top of page

Short Story - The W Hotel (Sexual scenes)

Four years have passed. I have not seen him in that time much other than once in a while quick glances when he came by the house for accidental visits to see everyone but me. Life continued in a slow black and white movie devout of any interest or vigor. Then one day. Out of the blue. On his 25th birthday in November. The same day I was liberated from the prison. The same day I became liberated from the lie I lived for the past 4 years of “loving life” while just surviving its gray routine of saltless sadness day by day.

He texted me and asked to meet him. Suddenly like a spasm of a déjà vu that comes in a matrix-like parallel universe I remembered when I for the first time reached out to him 4 years ago that seemed like ages ago. It brought a new sense of explosive emotions inside me but for the thousandth time I had to let them go. He was no longer mine. No longer interested. No longer moved by anything I said or did. I was merely a shadow that he missed to notice in the glorious light of the sun he was always basking in.

He was hot and popular, growing in fame and beauty with each passing day. I was growing more wary of the lines crossing my forehead and of the loveless life I was forcing to enjoy leading into the wisdom of my existence on earth. And then this text. His text. Meet me please in the city. The W Hotel. Lobby. Why? What possibly for? I could not comprehend no matter how hard I tried to master the puzzle. Did he need something? Could there possibly be a need for me in his busy, all-successful, well-rounded and accomplished life. He was graduating from a prestigious law school on a soccer and educational scholarship. Valedictorian. Captain of the soccer team. And an intern at a prestigious investment banking firm. Strong. Handsome. Smart. A lethal combination of looks and intelligence. My own formula for disaster. Except he still maintained that extraordinary innocence about him and profound humility and humbleness. But why on Earth did he need me? He said in his text that he will explain everything later. So I did not question. Showed up at the time and place nervously playing with my glove and sipping on a dry martini at the bar. Suddenly, I felt an explosion inside me and realized a significant amount of heat was coming from behind. I felt long slender and strong chest being pressed against my back and long arms extend and take my drink away from me. “Drinking still?” He said in a somber voice. “Didn’t we have a pact?” I turned around with tears suddenly taking over me and breathlessly uttered a weak hello.

He was staring intently, unhappy to see me drinking, slightly upset. “I…I…” I started to justify myself but too weak from seeing him after so long just stood there staring, still confused and bewildered at what he may have wanted with me. He remembered about the pact? It actually meant something, I thought, counting in my head countless amounts of drinks drunk and cigarettes smoked since our departure, at me trying to kill myself faster than sadness and despair at losing the only man I ever loved. Why did it matter to him anyway? 4 years! He was so strong at saying goodbye and living his life never turning back, never even once acknowledging those silly times we tried to be something to each other. He was probably laughing at them or worse yet, cursing me for being his first true love. And yet, there he stood, as though those four years did not exist. As though only yesterday he and I were together at the Walmart, hugging, laughing and being one.

He smiled. I became more nervous. I couldn’t understand what was going on. I could not allow myself to imagine anything happy. Happiness did not exist in my world anymore. Not only did I not have him, but also all those months of happiness we shared at one point ceased to exist in my mind because I realized I had imagined all of it. They were never real. He never loved me. He was just acting a part to make me happy. To learn. Or whatever else was his own personal agenda.

“You haven’t changed a bit.” He said taking away my martini glass and dumping it in his mouth. “Ugh. Too dry.” And before I could answer, he paid for my drink, pulled me down the hall and into the elevator.

“I…. I don’t understand.” I finally mastered.

He smiled and plainly explained. “You’ve asked me 4 years ago, to spend my 25th birthday with you. Do you not remember?” “Whatever you do, baby” he said, imitating my voice, “please give me that one joy in life.”

I stood there blinking at him. How could he remember this? Why? And even if he did, why would he spend his birthday with me, an estranged person, when he had so many friends, so many girlfriends. So many of everything. Always within a group pulling him ever which way, always center of attention. Why me? Something wasn’t summing up. I kept trying to figure out his agenda, what was it that he was after, when I realized I was entering into a hotel room. It was a gorgeous room with a big King size bed tucked against the wall and huge floor to ceiling windows overlooking Times Square.

“I want you to wear this.” He said extending to me a provocative see-through gown. I extended my arm but the gown fell down to the floor. I started to explode in every part of my body. I was completely lost and terrified. And finally for the first time understanding and feeling my fear, he kneeled down and hugged me by my legs. He looked up looking at my panicked eyes. “Baby, I am sorry I was quiet all this time. I just had to. This is how I deal with it. I had to do that. And you understand I hope. Maybe some day you will forgive me. And I think you shall because for every tear you cried over me, I will give you an eternity of smiles. I came to stay. Baby, I am not going anywhere. You’ve always wanted me to say these words and I am saying them now. I am right here baby.”

Unable to shake off the emotions that ran over me like an ocean tornado, I fell onto the floor, right on top of the gown, and drowned in tears. He hugged over me, covering my face in his ardent kisses, touching me, caressing me, loving me. And before I knew it, I was changed into the gown and we were in bed, making love. The first time we did it, he was so gentle and loving, careful not to hurt me, kissing me ever so lovingly, passionately. He really gave back in one intimate setting to me more love than the love I feared lost. The passion was surreal. Time stopped and we just longed each other, embracing and being one. I couldn’t remember the positions or who did what or how much time we spent. But when I looked at my watch, I realized it had been four hours.

I thought at any moment he would say his favorite: “Nice knowing you but right now…..” but instead, he just laid there next to me, holding me ever so strongly in his arms and looking at me. “I love how skinny you are and what you’ve done with your body. You are even more beautiful now than I remember you.” I looked down sheepishly and that seemed to turn him on once again. “I hope you don’t mind seconds?” he said. “You know how much I like your split-pea soup, right? Well, this I like even more.”

Heavens. He hadn’t had that dish I used to cook for him in the entire eternity of us being pulled away from each other, yet he remembered how much he used to like it. What else did he remember, I wondered, looking at his mouth yet again with the pleading look. It was curious to see how his memory stayed intact while his whole demeanor spiraled from a modest, shy boy to a powerful man, demanding what is rightfully his or not so rightfully.

He pulled me down to the pillow, bent my arms behind my back and gently kissed me, this time tugging at my lower lip. He looked at my face, noticing how my entire expression lit up and was palpitating in trepidation. “Have I told you baby how much I like fucking you?” he said, taking his large and erect manliness, grabbing me and sitting me on top of him, even before I could understand what was happening. “Oh fuck” he smiled, looking at me with a boyish surprise, “aren’t we so wet and hot?!” I silently nodded unable to breathe from this unearthly happiness that has suddenly landed itself at my door.

“I love how your pussy is so wet baby. I missed it so much.” He said looking solemnly into my eyes and studying them. “Have you missed me, baby?” I exhaled with a moan. “What was that?” He asked moving his ear toward my face. “Ugh” I moaned quietly into it. He looked at me somberly. “Now, now. You know how much I like those moans baby. I fucked so many women but no one moans like you. No one is that open with their sexuality, baby. So I want you to relax and be yourself. Ok love? Will you do that for me?”

I couldn’t help but start crying again. “Is it really you?” I asked, suddenly allowing myself to accept the thought that he was there with me, under the same roof, away from the world and in this unparalleled intimate serenity. “Is this really happening?”

“Yes baby.” He said, “I came back for you.” He kneeled down and whispered into my ear, touching it with his burning lips: “We are going to be doing this a lot. You know how much I like sex and you know how much I like you.” And with his fingers he slowly grabbed my curls snaking around my naked shoulders, picked them up into his fist and pulled them back so my lips were at the same level with his and said into my mouth: “No one knows me like you. No one gets sex the way you do. We will be fucking every day baby and that is a promise.”


Featured Posts
Recent Posts
Archive
Search By Tags
Follow Us
  • Facebook Basic Square
  • Twitter Basic Square
  • Google+ Basic Square
  • Facebook Basic Black
  • Black Instagram Icon
  • Black YouTube Icon

© 2016 by JEKA

bottom of page