Chapter 2 The Ranch

A glowing fortress rises in the distance. As she gets closer, she sees it's the motel; she can make out the baby blue walls and the pink curtains, the second floor having an exposed walkway with a sandy white railing.

She keeps examining the details of the building, like it has a lot of external lighting and lots of lights on in rooms. She notices it is bent in the middle, shaped like a V. It feels like it is hugging something in the back. 'What are you memorizing for a police report?' She imagines what that would look like. 'You mean the other motel? On the road that only has one motel for almost 200 miles?' She laughs in her head as she pulls into the parking lot.

She parks near the center of the motel, where a Googie-style sign says The Ranch with the small letters motel and bar below. The whole building feels like the 1950s. She steps out of her car, her flip-flops patting the pavement. She pulls open the front door, and the lobby smells of fresh flowers, pineapple, and pork.

The woman behind the desk is in her mid-30s with long blond hair and an almond face, the kind of face that looks great in hats. The manager is sitting behind a dark walnut desk playing on a computer. It has a large 32-inch gaming monitor with glowy LED headphones and a keyboard. The attendant is so engrossed she doesn't notice the new customer approach.

She reaches out and hits the bell. The attendant jumps at least 4 inches straight up, losing her headphones and her mouse. After she settles down and picks up her headphones, she says, "Uh, welcome to the ranch. I don't recognize you. Are you from the United Nations? or the Nebraska Senate?" The manager looks at her ratty t-shirt and comfortable gym-style shorts over "Not wearing a suit, so you're not federal." She touches her finger to her nose. "I am going to go with the Swedish diplomat, am I right?" She smiles, her teeth brilliant white.

"Because of my accent? I am just a regular person, and I need a room for the night." Her voice has a solid East Coast accent. She waves her credit card around vaguely. "Where do I pay?"

The manager snaps back into the routine.

"Welcome, welcome to the ranch. Let me see what we have open. We have a king-sized single bed for $43 a night. Check-in is at 12, and checkout is at 11. I assume you only need it for the night?" The woman's brown eyes looked her over. 'Is she checking me out?' She thinks, 'What? No, now I am just paranoid.'

"Sounds luxurious after driving all day," she motions with her hand, "to wherever this place is, yes, one night, then back on the road first thing tomorrow."

"I just need you to sign here, here, here, here, and here, and one more here, and a fingerprint here; then I can swipe your card and send you on your way," the manager says, handing her a stack of papers. 'There was less paperwork when I signed my college loan.

She starts signing stuff. She sees lots of things about liability and a few things about classified, but she is tired and soon does a thumbprint using the manager's ink pad. The manager swipes her card and hands her a watch. "It's like a smartwatch, but it's for the facility and lets you get into your room and the pool or the bar without hassle. You must be starving. Go clean yourself up and then hit the bar. It is Hawaiian night. I made a note that tonight you eat for free anything you want. It's on the ranch's tab.

She shrugs. "Maybe," she sighs. "It's been a long day." She takes her card and puts it away.

"If there is anything else you need to know, I will be here. This level of Zombie Pirate Apocalypse won't beat itself, the manager says to her as she leaves the reception office.

'Yeah, that's the game Jacob, my ex, is playing right now.' She grumbles to herself, The sun is lower in the sky as she walks along the side of the building looking for her room.

As she walks, the watch buzzes as she gets close to her room. She stops in front of the right number and touches the doorknob; there is a soft click as the door is unlocked. "Wow, now that is high tech! No more putting the card in and out a few hundred times."

She looks around the room. It's spacious. A generic photo on the wall of a sunrise over some tropical island could be Hawaii could be the Florida Keys; she hasn't been to either of them. The walls are cream, the carpet is tan, and the bedspread is brown. The woodwork is painted white, and out the window, she can see the sandhills that extend for hours. As the sun fully sets, the moon is 3/4 full.

She drops her purse on the bed and goes back to the car for more. While she is out there, she hears the howling of wolves in the distance. She quickly grabs her bags and heads back inside.

Inside, she strips off her clothes and throws them in the corner of the bathroom. She looks at herself in the mirror; despite people saying she is beautiful, she always has nagging doubts. Her one breast is slightly larger than the other. She smiles at herself and tries to look cute, but her teeth are slightly tea-stained. She thinks about the manager and her brilliant white teeth. 'Bitch,' she thinks to herself. She sighs and steps into the shower.

The shower is tan tile, but she only cares that the water is hot and the supplied soap smells of coconuts. She notices the showerhead is a wand. She plays with the settings; it is about as complicated as a Japanese toilet. The spray feels amazing. The coconut and the powerful wand melt her stress away. She slowly lowers the wand, first stopping at her breasts, then her belly, then the top of her pubic mound. She spreads her legs a little, and the wand's jet blasts against her clit. The spray feels great; she squeezes the wand between her legs, and the spray pulsates and doubles; she grabs the handrail to steady herself.

"Where have you been my whole life?" she says, her eyes rolling back. She thinks about her boyfriend. 'No,' she thinks to herself, ex-boyfriend. She isn't sure; she pushes it out of her mind as she feels her muscles tense. She is close; she thinks about how thick Josh's cock must be. How he could pick her up with one hand and set her on.... 'Fuck, let me cum,' she thinks in desperation. The watch vibrates; she never took it off. She looks at the display, and it says, "Hawaiian night, half-priced drinks." She tries to get the feeling back, but it's gone. She finishes showering with a lingering frustration. But the smell of the coconut soap was making her stomach rumble anyway.