The Room

by | Jul 19, 2012

I’m overjoyed to be in this great city of sights and sounds and smells. History and culture come alive in the hot, sticky, muggy air. I can (and do) walk the streets for hours taking it all in.

But there’s another purpose for my visit. And at night, together in our dark hotel room, nothing else matters. It’s just us. Here. Now.

Hidden away in our climate-controlled haven the rest of the city, the rest of the world, is insignificant. There is a strange and powerful force I feel when we look into each other’s eyes, when we touch. I breathe him in and feel alive, complete, filled with joy. I feel at home.

Closing ourselves off from the rest of the world we create our own secret, sacred space. No light. Shut the curtains and place a pillow at the base, holding them tightly together so light can’t sneak in through the crack. Unplug the phone with it’s eerie glow. Place pillows over the crack in the base of the door to block out the hall lights.

The fan provides the perfect, steady drone of white noise that we both desire, but the damn toilet won’t stop running. I try to fix it (I’m proud of my practical plumbing skills), but nothing seems to work. The solution is simply to keep the bathroom door closed at all times. An added benefit is that the tile floor seems to retain some warmth for those sleepy middle-of-the-night visits.

The room must be cold if we’re going to get any sleep. As cold as possible. He tells me he always runs hot, and in our post-coital cuddle our bodies threaten to ignite. I move away to cool down. First lying luxuriously naked, then covering myself with the sheet as my fever subsides, next I crawl beneath the duvet, and finally, shivering, I snuggle up to his side and use his flesh to return my body to a comfortable temperature.

I turn over in his arms and take my favoured small-spoon position. We fall asleep.

But I can’t sleep when I’m too hot. It doesn’t take long before I wake up feeling icky. I hate to pry my limbs and peel my body away from his, but we have built up a pool of sweat between us and my back is slick. I turn over again and move to leave a space between our bodies, but stay as close as I can. Not wanting to lose contact, I reach out my hand to touch him, and counter-balance by sticking my leg outside of the covers. The air conditioning attacks my exposed skin and brings relief. I sleep again.