Solitude Hotel

Autumn evening, Hotel "Solitude," room 102.

I am lonely and in pain. A sensation as if hundreds of sharp needles have pierced my heart.

My body is scalded by boiling water. I lie in an expensive ceramic bathtub, a razor glinting in my hand. My steamed penis stands high above the water's surface. I feel like a nobody, an emptiness. I feel an immense weight on my chest, as if it's paralyzing every cell of my body, constricting my diaphragm. There's not enough air, no strength to breathe, acid under the skin, acid seeping through pores, acid cutting my eyes, acid decomposing my consciousness, filling my mouth with acrid saliva. Acid is corroding my soul. One more second.

Behind the wall, drums slowly beat out a melody. Bass hums in the pipes. A poorly tuned guitar sings its farewell song with ragged chords.

One more second. One more second and I, carefully removing a layer of steamed skin, will open the pulsating veins in my arms.

It will hurt a little: a metallic mosquito will bite my arm, the bathtub will fill with dark red slurry, my heart will slow its pace. Soon I will die. Vanish from this blind world.

Steam carries the pungent smell of the lotion smeared on my strong, scarred body. It trembles, filling with sharp lumps of pain. One more second, one more second, one more…

Do I hear something? A doorbell pressing on the ear. What a misfortune—cutting the veins didn't work out. But only for now. Throwing on a terry robe, I go to open it.

The door swings open. Beyond the threshold of room one hundred two, I see you. Tall, athletically sexy. Worn, tight jeans accentuate the beauty of your voluminous buttocks, a white T-shirt with the bright inscription "i wish sensualities" constrains large, juicy breasts, hugs a slender waist. In these clear eyes, a devilish spark; in this serene smile, endless excitement; in this beautifully built body, Divine weightlessness and the arousing beauty of an earthly woman. Plump lips, blush on cheeks, thick eyebrows, burning black hair, loose to the shoulders. I wanted you from the very first glance.

A draft carries the breath of perfume. Its taste is sharp and elegant—mixes with my saliva, leaving a bitter sepia on the tongue. Silence. I am chained to you with an intense gaze, and you look with a welcoming smile. You apologize for the intrusion, ask if I could help with the jammed lock of your room. Its number is three hundred three. I agree to the request, deciding to live a little longer. Soon it turns out I can't help with anything—the lock is jammed dead. I am in a momentary confusion typical of high society individuals when they encounter everyday life; like a complete cretin, I intend to go to the administrator's room, dump the problem on him. But you react first.

 — "I already went to the administrator and didn't find him there," you say, "Let's just sit in your room instead."

I agree without even suspecting it's a lie. Every word of yours—a lie. In a five-star hotel, locks don't jam, and the administrator is on duty twenty-four hours a day. But without this lie, there's no way—I willingly believe in it.

Then we sit in the kitchen, drink coffee, talk. You are witty, cheerful… My Goddess, my savior. You squeeze my hand, move closer. I float on the waves of your voice.

 — "… Am I distracting you, sir, from important matters? Why are you so sad?"

 — "No, no! Not at all—I'm not sad, more like thoughtful. It's just this place is somehow, somehow…"

 — "Strange?"

 — "Yes, you could say that. In a matter of seconds, you change, your understanding of life, you begin to value it and fear such changes. As if suddenly I had the chance to become something more than just a man."

 — "Quod licet Iovi non licet bovi… Such is the Hotel."

 — "Values every moment its life—it's priceless. Sorry, I don't know Latin. It's just my first time at the Hotel."

 — "Do you like it here?"

 — "Oh, yes… only now, talking to you, I realize I've always dreamed of being here and now. And you?"

 — "Of course! In secret, this is the most unique place on our planet. The Hotel has no equal, and never will. Its structure is a mystery of human consciousness. Every meeting here is not accidental: lonely, starved souls wishing to heal spiritual wounds find each other here."

Your hand hesitantly placed my hand.

 — "It's the club of all clubs, the sanatorium of all sanatoriums! It's…"

… Damn caffeine clouds my mind, and I smoothly begin to go crazy. Soon my cock starts to go crazy too. You see this, say something. Smile. Lick your lips. Arouse.

Slowly we move to the bedroom, for there's no need to hurry—time has stopped. Here you pull off your white "i wish sensualities" T-shirt, here I unclasp the bra and look with a gaze full of passion and lust at your beautiful breasts. You pour water from a vase of roses onto them; the breasts get wet, the skin is enveloped in a light silvery glow—a reflection of refracted electric rays. Breathing quickens. You become an even greater object of my sexual fantasies, soon to be realized.

I embrace you from behind, pressing my erect cock tightly against your buttocks hidden in jeans. Gently stroke your breasts, sucking on the nipples.

In response to my actions, you turn, cast a playful glance at the cock protruding from under the robe. I am a little embarrassed, but you smile, tenderly kiss my neck, chest, stomach, then kneel and begin to untie the robe's belt. The robe falls, exposing my body. Breathing heavily, I can hardly believe what's happening, trying not to make unnecessary movements. What if this is a dream and I might accidentally scare it away?

Your delicate fingers elegantly grasp the tense flesh, begin to tug, pinch. I look down at you. See your loose black hair, damp breasts, your fresh, like a morning wind, face. You are beautiful. Your plump lips tightly envelop my penis. Now it's in a warm mouth full of saliva, as if in a wet vagina.

Your tongue ticklishly begins to lick the exposed glans. In your bottomless eyes, a fire burns, you arouse me like no one else, smoothly sliding your mouth along the rim, drawing the flesh into yourself. Tension. Muscles tense even more. I begin to move my hips, slightly pushing forward. The cock, sliding along your lips, smoothly enters your mouth, plunging right into your throat.

 — "Now it's your turn, go ahead," you say insinuatingly and, lying on the floor, begin to pull off your tight jeans.

I see top-model legs, white panties under the creamy arch of your stomach. They are wet with excitement. I know how much you want me and so, without delay, I pull them off. Before my eyes appears your shaved, coral-colored vagina—sweet, softened flesh. It wants firmness, calls for the penis to enter deep inside.

You are naked, completely naked. All excess is discarded.

 — "My Goddess," I say quietly and, inhaling lungs full of air, in which the magical scent of roses lingers, proceed to action.

 — "Take me!" you cry hoarsely, spreading your legs, "I want this! Hurry, take me! What are you waiting for, come on!"

And now I lie on top of you with my whole body, inserting the penis. It is done. Now we have merged into one. I begin to move forward-backward, forward-backward. You, slightly closing your eyes, move in rhythm with me. I take you slowly but gradually accelerate. At the moment when sperm slowly approaches, I calm down, giving it a few seconds of rest.

Then everything goes according to plan: you moan until, finally, you come. I pull the penis out.

 — "Will you give me your ass?" I ask, knowing the answer.

 — "Yes," you answer, drowning in the warm sea of orgasm. "Take me there with all your strength."

I smile. The time for sweet pain has come.

Oh, Goddess! As if reading my thoughts, you get on all fours. Soft buttocks part under the pressure of my palms and my heated, reddened penis enters your tight anus. Flesh in flesh. It hurts me a lot. It seems like it's about to break, bend in half, that the blood-filled veins are about to burst. It's unbearably painful for you too, your ass has never known such pressure, but I'm sure this pain brings unearthly pleasure, and so I go deeper. Fuck harder. Overcoming my own pain, I press with all my weight.

Your cute face is in tears. You moan with pleasure, from the realization of how dirty, unnatural, and yet bright and passionate our bodies are joining. The ass takes it faster and faster, deeper and deeper. In ecstasy, I tightly grasp your breasts and, driving the cock deep inside, release streams of hot sperm into the rectum.

You come stronger than before. Secretions trickle from the vagina, hot sperm flows from the ass. My hands, meanwhile, wander over your sweaty body, calming the remnants of the fading orgasm.

We both fall exhausted onto the soft carpet. My head spins from the multitude of smells merged into one: mysterious roses, soft perfume, sharp sweat, the fresh coolness of the rumbling air conditioner… You tenderly kiss, press close. Two naked bodies, two souls that found each other in room one hundred two of the hotel. We feel good, we are together. I close my eyes and instantly sink into the embrace of sweet sleep.

But a cold morning comes. I wake up alone. With bitterness in my voice, I have to admit that I lost you like a fleeting vision. Like a pleasant erotic dream during a full moon. You are not in room one hundred two, you are not on the stairwell, you are not in the Hotel, nor, for that matter, in the quiet tapestry city. Where are you now, stranger? Probably thinking you terribly upset me by stealing my wallet and valuables?

Our paths diverged, and I will never admit, looking into your bottomless bright eyes, that the thousands of dollars stolen that stormy night are a trifle to me. I am ready to give everything I have just to see you again. Money—what do they mean now?

Nothing. You stole something more valuable—my soul. To live for life's sake. Who came up with this stupid statement? Probably someone who was never at the Hotel "Solitude," never loved, never lost, never changed. Before, I was a miser counting every penny, and now I am a generous, lonely rich man with a broken heart. I don't care about multi-million dollar bank accounts; this money goes to building Orthodox churches. And you know, I don't need alcohol or secretary-prostitutes. I only need you—the woman I fell in love with with my soul, not my depraved body. You read every thought without words. Glamorous thief, my other half. Mysterious stranger.

Autumn evening, Hotel "Solitude," room 102…

I will remember you forever.

Jonathan Davis.