Im me, after all, and Im always craving something.
By
Updated 6 years ago,January 17, 2019
I imagine photographing every detail.
Capturing photograph after photograph of this moments essence.
Drew Wilson
Immortalizing into art this rooms ephemera.
The empty bottles of champagne on the table.
The one still half full in the ice bucket.
Little droplets from condensation sliding down sensually on the metal.
Curtains pulled back and blowing with the wind coming in through the door open to the terrace.
The city lights and nightlife of New York like a painted scene outside the window.
The tops of Central Park and water of Hudson River.
His shirt still crisp from dry cleaning hanging off the edge of the loveseat.
A broken champagne flute on the floor.
Tissue blossoming little red flowers in the wastebasket.
The open wound on my foot.
Dried blood smeared on the white duvet and on his lower back.
His dark tie wrapped securely around my pale little wrists.
We got close without letting ourselves become too attached.
I didnt even know where home was for him.
Im still not sure.
I was a little surprised when I heard from him a year later.
Im me, after all, and Im always cravingsomething.
During our time together all he ever was was attentive, sweet, gallant and passionate.
He was also a considerate lover.
I had this gnawing curiosity about the city and the way people lived there.
I didnt do much exploring outside the walls of that hotel suite that weekend, though.
Theres just something about hotel rooms.
The evanescence of it all.
The being somewhere strange, whether its close or far from home.
Countless people you never have to see again everywhere around you.
you could be someone else for as long as youre there.
Sex is just so much better in hotel rooms.
He was getting me off more than he had the previous two years of our four-year relationship.
Our relationship was doomed and Id known it for a long time.
I hated him as much as I once loved him.
I couldnt stand his hands on me sometimes.
His proximity when he tried having his way with me.
This night I wasnt.
This night we were many miles away from home.
This night he was somebody else entirely.
At least, inside that hotel room, I was able to pretend he was.
At least, I could pretend I, too, was someone else for the night.
I wasnt in this relationship.
He wasnt a manipulative piece of shit.
I wasnt someone who stayed in something she knew she should leave.
I wasnt someone who on some level thought she didnt deserve any better.
I was just a girl with her glorious ass red and in the air, finally feeling something good.
Hes ramming into me and all I have on my mind is the orgasm awaiting me.
Its terrifying and I love it and I want him to keep going harder.
I kiss him without imagining another mouth.
There always has been.
There was this guy I fucked on and off for years.
Our chemistry was that kind thats harder to come by than love.
He used to joke around and call me his sexual soulmate.
We never held back in bed.
We were never afraid to go to those places most people dont even think about.
I think on some level we sensed a kind of same darkness in each other.
We had little games we played sometimes.
It was never dull with us.
One of the tamest, but one of my favorites, had a name.
Her name was Camila.
Red wig with bangs.
Clothes even a little different.
Camila would meet him in restaurants.
In bars around town.
Walking down the street.
Hotel bars and lobbies to head upstairs for the evening.
Wed keep the roleplay going until the very moment the wig was no longer on my head.
I played an ex-wife.
I played a call girl.
I played his student.
I played a mistress.
I played it all.
But always with the essence of Camila.
Something spawned from my very spirit.
Im arms stretched out and tied to the headboard.
Hes feeding me strawberries and wine and telling me to swallow it all.
In this moment he could be striking my skin and Id take it.
Im not going to take my eyes off of you while I do this,he tells me.
Im not always comfortable in my own skin, but in this moment I am owning it.
For someone who doesnt believe in heaven, this is as close as Ill ever be.
Right up until the moment I come in his mouth.
There is just something about hotel rooms.
There was something dangerous this one night on a different year, with a different person, in July.
The city lights buzzing in my veins.
His eyes like neon lights all night.
I did something I swore I wouldnt do in this one.
I think I fell in love.
I knew Id be going back to his room with him before the night even started.
I was sure of it at dinner before we even finished clearing off our plates.
I wanted to jump on him and straddle him while we were still in a crowded bar.
I was ready for 2 am to roll around all night.
I remember warm skin blanketing warm skin and thinking I could stay in that hotel room forever.
If I had to pick a moment where I could pause time, it would have been then.
There was just something about me and him lying in each others arms all night.
There was just something about the way we saw into each other inside that hotel room.
Id never felt anything like that.
I had never put my hands on anything more beautiful.
I cant think of a word for it other than electric.
I remember thinking,I could make a home out of these four walls.
Im still trying to get it out of my mind.
Im still trying to get him out of my heart.
This wasnt typical boredom.
I found myself at a bar with hundreds of hotel rooms above me.
My hair was curled, the left side pinned back.
I was just a young professional, maybe a little dressed up, enjoying a drink.
Maybe I was waiting on a date who was late.
Normally, Id smile back.
I look away and hope he goes back to his friends.
Tonight, Im looking for something different.
Tonight, I want to be somebody else.
I walk back to a table that opens up and sit there until I down my entire drink.
I dont go back up to the bar to order a new one until I know its time.
An impeccable mess of salt and pepper hair.
The way his casual suit looks on his body, its obvious hes athletic.
I walk up the bar and set my empty glass down.
Wait for the bartender.
I dont have to look or resort to my peripheral view.
I can sense him taking me in.
At least youve had your first.
Ill get her over here.
Im having the same thing.
Would you like another?
You should sit down.
Those shoes dont look too comfortable.
I sit down as she slides us our drinks and I thank him, smile and eyes widening.
Are you waiting for someone?
He may be held up because of the storm.
Im avoiding Hobby another night because of it.
The way he was trying to figure out if I was available.
How he also managed to slide in the fact he was alone.
The flirting afterward came naturally.
As easily as licking my lips and hearing the subtle change in his voice.
The more minutes ticked by the thicker it got.
A glass turns into a couple bottles.
With each glass hes trying harder to restrain himself from leaning too close to me.
He asks if I was really waiting on someone.
I tell him I never said I was.
So what are you doing here alone on a Friday evening?
Are you here for pleasure or here on business.
I dont know what comes over me.
Tonight Im someone else.
Sometimes theres just no greater feeling.
I take a small sip, look at him and say,Sometimes theyre one and the same.
I see it in his eyes.
We dont rush it.
We keep enjoying our evening the way we have since we sat side by side at these two stools.
Its getting late and he asks if Im hungry or up for a change of scene.
I tell him I know a bar that still has an open kitchen.
Truffle fries and crab cakes to die for.
I ask him if hes sure because room service can be a little pricey.
I tell him I will be there in ten minutes and flash him a secret smile.
I savored the last of the wine alone before making my way to the elevator.
There wasreallysomething about that hotel room.
He whispers goodbye in my ear and kisses the top of my head sometime before dawn.
I look around at the room.
Take in the chaotic mess and beauty of it all.
I soak up all that impermanence.
I soak up every residual feeling.
I take one last look at the room.
It was still storming when I walked outside.
