My Hot Springs Hookup

Author's Foreword: This is as close to an autobiographical episode as I'll ever write. I did indeed experience divorce during covid and there were things going on as this happened that I have wanted to get out of my head. The focus here is really more on the weird things of everyday living through that period as well as the emotions from getting back out in the world.

I suppose there are two important things to keep in mind, now that I've shared: first, believe that everything included in this story happened exactly as I've written it here, and second, realize that not one thing in this story is true in any fashion. It's fantasy. It's a fiction imagined while I lived through these two events -- both of which have certainly left a mark on me. This story is an amalgamation of many people, places, events, and feelings directly or peripherally in my life's journey during the two-plus years of the pandemic.

The first draft of this story was a patchwork of ill-fitting sections written in haphazard order with disparate tones and poorly placed rants. Since this was the longest story I'd written to date, I knew the editing was going to be an absolute nightmare. My editor for this, lonewolf68alpha, didn't complain though. They were an excellent partner in shaping this monstrosity into a coherent story and stamping out a ton of continuity and grammatical errors. Additionally, their ideas, comments, and edits brought balance and consistency that I could have never managed in a month of Sundays.

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After a year of living under the specter of COVID-19 and the fear of catching it lurking in every human interaction spaced fewer than six feet away, something inside me broke. I had to get away. Away from the innumerable Zoom calls. Away from the lack of meaningful human interaction. And away from the loneliness of working from home in a house without life.

Prior to the pandemic, I had been married. Not happily married, but still married. My then-wife served me divorce papers and we were about to mediate a settlement when we first heard of SARS-CoV-2. Life under COVID had begun and I agreed to move out of the house until the divorce was finalized.

I moved into the city to be closer to the office. Of course, in hindsight, this turned out to be a silly decision as the downtown offices all closed within a few weeks of my decision, but I didn't know it when I moved out. So, I found myself with a three-month lease in a high-rise apartment. The tenants of which all seemed to be twenty years younger than me, which wasn't that hard to tell, even masked up.

What made living there difficult was that theyall seemed to be having sexall the fucking time. The apartments on either side of me and across the hall had some horny mother fuckers going at it all the time and at all hours. I vowed to stay faithful until the divorce was finalized, but it was difficult not to be jealous as hell at everyone rutting like animals, especially when I hadn't gotten laid in over a year.

Even if I hadn't gone the celibate route willingly, the beginning of the lockdown was a period of paranoia -- no one was taking a chance on meeting new people. If you had a boyfriend, girlfriend, husband, wife, or whatever the first few months of the pandemic, you were set up. If you didn't have someone at that point, you just went without for a while.

I could hear my neighbors' conversations through the walls pretty clearly and one twenty-something girl on the other side of my bedroom wall was especially vocal during sex. I jerked off multiple times to her dirty talking and moans and I even came the same time as her on multiple occasions. People were pretty paranoid about being around strangers because of the pandemic so I never ended up close enough to any of my neighbors to really see them or make eye contact. I had no idea if they were physically attractive, but their sounds certainly affected me. I was an excruciatingly sexual being that, over the last several years of my marriage, had nearly no sexual activity to show for it despite an ever-increasing appetite.

But I had never considered getting a divorce or cheating on my wife. When you got married, it was supposed to be for better or worse, right? It didn't really matter if I was hypersexual and she wasn't. What mattered was that what we had built over twenty years was deeper and more meaningful than just physical needs and if that was the bad, there was more than enough good in other places. Until there wasn't. But my sexual appetites and needs still existed in raging fashion and without outlet.

Anyway, after three months of working from home in that environment, the wife and I had worked through mediation, agreed to the terms of the divorce, and had a final order from the judge to use ex- when we referred to the other. I took off my ring, put it in an envelope, and left my downtown apartment. Within a month, I had purchased a house and moved my portion of the old household in.

And so that's how I lived for the next six months. No wife and no kids. I didn't have a dog. I didn't have a cat. I didn't even have a goldfish. What I had was work and a need to not dwell on the fact that I had little else.

But at the twelve-month mark, I was more than a little itchy. It was a Wednesday morning and within 15 minutes of getting out of bed, I grabbed a duffle bag, threw a week's worth of clothes and my toiletry bag in it, jumped in my truck, and started driving northwest. I called my boss and told him I had a family emergency out of town and that I'd be back in Atlanta and on the clock in a week. I muted my emails and turned on the Do Not Disturb to limit the interruptions.

I drove until I almost ran out of gas. I filled up and kept going. By early afternoon, I was entering the outskirts of Nashville. I planned on grabbing lunch at Prince's Hot Chicken Shack and killing enough time until I could check in to a hotel. I figured that I'd have to take my food to go and eat in the truck, but when I lucked out and grabbed one of the few available tables, I was able to take my time enjoying hot tenders, greens, fries, and sweet tea. Being away from my routine and at least in the vicinity of other adults and able to enjoy a great lunch put a charge in me.

I headed downtown and checked into the Hilton. I wanted a nice room with a great bed and knew I had plenty enough points banked to cover it. I might not have done a lot of traveling since the covid outbreak, but I had done more than my fair share in the twenty years prior. I knew enough about the area to not have to ask around on what there was to see and do. After I put my stuff in the room, I walked to Centennial Park which was a haul, but I wanted to work off the unhealthy lunch. The April weather was cool but pleasant. I just enjoyed sitting on the grass and people-watching for a few hours and I could do it without the restrictions of wearing a mask for most of the time.

As the sun disappeared from the sky, I made my way back downtown so I could wander from honkytonk to honkytonk on Broadway until I was honkeytonked out and well-lubricated. Around midnight, I made my way back to the hotel, took a long, super-hot shower, and fell asleep probably 15 seconds after turning on the TV to see what I had missed in the real world during the day.

I was up at 6:30 am as usual, though a little worse for the wear. I wet my hair to tame the rather scary bedhead I had going, brushed my teeth, and packed up my bag. I checked my phone and scanned through the scores of emails and a handful of missed calls. Not seeing anything important, I checked out, stowed my bag in the truck, and walked to Pancake Pantry for breakfast. It was too busy for the restricted seating, so I grabbed my food to go and ate off my tailgate under a cloudy sky.

When I got underway, I headed west and got gas when I needed gas. A little later, I stopped to go to the bathroom and grab something to drink. By 11:00 am, I was in the city limits of Memphis and figured I'd do another day similar to the previous, though I needed some help from the Internet to figure out what to do and where to go this time. The reason was simple enough: I didn't know Memphis nearly as well.

Continuing to stay with burning my Hilton points, I checked into the downtown DoubleTree. The room wasn't ready so I left my bag with the bellman and talked to the concierge about my day in town. After a few minutes of discussion, I decided on a day of music, museums, and gardens. Those sounded like the best mix of fun and manageable through social distancing. There was no way in hell I was going to try to visit Graceland all masked up and six feet apart. That would wait until after the threat of covid has passed or never in my life, but certainly not today.

My first stop was the Stax Museum. My parents had a Booker T and the MG's album that I had worn out as a kid, so of course, that was going to be my first stop. It was walkable, but I was planning too much to fit in under foot power alone. After an hour there, I called another Uber to save some walking time. After lunch, near the University of Memphis campus, I strolled to and around the Botanic Gardens for an hour or so until I called my final rideshare of the day to get me back downtown. I had her drop me off at the Blues Hall of Fame. It was about 3:30 pm after I finished and I walked up to Beale Street to do the Memphis Music Hall of Fame and the Rock 'n' Soul Museum, but since they both closed at 5:00 pm, I couldn't do both. I finished the Rock 'n' Soul Museum just before they closed up and was pretty worn out from the day.

I headed back to the hotel so I could shower before heading back down Beale Street for another evening of local cuisine and music, though much different than the Nashville scene and much more in line with my music tastes. I didn't make it as long into the evening, though, and crashed before 11:00 pm and had the soundest sleep I'd been able to manage in months.

Unfortunately for me and what could have been a wonderful extended sleeping-in period, I forgot to pull the curtains the night before. At 7:04 am, the sun announced its presence through a northeast-facing window with the visual equivalent of "Rise and shine, sleepy head!" I didn't bother to fight it. I just threw on some comfortable clothes, brushed my teeth, packed up, checked out, and started driving west. Once I was out of town, I stopped for gas and while waiting for the tank to fill, I looked at my destination options: Tulsa, Oklahoma City, Dallas, Houston, or New Orleans.Ugh, is that it? Then I saw it.Hot Springs, Arkansas. That was it. That was my next stop. I knew it in my bones, though I couldn't provide any reason to feel that way. The pump clicked, breaking me out of my reverie and signaling the end of the refilling cycle. Back in the truck and on the road again, I blasted through Little Rock just after 9:30 am and kept on until I hit Hot Springs mid-morning.

After a few minutes of searching for things to do on my phone, I headed up to the Mountain Tower. The thought of waiting for my turn in an elevator packed loosely under social distancing wasn't appealing, but I was more interested in parking close to the trails and the availability of an old-school paper map which was quick enough to secure. I threw on my small backpack filled with some trail mix, protein bars, and water and got started hiking. The sun was out and trails were easy so I took a very leisurely pace. This was more about serenity than exercise so I took a pace that matched that intent. The lack of any real technical sections allowed me to enjoy the views and process the events of my life in recent months. I kept my mask on my ear as I walked and when I neared other hikers, I put my mask up until we were well separated. I just kept going until I had hit the majority of the trails and my legs were sore and my water was gone. It was just after 5:00 pm when I made it back to my truck and found a place to sit and eat in an isolated corner, continuing the same feeling of solitude from the trail. In these environs, though, I could do it without a mask on.

It was around this point that I realized that I had started to relax. I hadn't felt the tension leave my body at any point in the last three days, but I could certainly feel the lack of it now. Driving, hiking, and everything else related to traveling had given me the time to reflect on my life and its recent changes that I had avoided while I focused so much on work over the last year.

Three days weren't enough to fix my problems, but it was enough to bring some beginnings of clarity to me. I hated my ex-wife. Maybe I didn't hate her, but I didn't love her anymore. And I realized that feeling that way was probably okay. I didn't have to feel bad that I had failed at being married. I did feel bad, but I knew I didn'thave to. It was the product of two people, not the fault of only one.

I had held on to a lot of anger, resentment, and loathing toward myself and others. I knew that I didn't want to hold on to all of that. I didn't know exactly how to get past it, but I considered it a win to decide it was more important to drop those burdens rather than to keep carrying them. I knew that continuing to avoid looking inward and to use work as an excuse wasn't going to solve anything. I also knew that not getting laid in nearly two years was a problem but that worrying about it hadn't resulted in any progress on that front. It would happen when it happened and not a moment sooner.

It was with these new realizations and a rather Zen mindset to allow me some peace from my ever-increasing sexual urges that I pulled into the DoubleTree hotel on the Ouachita River. What tenuous hold I had on that peace went right out the fucking window as soon as I walked up to the check-in desk.

"Hi! Welcome to the DoubleTree! How can I help you this afternoon?" the chipper, feminine, and semi-muffled voice asked from behind the desk.

I was glad for the mask that covered my non-functioning mouth. What I could see in front of me was a bright-eyed, petite blonde with fair and clear skin, minimal makeup, and a massive mane of unruly dirty blonde curls. Her figure and arms were very slender, but she had a gargantuan pair of tits sitting unnaturally high on her chest and straining the limits of every square inch of her fitted blouse. The mask kept me from knowing if she was "cute," but I could guess from her eyes and figure that she was in her late twenties or early thirties.

I must have stared too long because she leaned forward and asked again a little more gently. I composed myself and found my voice, requesting to check in for three days. She was very pleasant, though all business. When she offered a first-floor room away from the water, I mentioned hoping for an upper-floor room with a view of the river. She apologized sweetly a few times, but that was as close as I was going to get to the most in-demand rooms in the hotel.

I settled in my room and took a shower. I tried watching TV afterward, but half the channels didn't want to come in and the half that did weren't showing anything interesting. I headed to the lobby to look at the rack of brochures. The lobby at 10:00 pm probably looked exactly the same as it would at 3:00 am -- completely devoid of guests. Talking heads spewed ire on events that only mattered to rich people as the TV stood at the ready to provide entertainment should anyone wander in. I stayed at the periphery of the lobby as I pulled interesting brochures to review in more detail shortly.

"Don't skip Garvan Gardens," a familiar female voice said soothingly from behind. Soothing didn't mean that I wasn't startled though. I spun quickly to face her, dropping the few brochures I was holding.

"Oh, Geez! Sorry about that, Mr. Nash!" she apologized as we both squatted to pick up the wayward glossy pamphlets.

"No problem..." I looked for her nameplate for something to call her but it was obscured from view, so I continued without it. "...I got lost in having the place to myself, I guess." I motioned to the expanse of the empty lobby.

"Yeah, I figured. I get bored around this time and when I saw you on the monitor, I thought I'd try to help." Finished with our collecting, we stood simultaneously and I collected her mini-pile and added it to mine. Her nameplate was clearly visible now. It read, "Hannah."

I figured that I'd enlist her help. "Well, if that's the case, why don't you grab one of each of the best and then help me sort out the ones I should do while I'm here?" I started toward a table a few feet away. Once I was seated, I watched her finish her selections and got my first good look at the rest of her. She was wearing a dark stretchy skirt that fell below her knees, dark tights, and black closed-toe heels. While I tended to like an hourglass figure, her petite and slight frame, unspread hips, and fairly flat butt -- coupled with that crazy mane of blonde hair and a balcony you could watch Carmen from -- was an erotic sight to behold. She was just a collection of youthful markers in a rare and perfect combination.

She suggested we spread them all out and while she stood beside me staring at the collection for a few seconds, I got a quick whiff of something like spicy apple. Thank goodness we had to wear these masks because I was sure it kept me totally safe from contagion while allowing me to experience the scent of her shampoo easily.

We chatted about the different options and my interests. When she started asking questions, I motioned toward a chair at the table. Once she was sitting opposite me, I answered with my preferences and tried to turn it back on her to see what she liked. She was more of an outdoors type, which surprised me given her fair skin. We had similar tastes, which made it easier. I had her eliminate the ones she didn't think were that great which seemed to winnow everything down to a manageable pile.

It was Hannah that veered off topic first. "So... How did you end up here? There are a lot of places closer to Atlanta than us, that's for sure."

I stared at her blankly.

She looked down at the brochures before continuing, "Sorry, I, um... Well, I shouldn't have said that. It's just something I noticed from your reservation when I checked you in."

I sighed. It was the first time in a long time that someone asked a personal question of me. It was even longer still since I had felt like sharing with anyone. I felt a spark with this girl, but I knew that pull to be more wishful thinking than anything else. I hadn't even seen her face, for heaven's sake.

"Dumb luck, if anything I guess." All of a sudden, my face felt burning hot and drawing a breath became unbearable. I pulled the mask from my face and drew a cool breath. I left it hanging from my ear as I asked, "Are you going to put me in jail if I talk without this stupid thing on?"

She shook her head from side to side slowly and ever so slightly. "Go ahead. I'd love to join you, but if they catch me on the camera, I'll get fired." Her eyes were smiling. I smiled back.

"Look, I've had a...well, let's just say that it's been a rough year. And for more reasons than just the pandemic. I needed a break so I just got in my truck and started driving."

"I know what that's like. I've tried it, too, but the furthest I ever got was Tulsa." She chuckled, but then got solemn. "What's happened to you this year?"

"You mean besides covid? Isn't that enough?" I retorted.

She tilted her head and stayed quiet.

"I got divorced last year," I said softly.

"Shit. I'm sorry. How long were you together?"

"Almost twenty years," I sighed.

There was a long pause. I had been in my head while I shared the last few items so I didn't realize I had been looking at my hands. I brought my head up and she was staring at me intently.