Hotel Misery

Hotel Misery

Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance

Summary

Enter Emereld. Em for short. Exit Emereld. And thus is the eb and flow of Em's life. Leaving is her specialty, though she prefers to call it travelling. She drifts through life, living by her mothers live and let go philosophy. But while she runs away from reality and all the pain that comes with it, she's also escaped happiness and the joy that comes with a home. Is she willing to take a risk on someone for a chance at happiness, or will she let omens of the past drive her from her from, possibly, her last chance and love and life? (This story is a bit different than Desperation, which is more erotica based. This story will definitely have erotica and mature content, but will be much more focused on romance and plot, and also incoorperates some other themes)

Summary

Enter Emereld. Em for short. Exit Emereld.

And thus is the eb and flow of Em's life. Leaving is her specialty, though she prefers to call it travelling. She drifts through life, living by her mothers live and let go philosophy. But while she runs away from reality and all the pain that comes with it, she's also escaped happiness and the joy that comes with a home. Is she willing to take a risk on someone for a chance at happiness, or will she let omens of the past drive her from her from, possibly, her last chance and love and life?

(This story is a bit different than Desperation, which is more erotica based. This story will definitely have erotica and mature content, but will be much more focused on romance and plot, and also incoorperates some other themes)

Prolog (v.1) - Chapter Zero

Author Chapter Note

And so sets the scene and mood of our story, let me know what you think. Should I continue with this story? Feel free to be harsh.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: August 04, 2017

Reads: 433

Comments: 1

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: August 04, 2017

A A A

A A A

Do you have a defining moment? A memory that, when you think of it, brought you to where you where are at this point in life? I don't. But I do have a describing moment. A describing moment is one in which you look back and you're like, that's so me. If you told the story of that memory to somis one, they would know who you are. Oh, you're that kind of person. Mine's not a memory I enjoy remembering. It's not a memory I'm proud of. I'm not a person to be proud of. And I don't enjoy thinking about myself either.

The first thing I noticed was the movement. The shaking of the bed. The muffled sound meant nothing to me at first. My apartment was bristling with house all hours of the night; I could sleep through whatever screams and bangs and honks the world could muster. But the movement woke me. For a second I thought about going back to sleep. Ignore everything and enjoy the rarity of sleep (which it was for me in those days). I wish I had listened to that thought. Ignorance really is bliss. I didn't however, because it was me, and I don't know what's good for myself. Instead I pulled myself out of my grogginess and before I could register the strangeness of noises I opened my eyes.

I once saw a porno where a step-daughter and step-father were getting it on in the bed next to the mom/wife. Despite the hard-pounding and fake high-pitched cries the mother miraculously remained in slumber. Well, I experienced that once, too. Except it wasn't a porno and I woke up.

She was on top. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was open, releasing small gasps of pleasure. Her perfect breasts bounced once, twice. His hands gripped her thighs. I don't know what his face did. I closed my eyes again. Not once did I think it was a dream. I didn't wake up so groggily that I wondered if it was reality. My mind was perfectly understanding. I had no questions. In fact, I was so perfectly aware that the pain in my  chest felt like acute surgery. At the first glance and realization the pang of pain that had struck was so intense I wondered if I was dying. My body became hot, like I suddenly had a sickness and a fever. I wanted to vomit. I did nothing.

I pretended to be asleep. Under the covers I pressed my thumb into my engagement ring. I pressed hard into my skin, hoping the pain would overwhelm and distract my brain. The bed continued I move and I thought about how he was inside of her. He he was in ecstasy because of another woman. The vomit-feeling was stuck in my  throat, as painful as my chest. I heard them breathing. Her womanly breath turned to panting. It was in tune to the movements. I heard their connection. Skin bumping together, wetness being penetrated. I felt tears behind my eyes but I willed them to freeze in place. I pretended to be dead. I wanted to be dead.

I heard her voice whisper, "it feels so good." I heard him quietly groan. After a moment she continued, "don't worry, she's sound asleep." She giggled ever so slightly. "You're so big," She cooed. He groaned louder. "You're so tight," He managed in a whispered growl. I continued to feign sleep. I grew wet against my will and filled with shame. It mixed together with the knife in my heart. The movements became faster. "How does it feel?" She continued. "Shh, you'll wake her," he warned in a whisper. "She's asleep," she assured. The movements stopped. "Do you want me to continue?" She warned. I heard sound of them kissing and then his whisper, "it feels amazing." "Better than her?" She asked, sounding innocent. "Oh yeah," he agreed. The movement continued. "Cum inside of me," she moaned, voice rising. A few moments later I heard him groan. I imagined his sperm shooting insider her, filling her with his seed. My seed. The movement stopped and I listened to their breathing slow and the sucking sounds of their kisses.

I didn't sleep that night. Later they exited the bedroom, and after I heard the front door shut, he returned to bed a few minutes later. I was too afraid to move the entire time. I was too afraid to cry. I wasn't sure what I was afraid of. Maybe myself. What would others in this situation do? Would the have woken? Intercepted? Yelled and screamed? Kicked them out? Beat her up? Beat him up? Left? Woke up the next day and disappeared? The latter was my choice. He woke up for work, as usual. I wondered idly if he was tired, as I still feigned sleep. Usually, I would be awake at that time."Em?" He asked to me. I didn't answer. "Em I'm going to work now. Don't you have to get up?" He asked. A moment of silence passed. "I have to go to work now, Em. See ya." I felt his lips in my forehead and held back the feeling of nausea that followed.

As soon as he left I stood up and stared at the wall ahead. Finally I looked over at the bed. It looked like it did every other morning. Perhaps a bit more rustled. Would there be residue? Did I want to find out? I decided that I did not. The room felt so dirty. I felt so dirty. I walked into the bathroom and looked at my reflection. The woman staring back was a lot excuse for a human being. Her eyes were tired and red and her lips straight and somber. Her hair was messy and her clothes wrinkled. I turned away no longer wanting to look at the pitiful woman. I thought about taking a shower, but as I looked at the place where I had washed for the past year it suddenly seemed repulsive. I stripped off my clothes and dropped them in the trash can. I walked into the room and put on a new dress, not yet worn, tearing off the tag.

It helped that I didn't own many items. A traveler by nature, as my mom used to call me. I retrieved my suitcase from the hall closet, packed my clothes in one, toiletries in a mother, and shoes and miscellaneous items in the third. The rest was unneeded. I didn't bother to wonder why I had left most of my things ready and packed away I bags and totes. Everything easily removed. I slipped on my shoes, descended the stairs, and hailed a cab. The cab driver helped me load my luggage in the trunk. "Where to, miss?" The driver asked. "Train station," I said, almost as a reflex. I breathed in the comforting smell of cigarettes, sweat, and car fresheners. It smelled like home.

 


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