The pup roamed freely around the suite and I sat on the couch. I turned on the television and searched for … nothing. The shows disinterested me so I left the channel on Spotify. I selected a Bollywood compilation and closed my eyes. I settled in to my sedentary state and imagined what the foreign lyrics were actually about. Suddenly my hunger awakened. As a creature of habit, I would normally have eaten my dinner by this time.
Brent had informed me that in room dining was unlimited – as he had raised his eyebrow. I received the hint that it would not be an all day buffet session. I ordered corned beef hash, two poached eggs and the least expensive bottle of Pinot Grigiot on the wine list.
I fell asleep while waiting for the food. My mind transformed itself into a movie theater. My eyelids became a screen. There was static. There were words in bold white contrasted against the dark gray backdrop – AN ERROR OCCURRED. PLEASE TRY AGAIN LATER.
In the chaotic haze, I could see lips speaking. What were they trying to tell me? I listened to the white noise until the word, “Spic” was audible. I tried to focus and I heard, “DindindinLoveLetterdindindinWritedindinMedindindinAdindindinLoveLetterdindindinLike
dinThedindinOnedinThatdindinYoudinWrotedindindinBefore…”
Stephanie, my current crush, walked into the movie. She was wearing a saree which had been altered to reveal her shoulders and the sides of her waist. Her lips were moving, but my auditory hallucinations went dumb. I asked her, “Who are you?”
She smiled and looked over my shoulder. “Here comes Ms.Vyce.”
There was a knock on the door of the hotel suite. The bottle which I had magically been gripping in my slumber slipped from my fist and thudded onto the carpet. It bounced bottom first and landed on its side. The fallen vessel left a pool of flat beer on the beige carpet. I reached for it like an American footballer and swiftly lifted it. After briefly searching around, I found a hotel magazine to use as a coaster.
There was a lowly audible blip from outside of the room. The IRD attendant had used the key fob to unlock the door. Without thinking, I rushed to the door and pressed it shut. The service person attempted to open the door against my resistance. I spoke curtly as I fumbled with my words, “Sorry. Wait. Please. Let me just put … uh … the pup away. She’s frisky.”
The pup began to yelp at my heels. I turned my head and looked at her. Her eyes were playful. She swung her hips back and forth causing the butt plug / tail to wag from side to side. I sounded desperately, “Please? Don’t come in until I open the door.”
“Yes, sir.” said a male voice from the hallway.
“Good!” I whispered to myself as I remembered the rule – no one is to see the pup. So far so good I thought.
Again I grabbed the pup by her collar. This time I replaced her into the cage. After locking the door, I pulled the duvet from the bed. I then used the top linen to drape the entire metallic structure. The pup yelped constantly throughout the process.
I returned to the door and opened it. The attendant greeted me with a smile. I could see his annoyance. It takes one to know one, I thought. I had several friends who were IRD at the other hotel. I apologized for the delay and signed a 40% tip. His smile was genuine as he turned to leave. He opened the door to exit and said, “I didn’t have a choice.”
My brain could not comprehend his statement until he slithered past a figure who stood in the open doorway. She extended her arm and held the door from closing. The person in front of me wore an accusatory stare. My heart retreated into my spine as though I had been sucker punched in the chest.
She placed her foot against the door, folded her arms beneath her breasts and asked, “So, are you going to invite me in?”
I was confused. I was sleepy. I was hungry. I was confused. I asked her, “Is this a scene? Brent didn’t mention this -”
She let her jaw lock in an open position and began to tap her free foot on the carpet in the hallway. Her answer was ironic, “There will definitely be a scene if you don’t invite me in.”
I whispered, “This is Brent that we’re dealing with here. You know there are cameras in this room that we can’t see.”
She inhaled with a soulless smile and screamed, “If you don’t want to see the world’s biggest BRAT, Jordi, you will invite me in and shut the God-damned door behind me!!”
With these words, the pup immediately ceased her incessant yelping and became silent.
“Please come in, Melanie,” is all that I could hardly say.
She stepped into the room and forced a smile. The lady was an enigma. Although obviously ready for a fight, she wore flip flops. Her jersey sweat pants did not flatter her toned butt and legs. Her large t-shirt screamed,”Nobody notice me!” In a tussle, she would have been doomed. Women love to grab, pull and stomp feet in their little cat fights.
Melanie planted her beautiful light brown irides into the focus of my pupils and spoke confidently, “I need to meet her. I know that she’s here,” said the uninvited guest.
I was frustrated by this dilemma. I explained with leaden words, “I respect your husband. He’s always done right by me and our agreement is that no one is to see her.”
She asked impatiently, “What is the agreement?”
I broke down to an expression of bewilderment.
“Your fee?” she answered to my, DUH!
Reluctantly I responded, “Four benjies a day plus room service.”
She nodded and asked, “Is she still a bitch?”
My mind was working as slowly as my heart was pumping blood quickly. I responded, “I don’t know what that means. I have never — “
Melanie interrupted me, “Does that bitch still think that she’s a bitch? Brent told me about her ‘phases’.”
I closed my eyes and slowly poured my words to the carpet. “She is in puppy phase. Yes. She is currently a … bitch. Technically.”
Melanie opened her purse and counted one, two, three, four and five benjies. Carelessly she crumpled them in her fist and extended her arm to me. She said, “Let’s make a separate arrangement. No one is to see this bitch except for me, Jordan.”
I whispered, “Please don’t do anything stupid. This is my job. I am a professional.”
She said, “Okay,” offhandedly and stepped closer with the currency extended.
I nodded and removed the money from her hand.
We walked to the covered cage as I mouthed the words to possible hidden cameras, “It’s Melanie. I am sorry but this is the lesser of two evils.” Fuckit, I had to try some kind of “cover your ass” maneuver. We stood in front of the draped cage and I spoke. “She’s in there. I don’t even know what to call her. I never got a look at her dog tag.”
Melanie looked at the linen which covered the cage as though she had x-ray vision. She looked at me and scoffed self assuredly. She looked deeply into my eyes and said, “I thought that you were a butt gawker. This self absorbed bitch has her name tattooed on her own ass.”
“How do you know?” I asked her.
She replied, “Brent tells me everything.”
A yelp emanated from beneath the linen cover. Melanie and I both flinched with the unexpected noise.
I answered, “I do love the shape of a woman’s ass. And I have seen hers.” With no idea of what to say next I explained apologetically, “You’re his wife. That’s why I am not getting involved with this … whoo whoo. Check her out and please leave me out of this so that Brent doesn’t try to kill me. I’m just on a gig here.”
Melanie laughed genuinely and said, “Her name is Carla. That narcissistic bitch has the name Carla tattooed on her butt cheek. Brent told me himself.”
I processed the information and I licked my dry lips. The room was quiet aside from the din of air conditioning.
With a tear in her eye she continued, “I’m not his wife. She is.”
I was veering beyond my sane point of no return when Melanie stripped the linen from atop the cage. The sheet landed on the floor. The pup made eye contact with Melanie while both I and the recent intruder stared at her nude butt cheek. We both read the same name. The name “BRENT” had been tattooed on the pup’s bottom within the shape of a heart.
Melanie was visibly livid. I clenched my teeth and looked at the socks on my feet. Where is this going to lead? I wondered. Melanie began to circle the cage as would a curious shark around an adventurous diver.
I had questions. I asked them. “Mel, why does he keep his wife in an apartment here in Deerplain?”
Brent’s mistress scoffed and replied, “He doesn’t.”
Goddamn, she’s being a brat, warned my own thoughts. I struggled to retain composure. I became aware that I needed to construct my questions perfectly. I ventured, “He said that he had to keep her here so that she wouldn’t be a puppy in the place where he set her up. Where is that exactly?”
There was a rumor of a smile on her lips as we both became aware of the current dynamic. She answered, “In their home in San Diego.”
“He told me that she is is side chick who lives in a spot in town. So that was a lie?” I remembered that she had paid her fee. I was merely informing my client.
The lady brat answered,“Yes.”
“Is it all a lie?” I asked while my brain began to overheat.
“No,” replied the false Mrs. Flintlock.
“Do you live in an apartment in Deerplain?”
She cocked her head and looked at my face. With a mischievous grin she answered, “Yes.”
I felt as though I were playing a parlor game as she passed behind me and whispered her answer. She kept circling the cage without taking her eyes away from the true Mrs. Flintlock.
My professional nature kicked in and I needed to get the parameters of …whatever this was. “So, you know about her. Does she know about you?”
“Yes.” Melanie continued circling the human puppy.
“So what is the problem here?”
Melanie flip flopped around the cage. It appeared as if she were speaking to the pup as she answered my question. “The problem is that he has never lied to me before. You know Brent,” she broke her gaze at the woman in the cage and looked deeply into my reluctant eye contact, “He is insanely honest. No fear. That is why I… I love him.”
In an attempt to bring sanity to this episode, I challenged her. “Okay. Why are you here right now? What are we going to accomplish in these next moments?”
“I don’t know.” Melanie looked at me without the brat in her countenance and answered, “I wanted to come here and hate you for every lie that I thought that you would tell me in his defense. I wanted to hate Brent. I wanted a free pass to hate everything.”
I matched her gaze and I shrugged insecurely.
She admitted, “I miss him. I’m not a gold digger. Our arrangement was his idea. I have a 9 to 5 and no other lovers. And now,” she pointed limply, ”this bitch has fucked that up. And you have been professional. And I can’t hate you.” Melanie began to cry without a change in her expression. Her tears stealthily ran down he cheeks as would convicts escaping from a prison.
When she said the word professional, it had triggered my self recognition. I spoke with as bold a voice that I could muster, “Please leave the way that you came in. I promise that you will be the only person to see the pup – according to our arrangement.”
She closed her eyes.
I added, “If Brent has cameras in this place, we’re both in trouble. The damage may already be done, but let’s shoot for damage contro-”
She interrupted me, “He hired you because he didn’t want to pay for a spy cam set up. Relax. I do know that. We’re safe- sort of.”
I repeated her words as a question, “Sort of?”
She returned her stare to Carla, “This bitch has our parlay in her subconscious. When she snaps out of this phase – that’s when we might have problems.”
I in turn assured her, “Carla’s in her own time zone. She’s a puppy. She’s like in some autistic mode or something. You relax. Go home. The next time that Brent is here you will be happy again.”
She looked at me as though I had analgesic answer. I traced the lines of her face with my own eyes as I searched my thoughts. As her tears dried I answered a wordless question, “That tattoo on her ass is clearly a cover up. I don’t think that Brent lied about that.” I lied. Fuckit. Client satisfied.
Melanie sadly exited the room. The puppy in the cage yelped as the visitor shut the door.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/6qlulf/deerplain_donna_11