Room Number Please

    • 611 posts
    June 13, 2013 3:32 PM PDT
     Now I have heard several jokes that deal with this subject. I tell you all now, my CycleFish Family, that this is the way it happened, to me. Enjoy! This is my story and I have the copyright... Thanks...

    Room Number Please

    Jake ‘Edge’ Walker

    6/13/2013

     

    Austin, Texas 1974

    As I pulled up to the traffic light, an expensive silver convertible rolled up beside me. The driver glanced at me and a small sneer graced her elegant upper lip. I was astride a red Sportster and was clad only in a denim vest, straight-leg 501’s with a single roll-up in the leg bottom and heavy riding boots. As per Texas law, I was wearing a helmet. It was not a ‘legal’ helmet but it was snugged down over my noggin and swept back sunglasses completed the picture she had sneered at.

    It was a sweltering night and the heat was inescapable on the bike. It rose up from the blacktop and wrapped me in a shimmering coating of sweat as I looked at her profile. Auburn hair styled in a swept back look that matched my dark glasses, straight nose over a full mouth and a strong chin completed the attractive silhouette. The light changed to green and her derisive laugh floated back to my ears as she left me at the light.

    As traffic flowed through the next few lights, I worked my way over and stopped next to her driver’s side. I totally ignored her, staring straight ahead at the rising heat waves and the light traffic ahead. I was actually looking at her sideways through my dark glasses and she was openly staring at me and my bike. When the light changed to green, I was once again caught flat-footed and I caught the sound of her laugh over the snarl of my pipes as I pulled a short wheel-stand away from the intersection.

    We played ‘cat and mouse’ for a while and as I watched her pull into a parking lot, she waved to me with a perfectly manicured hand as she parked. I yanked the bike across traffic and slid into the space beside her. I yanked off my helmet and grinned at her with (I hoped) my best James Dean imitation. Her hazel eyes swept me and the bike and then she said “Take off your glasses.”

    I complied and she looked hard into my eyes and then lingered on my chest and arms before she continued her perusal all the way to my boots. I had been discharged from the Marine Corps two years earlier and the road had honed and given definition to my lean frame. My hair was plastered to my head from sweat but it was almost to my collar. While she was looking at me, I looked at what I could tell was a rich young woman. She appeared 25 but I guessed older; makeup artfully applied, perfect teeth, perfect nails and she was wearing a tastefully short dress that perfectly matched her car’s color. “She’s slumming” I thought to myself.

    “You’ll do, follow me” she commanded and then pulled out of the lot and into traffic. I was hard pressed to bang my helmet on and follow so as not to lose her in traffic. Once I had caught up to her, she led me on a merry chase that went on a purposefully round-about and torturous path that ended in a tall apartment building. We rolled into the parking garage and went down two levels, then she parked and when she climbed out of her low convertible she flashed more leg than the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders.

    “Guest parking is on the first floor, meet you at the elevator!” She flashed a wicked grin at me as I rolled my eyes and headed back upstairs. I locked the Sporty and headed for the elevator door that had just opened, perfectly framing her in its lit interior. As I boarded the lift, she wrapped her leg around me and smothered me with a deep and hungry kiss. We did that all the way to her floor and when the door opened, I staggered out almost carrying her. She guided me to her door, fumbling with the key and we fell into the apartment. It was bigger than most houses I had lived in and it had a killer view of downtown Austin.

    I excused myself and went to take a shower. Hell, the bathroom was as big as a couple of places I lived. I dried off with a towel as big as a bed sheet, wrapped it around my waist and wandered into the ‘living room’. She was wearing a kimono and I knew that was all she had on. We drank some white wine (she didn’t have any beer) and then we went into a long and hot ‘make-out’ session on the silver couch that was long enough to sleep an NBA star.

    I asked her if she had any ‘weed’ to smoke. I told her it helped me to ‘focus’ on the task at hand and she got all round-eyed and said “That stuff is illegal in Texas… Do you have any? I always wanted to smoke some…” I grinned at her and started to pull on my clothes.

    “Yep, I have some on the bike. Be right back!” All the way down in the elevator I was thinking about the soft sweet body I had just been running my hands over. I got off at the ground floor parking, wandered over to the bike and snagged the stash I had. I hit the Up button and stepped inside… and stared at the bank of 35 buttons that stared back at me. What was her floor? When she had met me after I had parked, her floor was already pushed but I was rather preoccupied at the time to notice. Ditto on the apartment number that graced her door.

    On impulse, I hit 30 and waited until the door opened. Bonus! I recognized the décor and walked toward the door that I knew was hers. When the big man answered the door with a serious scowl on his face, I knew that this was probably the wrong floor. I figured that I would just start with this one and work my way up.

    After I had hit the 33rd floor, I realized several things. All the hallways looked almost the same, people in this building liked to call Security and Security did not like bikers. I tried to explain, tried to describe her and her car but everything I said seemed to just convince them that I was a nuisance. So they said the magic words.

    “Leave now or we’ll call the cops.” Since I had a leafy green substance that would land me in prison for 30 years (a Texas prison) and since I didn’t even know her name or apartment number, I walked slowly to the bike. The security guards were frowning at me as I donned my helmet and fired the bike. A blinding flash of insight caught me and I kicked her into gear and roared down to the second floor parking. I found her car, jumped off and looked for a number but there were just parking spot numbers. Not apartment numbers, damn! Just then, the elevator bell went off and I knew who was on it. Beefy Security #1 and #2.

    As I rode out into the Austin night and the heat rose up once again to envelope me, my mind was up in the floors above. She would be waiting for a long time…

     

  • June 20, 2013 1:24 PM PDT
    a good one Edge ...enjoyed it man! great story as always!!!
    • 3006 posts
    June 21, 2013 5:35 AM PDT
    Aint life a biatch lmao good post !!!
    • 44 posts
    June 21, 2013 7:18 AM PDT
    That was a great short
  • June 21, 2013 11:49 PM PDT
    Just maybe you is got some talent. lol
  • June 26, 2013 12:50 PM PDT
    Great read.
  • September 27, 2013 6:38 AM PDT
    Sorry to diss on you but a good Marine, even in the heat of horniness would have noted the Apt # and floor # and would have identified any fire emergency escape routes. Great story though. 20 year retired US ARMY.
  • December 23, 2013 12:17 AM PST
    Nice reading. You are definitely a tallanted story teller. keep up