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Making Whoopie

She looked like she was about his age. That is to say, her face, it did not seem like she was much older or younger. The card was in his hand. He took a last glance at her and noticed the lines around her eyes and mouth. Then he put the card in the slot and the little green light came on with a click sound. He turned the handle and pushed the door open. He felt for the light switch and flipped it up. The room was lit. He went in, holding the door open behind him. She followed him in and past him. She was close just then and he could make out a tinge of purple in her dark brown hair. Get undressed, honey, she said, I'll be right back. She headed into the bathroom. He stood there for a second, then went and guided the door closed, pushing on it to make sure, and turned over the bolt. He listened, again, but there was only the sound of the faucet running. He went and sat on the bed and began pulling off his socks and shoes. Then he stood up, took off his shirt and pants and underwear and folded them over a chair. He took off his watch and put it on the nightstand, then pulled down the covers and climbed in. He pulled up the sheet and quilt, propped up the pillows behind his head and waited, hands folded over his chest, over the bedspread. He shivered a bit. His nose felt cold. There was the TV on the dresser, looked like an 18" screen. There was a little box and a fold-up card table next to it. The bed was beginning to warm up. He moved his legs a little. He no longer felt drunk, just sleepy. Nervous, but sleepy.

His mind wandered. What would be happening tomorrow? There were some errands he could do, a couple of calls he could make, pick up around the house, maybe. Typical weekend stuff. For some reason, the girl at the dry cleaners came to mind. She had a nice smile and an accent. They had never talked much. Seen each other a bunch of times, sure, but that was just in the store. But she had a good heart, he thought. The girl at the dry cleaners was young, pretty, with an accent, European. She suddenly seemed very dear to him. I could love a girl like that, I should try to love her. But I shouldn't come on so strong, he thought, already restraining himself. This is ridiculous. I hardly know her. She probably gets hit on by 20 guys a day. It would almost be like picking on her. But if she could just see what I see in her. Two souls. What if she didn't care, what if she was so jaded that nothing mattered. She did not want to be rescued. What had done it to her. Some guy. Or maybe that's just the way she is. It's hardly fair, a girl that pretty, that special, who doesn't share it with anyone. It's hardly fair to know someone like that. She sits there all day waiting on customers. He would watch her talking to the customers, sharing little secrets of humor and understandings of coolness that he was somehow left out of. Nothing would happen when it was his turn to go to the counter. Just get his shirts, pay, and leave. Even if she was hard to get through to, there still had to be one tiny little window of opportunity, just one brief moment when her eyes looked at him in a certain way, when she let her guard down. If that was the thing. No, she was probably just a nice person, going through life, not one of those girls who is beautiful and knows it and flaunts it. Not empty like that. Just pretty and nice in her own way. Still, why couldn't it be more? Why did she have to be just a nice person same as everyone else? It would be even worse to presume to spoil even that. To spoil that pleasantness of seeing her, that subtle exuberation, with some craziness drawn out of thin air. What a jerk.. She was right there and yet so far removed. No she wasn't. It was possible. She had that smile and that way about her and that accent. An angel, really. She mustn't find out about this. I'm sorry.

For now, he was here. Too late to turn back now. Still, it wasn't written in stone. It's a free country. Just get your things, get dressed, double-check for watch, walled, and keys, tell her you're sorry but it's off. Here's a little something for your trouble. He remembered his friends watching him leave with her. He had said, All right boys, if I'm not back in 45 minutes call the paramedics. A last joke. They had all jokes about it earlier. She was pretty obvious sitting there. He expected to be toasted or cheered or something as he walked out with her but all they said was Yeah man, Alright, Later. The two of them had walked out of the bar, side by side down the street. Neither of them spoke. There's a hotel two blocks from here, she said. It's cold out. Yeah OK, he said, remembering.

He took a deep breath and exhaled. The bedspread rose and sunk. They had passed a homeless man on the sidewalk, muttering angrily to himself as he stood by a lightpole, staring at the ground. Some people just ended up like that, he thought, walking the streets, cursing the ghosts that stranded them there. How many times before had he used the word hooker or whore? It rhymed: The whore before. Before the whore. Fore! said the whore. As he considered this, he heard the toilet flush and she came back out. She was still wearing her one-piece dress. He saw her breasts were large but had seen better days. Her ass was not big, just a flat sag. She carried her large purse in one hand. She did not look at him as she walked past the bed to the same switch on the wall that he had flipped on. She turned it off. It was dark. He heard her purse jangle as it hit the floor. He waited for his eyes to adjust. He heard a light hiss of cloth as she took her dress off. It was quiet again for a moment. Are you going to let me in there?, she said. Oh, he said, yeah sure. He flipped the covers back. The chill air of the room breezed over him and for a second he considered getting up to turn on the heat. He felt the bed give way by his feet as she put a knee up. The mattress squeaked. Then she brought up the other. She pushed his legs apart and slid her hands up over his thighs. She left one hand on his leg and with the other she reached for his cock. Then she bent over and took it in her mouth. He felt the sensation at first, then relaxed into it. He could see more in the dark now. The silhouette of her head was going up and down in short movements. She wasn't taking in much past the head. He reached his hands for her head. Without letting it out of her mouth, she took his hands off her head and moved them to his sides. After another minute of her head bobbing up and down, he was fully aroused. She stopped and pulled up, sitting on her calves. Condom, she said quietly, squeezing his thigh. As he reached over to his pants, she moved to one side. He felt for his wallet, took it out and located the condom. He rolled onto his back again, gently tore it open and put it on. He felt her hand reach for his dick and pull down near the bottom. He rolled on top of her, between her legs, and started to feel down for her vagina. In the same instant, she reached for his cock and guided it in. He propped himself up on his hands and she wiggled down a bit to get directly under him. She put her hands on his shoulders and pulled her knees up. He realized he was barely touching her, just the front of her hips. As he began to work it in and out he looked down to see what was happening. Her hipples were jiggling flat. She had a look on her face like… she was listening to the answering machine. That was it. She was waiting. His arms got tired and he rested down on his elbows. His face was close to her neck. He smelled perfume. He closed his eyes and kept pumping and pumping until he felt like it was going to happen so he let go a little bit and went faster and pushed harder. She pushed her hips up to meet his last few thrusts. He gave a tight moan and it was over. She got off the bed without a word and the mattress rose up. He watched her collect her things off the floor, dress and bag, and go back into the bathroom. First the light went on and then the door closed behind her. He sat up and swung his legs over. His foot felt the metal of the trash can. She was in the bathroom. He heard the bath faucet running. He reached down and moved the trash can toward him, then stood up and, making a ring with his thumb and index finger, slid the condom off and dropped it in. Thunk. He sat back down and the mattress sank again with a squeaky crinkle. He pushed the trash can back with his foot and switched on the light on the nightstand and sat there. The bath faucet stopped a few minutes later and she came out again not long after. She was dressed again, her bag slung over her shoulder. It looked like she was leaning away from it. It's time to settle up, she said with a grin. Right, of course, he said looking for where he dropped the wallet. He saw it lying there, picked it up, took the bills and handed them over. She counted them quickly and put them in the bag. Thank you, she said with a smile. Bye. He raised his hand, imitated the smile, and said Bye. She opened the door and left. It closed itself.

He sat there for a while longer. He started cooling off. The room was a little chilly. But he found he did not notice it too much if he remained very still.

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