Hotel Amour

She said it with such gusto and it sounded so odd coming from her lips I believe my jaw dropped. Ron's did!

"Now, I have to warn you that some guests have not entirely taken to our red, amber and green system. They have evolved their own system and I'm afraid we have not entirely been able to convince them to, as it were, mend their ways. I hope you will use the lights for the purpose they were intended. It cost an arm and a leg to put them in and it's annoying that some guests seem less than appreciative. Ah well, the guest is king and queen. So, if you see a door left slightly ajar, this is the equivalent of an amber light. You may push the door aside, enter the hallway and watch. If a door is wide open, then, well it's the 'pile in' signal. 'We're up for anything', sort of thing."

"Now," Penelope said, as though talking to herself, 'have I covered everything? Yes! I think so. Do you have any questions?"

A mutual shaking of heads signaled a solid negative.

"Well then, you have your room keys. Your luggage has been taken to your room. I can only wish you a pleasant and enjoyable stay at Hotel Amour. It's your first, so it may take you a while to adjust to our ways here. But I am quite sure it will not be your last."

What could you do but shake a hand when it was proffered? And was it my imagination, or did Penelope draw me to her as we shook hands and whisper in my ear

'There's a separate entrance in the Ladies Room."

It was probably my imagination, but it would be easy to check.

"I thought you said they'd established this place so they could spice up their sex life?" I said, safely in the room, the door bolted, the red light on. I'd checked. It worked from without as from within.

"That's what it said on the website," Janet replied.

"That ...person? Has a sex life?"

"I know."

I was madder than a squad of hornet who's nest had been trodden on.. Six hundred bucks, for this? Hell, you can get a season ticket to the Raider's for that.

"I hope you're not in the mood for 'Amour', Janet," I said, striding across to check the patio doors were closed and the curtains drawn, "'cos if you are, you're on your own."

It was eight o'clock on a Friday night and I was stuck with this until Sunday. All sorts of recriminations crossed my mind, but, fortunately, not my lips. She'd be kicking herself. No need of help from me.

I threw off my shoes, sprawled out on the bed, grabbed the remote and channel-surfed. There must be some kind of a ball-game on.

"We could try the restaurant," Janet said timidly. "We're here. Let's at least try to make the best of it."

"How about order in pizza," I replied, thornily. "There must be a Domino's brochure in that pile."

There wasn't. Neither was there a phone book. Nor a phone!

"Who ever heard of a hotel without a phone?"

"I could try on my cell. If you really want pizza."

Frosty pause.

"Well I suppose we could try the restaurant," I said.

Maybe they would have some decent wine. I hoped so. There was no minibar in the room. It was the first thing I'd looked for.

I couldn't blame Ron for being mad. Hell, I was annoyed myself. Also confused. Had Penelope really whispered in my ear that there was a 'separate entrance in the Ladies' Room'? And if so, why? Was there also a separate entrance in the Men's room? I had to assume not. Otherwise, why whisper surreptitiously to me and not come out with it to us both?

To my intense relief, the restaurant was all that Penelope had said of it. I ordered the sole menuière and Ron had the veal 'cordon bleu'. Both were exquisite, as was the Bordeaux that Ron had chosen from a wine list that seemed to have no end. I hasten to confess that I am not a connoisseur of wines. But Ron fancies that he is and the mere fact that he ordered a second bottle comforted me. The weekend would not entirely be a 'bust'. Of course, a bottle and a half of wine was highly likely to catalyze slumber the moment we hit our room, but that was a small price to pay compared with late night movies and constant bitching about the squandering of money that was enough 'to get him a friggin' season ticket to the Raider's'.

About us, couples similar to ourselves dined, sometimes a deux, sometimes a quatre, and occasionally in larger groups. But they were all, as Penelope had said, regular couples. They spanned the spectrum. Naturally, I concentrated on the guys, and some were cute. But none would have been out of place in an upmarket restaurant anywhere in the Bay.

"I have to say," Ron said for the third time, "that this wine is divine."

"I'm real glad, Ron. Are you feeling more relaxed?"

"Yep! Your lady was not exaggerating. This is a truly excellent restaurant."

I had noticed Ron's eye roving. Sure, it was natural. He was casing out the ladies, as I was casing out the guys. On an impulse, I excused myself. I didn't need to go, but I had to find out.

God! I hadn't eaten well so long, I'd forgotten food could taste like that. What a wine list, too. It wasn't often that I'd had to guess. Maybe they were all that good. And the cognac -- out of this world.

OK. So it was over priced. But hell, what isn't these days that is worthwhile? I drifted effortlessly into sleep and dreamt of tomorrow, when I would have the steak au poivre with a vintage burgundy. And maybe, this time, an Armagnac. I'd heard it was good, but never in my life had I tried an Armangac....

I knew it. The goddam bastard hadn't even bothered to undress himself. He lay on his back in his shirt and shorts, snoring like a blast furnace.

I was at 'Hotel Amour' for this? The hell I was! I could frig myself off at home. I was damned if that was going to be it for my first night at Hotel Amour.

I slid off the bed, slipped into a loose dress -- nothing underneath -- and tiptoed barefoot for the door. There I looked back. Comatose. I knew him. Wive's do. He was out for the count. I slid back the bolt, hastened out of the room and stepped hesitantly into the corridor.

I checked each door as I passed by. No red lights. No amber or green ones either. But the door of 103 was - ajar? I paused, scarcely breathing. Ajar meant amber, and amber meant ...! Dare I? Did I want to?

Timidly I eased the door open and peered around its edge. A hallway. I tip-toed forward, my bare feet soundless on the plush pile. Gradually, my eyes adjusted to the light from a single, flickering candle. I stood transfixed, a steadying hand on the wall. The scene came slowly into focus. A woman lay on the king-sized bed, her legs splayed out wide. At the foot of the bed a man was kneeling. His arms were outstretched, caressing the woman's breasts. His head was embedded between the woman's thighs.....

I felt suddenly uncomfortable, an intruder. A loud moan from the woman did it for me. As silently as I had entered, I left the room. My heart was pounding. I wanted to watch, but I had to leave. Hell, maybe Ron was right. Maybe this was not 'our scene'.

I paused, undecided. I looked back along the corridor towards our room, cosy, secure. It was not too late. I could steal back, lock the door, switch on the red light, slip into bed. No-one would know. Almost, I lost my nerve. But it returned. I had not booked into the Hotel Amour to masturbate while Ron snored beside me. Hell, I'd done enough of that at home. The Green Door. I had to get behind the Green Door.....

God! My mouth felt like the bottom of a parrot's cage. Too much wine. I rolled off the bed and felt my way around it in the dark, heading for the bathroom, where I realized that I was still half dressed. Cursing, I discarded the remaining garments and spent a while in front of the cabinet. I looked like a wreck. A lot of wine, then. Janet would not be pleased. I felt ashamed. She had taken so much trouble. And where was romance? Drowned in red wine! I splashed cold water on my face, grimacing at the image in the mirror. No amount of staring improved what looked back. A shower? Maybe that would liven me up. It did. I stood under the shower, watching rivulets of hot water coursing down my body. Life slowly returned.

I examined my torso. Not bad, I thought, for someone whose life consists of sitting at a desk all day. OK, so no James Bond, but it could be a lot worse. I thought of Janet, lying asleep, disappointed, no doubt, because her plan had not worked out. Well it was not too late. I would surprise her. Drying myself thoroughly, I shaved my face, and on an impulse, took the razor down to my genitals. Hell, if she could shave her pubes, then so could I. Gingerly, I shaved the hair off my balls and around the base of my cock. It took forever. Which man would want an accident around those parts? But as I worked away it began to feel good. It turned me on for sure and surely, well, if this didn't turn her on, what would! She would see I had made a real effort for her. Then I drenched my body with various sprays I found in the cabinet behind the mirror. I felt true desire. For my beautiful wife, whose needs had brought us to this place, and which I had neglected. No more. What a turn on, to be woken gently by a husband, buck naked, sporting a full erection, and raring to go!

I worked so hard on my erection I damn near came. But I was determined. There would be no drooping. When she woke, 'he' would be there, in her face, as it were.

Nervously I eased the beads in the 'Chinese door' at the far end of the Ladies Room apart and peered through. It was dark 'Beyond the Green Door'. Stage-fright hit me again. It was still not too late. I glanced around. I honestly could not say what I would have done if someone had not entered the Ladies at that precise moment. That was it. I was not about to be caught peering through the Green Door like a frightened doe. As silently as I could, I slipped through into the corridor and stole stealthily along it.

I could see that the corridor opened out and recognized the flickering of candlelight. My stomach was turning over, but I was here now and I was going through with it -whatever 'it' was. I reached the end of the corridor and hastily stepped to one side, against the wall, fearful that whoever had entered the Ladies was right behind me.

I was in a large room, which may at one time have been a cellar. To my left, it was dark. Just the flickering light of the candles. But to my right, spotlights lit brightly an area in the far corner, a sort of raised dais, and on the dais stood a man and a woman. Bold as brass, for all the eye to see, they were stark naked, kissing passionately, he was stroking her breasts with one hand, his other between her legs. Her right hand rested on his shoulder and the left -- was stroking, fondling his penis, erect and proud.

I stood transfixed, emotions all over the place. Thrill, guilt, timidity - I swear this last would have won out, that I would have scuttled back through the Green Door and run back to my security blanket if I had not felt suddenly a hand on my shoulder.

"They're good. Don't you think?"

Penelope's voice! But not the Penelope I thought I knew. Her hair was down, her nude body, golden brown, scented, gleamed up at me. She reeked of sensuousness.

"'Exhibitionists' Corner' we call that," she said. Not my cup of tea, frankly, but I do so love to watch, when they do it well."

They did it well. There was not the faintest hint that they were performing. They were lovers, loving each other, as the good Lord intended - well, I suppose he would have approved if he'd been there! That they stood in the glare of the spotlights like actors on a stage seemed in no way to disturb the naturalness with which they caressed each other. Their absorption was total. That it was also aphrodisiacal I presume I do not need to recount.

Even Penelope's voice now sounded different, hard to sound pompous when you are stark naked! Sensuous.

"Asleep, is he?"

I nodded, guiltily glancing down.

"Men!" she sighed. Then,

"He'll come round. They always do. Don't be timid. Wander about. No-one will bother you - unless you want to be bothered," she added, with significance.

Another smile, an encouraging hand on my shoulder and she had left me, gliding across the heavily carpeted floor like a gazelle. Ron should see her now, I thought to myself.

My eyes were transfixed on 'Exhibitionists' Corner'. I moved towards the spotlight, staying close to the wall, which gave way, leading into an alcove. A quick glance within, hastily averted. The alcove was dim in the candlelight, but there was no doubt what was going on there, none whatsoever. My heart was pounding. I was not ready for this. This was not my scene. I crossed the alcove and reached the next one. I risked a glance. It was empty. Thankfully I slipped into it and sat down on the plush cushioning around its edge. Before me was a table, its top covered with some kind of velvety material, smooth, soft and gentle to my touch. The woman in the booth next door was lying on one of these as her partner pounded into her .... I tried to expel the image.

What was I doing here? What did I want? With privacy of sorts, inhibitions returned. Nevertheless, I could not keep my eyes off the couple on the dais. They were like magnets. She was working his penis seriously now, and the hand between her legs probed vigorously. She threw back her head, uttered a monosyllable that reverberated through the room, her thighs closed on her partner's hand and her body began to shake.

I found I was shaking too. My hand flew under my skirt in a vain attempt to stem the flow of fluid from my vagina.

And when the woman on the dais stopped shaking long enough to lie down on the table there, a table similar to the one in front of me in my alcove, and opened her legs wide ... Oh-Mi-God.........

Godammit! Where the hell was she? I tell you, unless you've been there you can't imagine how stupid a guy feels who gets his dick stiff as a flagpole and tries to interest a pillow in sex! A full palate of emotions swept over me. It took five seconds for the light to dawn. Behind the Green Door, that was where she was!

God knows what else I would have thought if at that moment a voice had not sounded from the hallway of our room.

"Be a shame to waste that, doncha think?"

I whirled around to find a woman peering into the room. At her shoulder, a man. Both were naked. Their bodies gleamed in the dim light. Especially her body gleamed. Her eye was fixed solidly on my erection, to which I realized she had referred.

"Er, the door was ajar," the man said, catching my confusion. "We weren't sure..."

I'm proud to say I recovered quickly. If Janet was behind the Green Door, then what the hell!

"Come in, join the party," I said, with bravado.

"If you don't mind," the man said with a sigh, staring down dolefully at a limp dick, 'it's been a long night. I do like to watch, though. Shall we light a candle or two?"

He was so gentle it took my breath away. He entered her and withdrew slowly, deliberately, on and on and on..... She sighed in syncopation. This was not contrived, no 'show'. Real people, 'a couple just like us', real sex.

I thought my head was going to burst. I could not breathe. I could not bear to watch. It was driving me crazy. I had to leave. It was not a rational thought, but it was my resolve nevertheless, at the time: to return to our room, wake the bastard up, suck his dick until the pips squeaked and fuck him stupid. Well, something like that.

Feigning calmness, I returned through into the Ladies and hastened along the corridor. The door to 112 was ajar. Wrong room? I checked my memory. No, 112 it was. Had I in my attempt to be so quiet neglected to close the door properly? Nervously I inched into the corridor.

What was this? Candlelight? I emerged into the room. It took a while for my brain to register. Was that my husband, lying on his back, beneath a woman whose rump rose and fell in regular rhythm, and with force? And were those her grunts, or his or....

"Ah! The lady doth arrive. What perfect timing!"

He spoke as he arose, stroking his erection.

Terrified, I ran away. Yes I did. Barefooted as I was, my vagina still drooling, I ran away from that scene out of the room and along the corridor.....

Where to go? There was nowhere to hide. This was Hotel Amour. I did it to myself.

Janet returned at the worst possible moment. I was only dimly aware of her entry because I was on the verge of shooting a second load into Denise's delightful cunt, this time upwards rather than downwards. I had never in my life felt so horny. I didn't even know one could feel this horny. Denise was also on the edge and both of us were oblivious to our surroundings. We just humped on until our orgasms subsided.

I felt bad for George. I could tell he fancied Janet in spite of the brevity of her appearance. But I'm sure Denise made it up to him when they got back to their room. Hell, she had enough gas in her for a football team! Jesus! What a gal!

"What was I supposed to do? You brought us here, you sneaked out on me, you left the door open. It was you I wanted to surprise. I spent ages preparing. And then I spring out on - a pillow! You have disappeared, and just at that moment George and Denise appear. Was I supposed throw them out?"

I was sullenly silent. Ron was right, but I was damned if I was going to admit it. After all, I'd only looked, he had actually gone and done it. And, far from apologetic, he gave the appearance of the cat who had licked off all the cream.

He tried to snuggle up.

"Give me a mo' and I'll make it up to you."

"Don't touch me," I said testily.

Hell, second in line? Which woman wants that? Besides, my vagina was as dry as the sands of the Sahara. At that moment I was sure I would never ever be able to fuck him again. Maybe I would never be able to fuck any man again.

He gave up, rolled over and began to snore.

I could have killed him.

Breakfast was gruesome.

"Look, let's at least talk about it," I said. The restaurant was sparsely populated. Breakfast, it seemed, was not popular at Hotel Amour. Quelle surprise!

I have to own up. I could not see her point of view. She had snuck off behind the Green Door when I was asleep, and yet I was the one in the dog-house!? I guess I never will understand the psychology of women.

"What's to talk about?" she replied.

"Hell, Janet. Don't be like that. You know very well. Why did we come here? Hotel Amour. It was your idea. You booked us in. Why?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," she responded, coldly.

"So what's changed?"

She did not answer.

"Who wanted to 'spice up' our sex life, me or you?"

"Hah! You call screwing a total stranger 'spicing up our sex life'? Typical! It wouldn't have been so bad if you had not so obviously enjoyed it. I saw you. You never looked like that with me. Now I know what was wrong. I just don't turn you on. Let's face it. Our marriage is a sham."

I thought she was about to cry then, so I remained silent. She didn't cry, but it was clear there was nothing I could say at the time that would have made any difference. And if the truth be known, she was not wrong. I had enjoyed sex with Denise in a way I had not with Janet. There was an animalness to it - I can't think of any other way of describing it - that was foreign to me. That George, Denise's 'significant other' was watching by choice had made no difference to me and did not seem to impress Janet. How I would have felt if Janet had succumbed to George's advances, if he had made her come in a way that I could not? This I did not ask myself.

I had to get hold of myself. I needed time, space. Ron didn't understand, but neither did he object. He was very patient.

I told him I was taking a drive to 'clear my head'. No, he was not invited along. I wanted to be alone.