The Door is Open - Kings Cross

The door is open -- Kings Cross Motel

What???

Kings Cross Motel -- dress nice, bring cash

WTF is Kings Cross Motel???

Old highway, room 255, bring cash - - lots of cash

Why....

The door is open......

I tried to recall the Kings Cross Motel. There was a string of motels along the old highway just east of town, remnants of when the road was part of a cross-country highway. I tried to think of a reason she would want to meet me in one of these rundown places, the kind of stops along the outskirts of town that attracted the seedier side of life.

Following her instructions, which usually led to adventure in some way, I pulled a dark suit from my closet, added a white shirt and a middle-of-the-road tie, colorful, but not overpowering. Shoes were dark, maintaining a mood of formality. I was sure she would appreciate that. Stopping by an ATM on my way out of town, I pulled several twenty-dollar bills from the machine and placed them, neatly folded, in a gold money clip. It was a warm spring day, but I kept the windows up and the air conditioning on to preserve my neat look. The radio played Warren Zevon as I pulled into a gravel parking lot where a sign directed me to rooms 200 through 260. I parked near the base of a rusting iron-railed staircase and looked around a nearly empty lot for a moment, hoping this was the right place and that I was not walking into trouble. But then, she was usually trouble of some sort.

Climbing the stairs carefully, I dropped the shiny money clip, and the neatly folded twenties into the pocket of my slacks. At the top of the stairs, a narrow walkway cut the building in half, odd number rooms on one side, even numbers on the other. As I walked nervously down the dimly lit hallway, another man, well-dressed in a dark suit, shirt open at the collar and tie loose around his neck, strode toward me. As he neared, I noted the smell of cigarette smoke and the disheveled appearance, betraying his expensive suit. We passed each other, eyes averted in a knowing fashion. I felt a tightness in my stomach.

On reaching room 255, I noticed the door was, in fact, open, propped by a rickety fan blowing warm air from the room. I skirted the fan, unprepared for the scene. She was lying on the bed, button front shirt open to the waist over a loose tank top, mini-skirt pulled up high on her thighs above bright pink nylons. The room smelled of stale whisky, cigarettes, and sex. From a low dresser, a television played the local news on a low volume setting, next to it was a pile of condoms, empty wrappers, and twenty-dollar bills all piled together. I stood for a moment, just inside the door, taking in the scene while my mind played back to the man I passed on my way in. This wasn't the girl I knew. The eyes were the same behind garish eye-shadow, the hair was curled in unnaturally tight rings, the soft face was heavily sculpted with makeup.

"Fuck me like the whore you've made me." Her eyes bore into mine then I tried to recall the Kings Cross Motel. There was a string of motels along the old highway just east of town, remnants of when the road was part of a cross-country highway. I tried to think of a reason she would want to meet me in one of these rundown places, the kind of stops along the outskirts of town that attracted the seedier side of life.

Following her instructions, which usually led to adventure in some way, I pulled a dark suit from my closet, added a white shirt and a middle-of-the-road tie, colorful, but not overpowering. Shoes were dark, maintaining a mood of formality. I was sure she would appreciate that. Stopping by an ATM on my way out of town, I pulled several twenty-dollar bills from the machine and placed them, neatly folded, in a gold money clip. It was a warm spring day, but I kept the windows up and the air conditioning on to preserve my neat look. The radio played Zevon as I pulled into a gravel parking lot where a sign directed me to rooms 200 through 260. I parked near the base of a rusting iron-railed staircase and looked around a nearly empty lot for a moment, hoping this was the right place and that I was not walking into trouble. But then, she was usually trouble of some sort.

Climbing the stairs carefully, I dropped the shiny money clip, and the neatly folded twenties into the pocket of my slacks. At the top of the stairs, a narrow walkway cut the building in half, odd number rooms on one side, even on the other. As I walked nervously down the dimly lit hallway, another man, well-dressed in a dark suit, shirt open at the collar and tie loose around his neck, strode toward me. As he neared, I noted the smell of cigarette smoke and the disheveled appearance, betraying his expensive suit. We passed each other, eyes averted in a knowing fashion. I felt a tightness in my stomach.

On reaching room 255, I noticed the door was, in fact, open, propped by a rickety fan blowing warm air from the room. I skirted the fan, unprepared for the scene. She was lying on the bed, button front shirt open to the waist over a loose tank top, mini-skirt pulled up high on her thighs above bright pink nylons. The room smelled of stale whisky, cigarettes, and sex. From a low dresser, a television played the local news on a low volume setting, next to it was a pile of condoms, empty wrappers, and twenty-dollar bills all piled together. I stood for a moment, just inside the door, taking in the scene while my mind played back to the man I passed on my way in. This wasn't the girl I knew. The eyes were the same behind garish eye-shadow, the hair was curled in unnaturally tight rings, the soft face was heavily sculpted with makeup.

"Fuck me like the whore you've made me." Her eyes bore she gave an awkward, drunken wink. I considered the pile on the dresser, her obviously drunken state, the man leaving the motel, and an anger began to well up inside me. For months I had played along with her odd games and manipulation, dropping plans for a few moments of magic in her arms, answering texts at all hours, waiting breathlessly for the door to be open. Now this. I looked back toward the bed, she seemed to be dozing, legs splayed enough to see there was nothing under the skirt. Her smeared makeup barely hid the sweet innocence of her round face while she slept. I stuffed my hands deep in my pockets, feeling the money clip full of bills, and turned to leave. Just then I heard a rustling in the bedsheets and she called out to me. "Are you gonna fuck me or what? You got money, right? May as well take a turn while you can."

I turned slowly to see her easing the shirt from her shoulders with one hand and lift her skirt with the other. Her pussy lips were swollen and pink. One part of my mind hoped that sweet thing hadn't been plowed by the man who just left, another was trying to visualize her tossed across the bed, legs in the air, humping and pressing against him as he slammed into her over and over. Eventually the images began to win out and my anger grew.

"Have it your way." I grabbed a fresh wrapped condom off the dresser and threw it to her. I loosened my tie and a few buttons on my dress shirt. The foil packet landed on the bare skin of her stomach and she fumbled to find it with trembling hands. I laid my suit jacket neatly on a chair in the corner, "Use your teeth," I said as she tugged at the package. "A good whore would know that." Her eyes shot up to meet mine again. I gave my best sideways smile.

"On your knees, whore." She slid from the edge of the bed to kneel before me. I enjoyed the feeling of power this gave me, towering over her as her foggy eyes struggled to focus on my face. "You know what to do," I said matter-of-factly and her hand reached for my belt, which she tugged at, fumbling before finally releasing. She mumbled some curse words as she wrestled with the buttons and hooks on my dress pants, then the zipper. I chuckled slightly watching her struggles, not offering any help.

"This is as far as I go," she said through her fog, "until I get paid." I gave her a stern look.

"You don't think I'm good for it?" I reached into my pocket for the money clip.

"Been stiffed too many times," she said. "I don't trust no one." I pulled the bills from the clip and tossed a couple onto the dresser with the other bills and the pile of new and open condom wrappers. She looked up with a sadness in her eyes. I wasn't having it. At this point I was going to finish the game. I pushed my pants to the floor and then grabbed her shoulder and guided her back toward my rigid cock. She took a long moment before taking my cock in her hand and leaning forward.

"Not so fast," I interrupted. "Condom, I don't know where you've been." She gave me a confused look, almost hurt, then reluctantly grabbed the packet from the bed and began to tug at it once more between her hands. I shook my head and motioned toward my mouth in a pantomime biting motion. She placed the edge of the wrapper between her teeth and pulled the packet open. She was reaching out once again, for my stiff cock when I pulled back. "Mouth," I said. She understood and placed the rubber over my swollen head then closed her lips around it, advancing and unrolling the cover along the length of my shaft. I kept my eyes on her, watching every move, thinking how different she looked from this perspective, kneeling on the floor of a dirty motel room, hot and sweaty, matted hair and running mascara.

After a bit of work, she could not advance the roll of rubber with her mouth any further. She tried a couple times to force me deeper into her mouth but only gagged. She looked up with tears rolling from her eyes. I nodded approval. She wrapped her hands around the thickness of my cock and advanced the rubber the rest of the way down my shaft. She closed her eyes and gave a couple tentative tugs on my shaft before gently taking the head between her lips once more. Tentative at first, her enthusiasm increased as I thrust into her mouth. I pushed the loose shirt the rest of the way off her shoulders and touched the smooth skin, covered with a light sheen of sweat. As she picked up speed, I laced my fingers in her long hair. She moaned softly around the rod filling her mouth. Using my hand in her hair I began to guide her deeper, side to side, then holding her head as she stroked off my cock. She tried to push forward, to take me into her mouth again, but I held fast, letting her pull against my hand holding her hair firm. She only pulled harder as she moaned urgently. I pulled her to her feet, using my hand in her hair as leverage. Her mouth immediately went to lock on mine, but I steered her aside, sinking my teeth into the soft skin of her neck and shoulder. She gasped with surprise, then pain, then arousal at my teeth on her bare skin. She tried again to kiss me but I pulled her head back sharply. "I don't make out with whores."

She stepped back, stunned a bit, but her face showed understanding. She had started the game. She shrugged her shoulders and the shirt fell the rest of the way to the floor. Her hands reached out and her fingers worked the buttons on my dress shirt. She pulled it over my shoulders and buried her face in my chest, licking and biting alternately. A hand went to my rubber-clad cock which she pressed to her bare belly, squirming and wriggling against it. Her breasts pressed against me through the thin material of her tank top. I allowed this exploration, enjoying her fingers and lips and tongue on me. Eventually I wanted more. I place my hands squarely on her shoulders and gave her a playful yet firm shove and she landed on the bed, skirt flying up to display her damp pussy. She pulled her legs up to leverage her feet on the edge of the bed. Normally I would dive in for a taste of that wet slit, but today was different. I grabbed her legs under her knees and wrapped my arms around them. I pulled her to me so her ass was on the edge of the bed. She looked surprised as I lined up my cock with her lips. I gave her a quick smile and locked my eyes on hers as I sank into her in a single quick motion. She pulled back against the assault on her tightness. Determined, I held tight and continued to drive into her until I was fully inside. She held her breath and struggled, but I was offering no mercy. I pulled back and quickly dove in again to the hilt, slamming into her pubic bone. She let out a tiny yelp before quickly stifling any further sound. I held fast to her thighs and continued pounding into her.

I wasn't interested in her, her feelings, her pleasure, I didn't care. I was driving for myself and my pleasure, using her tight body. My hands clenched her thighs tighter, giving me leverage to thrust and ram into her. She had started this game, she was going to finish it. I opened my eyes to meet hers, but this time she was smiling a devilish grin. Her hands worked her firm breasts, pinching and tweaking her pink nipples, squeezing and rolling. As our eyes met, I noticed she was thrusting back to meet me on each stroke. She dropped a hand to her pelvis, between our thrusts, and her eyes widened as she found her clit with a finger. She continued sliding down to run her fingers along the sides of my cock as I thrust deep inside her, stroking me with every move. Her mouth broke into a smile as she whispered, "fuck me."

I released her legs to brace myself on her chest and she wrapped her legs around my waist, digging her heels into my ass and driving me harder into her tight wetness. Her arms wrapped around my neck, pulling her close to me. I felt her teeth sink into my neck and shoulder as I began to tense from the building orgasm. I quickly pulled out and stood beside the bed. She gave me a confused look for a moment as I peeled the rubber from my cock. I grabbed her tiny body and spun her to lay at the edge of the bed. I grabbed my slick cock in my hand and pumped a couple times before aiming at her face. She gave me a knowing look and placed her hand over mine to stroke my thickening rod. She arched her back, placing her face against me, rubbing my bare cock against her face, smearing layers or makeup until I felt the familiar spasms. I watched as my cock sprayed her mess of a face with thick hot cum. She continued pumping until the spasms subsided then milked the last remaining drops onto her wet lips. Her fingers pushed the mess into her mouth where she made a show of swallowing the gooey mess and licking her fingers.

I collected my clothes and dressed quickly, leaving a couple buttons open at my collar and not bothering to tighten my tie. She lay back on the bed, caressing her body gently with sticky fingers. I dug out the money clip and added another bill to the pile. "Until next time, babe," I called as I walked past the fan and out the open door.

On my way down the dimly lit hallway between rows of rooms I passed a well-dressed gentleman with a glint in his eye, we passed each other, eyes averted, and I wondered.