Tuesday, July 1, 2014

The Letters We Left Behind

Ann pt 1 - Ann pt 2 - Ann pt 3 - Ann pt 4 –  Ann St Vincent and I live thousands of miles apart.  Until Ann and I met, we were writing about each other using pseudonyms, Ann’s was Julie.  Then, we flew to a central location and spent five days together.
letters s
Dear Hotel Room Neighbors,
I’m sorry we didn’t have a chance to meet face to face this weekend, in the hallway or during breakfast.  I’m sure you’re a nice couple and it would have been fun to go grab a glass of wine some night or laugh over some quiche in the morning.  Well, you’re either a nice couple or you’re a creepy, single dude, but I choose to believe the former.
Anyway, I wanted to apologize for the terrible way the hotel rooms are laid out.  As I’m sure you’ve noticed, the headboard of our bed is directly up against the wall of your room, probably headboard-wall-headboard.  Every time Ann and I started to get into it the headboard would thump into the wall, quite loudly, right next to your own sleeping heads.  10 pm, around midnight, and 3 o’clock in the morning.  Then again at 4 o’clock in the morning.  And I think we pulled a double header around eight.  Hours and hours at a time.
Understandably, you couldn’t have gotten much sleep last night.  Or for the previous four nights, really.  The constant sex, sounds of pleasure, slamming headboards and slapping bodies would really put a crimp into your own sleeping schedule for the five days that we were neighbors.
So, I would like to sincerely thank you for not banging on the wall, calling the manager, knocking on our door, interrupting us, or otherwise behaving like douche bags.  We might have messed up your sleep, but your kind hearts allowed us constant and uninterrupted sex.
That’s why I believe you are a wonderful couple.  Instead of being bothered, you appreciate our gleeful frolicking, maybe even bringing back some of your passion-inspired memories.  Maybe you’ve been married for the past 20 years and Ann and I brought back newly-wed memories of fucking for days on end.  Maybe you were a military couple, remembering the veterans welcome home after a long deployment by fucking for days on end.  That’s the only reasonable explanation for how understanding you’ve been.  Either that or you’re a creepy, single, voyeuristic dude.  I hope you aren’t.
Anyway, we’re sorry and very, very thankful,
J & A
Dear Maid,
I’m sure there is a more PC term to use, “maid” seems so dark ages, but I can’t think of anything else except “Janitor” or “Cleaning Lady”, which don’t sound any better.  I know you’re not a dude, we’ve seen you in the hallways, so janitor doesn’t seem to fit.  And “cleaning lady” makes me think of Consuela from Family Guy, a parallel that you might justifiably find offensive.
Anyway, we would like to apologize for the destroyed room we’re leaving behind.  After five days of near constant sex, the furniture, the bed, the utilities, all seem to have been shaken apart by vibrations of our constant rabbit-like humping.
The two night stands are terribly designed.  We never actually touched the night stands but stuff was constantly falling off of them.  The first time we fucked in the bed we knocked over the champagne bucket and the glasses.  The third time we had sex (or fifth, I can’t remember) we knocked a champagne flute off the other night stand.  I think I found all the broken glass.  The bed and the night stands aren’t connected and yet every time we had sex on the bed something would come flying off one of the night stands.  Ann thinks they might be haunted.  If so, the ghosts must be cranky old ones because they kept trying to ruin the mood.  Personally, I think our fucking must have caused the bed to vibrate at a specific frequency that resonated in the night stands, causing their atoms to shift, making their surfaces unreliable.
Finally, the bed, sheets, blankets, pillows all need to be seriously bleached or burned.  We fucked the shit out of that bed.  You might also want to tear up and replace the carpet surrounding the bed, bleach the bathroom, and at least hose off the balcony.
Handle the bedding with rubber gloves.  You might want an apron too.  Maybe some goggles.  We’re terribly sorry.  I left a $20 bill on the counter for you.
J & A
Dear Management,
RIP bed sm
Fuck your night stands that enable objects to randomly fall over, and fuck your room layouts with the two beds crammed against opposite sides of the same wall.  I’m also not sure why we have a balcony that faces the road.  Is “car-watching” the new, hot past time?
On the other hand, the hotel staff were all extremely nice, relatively attractive if slightly over-weight,  middle-aged women.   I find that curious because that’s a fairly specific set of employees.  I can only assume that you think having lots of traditionally attractive women (fit, young, single) might lead to a bad reputation for your hotel.
Otherwise, the room was nice and tidy, and the breakfasts were pretty good.  The shower was actually quite large, which Ann and I enjoyed on multiple occasions, though the distinct lack of water pressure left something to be desired.  You might want to bump up the pressure a little, it would mean the cleaning staff would spend a lot less time scrubbing the dried cum off the tub and walls.
Ann gave you an “A” rating.  I grumbled a bit about the layout and water pressure, then gave you a “C”.  Don’t take it too hard, I’m a very difficult reviewer to impress.  I’ve never given out an “A”, and the only “B” score I’ve given was to a hotel between a steak house and a strip club.  Location, location, location.
Ann’s glaring at me a little now.  Ok, I tell you what, we’ll average out the ratings.  One “A”, one “C”, equals out to an average of “B”.
Really, though, the rating is just a sidebar to the main conversation.  Your hotel provided me and Ann a safe, clean, and mostly comfortable place to fuck for five uninterrupted days.  And I mean, uninterrupted.  Not even when we stumbled down for breakfast after fucking most of the night, without showering, barely dressed, hair sticking out in every direction, smelling like week old sheets in a whore house, and so starved that we attacked the buffet like a pride of Lions.  We were hanging off the balcony, slamming into walls, putting the headboard through the plaster, and not one person came and said a single thing to us.  It was awesome.
I will be forever grateful to you for that.
J & A

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