I tried to familiarize myself with the account I was going to visit, which was in a town that I had no desire to know even existed. As the so-called "golden-boy" of the firm, why did I continue to get such shitty assignments? This one was no different. A mid-level company needed a fresh look, and hired our firm for their new ad campaign. By the looks of it, fresh wasn't going to be enough. This company looked as if it needed to be re-invented. First it would help if they could move from the little jerk-water town they creatively called their corporate headquarters. Worse yet, I had an hour drive after I landed and then had the pleasure of staying in what the travel guides called a "beautiful historic hotel" which I translated to mean "dump."
The flight was late as predicted, and the rental car agency had trouble finding my reservation, but I was soon on the road to nowhere; my destination for tomorrow's meeting. The drive was uneventful and traffic was light, as I would have expected. The town was easy enough to find, mainly because there was nothing else around it. There was a typical town square that looked like it came from a Norman Rockwell painting. Great, I hated Norman Rockwell. This was the kind of town that should have fallen victim to the wrecking ball years ago. But, I did notice that the houses and businesses seemed well kept. I dismissed this to the fact that everything old looks better in the dark.
I pulled into a parking space at the front of the hotel. The building was lit by low light and outlined an exterior that was as if one were looking back in time. I thought that the appearance was not as bad as I had expected, in fact, Mari liked historic places, maybe she should come with me next time. I knew I was slipping. She was the last person I wanted to take to a place I was fully prepared to dislike. I needed a drink.
The front desk was dimly lit, as was the lobby, and was attended by an elderly woman busy with some unseen task. As I approached, I couldn't help noticing that the clothes she wore would have been appropriate in a different era. Period costumes! Could it get any more clichéd? It was like a bad Disney World ride that I couldn't wait to get off. What next, a bedtime ghost story?! I fought off my disdain and forced a smile, resolving to make the best of it. The woman greeted me warmly, almost as if she had been expecting me. I dismissed this; after all, I did have a reservation. The woman found my reservation and proceeded to book me into the hotel. We exchanged small talk about the weather and such as she went to retrieve my key. She directed me to room 806: "just down the hall and up the steps." I asked about the elevator and was met with a smile and a word of apology that indicated that either the elevator was out of service, or may not even exist. I asked about a room on a lower level, and was again met by the same smiling apology without an explanation. As I was exhausted from the day's events, I decided to cut my losses and call it a night. I resisted the temptation to ask about wi-fi, as I already knew I would be met by the same smiling apology. After all, my Blackberry was not getting a signal either. As I trudged dejectedly down the hall, I did notice a light on in the bar. The only thing that would get me back down eight flights of stairs was a chance to ease my pain with a little alcoholic numbing.
The first good news of the day is that the beer was cold and went down easily. The bar, like the rest of the hotel (my room included) was furnished from another era. I admired the attention to detail even if it was not my taste. The bartender wore the same costume as the woman at the front desk, and was friendly but not all that talkative, which was fine with me. My mind wandered back to the business at hand. A meeting with the client should only take a few hours and I would be back on my way to civilization. I was starting to feel better about the whole situation, but decided it was probably only my second beer mercifully dulling my senses.
The bartender indicated through his actions that it was approaching closing time, even though he didn't say a word. I took it as my cue to head up the eight floors to my room for what I hoped would be a restful and quick night. I wanted to inquire about the elevator again, but determined it would only frustrate me and only dull my pleasant buzz.
Room 806 was pleasant enough. It was furnished as I had come to expect. Every item in the room looked as if it had come from another era. The attention to detail was amazing, if somewhat impractical. The room was quite warm being on the eighth floor so I opened the large window to let the room be filled with the only slightly cooler night breeze. I would have given my left arm for a flat screen to check up on the events in the real world. I resigned myself to the fact that it was just one night, and climbed into bed. I soon fell asleep, half-heartedly thinking about tomorrow's meeting.
I don't exactly know how long I had been asleep when I awoke to a stirring near the window. I dismissed it as the breeze freshening, but something seemed different. I could sense a presence in the room. Not a threatening presence, but a strong feeling that I was no longer alone. In the light of the window, a shadowy figure began to take form. Not one to believe in spirits, I thought to myself that maybe I had more to drink downstairs that I remembered. I was now fully awake, trying to understand what was happening. The figure began to materialize into the shape of a woman. As the form gained more detail, I could see that this was no ordinary woman. She was clearly beautiful. Perhaps the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I felt no sense of fear, but a strange melding of curiosity and growing passion. The woman was clothed only in a sheet, the outline of her body exquisite. She had long hair that flowed across her shoulders, beautiful firm breasts and long sensuous legs. But it was her face that captivated me. Her face was a vision of pure beauty; however, I couldn't make out all the details as she appeared almost translucent in the moonlight. Her face held me as if in a trance. All sense of my curiosity was giving way to passion. I had to see more of this beauty. I had to touch her. I had to hold her.
