I walked over to the bed and sat down. The mattress was soft and cushy. The pillows were hard. I slipped off my shoes and rubbed my feet against the thick green rug that covered the floor. Across from where I was sitting was the entrance. There was a door on either side of the entrance. One, I was sure, was a closet, and the other had to be the bathroom.
I got up and walked across the room. Closet and bathroom. There were about twenty-five wire hangers in the closet. Plenty of towels and soap in the shower.
I went back over to the bed and lay back on the mattress. I felt my body sink into the softness.
It felt so strange! I felt so free!
It was as though I were a different person, I realized. As though I had no past nor any future. I was a disembodied spirit-without roots or a destiny. I was not a mother nor a wife nor a friend. I was just a woman.
No one knew me, or my husband, or my children, or anything at all about me. I was renewed. I had another chance to relive my life-to recapture some of the fragmented pieces that had slipped by me without my realizing. Even for one weekend, I had a chance to live again.
I stared at the ceiling for a long while. It felt so odd to be there, in a hotel in New York, by myself. After being married for fifteen years, after being a mother, this was the first time that I could remember being alone. I savored the rich luxury of the moment-a moment without responsibility or limitations. I had no dinner to make, no house to clean, no husband to please, no bills to pay, no problems to worry about.
I was free!
"Fuck thirty-six!" I said. "Fuck it!" I kicked my legs up in the air. I felt like a young girl again! I was dizzy and giddy from the excitement. I sat up. The room didn't seem drab green and empty.
It was alive and happy-a ballroom, and it was my coming out party.
I flipped open my suitcase and began to remove the few things I had packed. A change of clothing for tonight and tomorrow. I had nothing for Sunday. Perhaps I wouldn't wear anything on Sunday. Perhaps Pd run around naked!
Mostly I had packed lingerie: underpants and bras-sexy panties and tipless bras so that my nipples stuck out of the ends exposed. Flimsy nightgowns and see-through bikini panties with red fringe around the legs and crotch. My cunt was growing wet with the hundreds of possibilities that flitted through my imagination. And each of the possibilities was a real one, for I knew I was by myself in this, with no past or future to inhibit my decisions. I could do what I wanted; fuck whomever I wanted, and know that on Monday I could go home with a clear conscience. I was going home to celebrate my thirty-sixth birthday!
I finally caught my breath, and the room stopped dancing around me. I took three deep breaths and stood up. My knees still were weak.
Get started, I told myself. Ifs going to be a long night.
The first thing I did was order dinner. While I was waiting for Room Service, I took a shower. I answered the door in a nightgown and watched the man's eyes bug out as he brought the tray into the room.
"Put it by the bed," I told him, smiling.
I gave him another dollar as a tip, but I think it was unnecessary. He couldn't take his eyes from my tits. When he left, he had a hard-on. I guess that should have been tip enough.
I ate slowly, savoring the food. When I was finished, I called the desk and asked them to ring me at 10:30. I figured an hour would be enough to dress and get made up in.
I lay back on the bed.
You better get to sleep, I told myself.
I had a long, hot night planned for myself.
It was exactly 11.30 when I left my room. I was 103. dressed in my purple and white print dress. The dress fit tightly around my breasts, then flared widely out from my waist It was very short, and I'd worn no panties under it. I could feel the cool tickle of the air licking itself against the naked openness of my cunt. It felt exciting!
If Mark could only see me now, I thought He never permitted me to wear this dress outside of the house. In truth, it wasn't even a dress. It was the top piece of pants outfit. You could wear the top alone as a dress, but it was very, very short: a mini-mini.
I could imagine how Mark would react if he knew that I not only wore the top as a dress, but I was wearing it with nothing on under it! Naked! Absolutely stark, fucking naked!
I walked down to the elevator and pushed the button.
I'd finally decided how I was going to spend the night. It came to me while I was just falling asleep for my nap. What a perfect way in which to celebrate my first night of independence.
I was going to be a prostitute.
I was going to go out on the street and pick up the first man who propositioned me. I was going to fuck with him and take his money.
The choice of being a prostitute was somehow fitting to my sudden independence. What better role could a woman choose to act out her liberation than that of a woman who sold for a profit what other women gave away.
The elevator arrived, and I rode it down to the lobby. I walked through the lobby to the main entrance on Seventh Avenue. I went through the double set of glass doors and stood for a moment on the sidewalk in front of the hotel. I felt suddenly so odd, so lightheaded and giddy. I had the strangest feeling that I was floating.
The wind blew and billowed up my dress, nestling its cold caress between my thighs and licking at my cunt. I felt my cunt hair shiver from exposure, and bumps of excitement ran up and down my thighs from the intimate fondling wind.
My flesh was alive-on fire. I tingled all over and felt uncontrollably excited by the perversity of what I was doing. I felt dirty. Wonderfully, excitingly, sensually dirty!
The lips of my cunt actually quivered with anticipation, and I could feel a trickle of wetness sliding down the interior walls of my cuntal canal. My clit had grown hard and firm, and felt like a burning coal jammed between the lips of my pussy. I felt the flesh of my cunt rub against my clit as I walked. With each step that I took, I felt as though I were masturbating myself. I knew if I so much as squeezed my thighs together, I would probably start to come right there, on Seventh Avenue, in front of the glass doors of the Park Westmore Hotel.
I walked slowly down the block, towards the bright lights further down the Avenue. I stood on the corner of the hotel's block, waiting for the light to change. I was aware of the crowds; of the men staring at me; of the women who were giving me a jealous once-over. All their eyes added to-my excitement, and made me feel as though I were on exhibition or up for sale.
A young boy and his girlfriend walked past me. Two pairs of eyes nearly fell from their sockets. They seemed hypnotized by my presence.
"She is!" I heard the boy say. His voice was thick with country or South.
The girl covered over her mouth, but I could clearly hear her words. "Oh, you're crazy! You're just saying that."
The pair halted about ten feet away from me. They were standing against the side wall of the hotel. They seemed huddled in conference, both amazed and doubtful.
My cunt shuddered, because I knew what they were talking about! They were talking about me!
"I am!" I called out to the boy in a voice loud enough for both of them to hear. "Tell your girlfriend that I am."
The boy's face paled, and his jaw dropped open. His girlfriend began to tug on his arm. "Let's go, Drexi!" she whispered. "Come on, let's go!"
I crossed the street. My head was spinning. I felt bigger than life. I couldn't believe that it was happening to me!