Room #104 and Neighbor Damon – Part 2

Just because a man buys you drinks does that entitle him to more?
August and September

We were having an engaging conversation, and I was learning about the world of paintball. After about 30 minutes, a man sat on the other side of me. Everyone at the bar was elbow to elbow. My new neighbor, who introduced himself as Damon, was a tall, heavy-set, olive-skinned, “rico suave” kind of guy, dressed in a hip-hop style with some bling going on. His head was shaved clean, and he a looked a little closer to my age.

Although I was clearly engaged in conversation with another man, Neighbor Damon started talking to me, and I became very aware I was sitting there between two guys, and I was not out to meet men. They were both talking to me, but it did not seem like a pick-up. I was still working on my salad and drink, but I’d given up on the magazine. Damon offered to buy me another tequila. At first I refused, but he continued to insist, so I accepted; it all seemed pretty innocent.

He told me he was a PR person for a hip-hop record label, and, it became clear he was not just being nice. Every time I ordered another drink, he insisted on paying for it, making sure the bartender took his money instead of mine. I thought, hmmm, he’s very aggressive, but he seems nice enough. He lived in the neighborhood, and it’s always nice to have new friends that are local. But really, what was going on? I was just minding my own business, and there I was with these two guys. It was getting late, and I wanted to wake up early for yoga.

The three of us had been chatting for a while when Mr. Paintball said, “Hey, why don’t you come back to my room? I’m staying right next door.” I said, “Okay, I’ll go back to your room.“ His confidence and candor was a major turn on. Plus, he is very successful in the world of paintball, and I’m always attracted to men who excel at things they are passionate about. (I think that is attractive in anyone —male or female.)

I felt bad about leaving Neighbor Damon, who had bought my drinks, but I felt more like I was accepting them to avoid an argument, and Mr. Paintball was very appealing. I thanked Damon for the drinks, gave him my cell phone number and email address, and told him to call me sometime. He promised he would.

It was a very short walk to Mr. Paintball’s hotel. I was not really sure what to expect, and honestly, I was not thinking of sex. Call me naíve, but I did not think he was interested in that either. It just seemed like we were having good conversation and enjoying each other’s company. We took the elevator up to his floor; entered room #104 and, without missing a beat, he kissed me. . I thought, well, that’s not what I expected, maybe I should go. It was not “magic,” but it was good. He was strong and passionate; his body was great — washboard stomach, hairless smooth skin, and he smelled good. I was sure I had sprouted little devil horns and a tail – so much for going straight home.

He lifted me up, and, making his intentions very clear, put me on the bed. I was lying on the hotel bedspread, when I thought, oh god, they never wash these things. Most 4 and 5 stars hotels wash their bedspreads pretty regularly, but this was more like a 2 star hotel – just because it is AAA approved does not always mean they wash them. As I imagined the stomach-turning stains and bodily fluids on that bedspread, there I lay, in my favorite white, designer skirt with a hot guy hovering over me – his tongue in my mouth – worrying about someone’s spilled pizza sauce and worse. I would most likely never see this man again — was he worth ruining my favorite skirt?

To be continued…

Related posts:

1. Room #104 and Neighbor Damon – Part 3
2. Room #104 and Neighbor Damon – Part 7
3. Room #104 and Neighbor Damon – Part 4
4. Room #104 and Neighbor Damon – Part 5
5. Room #104 and Neighbor Damon – Part 6