Suite
2003-04-15 - 11:34 p.m.

WARNING:

THIS STORY CONTAINS ADULT THEMES. IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY SUCH, PLEASE JUST MOVE ON.

Suite

The door was steel with faux-oak paneling, a façade that had seen better days. The steel-grey numbers read 207. He walked up to the door slowly, hesitantly, as though he was afraid of what might jump out. He jerked his hand from his pocket, and his wrist snaked out the rain-soaked sleeve of his baggy overcoat as he extended his arm to unlock the door.

He slid the card in the slot, held it too long, and then tried again. This time, the dark eye of the lock winked green, and the handle yielded to the pressure of his hand.

He pushed the door open and stepped into the room. The hotel cost only $30 a night, and he was hardly expecting a palatial estate. He was not disappointed. There was a large king size bed in the middle of the room, its center sagging from use. The floral print comforter was fading, its individual flowers having faded over time into an overgrown garden of pastels. The lifeless pillow barely created a bulge under the sheets. It was unimportant. It had been some time since this hotel had been used primarily for sleeping.

An old, boxy television set at the foot of the bed, its single grey eye glaring accusingly at the occupants of the bed. There was a nightstand to the left of the bed, its sepia-toned surface adorned only by a telephone and a Gideon Bible. The numbers were nearly worn off of the phone. The Bible was covered in a thick skein of dust.

There was a small bathroom with a small bathtub, a small sink below a dirty mirror, a complimentary soap, and little else. In short, the room was just the sort the man was looking for.

He removed his long coat and tossed it in a heap on the floor, its damp folds and fasteners making a wet-sounding shlurp as they hit the worn blue carpet and collapsed on themselves. He walked into the bathroom and relieved himself. As he was washing his hands, he examined himself in the mirror.

Edsel Trenton, 32, Ed to his friends, one wife, one kid, bad job, currently going through one heck of an early midlife crisis. Once, when he was younger, he had been a star student and a starter on his high school football team. Upon graduation, he had been accepted to Oklahoma State University on a football scholarship, and had played two good years before his third knee injury took him out of football for good.

He never got a degree, but college wasn’t totally a wash. It was at OSU that he had met Sarah Renfield, cheerleader, star student, a real anomaly. Tall and blonde with a personality to match, she was everything he’d ever wanted. After six months of dating, he’d popped the question, and she had changed her name two months later.

They had moved too fast, but they had been young and in love, and they believed love would conquer all. They had wanted to wait for children, but love evidently didn’t quite make up for a lack of birth control, and Aaron Edsel Trenton was born a year and a half after their vows were exchanged. Ed had gotten a job at a used-car dealership, and had given up all hope of ever rising above this station in his life. Meanwhile, Sarah, his cheerleader, hadn’t been able to find time to work off the baby fat, and she was losing her figure.

Now, with an 11-year-old son and a wife whom he was tired of screwing, Ed was going through what could be kindly described as a low time. His face was still ruggedly handsome, but lines, brought on by his job and his attitude, were beginning to etch maps in his visage, and they led nowhere he was interested in going. His football-star body was beginning to develop love handles, and the pecs he used to jokingly make dance could barely stand up these days, let alone tango.

He wandered back into the bedroom and sat on the bed, carefully contemplating what he was about to do. Sarah would be devastated if she ever found out. Of course, she never would. She had gone to visit her mother one state over, a classic recourse for wives who feel unappreciated, and she had taken Aaron with her.

Edsel was unsure why this had seemed like such a good idea earlier, but now that he was here, in the room, he felt that he had to go through with it. In a way, he hated to, but, on the other hand, he thought he needed this. He and Sarah’s sex life had long since drifted from its exciting and acrobatic beginnings, and Sarah’s once lithe and athletic form had begun the long and interminable process of “the sag”.

He had promised himself that this was a one time thing, something to give him the boost he needed to make it through another week, another month, another year of his dreadfully dull existence.

He opened the drawer on the nightstand and was unsurprised to find a phone book resting there. He opened the book to the yellow pages and began looking for the E’s.

He found the escort services quickly. There were three listed. He ran his finger down the listings until it settled on “Lovely Ladies Escort Services”. He managed to choke up a dark chuckle. They made it sound so legitimate, so nice, so pristine. It was so much easier to call an Escort service than a whorehouse.

He punched in the number, his finger trembling slightly. There were two rings and a feminine voice answered the phone. It sounded smoky and exotic.

“Lovely Ladies Escort Services. Can I help you?”

Edsel opened his mouth. For a moment, he was afraid his throat would be too dry to speak. It was not too late to turn back. He could still look Sarah in the eye and tell her he’d been faithful, still be part of the 55% of men who had never cheated on their wives.

“Um… yeah… I need a lady for this evening… uh…”

“Ok, do you have any preferences?”

Her voice sounded so accepting. She wasn’t condemning him or thinking that he was pitiful. No, she understood his needs.

“Um… yeah, kind of. I want someone… young… dark hair… um…. I guess those are the main things…”

“Ok, sir. What is your address?”

He gave her his location and room number.

“Ok, sir. Your girl will be there within thirty minutes. Thank you for using Lovely Ladies!”

Thank you for using Lovely Ladies. Thank you for using lovely ladies. He sat down on the bed to wait. He flipped on the TV and scanned the channels, but his mind wasn’t in it. No, his mind was thinking about Sarah. About how beautiful she had been, still was, except for the little bit of weight she’d gained. Then he thought about their fights, about her whining, about her nagging. Thought about her good qualities… no, don’t think of those…

There was a knock on the door. Edsel didn’t move, his eyes transfixed on the TV, his mind miles away. Another knock, and another, and Ed was pulled back the room 207. He stood up stiffly and called out, “Just a second…” He shuffled up to the door. His legs seemed to be uncooperative. His crotch and his heart were engaged in mortal combat.

He glanced through the peephole and then he opened the door. It was, as he had expected, his lady.

She looked young, probably twenty-one but could pass for eighteen. Her hair was so black that, in the dim overhead lights on the outside of the hotel, it looked bluish. She had thick, sensuous lips, and big, dark eyes. Her breasts were medium sized and looked, through the tight fabric of her t-shirt, to be quite perky. Her legs, most of which were uncovered by her extremely short miniskirt, were long and shapely. She was beautiful.

She smiled, her perfectly-aligned teeth cutting a white slash across her dark skin.

“Hello!” she said, her smile coming through in her voice. “My name’s Lisa, and I’m your escort for this evening. Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Ed managed to croak out. He had never been so nervous. He remembered the first girl he’d ever slept with. Her name had been Teresa Guilliam, and she had cried when they were done. He hadn’t known until later that he was her first as well. He had been nervous then. Not this nervous. There had been nothing at stake.

Lisa peeled off her small jacket and tossed it in the corner, right beside Ed’s ponderous trenchcoat.

“Is this your first time using an escort service?” she asked. No condescension. Just inquiry.

“Yes.”

“Well,” she said, “what do you want?”

Ed had no idea. He told her so. She said she could handle it.

He let her.

He wanted to enjoy it. He had planned to enjoy it, but his lone moment of sublime pleasure came when he did, and after that, he just wanted her to leave. She offered to do more, offered things that Sarah would never even consider, but Ed was finished. The excitement was gone. It was just more sex now.

She didn’t complain, and she didn’t push him. Her clothes went back on in converse to their removal, and he watched her without really seeing her. Once dressed, he paid her and she left. It had been exactly fifty-seven minutes since Ed had rented the room. He briefly considered staying the night, getting his money’s worth, but the bed smelled like her. The whole room smelled like her. He smelled like her. He stood up and dressed and walked into the bathroom to wash him hands, as if doing so would wash him all. Then he put on his coat and left the room. He left the floral print comforter mostly in place. They hadn’t bothered to get under the covers.

He returned the keycard to the front desk, feeling like the clerk was sneering at him. Not what you expected, huh?

He almost answered audibly, but then stopped himself. No, it hadn’t been what he’d expected. Not what he’d expected at all.

He walked out to the truck. The rain had stopped, but the clouds still obscured the stars. He opened the door and sat down. The truck smelled like Sarah’s perfume. It was crazy. She never rode in the truck. He still smelled like that… that whore. He found himself hating her, blaming her before catching himself. Blame only yourself, his mind seemed to say.

He reached for the key, turned it partway, looked at gauges. There, a wallet photo of Sarah and Aaron stuck in the corner. He turned the key back, and then, right there in the parking lot, Edsel Trenton cried.