Psychological Story Contest

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First Come-First Served


Blake and Dodie knew that the accommodations at the Dandelion motel wouldn’t be anything like the rooms they were used to, but it didn’t matter. In the past, Holiday Inn and Hyatt were the havens for their meetings, but the Dandelion was off the beaten path--where it had to be this time.

The changing leaves of autumn swirled around on the blacktop parking lot. A partial sun was overmatched by the hard gusts that kicked the gutter trash along the street. Styrofoam cups, hamburger boxes, plastic cup lids, beer cans, the indestructible filter tips of cigarettes, scraps of newspapers. bottle caps, and gum wrappers tumbled about fitfully by the erratic wind.

“You wait here, Baby. I’ll go get us checked in, okay?” said Blake. Dodie squeezed his arm and smiled.

“Of course, my love. Just don’t be too long, our time together is too short as it is, " she cooed.

“I know.” He leaned over and kissed her on the lips. “Be right back.”

The weekend was theirs. It was perfect as far as Dodie was concerned, still it just wasn’t enough. She was tired of sneaking around. She felt like a common street whore every time they did this, yet she couldn’t turn away from Blake. He was her love-- her soul mate. A very attractive woman, Dodie’s social circles had never called for her to play motel roulette.

With long, honey-colored hair and a wide mouth with a petulant lower lip, and big blue eyes, she was not in any way fat, but big and well-proportioned--sumptuous and resilient. Gold hoop earrings dangled from her ears, framing her beautiful face while a thin gold chain with a small heart clung to her pale white neck and nestled between her ample breasts. She trembled with energetic awareness of her body and the way it would be fawned over, very soon.

Wearing black slacks, she also wore a white blouse and a salmon blazer. It was dressy enough. She knew she looked good, no matter the clothes. Flipping the rearview mirror around, she checked her makeup. Maybe some regular pink lipstick would be better. The new glossy stuff was hard to see, but it would do. She flipped the mirror back in place and fished a cigarette out of her purse.

This couldn’t be more perfect. Brad’s up north hunting. He has no idea I haven’t loved him for so long. Brad doesn’t know and doesn’t care. He’s clueless and that’s best all the way around. I’ll be able to claim mental cruelty and get everything in the divorce. Everything. It was perfect. Blake was her true love; he was Dodie’s here and now, not the past. We’ve got the whole weekend to ourselves.

At forty-two, Blake looked like an aging surfer who couldn't let it go. Deeply tanned, he had a clean-shaven face and hazel eyes that were set in a rugged face. A celebrity look-alike contest would most likely label him Keifer Sutherland. He loved himself; his personal perception of his rigid jaw line and Kirk Douglas-like dimpled chin cultivated his admiration constantly. He was the type of guy who felt his testicles swell up when he looked in the mirror. Even though he knew he wasn’t in love with Dodie, she excited him and was fantastic in bed.

In the past, Blake spent numerous nights making the rounds, seeing who was doing what with whom--and who might be available for a meaningful overnight relationship. He was very capable of sliding by as a one-timer, and had little inclination to fall in love. He knew she wanted out of her marriage, but from what she was telling him, it was one-sided, and that could mean a messy scene somewhere along the line. He wouldn’t wait for that to happen.

Inside, the room clerk was working behind the counter grazing a crossword and chewing gum. She was a thirty-ish woman, with sadistically teased blonde hair. She wore lime-green sneakers and her outfit seemed to be a large black bag, which she was wearing like a dress. She had a gold nose ring, and six very small gold rings in her right ear.

“Can I get a room?”

Green sneakers looked up . “Sure. Got a driver’s license? How many and for how long? She looked at Blake as if he had proposed sodomy.

“Two of us---for two night,s” said Blake. He handed the license to her. “We’ll be leaving before Sunday morning.”

The woman finished writing in her book. “I got one with a king-size bed on the first floor. $24.95 for the night, plus tax. Is that okay?”

Fine,” said Blake. He handed her his Visa. When she was done running the card, she gave it back with the license.

“122. First floor, take a left, then two rights after the ice machine,
Check out is eleven.” She gave him the key.

When they got in the room, Blake wasted no time. Looking at Dodie, he trembled with energetic anticipation, knowing how she was about to please him.

She drew the drapes that covered the two windows offering a view of the courtyard. It was still light outside and he smiled in the half-light. He slipped the deadbolt in place and took Dodie into his arms. They kissed long and deep.

They made love with an intensity Dodie forgot she had. It was a bruising, huffing, physical act, without love, invigorated and driven solely by lust. They coupled with the ferocity of animals--climaxing much too soon.

When their selfishness to satisfy pure need was over, they didn‘t stop. Well beyond the stages of curiosity and embarrassment, Blake let her run the show--let her lead and direct him, use his body the way she wanted . . . the way she always wanted him. The excitement of their affair and love-making must go on forever, she thought.

While Blake leaned back and propped his head on pillows bunched together against the headboard, Dodie straddled him. She pulled him toward her, into her, and began a slow rocking of her hips in rhythmic thrusts, coaxing him with deliberate, delicious teasing. It ‘s all so deliciously naughty and vile . . . I don’t ever want to go home to Brad. I need this. I want this lovemaking every day.

Blake watched her through smoky eyes. Dodie’s head snapped back and her manicured nails dug into his chest, the stroking much like the chugging of a train . . . building steam. . . gaining ground, picking up speed. Her eyes were closed, as she savored all of it. He ran his hands along her hot skin, from her hips to her shoulders and then underneath to caress her breasts. Leaning up, he tongued each of her erect nipples. He wetness would push him over the top, but he held back. She breathed in short rhythmic clips. As their train thundered down the tracks, her sexy whimpers became guttural groans. Her breathing accelerated like a hyperventilating accident victim. Moans of passion escaped her throat, mounting in both pitch and volume. The sounds further fueled his pleasure and shoved him down the track towards heaven.

She enticed him with bold words-- filthy words, words stored deep inside her, that could be savored only when her secret spots were finally provoked into helpless, blissful orgasm. After they exploded together, Blake felt a teardrop hit his cheek. She was crying. He reached up and smeared the tears on her face with his thumbs.

“It's all right, baby. It's all right.”

They stared at each other in the semi-darkness for a long time, before she snuggled close, resting her head on his chest. He tilted her face up to him and gazed with understanding into her wet, blue eyes. Just before their mouths met again, she whispered.

“I guess I got carried away, huh?" .”There was nothing definable about her voice. But there were colors in it. Overtones of intelligence, hits of passion, an undercurrent of completeness. It was the voice of a satisfied woman.

“Like I’m complaining? Just tell me that those were tears of joy, Dodie.”

She lifted her leg over his, the wetness of their lovemaking rubbed his muscled thigh. The rhythm of his heart thumped in her ear, echoing their intense lovemaking. The scent of baby oil filled her nostrils; she felt the bottle touching her foot but didn’t want to move. . They were beyond the stages of curiosity and embarrassment.

“Of course, silly. Those are my happy tears, thank you tears.” She kissed one of his nipples. “You make me happy," she whispered and lay her head back on his chest.

“Do I make you happy, Blake? I mean, really happy?"

Dodie knew he satisfied her, but she couldn’t tell Blake that her tears were for Brad and herself. Tears for all that was lost between them. Two days from now, he would learn that she wanted a divorce.

“I have never been with a woman who satisfied me like you do, Baby.” He circled her head with the crook of his arm and nuzzled her hair.

Dodie slid her leg off of him and sat up on the edge of the bed. He lay on his side and gently rubbed her back. He rested his head on her pillow and smelled the sweet scent of perfume, sex and sweat.

Bam! Bam! Bam!”

The banging caught them off guard, and startled them. They stared at each other in the half-dark.. Somebody was at the door.

Bam! Bam! Bam! The pounding continued.

Blake signaled Dodie, putting his finger to his lips. He whispered, “Who in the hell could that that be?”

Dodie rolled her head from side to side. “I don’t know.”

“Who is it?” said Blake.

No answer.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

“Alright, alright, keep your shirt on,” Blake yelled at the door. He got out of bed and slipped his pants on, then he tiptoed over to the door. After he looked through the peephole, he came back , shaking his head. from side to side.

“It’s not your old man, it’s some other big, guy. I don’t recognize. Maybe he’s looking for you or somebody else. Take a look.

Bam! Bam! Bam! “Special Delivery,” said the man.

“Why would anybody be looking for me. Especially here,” she whispered as she got up. After slipping on Blake’s shirt and her slacks Dodie went to the door. She looked through the peephole, then turned and shrugged her shoulders.

“Ask who it is,” said Blake.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“Special Delivery for Mrs. Dodie Hawkins,” said the man. Dodie looked at Blake before she slowly slid the deadbolt back and opened the door.

“I’m Dodie Hawkins,” she said.

The man quickly handed Dodie an 8 x 10 white envelope.

“You are served, Ma’am.” He smiled and tipped his hat. “Have a good day,” he said, then he turned and walked towards the door to the parking lot.

Dodie’s heart pounded in her temples, the room seemed to spin and tip from side to side. She walked back over to the bed. She sat down next to him and finished reading it. She wailed as she tossed the paper in Blake’s lap.

“No! God no! Look at that . . . Brad’s divorcing me for infidelity!”





(1880 words)