Seven Bells Motel. 7:05 pm
It’s a dangerous game we play.
We like to play year round, but the snow, the cold has us turning to other games to pass the time in the winter. Tonight, though it is not yet spring, it is warm for early April, and we are both ready.
The yellow streetlights emit tight yellow pools of light that she avoids carefully. I circle the block, seeing if I can spot her in the shadows. When she spies the old Caprice, she steps to the curb.
She wears red leather. My favorite. A tight mini skirt, thigh high boots, and a laced corset envelop her curves. Her scarlet lipstick matches a bow wrapped in her brunette hair, completing the look.
She’s not as young as she used to be, but then neither am I. When I look at her though, I still see the girl I married over 20 years ago. Other guys try to pick her up whenever we play, and once she even had to explain the game to a passing undercover officer, one of my colleagues. It cost me a $150 bottle of scotch to sweep that one under the rug, but it was worth it.
I pull alongside and roll down the passenger window. “Hey there.”
“Looking for a date?” She blows little bubbles with the gum she chews, popping them with her teeth. Oh, God those teeth, those lips, that mouth.
“Yeah baby, how much?”
Her gaze crawls over me, evaluating, craving. “For you, $20 for a blow, half and half for $40, and all the way for $80.”
“It’s a deal. Get in.”
Opening the door, she drops into the passenger seat. The skirt rides up, and her lace panties peek out at me. She tugs the skirt down seductively, but not before I spot the wetness at her crotch. I can hardly sit still, and wonder how my erection is not interfering with the steering wheel. Jesus, she turns me on.
She puts her gloved hands on my arm, and the hairs there stand to attention. “You have someplace we can go?”
“Sure do,” I say. She shuts the door, and I drive to the Seven Bells Motel at the end of the block.
