San Francisco – Hotel Triton
Sandra was at the Hilton. Will was at the Hotel Triton, directly opposite the Dragon Gates of Chinatown. “Let’s stop for coffee, Sandra.”
The café was almost empty, just a few lovers talking softly in the dim light. Each table had a tiny lamp; the waitress, green hair and pierced who-knows-how-many-times, took the order, two coffees, one slice of key lime pie, and two forks, and stepped away.
Battling forks as they negotiated the pie, sipped coffee, and sat side by side in the booth, they watched the street scene outside.
Will leaned to kiss Sandra. On the neck. She paused. Shivered. And throatily whispered, almost too low for hearing, “More…”
He took her chin gently, tilted her towards him, locked eyes (“The most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen”) and teasingly brushed his lips against hers. “Yes, yes…. Much more.”
She placed her hand on his right thigh and they languidly enjoyed another cup of coffee, becoming another set of (soon-to-be) lovers talking softly in the dim light.
San Francisco – Room 644 The elevator, tiny, dim, groaned as it inched to the sixth floor. No Hyatt speed and flash here, just an old hotel, redone recently, creative designs, new fixtures, but, the old elevator refused to be rushed.