Here is a bit of the first draft of a story I'm working on. I will leave it posted until tomorrow night.
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Louis roused when the cabbie said "This is it, mister". He tossed the driver a twenty and stepped out into the gloomy night in an unfamiliar part of town where a neon-encircled clock fiercely attacked his retinas; its hands pointed at 2:03. His knees were wobbly and he needed a drink, but Louis was there for another purpose; he wanted a woman and the cabbie told him he knew where to get one, even at a late hour in midweek.
There was no one around on the poorly lit street, and a dense fog was settling behind him. He figured the river must be under the fog, so he wasn't as lost as he could have been. He walked over to the building that supported the too-bright clock, unzipped, and pissed what he hoped was the last of his boilermakers on a plate glass window that had a barely visible for lease sign behind years of grime and graffiti. The old building harbored a flop house hotel at the other corner, and that was where he headed. The hotel had its own neon sign that flickered and spelled out "Hotel". Underneath the glow, part of an old, painted sign showed the two letters Ho. HoHotel. Somehow he found that to be amusing as his brain was clearing slightly in the night air.
Louis took his wallet from his back pocket, removed his good debit card and all his folding money except for a ten and a few ones, and replaced the billfold. He took a few bills from the cash and stuck them in his shirt pocket, and put the rest along with the useable debit card into the front pocket of his jeans. He left an expired bank debit card in his wallet in case it was stolen; all auto-tellers had cameras that might help catch a thief. This was a part of town that even the homeless seemed to shun.
The flophouse door was propped half open with a piece of broken bar stool which he had to step over. When he entered, he immediately knew why the door was ajar and it wasn't because of heat; the dump literally stank. The stench didn't bother him; he had been into and tossed out of a few like it before. About every kind of scent a living body could create was present, and it seemed every living body that had been in the building since its opening day had left a calling card of stink. Louis walked over to the counter which was lit by a small lamp sporting a bare bulb and no shade. A large and much older man was behind the counter busily screwing an even larger woman on a wobbly futon. Louis propped his elbow on the counter until the man was finished and finally looked up at him.
"What'cha want?" Such a squeaky voice for a fairly good sized fellow, Louis thought. From his build and demeanor, he had probably been a formidable man in past years.
"A woman and a place to flop," Louis replied.
Before the man could ask, Louis placed a ten near the lamp base. The old man pulled away from his mate, replaced his suspenders over a a ratty-looking tie-dyed tee shirt that was way too small for him, arose and came around the counter and looked Louis over. "The ten will get you an hour on a mattress; the whore is another twenty. Louis produced the required bills from his shirt pocket and dropped it beside the first one. The man snatched the money and pointed across the room into the darkness. "The girls are over there; take your pick. She'll show you where."
Louis eased his way across a litter strewn floor to the center of the big room and paused to allow his eyes to adjust to the gloom. He finally was able to see some human-like forms stretched across a couple of sofas near the wall. He eased over and roused the first one he came to with a shake of her shoulder.
The woman quickly sat upright while absently saying "What'll it be, darling?" He couldn't tell much about her except she appeared to be white with dark hair. She could have been about any age, but the darkness was shielding his eyes. It didn't much matter anyway; all he wanted to do was pop her a time or two and be done with her.
She stood and took his hand and began leading him toward the back of the old lobby. "I'm Hilda, honey; what's your name"? When he didn't offer it, she continued "How much time did you buy?"
"Hour", Louis said.
She snickered, "Don't have a smoke do you?" At least her voice was pleasant.
Louis didn't reply and they went through an open door and up stairs to a long hallway lit with dirt-dimmed bare bulbs dangling from the ceiling. This looked like most of such places he had seen; rooms to let for regular customers who needed a real bed or a place to hide or maybe even a spot they could call "home". This floor contained a few rooms where the doors were removed and replaced by curtains, with the inside of each one decorated with only a bare mattress placed on the floor. She continued guiding him until she found the curtained-covered door she was looking for. She pulled a length of yellow ribbon from her blouse and looped it around a nail head sticking out of the door facing.
The girl he chose looked to be maybe thirty years old, but it was difficult to tell through all the makeup adorning her face. She was fairly attractive, looked to have all her front teeth, and her hair was styled in late 1980's fashion; long and big. She was average build and was wearing revealing clothing which was the normal uniform for her profession.
"Come on in, sweetheart and let's get busy; an hour won't last long when we're having fun."
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To be continued ...
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Copyright notice:
----------------------------------------
©2009 Ken Anderson. All rights reserved. Not to be copied, reproduced, or distributed in any form without permission of the author.
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Louis roused when the cabbie said "This is it, mister". He tossed the driver a twenty and stepped out into the gloomy night in an unfamiliar part of town where a neon-encircled clock fiercely attacked his retinas; its hands pointed at 2:03. His knees were wobbly and he needed a drink, but Louis was there for another purpose; he wanted a woman and the cabbie told him he knew where to get one, even at a late hour in midweek.
There was no one around on the poorly lit street, and a dense fog was settling behind him. He figured the river must be under the fog, so he wasn't as lost as he could have been. He walked over to the building that supported the too-bright clock, unzipped, and pissed what he hoped was the last of his boilermakers on a plate glass window that had a barely visible for lease sign behind years of grime and graffiti. The old building harbored a flop house hotel at the other corner, and that was where he headed. The hotel had its own neon sign that flickered and spelled out "Hotel". Underneath the glow, part of an old, painted sign showed the two letters Ho. HoHotel. Somehow he found that to be amusing as his brain was clearing slightly in the night air.
Louis took his wallet from his back pocket, removed his good debit card and all his folding money except for a ten and a few ones, and replaced the billfold. He took a few bills from the cash and stuck them in his shirt pocket, and put the rest along with the useable debit card into the front pocket of his jeans. He left an expired bank debit card in his wallet in case it was stolen; all auto-tellers had cameras that might help catch a thief. This was a part of town that even the homeless seemed to shun.
The flophouse door was propped half open with a piece of broken bar stool which he had to step over. When he entered, he immediately knew why the door was ajar and it wasn't because of heat; the dump literally stank. The stench didn't bother him; he had been into and tossed out of a few like it before. About every kind of scent a living body could create was present, and it seemed every living body that had been in the building since its opening day had left a calling card of stink. Louis walked over to the counter which was lit by a small lamp sporting a bare bulb and no shade. A large and much older man was behind the counter busily screwing an even larger woman on a wobbly futon. Louis propped his elbow on the counter until the man was finished and finally looked up at him.
"What'cha want?" Such a squeaky voice for a fairly good sized fellow, Louis thought. From his build and demeanor, he had probably been a formidable man in past years.
"A woman and a place to flop," Louis replied.
Before the man could ask, Louis placed a ten near the lamp base. The old man pulled away from his mate, replaced his suspenders over a a ratty-looking tie-dyed tee shirt that was way too small for him, arose and came around the counter and looked Louis over. "The ten will get you an hour on a mattress; the whore is another twenty. Louis produced the required bills from his shirt pocket and dropped it beside the first one. The man snatched the money and pointed across the room into the darkness. "The girls are over there; take your pick. She'll show you where."
Louis eased his way across a litter strewn floor to the center of the big room and paused to allow his eyes to adjust to the gloom. He finally was able to see some human-like forms stretched across a couple of sofas near the wall. He eased over and roused the first one he came to with a shake of her shoulder.
The woman quickly sat upright while absently saying "What'll it be, darling?" He couldn't tell much about her except she appeared to be white with dark hair. She could have been about any age, but the darkness was shielding his eyes. It didn't much matter anyway; all he wanted to do was pop her a time or two and be done with her.
She stood and took his hand and began leading him toward the back of the old lobby. "I'm Hilda, honey; what's your name"? When he didn't offer it, she continued "How much time did you buy?"
"Hour", Louis said.
She snickered, "Don't have a smoke do you?" At least her voice was pleasant.
Louis didn't reply and they went through an open door and up stairs to a long hallway lit with dirt-dimmed bare bulbs dangling from the ceiling. This looked like most of such places he had seen; rooms to let for regular customers who needed a real bed or a place to hide or maybe even a spot they could call "home". This floor contained a few rooms where the doors were removed and replaced by curtains, with the inside of each one decorated with only a bare mattress placed on the floor. She continued guiding him until she found the curtained-covered door she was looking for. She pulled a length of yellow ribbon from her blouse and looped it around a nail head sticking out of the door facing.
The girl he chose looked to be maybe thirty years old, but it was difficult to tell through all the makeup adorning her face. She was fairly attractive, looked to have all her front teeth, and her hair was styled in late 1980's fashion; long and big. She was average build and was wearing revealing clothing which was the normal uniform for her profession.
"Come on in, sweetheart and let's get busy; an hour won't last long when we're having fun."
----
To be continued ...
----------------------------------------
Copyright notice:
----------------------------------------
©2009 Ken Anderson. All rights reserved. Not to be copied, reproduced, or distributed in any form without permission of the author.
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