Initial Encounter with My Soon To Be Mistress in a Seedy Hotel

I walked into the lobby of this second rate hotel in the same way I always walk into these lobbies. I wondered if this run down place would provide some small amount of comfort. I know all these hotels are old and fallen down. They stopped upgraded their facilities 15 years prior as the big box hotels slowly put them out of business. These smaller operations either could not compete or were not agile enough to figure out a good way to try. Many of these places have been bought up or they have been shut down.
These aren’t the places you book on the web. You don’t find them on the big travel websites. These are the places you find when you’re driving through rural America. Some politicians might refer to these places as the real America. If that is the case – which I suspect it is – then the real America can be a dark and interesting place indeed.
Perhaps I’m cheap. Or maybe there is something about seedy hotels that attracts me. But I relish the opportunity to stay in places like this. The old run down lobbies tend to attract the most interesting people. And I knew from the dirty check-in desk that this would be no exception.
I entered the hotel carrying my single night bag. It is an old black leather bag that I should have parted with some time ago. But it contains too many memories and the zippers still work. When the zippers stop working then to the dump it must go. Until that time I carry it everywhere.
I checked in with the night manager. She was pleasantly obese and her smile highlighted her ample but disarrayed teeth. She asked If I had a reservation which made me chuckle a little bit. I imagine the servers churning in the back room quickly calculating room rates based on demand. I said “No.” She pulled out a carbon copy notebook and took down my information. I took the weathered key, thanked her, and headed to my room.
The room smelled like my fraternity house after a party. Smoke permeated the meager furnishings and the bed was bowed in the middle. But I’m not stuffy and I do like the smell of tobacco smoke now and again. It smells like freedom somehow.
I dropped my black leather bag and felt the bed. It was firm which is a plus and the pillows were fluffy which is all I really desire sometimes.
Most of these dives don’t have bars. State liquor licenses are expensive to maintain and extra scrutiny generally comes along with the license. This place was no exception. There is no public bar. The receptionist did mention that there is a downstairs rec room. “You may enjoy unwinding in our communal rec room” she said. I took this as a sign from the heavens that my night may indeed become interesting or I could at least water down a bit of my anxieties before going to bed.
The hotel Drake’s rec room is a fine place. It contains a small bar, stocked graciously, with well liquor. There is no top shelf here. There is little demand for gin, I assume, since the gin bottle looks weathered and smoky. I like gin. Too bad really.
The bar room is segmented into three separate areas. To the left is a small pool table with an old Lowenbrau light overhead. The right side contains three small booths one of which contains a table top video game that you sit down and play. I wish they still made these things. You can sit there and play a video game while drinking a cold beer. It is a great concept that I greatly miss. The bar itself is small and surrounds the back wall. Two people play pool in the left corner, one woman sits at the bar, while another tends. The bartender seems pleasant enough. I sit down and ask for a drink. She looks at me a vague expression that at one time may have been curiosity but now was only utility. I glanced at the middle age woman on the right side of the bar with my usual interest.
She was a middle age girl. She had an ashtray pulled in to between her arms. There was a brief glimmer of silver nail polish as she raised a cigarette to her ruby lips. She took a long drag and held it in her lungs for a moment before forcibly pushing it out. She looked up at the TV which was playing the hockey game. She looked over at me out of the corner of her eye and said “Well, hello there. We don’t get a lot of young men in here this time of night.” I looked over at her thankful for any type of human interaction after my 9 hour road trip. I explained that I was just passing through and needed a drink to calm my nerves after my long road trip.
Quiet bars in far flung places are always hospitable. My friend introduced herself as Joanne. I offered to buy her a drink and she accepted. She accepted with a little mischievous grin which I assumed was southern hospitality. She sidled up next to me and put her left hand on my shoulder – briefly. But that brief touch was accompanied by an intense look directly into my eyes. It was not the type of casual glance that shy middle age women generally do. This was a strong direct look. One that probed and one that surprised me.
I bought the first drink and we talked about current events. We talked about the hockey’s team chance of making the playoffs. She smoked and smiled at me. She seemed happy and I enjoyed the company. The radio gets boring on long trips and people are so much more interesting in person.
She excused herself and headed to the restroom down the hall to the right of the bar. The overhead lights had little cages like submarines which seemed funny to me. She was gone for a minute or two and I decided I needed to use the restroom as well. So, I headed down the dimly lit hallway.
The men’s room was at the very end on the narrow hallway and I saw the women’s room on the right hand side as I approached it. The door flung open and she appeared in the hallway at exactly the same time I was walking by. I wound up running right into her while I was looking around at the posters on the wall and the cages on the overhead lights.
She took it in stride and caught me in a strange comforting embrace. She reached her right hand up to my shoulder and drew it in to my neck. At first I thought she was catching her balance but her hand was strong and forceful. She reached behind my neck and pulled me close. Her mouth was right by my ear as she hugged me. “You are such a nice boy my lad.” She said in a soft whisper. “You are kind and gentle. You are a fine young man.” Her voice was in a low whisper. The whisper was soft and elegant. It felt soothing on my tired ears. “A nice young man like you needs to relax after a long day on the road – needs to release those troubles – needs to let someone help him release those cares. I am here to release those cares my dear and you are here to submit your troubles to me. Submit your stress. Let me take care of you. Let me bring you down to a comfortable place as you rest your head on my shoulder. I am going to take care of you and you need not worry anymore. I am taking you down to a special place that only you can come to.” She pulled me in close and her breath circulated in my ear. I felt drowsy and, against my better judgment, I let go. Her supple arms pulled me close and we somehow wound up walking together towards my room. “Don’t worry now” she said. “I will take care of everything” as I slipped my key into the hotel room. She followed me in and closed the door behind her. And, she commenced taking care of everything.