Do Not Disturb

As he sat in the lobby of the Omni Hotel, fidgeting with his pants that felt tighter than ever, he thought about how he had never stayed at such a luxurious place before. Whenever he was taking a trip with his wife and kids, he always settled for the cheapest option, wherever they were travelling. In his mind, the hotel was not the experience. It was just a place to keep your stuff and get some sleep in between having actual experiences in the outside world. He would get disappointed when his kids seemed more excited about watching TV in the room instead of visiting whatever attraction he and his wife had planned on taking them to.

However, on this occasion, the hotel was the attraction. He didn't even have a room, so he was a transient among transients. For the moment, he tried to relax and ease back into his lounge chair, but it wasn't as comfortable as it looked. It seemed to him that it was a piece of furniture designed for show and whoever sat on it was as much on display as it was. It hardly compared to the cushioned recliner he sat in everyday at home while he watched TV. As diverting as it was to think of being at home, maybe with a beer in his hand, the anxiety he felt just sitting in this hotel was intoxicating and he didn't want to lose the buzz it was giving him.

He was wearing a suit that he hadn't worn in a long time and he had clearly gained some weight since he had purchased it some years ago. The dress code at work was casual and he and his wife never went to dinner at any fancy restaurants. As he watched various men and women on their way to some elegant rendezvous or coming from an important business meeting, dressed immaculately to look the part they were playing, he wondered if they saw through his charade as someone who did not belong in this hotel. Did they even notice him? No reason to be embarrassed if he was invisible. After all, he wasn't trying to impress any of these people.

From this crowd of distant strangers emerged someone he was trying to impress. She was dressed much like the others and carried herself with the same aloof confidence they all relied on to stay in character. He almost didn't recognize the part she was playing today, but he found her more alluring than ever. It was as if he was getting to discover who she was for the first time. He knew how beautiful she was, but in a less domestic setting like this, with a sleek, steely suit on, she resembled a conquering Valkyrie warrior. Her supple, yet unbreakable, frame was exquisitely carried on high heels as she moved swiftly through the lobby. She had her long blonde hair tied in a bun, so he could clearly see her face was made up for the big show.

She hadn't seen him yet, though. He enjoyed being invisible for a little while longer, so he could observe her in the wild. Thinking of how he normally saw her on birthdays and holidays, standing in the kitchen with a glass of wine, wearing jeans and tennis shoes, playing games with his kids, she was no less enchanting. Even if he never spent much time with her one on one, he always looked forward to any opportunity to do so. She was quite the interlocutor, having a knowledgeable opinion about any subject, including basketball, which was a tremendous pleasure for him. His eyes would hang on every word as they emitted from her lips, teasing a glimpse of her tongue every now and then as it undulated to configure each syllable.

Watching her from afar, treating her like the star of a silent movie, he studied her face and body language as she paused in the middle of the lobby and looked about with nothing more than a cursory regard for her surroundings. Was she looking for him? Was she as excited to be here as he was? Was she having second thoughts? Perhaps she was looking for someone to replace him. Was he even a character in this movie that was playing out before him or was he nothing more than a spectator? This wide range of possibilities were entirely suggested by the singularly disinterested expression on her face that only changed when her eyes finally drifted in his direction and narrowed their focus on him before widening with surprise at his presence.

As she began walking towards him, he sat up straight and folded his hands like a schoolboy whose teacher just wrapped her desk with a ruler. The sound of her heels impacting the marble floor commanded his attention, but he dared not break eye contact with her. He enjoyed being under her spell and effectively turned to stone in his chair. Her painted face glowed as if she was being followed by a spotlight and everyone else in the lobby had fallen into darkness. No one dared obstruct her path leading to him. She marched with determination, clutching an elegant briefcase with one hand and with the other kept her purse steady as it hung on a thin strap from her shoulder. He was at once intimidated and aroused by her sheer competence.

Suddenly, she was standing over him in quiet judgement as he lifted his head to follow her gaze. His jaw dropped in overwhelming astonishment, but only silence issued from his gaping mouth. It was not unlike preparing to receive communion. He wondered about being worthy enough to accept what she was prepared to task him with. It felt like an eternity before she finally spoke.

"Stand up," she said.

He did as he was told.

"Close your mouth."

Again, he obeyed.

"I'm surprised you're here."

He kept his mouth shut.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

He faintly nodded. At last, she smiled.

"Follow me."

She turned away from him and headed back through the lobby at a brisk pace, not once looking behind her to see if he was keeping up. Again, it seemed the crowd parted just for her, but he continually had to dodge people so he could avoid running into them. If it wasn't for the fact that he noticed more than a few passing men turn their heads at the sight of her, he may have thought he was chasing a ghost. Nevertheless, he could hardly believe this was happening as he watched her turn down a hall and stop in front of some elevators.

Once he caught up with her, he stayed at her back. There were others waiting and someone had already pressed the button to go up. He considered asking her if she wanted him to carry her briefcase, not that it looked very heavy, but he chose not to. His mother had once told him to never touch a woman's purse. If he wasn't going to offer to carry her purse, taking her briefcase might be even worse as it would suggest that she couldn't handle it.

Better to remain silent and be thought a fool. He was a fool. A wise man would never have come to this hotel, on this day, to meet this woman. Or was it more about the fact that he was married? When he proposed to his wife, she felt it was rather impulsive. It was. He had to push himself to do it without thinking too much. If he accounted for everything that could possibly go wrong in making a commitment to someone else, his marriage would have only been a dream.

Nevertheless, he still found himself at this elevator, pretending not to be with this other woman as he stared at the back of her head, getting lost in the spiraling knot in her hair. The scent of her perfume was unknown to him, for he was no aficionado, but it was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Instead of conjuring memories, as any aroma is capable of, this one cast projections of things to come, fantasies that may come to fruition if he could just stay calm.

Was he paranoid or were the other men standing near them at the elevator all peeking at her? They weren't really hiding it. He wished he could see her face in order to gauge her reaction to them. Did she notice or was she pretending to ignore them? Perhaps the corner of her lips betrayed the flattery she was trying to conceal from these men. He had a hard time believing they would make her nervous. He was prepared to watch them follow her back to the room and leave him standing in the hallway as he begged to be let in just so he could watch.

At this point, he would settle for that. Having come this far, with so much anticipation, he would agree to sit in a corner of the room and watch the other men, the real men, have their way with her as he took care of himself, as he did so often. He imagined how they would discard their fine tailored suits until they were standing naked with no shame or embarrassment of revealing their equipment as they crowd around to help remove her clothing until she was down on her knees fondling and suckling their protuberances, trying to equally distribute her attention. She would keep her hair up, he thought, so that it wouldn't get in the way. Even more than how he would enjoy this scenario, he contemplated how she would enjoy it. Her pleasure was his.

The single toll of the elevator bell brought him back to where he was, trying to maintain his composure as the bulge in his pants was extending toward her rear end as if trying to bridge the gap. He put his hands together in front of his groin and tried to suppress the swelling. It felt like a snake trapped in a bag and as much as he wanted to let it out, this wasn't the time.

She stepped first into the elevator as the doors opened, being given such deference by the others, gentlemen that they were, who immediately followed, just barely leaving enough space for him as the doors practically closed on his face with his back turned to the rest of them. No one had yet pressed any buttons to select a level. It's as if these suitors were waiting to see what level she was going to. Even he didn't know. He listened intently to their exchange.

"What floor are you going to miss?" asked a deep voice.

She didn't immediately answer, drawing out the suspense. "Nineteen, please."

"Oh, way up at the top, huh?" said another voice, not as deep, but smoother.

A hand reached over to the panel of buttons and pressed the one for 19. Feeling even more compact than it was, the elevator finally started moving. The lights on the number dial above the doors slowly indicated the gradual climb within the building as the vessel throbbed between each level, passing through the shaft as a phallus penetrating a colossal orifice.

"Are you here for the conference?" asked the deep voice again.

"No," she said gently.

"Turning in for the night?" a third voice asked with unwarranted exuberance.

"Hardly," she said with dismissive finality, but the voices continued to probe.

"Would you care to join us for a drink?" offered the smooth one.

"Is a drink what you really want?" she countered.

"It's a good place to start," said number three.

The elevator bell rang, and the doors opened on the 19th floor. She stepped out like someone trying to cross the finish line of a race but turned back momentarily to address the trio.

"The bar is downstairs, boys. Have one for me." The doors closed as if on cue.

She then proceeded down the hall as if nothing had happened. She gave no thought to it again or to anything other than the room she was walking toward at the very end, which almost seemed to get further away with each step she took. The silent anonymity of each door that lined the hallway made her feel like she was on a treadmill where the scenery never changed, no matter the effort. Did this corridor of perception have an end? Whether it did or not, she only halted when she came face to face with her own reflection in a mirror that was adjacent to a door which apparently displayed a number that matched the one on her key. She was not unlike a detective, or maybe an amnesiac, putting independent pieces of information together.

Looking into the mirror, with eyes that did not feel like her own, she spoke.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes," he said, as if suddenly materializing. He knew he could see her, but until this moment hadn't been sure if he ever left the elevator. Had he even gotten into it? Had he only imagined sitting in the lobby by himself? That alone was enough of a fantasy, never mind what may happen once they enter the room. She dangled the key in front of him as the last temptation.

Thinking back to when he asked his wife to marry him, he snatched the key out of her hand, guiding it in a single motion to the doorknob and into the tight keyhole. Holding it in place for a moment, he looked back at her as if to make sure she was still there. Of course she was, now waiting to see if he had the wherewithal to actually open this door and go through it.

Without looking away from her, he unlocked the door and shoved it open, rushing in like someone trying to catch another in the act, until he caught himself and remembered to hold the door for her as she slowly made her way across the threshold, perhaps in disbelief that they were finally here, alone in the room. He hesitated to shut the door quite yet, waiting to see if she would at last change her mind and dismiss him, maybe with a tip like he was a bellboy.

"Were you raised in a barn?" she asked him. He seemed to understand what she meant as he quickly, but quietly, closed the door and then readied himself for the next command, standing at attention. She remained still, unsure of how to proceed as her eyes adjusted to the darkened room. Would she bother turning on the lights? Could they simply feel their way through this experience instead of relying on sight, which might hinder their instincts and bring an abrupt end to what could otherwise be an engagement of the senses, guided by sound and scent. Her perfume was more pungent now, helping to confirm that she was there amidst this black void. Even if it wasn't staring back at him, it was most certainly trying to liaise by other methods.

The curtains were drawn on the windows, but light from outside was seeping through the edges, so when she began to move across the room, he could discern her figure as it momentarily hampered the faint illumination. He took his first step toward that light, hoping to see her more clearly, just wanting to be closer to her. Taking steps further, he realized how big the room was, unable to help notice the king size bed, an armchair similarly fit for royalty in the corner, a stately desk with the requisite hotel stationary, and a big screen TV that he would have enjoyed in his living room at home. His attempt at acclimating himself was not to feel more at home, but rather to get his bearings in an alien landscape where he could claim himself as a new pioneer.

She was part of this landscape, a natural wonder that he wanted to unearth, if only for his own carnal knowledge. He was well aware that he couldn't be the first explorer to search for this treasure, but he also knew that it would have been impossible to return to civilization with any sense of contentment unless he at least captured a piece of the gold hidden in this frontier.

Now standing beside her in the dark, he could feel a wave of body heat emissions as she removed her power suit jacket, like Joan of Arc giving up her armor, causing his own temperature to reach a near painful fever, compelling him to remove his own jacket. This didn't mean anything was about to happen. All it meant was that they were finally getting comfortable, or at least trying to. For all his nervousness, she seemed calm, but it was the kind of serenity that was usually followed by a violent hurricane or an all-consuming tsunami. Even if he feared how this natural disaster would undoubtedly leave him, he welcomed its coming.

She was waiting for him to make the first move and he knew it. Should he take off the rest of his clothes? She was removing her watch and jewelry, setting it on a bedside table, next to a phone, which she picked up briefly to switch off the ringer, making him think he should have put the do not disturb tag on the doorknob. What if the maid walked in on them? Would they even notice? He pictured himself inviting the maid to join them in soiling the sheets instead of changing them as she is paid to do. Would she accept the invitation? Would she even speak English? Perhaps she would be afraid and not know what to do, choosing to stay for fear of disappointing a guest of the hotel. The fear he instilled in this imaginary person diminished his.

"I love your sister," he ejaculated as a final ultimatum.

She turned to face him, still conveying the same stoicism she had exhibited since she appeared in the lobby downstairs, hypnotizing him with eyes that did not blink.

"I love her, too," she admitted, with a hint of tenderness in her voice. "But right now, I want to suck your cock."

He didn't say anything more as he began to unbuckle his belt, staggering as best he could in the dark to the armchair he had noticed before, dropping his pants, letting them bunch up at his ankles. As he sat down, his fully erect penis stuck out slightly through the slit in his boxers, which he still had on. Pushing his leather shoes off, scuffing the heels, he then lifted up his feet, still wrapped in socks, out of his pants and kicked them aside. He started unbuttoning his dress shirt and freeing his arms from the sleeves, with nothing but a tank top covering his torso. She was observing his frantic progress, as well as she could with so little light, unbuttoning her own blouse very slowly, revealing her belly button and the lacey edges of her bra. She put her hands on her hips, with disapproval he was still wearing his undergarments. To her, he looked like a grown man wallowing in a kiddie pool with a life preserver on.

He got the message, reaching down to pull off his socks. She started tapping her high heeled foot as if to tell him he wasn't finished. Next, he tore off his tank top and discarded it. Looking at the one-eyed snake peeking at him from his boxers, he knew that it was time to set it free. Exhausted by the hesitation, she snapped her fingers once and he obediently slid the boxers off his pelvis, feeling his penis snap back out like a spring-loaded handle. He had barely gotten the boxers off entirely before she was down on her knees in front of his lap, looking up into his eyes.

Once again, her face was glowing, but whoever it may have reminded him of was fading. The foundation of her skin was in full relief. Her keenly drawn eyebrows accentuated the radiant, emerald orbs that were wider than ever, fully aware of what she was about to do. The ruby red ridges above her sharp, but welcoming, chin parted to such an extent that one might have thought she was yawning as her slender digits, adorned immaculately with French manicured nails, gripped the base of his member and drew it into her mouth before it closed around him like a noose. He could feel her tongue caressing him within, spelling out words on his head as her lips moved up and down the length of the stem. Even now they had a dialogue without speaking to each other. She was answering questions before he even asked them. Any doubts he had about measuring up to other men who fucked her in the past were gone. His dick felt bigger than ever as it tickled the top of her throat.

Gasping for air with spittle dripping from her lips, she released his cock from her mouth and pushed it against his waist as she inhaled his testicles, juggling them between her cheeks with her tongue while she continued to vigorously stroke him with her hands. He was afraid of blowing his load too soon when she regurgitated his balls and uncurled her claws from around his throbbing rod. She then reached under his legs to forcefully push them up, so she was face to face with his hairy ass. He suddenly felt strangely vulnerable, confused as to what she was exactly trying to do. Caressing the back of his thighs, her palms found their way to his buttocks, taking hold of them, pushing them apart to give her a good look at the tightly knotted hole in the crack between his cheeks. She glanced back up at him, baring her teeth like a dog ready to attack. His mouth hung open, fearful of what might happen next, but unable to stop it.