Riding The Elevator
May 22, 2010 in Writing
Marguerite checks in, hands her black snakeskin case to the bellhop, grabs his arm, and yanks him into the glass elevator. The glass is clear, tinted aqua. She presses the top floor button and presses herself against the bellhop and presses him against the glass wall. She undoes the bellhop’s tie and runs her tongue along its length. He drops the case. The elevator starts to move.
She unbuttons and unzips the bellhop and the bellhop says god yes and pornographic images assault the bellhop with the cataclysmic force of a linebacker’s crushing hit. She abandons herself to him, blithely, beautifully squashed against the side panel of the elevator, elderly couples watching with big stunned eyes from marble benches flanking the fountain down in the lobby, and she can see their transfixed faces and the pennies gleaming, coppery, on the translucent floor of the fountain. Read the rest of this entry →
