Hey Everyone! Thanks for stopping by. This is my first time publishing online so take that as you will.
This is going to be a slow burn story but not to worry, I won’t keep you waiting too long to get to the sex.
Hope you enjoy!
He peeled his face from the dewy glass window, blinking the haze of sleep from his eyes as pearlescent beads of sweat shimmered on his forehead. The Greyhound rumbled steadily onwards, filled with the heavy golden glow of the sunset beyond the rolling orange groves. He sleepily looked around at the other passengers, feeling a dull ache in his neck from the uncomfortable position he had slept in, the bus was packed. Sweating bodies, young and old, some sleeping and some reading, some stared aimlessly out of the windows, wishing away the time until their journeys end.
It was one of the hottest summers the West Coast had ever seen, and Los Angeles was at the hight of its golden age. Thousands upon thousands of stary eyed dreamers, from far and wide, travelled to the land of the silver screen, hoping to catch a break and become a star.
Amongst those wishful souls sat Peter, sitting patiently with his suitcase by his side. Only twenty years old, it was his first time away from home, the furthest he’d ever been from his families little midwestern farm was three towns over and even then, that was by accident. One of his buddies from high school managed to get a crate of beers and after a few bad decisions later they ended up with his truck stuck in a ditch in the middle of nowhere. Peter had to walk two miles in the dark to find a payphone, his dad wasn’t exactly pleased when he heard the news to say the least.
Peter smirked to himself at the memory. He found himself reminiscing a lot about home throughout the journey, he knew he would miss it, he’d miss helping out his dad around the farm, he’d miss his moms fussing and the smell of pancakes and syrup on Sunday mornings before church. He’d miss his friends and his small town, meeting up at the baseball field to drink stolen beer and smoke Lucky Strikes.
The memories were good, they gave him something real to hold on to. He knew he was a cliché, the smothered boy destined to be more, running away to the big city to make a go of it. He almost liked the cliché; it was as if he had a script to follow on his grand adventure. It bolstered his confidence, his beloved cliché and the memories of home, sedating the nerves building in the pit of his stomach as the city grew larger and larger in the distance.
* * * * *
By the time the bus crawled into the greyhound station, the sun had disappeared behind the horizon turning the sky bruised purple in colour. The passengers began to resurrect around Peter as they all breathed a collective sigh of relief at the promise of fresh air and the opportunity to stretch their cramped legs. One by one, they slowly disembarked the bus, pulling their luggage in tow, until it was finally Peters turn. He supressed a groan as the pins and needles burned through his leg muscles but soldiered on, hauling his suitcase off the seat and shuffled down the aisle until he stood facing the doors. He hesitated briefly, eyeing the sidewalk below, a multitude of people streamed in both directions beyond the threshold. It was the most people Peter had ever seen in one place and he couldn’t deny how intimidating it looked.
“C’mon kid, you’re holdin’ up the line!” grumbled the driver from behind him.
Peter jumped slightly at his words, looking back down the güvenilir bahis aisle to be met by a dozen or so scowls from the remaining passengers. He took a deep breath, clutching his suitcase tightly in hand before he stepped out onto the sidewalk.
He was immediately struck by two things; the broiling heat was first. It was almost dizzying; the air was dry and almost choking to breathe. Uncomfortable heat emanated from the walls and pavement after being baked in the hot sun all day. Next was the sheer volume, the cacophony of voices, shouting and laughter. Motorcars tore down the boulevard, sounding their high-pitched horns. Glasses clattered from inside the many bars that lined the sidewalk. It was almost deafening, but the hesitation Peter felt a moment before was now replaced by an exhilarating excitement. The boulevard was alive, and Peter felt himself come alive with it.
“Now what?” he thought to himself, his mind racing with possibilities. He wandered a few paces down the sidewalk, his vision blurred with the dazzling lights on the theatre marquis.
There was a sudden clunk and he felt something briefly tugging at his suitcase.
“WATCH IT!” shouted a suited man, brushing off his pinstriped pants dramatically.
“I should find a motel…” he decided, beginning to feel the weight of the suitcase on his arm.
* * * * *
After about an hour of walking Pater saw a glowing neon sign in the distance reading, Flamingo Motel. He squinted at the pink text, thankfully seeing there were vacancies available.
The weight of his suitcase was starting to become a nuisance as he made his way into the small parking lot. He took a look around, it was an apartment complex in an L-shape, rising three stories each bordered with a long balcony walkway.
“Good enough!” he thought to himself, excited by the prospect of a bed to fall into.
There was a small door on the first floor with an open sign hanging from a nail, as well as a payphone next to it, he made a mental note to call his parents and let them know he was safe.
Approaching the door, he gave a brief polite knock before walking in. The inside was drab, smoke hung low in the air and he stifled a cough. Wallpaper was peeling off the walls and the carpet felt sticky beneath his feet. There was a small desk against the back wall with a door behind it covered in a smattering of loose papers, a cash register and a bell. Peter walked over and rang the bell, resting his suitcase by his feet.
A few minutes passed and still no answer, he rang the bell again.
Almost immediately the door swung open.
“Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time” said the woman who appeared, Peter blushed slightly in embarrassment. She hobbled her way to the small stool on the other side of the desk and plodded onto it with a huff.
She must’ve been in her fifties Peter guessed. He dwarfed her easily, only standing just below six feet himself. She was a portly woman, dressed in what must’ve been the motels uniform, an ill-fitting navy polo shirt with a pink flamingo embroidered onto the breast pocket with a name tag on the opposing side that read, Peggy. She had red hair, tied up into a sticky bun that matched her lusty shade of lipstick which stained the cigarette butt that rested on her bottom lip. She stared at Peter through lazy eyelids, mouth agape.
“Whadda ya want, kid?” She asked, seeming exasperated by his mere presence.
“Um… a room, please?” he replied, now feeling a little uncomfortable.
“No güvenilir bahis siteleri shit” She rolled her eyes, “I meant a single or double”.
“Oh, uh, a single, please?” he chuckled nervously but her face was unmoving.
They settled on a price and Peter opened his wallet, looking at the small wad of bills, he had worked pumping gas the summer after finishing high school in preparation for this very moment. He didn’t dare ask his parents for money, they were strong believers in independence and weren’t too hot about his plan to move to the city.
She snatched the bills out of his hand and tossed a little golden key down onto the desk before taking a long drag of her cigarette and blowing the smoke in Peter’s face. He stood for a moment in disbelief, his parents were conservative Christians and hammered home the whole good manners thing at a very young age. He scooped up the key, grabbed his suitcase and left the office without thanking her; probably for the first time in his life.
Beyond the door, he examined the key, there was the number sixteen imprinted in the metal, so he began the accent up to the third floor. Many of the rooms he passed were dark, ghostly voices came from a few and some distinctive grunting from others.
Room sixteen was located on the top floor at the very end of the balcony, although he wasn’t thrilled about climbing the stairs over and over again, he was grateful for the privacy it afforded him. He fumbled with the lock for a moment until it eventually clicked open. He flipped on the light switch and dropped his suitcase by the door.
It was similarly as drab as the office, stained and peeling wallpaper lined the walls in a shade of cream, there was a single bed in the middle of the room with crumpled sheets and stained pillows. He crinkled his nose, it smelled dusty. There was circular wooden table with a chair next to the window on which he tossed the key before venturing in a bit further. The bathroom was through a door on the back wall. He was hit with the stench of bleach as he entered. It has the usual amenities. Apart from the mould on the shower curtain, it appeared clean enough.
Peter sighed loudly, only realising in that moment how exhausted he was, his eyes stung slightly in the fluorescent bathroom lighting through tiredness. He loosened the top two buttons of his shirt and splashed some water on his face, running his wet fingers through his hair.
He looked back at himself in the mirror. He was handsome, or so that’s what his mom told him, with deep green eyes and sandy brown hair which he kept short. His skin was lightly tanned from all those hours working the land with his dad. He wiped the water from his face, running his fingers over his full lips, noticing the peach fuzz on his top lip. His dad had never been able to grow a beard, so he wasn’t holding out much hope for it to ever become anything more.
His belly growled angrily at him as he fixed his hair again in the mirror. He decided to change out of his sweaty clothes and go grab burger from a dinner he passed earlier that day, resolving to call his parents on his way out.
After a quick change, he patted down his pockets, checking for his wallet and a quarter for the payphone before taking the key from the table and setting off down the stairs.
Halfway down the second flight he heard a voice coming from the payphone, there was a man stood there, holding the phone to his ear with one hand and resting against the wall with the other.
Not iddaa siteleri trying to be rude, Peter walked past him and pretended to busy himself reading the notice board next to the office door and waited for his turn to use the phone.
“Okay, goodnight sweetheart, daddy loves you too, put mommy back on the phone” the man spoke into the phone, Peter glanced over in his direction to see him smiling to himself.
“Hey babe — yeah — it’s gonna be at least another two weeks yet — we’re waiting on a few more shipments”
The conversation was fragmented but Peter guessed he was stuck here with work, he guessed he was in construction by the looks of him.
“C’mon babe, don’t be like that — What? Don’t be ridiculous! — Wait! Don’t!” The man took the phone away from his ear and stared at it blankly for a moment before cursing and slamming it back on the receiver.
The sudden burst of aggression shocked Peter and he recoiled slightly, the man turned to look at him and Peter met his gaze.
He must’ve been in his late forties guessed Peter. He was a good few inches shorter than the man and definitely didn’t match his size or strength. His shoulders were broad with big strong arms, and his chest puffed outwards, his job must’ve kept him in shape, or at least partially. He was softer around the gut with a beer belly that protruded to about the same length of his chest. Peter noticed brown curls of hair escaping from the top of his shirt and on his forearms and realised how intimidating this man was. He was almost frightened of him.
“Sorry, kiddo, trouble with the wife, ya know?” sighed the man to Peter, who awkwardly chuckled in response. In reality, he didn’t know, he’d never had a girlfriend, he’d managed to kiss Betty Taylor at homecoming a few years ago but that was pretty much the extent of his knowledge of women.
“It’s why I like to stay here…” continued the man with a sly grin, nodding up towards the luminescent Flamingo sign overhead, as he looked Peter up and down.
The correlation between the two statements confused Peter slightly as he just stared back at the man dumbfounded. The man smirked at bemused look on his face before taking a few strides forward, closing the distance between them.
“I’ve got a few bottles of beer back in my room, if you’re interested?” said the man, dropping his voice to a growl. He out his hand on Peter’s shoulder and let it trail down his arm before rubbing it gently for a moment.
Peter was a total dear in the headlights. He had no idea what was going on and was paralysed with shock. The man was so close he could smell him, and it wasn’t exactly pleasant, he smelled of sweat and cheap cologne, but what shocked Peter even more was that he didn’t exactly hate the smell. He was staring at him expectantly with a look Peter hadn’t ever seen before and he tried to say something, but he couldn’t a sound to come out of his mouth.
The office door suddenly swung open as Peggy walked out and looked over at the two of them. The man quickly let go of Peter, walking away quickly with his chin firmly planted in his chest. Peter just stood, staring back at Peggy as he felt his legs start to shake. They were silent for a while as Peter regained his composure.
“You ain’t a sissy, are ya?” asked Peggy through suspicious eyes.
“What? NO!” blurted out peter in shocked response.
“I wouldn’t recommend hanging around payphones in motel parking lots at night then” replied Peggy, sounding more accusatory than like she was giving actual advice.
At that, Peter ran past her and back up the stairs towards his room, abandoning his plans for dinner and a phone call home.
All the while trying to conceal the hard on tenting his pants…