On the Road
Zombie. The word popped into his head as he realized that the elevator door had opened and he hadn't even noticed. As the doors started to close he hit the button again and stepped into the elevator. He couldn't remember if he'd locked his car or not so he pointed the remote into the garage as the doors were closing and pushed the lock button. He thought he heard the beep but didn't have the energy to check.
The elevator opened automatically in the lobby. You had to switch elevators there, he supposed because the hotel didn't want people coming up from the garage directly to the guest rooms. He glanced over into the restaurant and debated heading straight over for a drink and something to eat. It looked empty and that suited him fine but the day's series of meetings had caught up with him so he hit the button to take him to the fifth floor. He knew he had to eat, he hadn't since breakfast and his low blood sugar was part of the reason for his exhaustion.
His stomach grumbled at him as he rode the elevator alone. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, "I need to at least shower and change first."
It took three attempts with the fucking keycard to get a green light and a click of the opening lock. He hated the things but he understood the necessity...too many people walking away with the key in their pocket meant too many locks that had to be changed and too much money spent. He was just an old-school salesman in a computer-fueled, salesperson era.
As was his habit, as soon as the door was closed behind him he was ripping off his clothes. Shoes kicked across the room, shirt and tie dropped on the floor as he passed the bathroom door, pants, socks and underwear fell at the end of the bed. He sat on the edge of the unused bed and grabbed the TV remote. It seemed to him that in his childhood there had been thirteen channels and lots to watch. Now there were hundreds and not a damn thing on. His stomach growled again; he had to eat. He knew he was going to end up asleep on the bed if he stared at the idiot box any longer so he hauled himself up and hit the shower.
The water was hot and felt good on his aching shoulders when he leaned forward with his hands against the wall, his head bowed and let it pound on his neck. It cleared his head as he stood feeling the steaming water running down his back and through his butt crack. Concentrating on the tickle that ran over his anus, he felt a familiar stirring. His cock started to harden and he knew the only way to that it would get looked after was if he did it himself. He was tempted as he soaped up and let his hand glide the length of his shaft. He thought about how good it would feel to slip a soaped-up finger up his asshole while he stroked his now rock solid penis.
"Not now," he murmured, to his junk. "I have to eat then we'll see if they've got any good porn on the tube when we come back to the room." Now there's something good about TV that they didn't have when I was a kid, he thought, porn. Obligingly his penis sagged while he finished his shower and toweled down.
He looked at his clothes strewn across the room and considered picking them up but the maid had been and no one but him would be in the room so he just grabbed a pair of jeans and a golf shirt out of his suitcase. As he pulled on his jeans he realized he hadn't grabbed any underwear but decided commando was fine. The restaurant was dark and he was just there for a couple of drinks and dinner. He slipped on a pair of loafers and didn't bother with socks either.
The restaurant was still dead and that was still okay with him. He looked at a table against the wall but decided to start at the bar. He'd have a couple of drinks then eat there as well f it stayed empty.
"Quiet night," he said to the bartender as he hauled himself onto a stool.
"Wednesday," he replied, "Great night to work but the tips suck. You here on business? I don't remember you being in before."
"Yup, another hotel, another city and another lonely night. Just me, my right hand and a couple of young lesbians on TV."
The bartender laughed. "Well, I'm not going to be able to help you out with that but maybe a drink will put you in the mood. What's your poison?"
Something moved in the corner of his eye and glanced toward the door. He knew her routine to a T because it was his routine. She glanced around the restaurant, resting her eyes for a couple of seconds on a corner table then looked up at the bar. He could tell from the look that she'd made the same decision as him and she pulled up a stool, leaving one separating the two of them. There was no briefcase and the business attire had been ditched as well but from the few seconds he had looked her up and down he knew she was in the same boat. Another hotel, another city and another lonely night.
"Red wine, something full-bodied." He finally responded to the bartender who had watched him watching her and gave him a knowing wink. "And whatever the lady is drinking as well."
She looked over at him and flashed him a tired smile. "That's very kind of you," she said, "and not necessary."
"You can get the next one," he replied. "Your expense account or mine; we can flip a coin if you'd like. So what do you sell?"