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I smile as I curl myself on top of him and bend down for one more taste of sweet, sexy heaven.
Another day won't hurt. I'll leave tomorrow after breakfast. And next time I’ll choose something more exotic. Screw this Bethany crap. Maybe Atilia or Deziree.
I sit down at in the small motel lobby, confident the Sex God is still sleeping away. It’s just as grungy as the rooms, if not a little more so. A teenage couple sit in the corner, giggling and undoubtedly whispering dirty nothings to one another.
An older lady sits nearby too, drinking her coffee while she reads a book. She has hair so white it’s almost blue, and the wrinkles in her face deepen with the crimson red smile on her lips.
Perfect.
I walk over to the table, very casually stopping by her right side, and touch her shoulder.
"Excuse me, ma’am’?" I interrupt.
The old lady looks up and smiles at me with lipstick-covered teeth.
“Yes, dear?”
"Well, I couldn't help but notice that you have an English book, and I was wondering if you perhaps wanted company. It’s been a while since I'd been able to converse in English with someone!" I flash a wicked smile.
Charming. Warm. This is something I long ago mastered.
Despite my disheveled looks and far-from-modest outfit, the old woman's smile grows and she welcomes me to sit next to her. I take the seat closest to her and hold her wrist lightly as I speak, as though entranced by everything she has to say.
I quickly invent some random story about a school trip to study Portugal and its history before she explains how she lived here but had recently moved from Montreal, Canada.
Dull... oh, so dull.
“My grandson lives in a small house here in Arganda del Rey,” she explains, “and since he works so much, he has to leave his house unattended.”
She stopped for a moment, closing her eyes as she took a deep sip of her coffee.
“So, since I was living alone—my dear husband passed away a few years ago—I came here to keep him company and watch his house. I'm only in this motel for a day or two until a room can be made up for me.” She smiles proudly as pulls out a pile of pictures of her multiple children and grandchildren.
My eyes drift to the car keys, dangling a bit out of her purse. It’s honestly hard to believe this woman is walking around, much less driving.
As I look over her shoulder at the various pictures, I very subtly reach into her pocket. As I wrap my fingers around the keys, I smile at her and quickly hide them in the palm of my hand.
"Bathroom," I say as I walk towards the door. "I'll be just a moment!"
Turning the corner, I leave the hotel lobby. I keep a good pace, walking across the parking lot, purse and keys in hand, and only glance back once.
Nothing.
As I near the vehicle I set my sights on, I start to jog, no easy feat in five-inch stilettos. It’s a skill I was proud to have perfected. Getting into the car, I look again. Still no one. Taking a moment, I borrow some of the tacky crimson lipstick I find in the dashboard that looks like it was from the 20’s.
Smiling at myself as I pucker my lips together, I laugh then rev the newly "acquired" car and speed off into the morning light.
I drop off the stolen car a few blocks from the airport in a lot where it’s sure to be found soon, then I call a taxi and find a cheap motel, using the bit of money I found in the old woman’s car. Then I set to cleaning myself up.
The drugs in my system have finally worked their way through and I’m exhausted and look like I have been hit by a freight train.
Once I get some sleep, I can head over to the airport to figure out where to go next.
After a hot shower, I fall onto the musty bed and am asleep before my head hits the pillow.
I walk into the airport bar, refreshed and ready to find my mark. Wearing a skin-tight white pant suit with bright red pumps to match my lips, and I know I look good. I don’t even know when I last paid for my own travels. I had been to fifteen countries in the last six months.
I saunter up to the bar and order a dry martini while subtly looking over the selections.
