“You’re sinister.” She tightened the tie around his wrist and a small giggle escaped. This mix of temptress and youth was driving him mad. She cleared her throat and whispered softly against his lips, “Am not, I’m lovely.” He laughed a bit too deeply, and winced as the pressure tugged on the bonds anchoring his wrists to the bed. He watched her angelic face, openly aroused. “You’re the devil incarnate and you know it. Hell, I think you thrive on it.”
She moved to take her seat, positioning herself over his shaft. She smiled a wickedly slow smile. “I am a nice girl. My tattoo says so. And you are naughty boy, now hush.” She lowered herself onto him, as a queen takes her throne. His eyes rolled back in his head and he moaned as she rode him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t touch her with his hands, couldn’t drag her lush mouth to his and kiss her. All he could do was feel—just lie there and feel her sliding over him like liquid heat.
Her sweet face flinching with pleasure was the last thing he saw before darkness descended.
The room smelled of sex and perfume. The sheets were soiled and bunched around him. His arms ached and his hands were completely numb. The knocking on the door brought him back to his senses. “Housekeeping!”
Salvation! He cleared his raw throat and yelled, “Come in, I can’t get to the door!” A moment passed and then another. He gathered his strength to yell again when the door swung open. A round little Mexican lady came in pushing a cart in front of her. He squinted in the morning light. A little gold name badge read, “Rosa.”
She mumbled to herself in Spanish not paying the slightest bit of attention to him. He cleared his throat again and called her name, “Rosa?” She jumped half out of her skin as if she’d forgotten him. She looked at him there on the bed. And laughed.
Her chubby arms circled her hefty middle and she doubled over laughing. “Oh senior! You had a wild night, yes?” She came over to him and started to loosen his ties. Then she stopped. She touched his cheek and smiled. For a moment he could see the beauty she must’ve been before life had worn her down. He smiled back and shook his bonds. But she was watching him intently and no longer cared about the ties.
She licked her lips and for the first time he felt true, gut-wrenching, fear.
“You’re a handsome man, Papi.” Papi? I’m not her father; he thought…oh…came the realization. She ran her small, fleshy hands along his body and he tried not to recoil. He tried again to get her to help him. “Rosa, could you untie me?” She leaned in and sniffed him. She crinkled her nose. “You smell like her.”
That got his attention. “Her? Did you see the woman who was here leave? She’s a tall blond with blue eyes.” Rosa sat back on the bed, her hands exploring his chest. “I saw her. A bitch, she left no tip for Luiz. And he’s a good waiter.” He clucked his tongue in agreement. “That’s terrible, Rosa. I’d like to make it up to Luiz…if you could just untie me?”
She cocked her head and skimmed a finger over his lower lip, whispering distractedly…”So sexy, Papi…” She leaned forward again and this time she tasted his mouth. She pressed her lips to his and kissed him. But it wasn’t just a kiss. It was 40 years of sleepless, sexless nights, 40 years of scrubbing hotel rooms, bathrooms, kids, and cooking. It was a lifetime of work and sadness poured into a kiss. He stared at her in shock as she pulled away.
She was angel of a different sort. Rosa wasn’t a fallen angel bent on eating men for appetizers as Gloria had been. No, Rosa was something else altogether. She was fallen, sure, but only because her wings were broken. He saw the tears in her eyes even as she blinked them away. Her hands went to the ties at his wrists. And he pretended not to notice that they were shaking as she freed him.
She backed away from the bed, straightening her smock. She looked at her feet as he dressed in silence. He wasn’t sure what to say. A woman had never laid down her soul in front of him before. He was used to them using him, he using them. He walked passed her and his hand reached for the doorknob. He paused, the room breathing emotion with hot ragged gasps.
She wasn’t his type. She wasn’t sexy. She was older and rounder than any female he’d ever looked at. He hung his head, his mind made up. He crossed over to her three quick strides. He grabbed her round face, turned it to his and devoured her mouth. He opened her lips and pushed his tongue inside. He kissed her till she moaned, till her knees nearly buckled, till he couldn’t taste her sadness anymore. Then he swatted her on the ass and said, “Rosa, you’re a doll.”
He walked out of the room feeling like a million bucks.
He rubbed his tender wrists. It was time to hunt down another fallen angel—a sinister bitch with a penchant for absinthe and some unfinished business…
*Art by Boris Vallejo