EROTICA / ADULTERY
Cheating in a Roadside Motel
I checked into a motel to take a break from my marriage. And opened my legs for a stranger.
“That’ll be forty for the night.”
I pull my wallet from my purse and thumb through my bills. The last time I checked into a roadside motel was over a decade ago when I road-tripped across the country with my college roommate. Back then, I practically lived in a pair of denim cut-offs and wore eyeliner like war paint, my nails painted black and perpetually chipped. Now, I’m in a boring beige dress with matching nude heels, my dark hair is pulled back in a tasteful knot, just the way my husband likes it. And this whole ensemble makes me want to scream.
Once the clerk finishes counting out the cash, he slides a key across the counter and points to the door. “To the right and all the way to the end. Checkout’s at noon.”
I step outside to the sound of crickets and adjust my purse over my shoulder as I follow the lit walkway past numbered doors, my heels echoing against the pavement.
Up ahead, there’s a man leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette under the yellow light. He has a dark beard and he’s wearing a blue flannel shirt and jeans, so he’s probably a local. Local to where, I don’t…
