The Art Hotel

Copyright Helen Starbuck 2018, all rights reserved

He sat at the open-air bar atop the Art Hotel in downtown Denver fiddling with his drink. He’d walked there from the DA’s office. It wasn’t that far and God knows he needed the walk to clear his head—it’d been one of those weeks and he was glad it was Friday. He’d worked his ass off and there was more to come until this trial took place a week from now. He felt like his brain had died. 

It was more than that, he thought, taking a sip of his scotch. He’d spent last night listening to the end of Annie’s latest romantic fiasco and it made him nuts. She had the worst taste in men. She was an intelligent woman but she seemed to hone in on complete assholes. Good looking and charming, but total assholes. She apparently never saw it and then was devastated when they, predictably, acted like assholes and everything blew up in her face. 

It was almost more than he could bear. He had walked back to his side of the duplex last night depressed, something he rarely was. He’d chalked that up to being tired and overworked, but the reality was he was having an increasingly hard time saying nothing and then being there for her when it all went to hell. Wasn’t much point in saying anything, he thought, she wouldn’t want to hear it when the next asshole showed up and if he persisted she’d just turn on him. So he said nothing and tried to be her friend instead of what he really wanted.

Three years, he thought, three fucking years and she hadn’t so much as entertained a passing thought of hooking up with him. She had claimed, when he’d hit on her after she moved into the other side of the duplex, that she didn’t believe in getting involved with neighbors. She’d said she wanted to be friends and didn’t want to have to move because of a brief dalliance with him. It might have been brief then, that was how he'd always liked it, but now it wouldn’t be brief. Three years down the road he was sure of that, nothing with her would be brief if she ever gave him a chance. But, he sighed, she hadn’t and probably wouldn’t.

“That was a heavy sigh.” Angel looked up from his drink and saw an older woman standing next to the vacant chair beside him. “Mind if I sit down?” she asked.

“Please, feel free.” He stood and pulled the bar stool out for her. She was well-dressed, probably late fifties or early sixties if he was any judge. These days it was hard to tell. Some women aged better than others, some took better care of themselves, and some had the money to fix what they’d decided needed fixing. 

She smiled and sat down and turned to the bartender as Angel reclaimed his seat. “I’ll have a lemon drop martini,” she said placing her small handbag on the bar. 

Her nails were immaculately manicured, but her hands betrayed her age, the veins slightly ropey and the tendons more obvious. She was definitely late fifties, maybe in her sixties? Still, she was attractive; brown hair with silver highlights brushed against her shoulders and surrounded her face, which was carefully, but not overly, made up. Her body was a soft hourglass, the dark red dress with the side drape to it emphasized her waist and hips, and her legs ended in elegant heels. Jesus, he thought giving himself a mental shake, she was old enough to be his mother and he was sizing her up as to whether he should hit on her. He must be tired.

“Cheers,” she said turning to him once the waiter had dropped off her drink. She held it up and smiled at him.

“Cheers,” he replied and held up his scotch. They both sipped and returned their drinks to the bar top.

“So why the long face? It’s such a handsome face, seems a shame it looks so unhappy.”

He blinked. Was she flirting with him? Okay, he thought, why not?

“Not so much unhappy as tired and frustrated.” He took another sip of his scotch. “How about you?”

She laughed. “Me? I’m just bored out of my mind—nothing to do and no one to do it with.” She turned her drink in a circle on the bar. “I’m staying here for a couple of nights. What brings you here?”

“Walked over from work for a drink, I like the roof top here, nice view and a good place to relax.”

“And what does a handsome man like you do?” she asked with a sly smile on her face. 

Christ, she was hitting on him. “I, uh.” Bad start, he thought. He cleared his throat. “I’m an assistant DA.”

“Interesting. Am I making you uncomfortable?” 

“No, I just . . . no, not really.”

She smiled and reached out and patted his hand, which rested on the bar and curled around his glass. “It can be unsettling and sometimes awkward when an older woman makes a pass. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He smiled and shook his head. She was Annie in twenty years—so direct, so matter of fact, and so fucking sexy with it. “I’m sort of enjoying it, actually.”

“Oh I’m so glad to hear that. This is a new adventure for me. I wasn’t sure how you’d react. Some young men find older women, well, unappealing. If that was the case, then I wanted to know. No point in embarrassing both of us.” She took another sip of her martini. “So, Mr. Assistant DA, what’s your name?”

“Angel Cisneros.” He wasn’t sure why he’d used his nickname other than he felt relaxed with her. Maybe it was the scotch.

Her mouth crinkled in amusement and then she put her hand over her mouth to stop from chuckling. “That, my dear, is the most perfect name for you that I could imagine. I’m Evelyn Carson, nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you as well. So what’s the new adventure, flirting with me?”

“Yes, I’m trying it out.”

“Any particular reason?”

She turned and faced him, watched him with serious brown eyes, and it struck him that Annie did the same thing to him when she was debating what to say. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and seemed to make up her mind. “I’m divorced, been that way for almost ten years. My children are raised and out of the house and have no need for me and I’m tired of being set up with age-appropriate men. In my experience, at least so far, those men have been pretty unimpressive. I keep being told by friends that it’s inappropriate for me to be attracted to younger men, but I decided to hit on you to see what might happen.”

He raised his eyebrows and laughed. “Girl, you get right to the point don’t you?”

She laughed as well. “Life’s short sweet pea, might as well take a chance. Worst case, you’ll tell me thanks but no thanks and be on your way.”

He sat back and watched her. Under her polished veneer he thought he saw a flicker of sadness, maybe vulnerability, and it touched him. “And if I just said thanks?”

“Then this is my lucky day,” she said with a brilliant smile. 

He dipped his head and then looked up at her. “Thanks,” he said, and smiled.

She took a deep breath and drained what was left of her drink, then blew out a long breath. “Well now, I honestly didn’t think anyone as good looking as you would do anything other than leave. I had it all figured out how to preserve my dignity if you told me to take a hike. Not sure what to do now.”

“Why don’t we just sit and get acquainted and see where this goes?”

She nodded. “That sounds like a plan. Can I buy you another drink?”

“No, but I’ll buy both of us one.”

***

They talked for more than two hours. She was bright and funny and he kept being hit in the face by how like Annie she was, how she was probably just who Annie would be in twenty years. Maybe that was part of his attraction to her. They’d had far too much to drink and at last they had run out of talk.

“I’m a little drunk, how about you?” She laid money on the bar to cover their last order.

“More than a little, I think.”

“Should we say good night and go our separate ways or go upstairs to my room?”

He shook his head and smiled. “God you are so like someone I know it’s uncanny.”

“The someone you were sighing about when I arrived?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to talk about that right now. How about we go to your room, if that’s what you’d like.”

“I would, would you?”

He smiled and nodded. 

He stood up, a bit unsteady, and offered his arm to her. She stood up, slipped her hand over it, and they walked to the elevator. They rode in silence, she held his arm until the elevator door opened and they walked out and down the hall. Arriving at her door, she took out her card key and inserted it and opened the door. They walked in and she turned to him.

“Are you sure about this? Now’s the time to back out if you’re going to.”

Instead of answering her, he took her face in his hands and kissed her. Her lips were soft and he could feel her surprise. She reached out and flipped off the light that she had turned on when they walked in. He reached out and turned it back on.

“I think it’d be better if the lights were out,” she said hesitantly.

“No, it wouldn’t. I want to see you.”

She smiled. “No you don’t, trust me.”

He shrugged out of his jacket and undid his tie, tossing them on the bench next to the dresser. 

“I do,” he said taking her purse away from her and laying it on the dresser. She seemed a little stunned about ending up with him in her room. “Evelyn, are you still okay with this? If you’ve changed your mind, tell me.”

“I . . . I want you here, I just don’t entirely know what to do with you.”

“How about you let me take care of that?” 

He undid his shirt and removed it, stepping out of his shoes and toeing off his socks while she watched him taking in his chest and face, her eyes dilated, her face was a complex mix of appreciation and anxiety. He reached out and pulled her to him, kissing her softly as he undid her dress and dropped it to the floor, unhooking and discarding her bra. 

She crossed her arms in front of her breasts and he saw some panic in her eyes. “Please, turn off the lights,” she said.

He stopped and watched her and he could see the sadness again. “Why?”

“I don’t want you to see me, God I’m old enough to be your mother. All seeing me will do is turn you off.”

He reached out and took her hands away from her breasts caressing them. “They’re beautiful. So are you.”

At that she started to cry. “Oh God, I picked a nice one,” she said trying to laugh, but the tears made it hard. 

He wiped her cheeks and pulled her to him holding her and stroking her back. “I’m telling you the truth, you are beautiful.”

“Please, stop, don’t lie to me. I’m old, I know it and I’m desperate for someone to touch me, someone who doesn’t repulse me or bore me to tears. Just turn the fucking lights off so I don’t have to see myself.”

He flipped the light off. “Better?”

“Yes.” 

She began undoing his slacks and pushed them and his briefs down to the floor. He stepped out of them and slid her panties off as well. She didn’t believe him, couldn’t see it, he realized, but she was beautiful. Not twenty-five-year-old beautiful, but soft and curved and she appealed to him in spite of what his sister-in-law had always called a baby belly, that soft roll of flesh on the lower abdomen that spoke of a woman carrying a child full term. Her breasts were appealing, they had lost some of the firmness they had probably had when she was younger, but lovely still and very responsive. If he did nothing else tonight, he wanted her to know how he saw her.

He walked her to the bed and she sat. He stood in front of her and she reached up and caressed him making him close his eyes and sigh. 

“You’re the beautiful one, God you’re so beautiful.” She stroked him with one hand and ran the fingers of her other hand through his pubic hair and up onto his belly reaching around and cupping his buttocks and pulling him to her. 

Jesus, was his only coherent thought as she took him with her mouth. He wasn’t sure if it was a prayer or a thank you. He wasn’t sure he cared.

“Evelyn, I . . ,” God, with what she was doing, he couldn’t think clearly enough to put a sentence together. “I . . . Jesus that feels good . . . I don’t have any protection with me.”

She stopped and laughed. “Well I can’t get pregnant. You’re here, which is a stroke of luck, I guess I’ll take the chance everything else is okay.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.”

“You don’t either,” she replied.

He gently pushed her back onto the bed. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness and the black out shades on the window were open so some light filtered through the shear room drapes and he could see her. 

He knelt at the bedside touching her softly, scenting her, sliding his fingers into her and hearing her moan. He leaned in and used his mouth and tongue to explore her, hearing her breathing quicken and catch. He worked his way up her belly and lifted her hips pushing into her slowly, moving slowly, as her muscles gripped him and her legs wrapped around him pulling him into her making him speed up. They were half on the bed and half off, so he withdrew and turned her onto the bed and lay down next to her.

“Do you know what I see?” He asked propping himself up on an elbow, she shook her head. “I see a woman, not a girl.” He traced a fingertip over her lips and down her chin onto her neck and breast with his free hand as she stroked him. “I see a woman who may think she’s old but still has a beautiful body, who is still so fucking appealing. A woman who’s funny and intelligent and brave and willing to risk being rejected.” 

He ran his hand down her body and stroked her, feeling her rise up to meet him. He lowered his head and closed his mouth on her breast teasing her nipple with his tongue, latching on and sucking hard, and was rewarded by hearing her cry out as she came and he felt her muscles spasm around his fingers. 

“Please,” she said pulling him to her. “I want you inside me again. Make love to me, please.”

“With pleasure,” he said.

***

He lay face down, his head resting on her breast, his arm thrown across her belly, exhausted. The week and the alcohol were catching up to him and all he wanted to do was sleep, but he wondered whether she’d want him to leave now that they’d made love.

He felt her run her hands through his hair and placed a kiss on his forehead. He rolled reluctantly onto his back and asked, “Would you like me to go?” He wasn’t entirely sure he could get up or walk at the moment, but given half an hour or so, he might be able to.

“Would you like to go?”

“No, I’d like to stay.” He sighed tiredly. “Honestly, I’m not sure I have the strength to make it to the lobby and back to my office.”

“Then sleep Angel, I like feeling you next to me.”

He let go and drifted off as he felt her curl into him.

***

His eyes startled open and for a moment he couldn’t remember where he was. The room, seen in the morning light, was unfamiliar and his head throbbed. Then it came back to him, too much work, too much alcohol, and too much sex—if there could be such a thing. He smiled. She’d been a surprise, generous, giving, and creative. He was glad he’d taken her up on her offer. Women his age were often very predictable; she had been far from predictable. There was a lot to be said for experience, he mused.

He smelled coffee somewhere and then heard the door to the bath open and saw her walk over holding a cup in her hand. She’d taken a shower and had redone her makeup, obviously still hesitant for him to see her unprepared. Even without the alcohol on board he liked the look of her in the oversize hotel bathrobe, a smile on her face. 

 She sat on the side of the bed and stroked his face offering the cup of coffee. “Awake now sleepyhead?”

“Yeah, thank you,” he said sitting up and taking the cup in hand. He took a sip and was surprised that it tasted the way he normally liked it, perhaps a little more sugar was called for, but good. “Thank you, I feel almost human now.”

“Did I get it right? Cream and sugar?”

“You did, good guess.”

She smiled. “I figured if it wasn’t to your taste I’d take it and get you another.” She fiddled with the belt on her robe and looked a bit flustered. “I . . . um . . . thank you, for last night. You made me feel wonderful and sexy to boot. I can’t thank you enough for that.”

He set aside his coffee and reached up and slipped a hand inside her robe caressing her breast. “You are sexy, you made me feel pretty good too.”

“I did?”

He continued to caress her. “You did, in fact it’s been a treat. A treat we could repeat now if you’d like.”

She blushed and it undid him. He pulled her to him and slid the robe off her shoulders as he kissed her and rolled her onto the bed. It was sweet and slow. He was aware of her discomfort at him seeing her, but he refused to let her push him away or hide.

In the aftermath, she sighed. “I can die happy now.” And laughed an infectious laugh. “God I hit the jackpot when I picked you out last night, but you’ve ruined me for age-appropriate men. Angel. What a perfect name.”

He propped himself up on an elbow and watched her. “You’re not dying right? That’s a joke, I hope.”

His face was so serious it took her aback. “No I’m not dying, it was a joke. But if I did die today, I’d die very happy.” She reached over and caressed his cheek. “You are the nicest man—that was a surprise. I figured you’d be a good lover, or at least I hoped you would be, I didn’t know you were also very sweet.”

“That makes it sound like I was just being kind to you. I wasn’t.”

“And that makes all the difference.” She sat up and shrugged back into the robe that had not come completely off. “Let’s get dressed and go get some breakfast, I’m starving.”

Again her resemblance to Annie struck him. In some ways it had felt as if he were making love to Annie, just an older version. He shook the thought away, Annie wasn’t going to happen and all comparing Evelyn to Annie would do is make him unhappy, like he’d been last night.  He got up and took a shower while she dressed. He’d asked if she wanted to join him, but she smiled an enigmatic smile and told him she wanted the memories to last.

They dressed and went down to the restaurant. Breakfast went a long way to restoring his energy and relieving his headache some. When it was time to go he fished out a business card and wrote his cell on the back of the card and handed it to her.

“I don’t want to lose track of you. Here’s my number, I’ll leave it up to you if you want to contact me, but I’d enjoy it if you did.”

She took the card from him and wouldn’t look at him for a moment. “God, where were you twenty-five years ago?”

He smiled, “I was in grade school, I think.”

She laughed and wiped the moisture from her eyes. “Well I asked for that didn’t I?” She slipped the card into her purse and took his hand. “Thank you. I don’t know if I’ll contact you again, but I’m glad to have this. I like knowing you’d welcome the call. I hope the woman who made you so unhappy changes her mind.”

He shrugged. “Other than being a friend, she won’t give me a chance.”

“Friendship is nothing to sneeze at and a lot can happen between friends. Don’t give up, I have a feeling she’ll come to her senses eventually.”

She signed the check with her room number over his objections and got up. She walked over to him and kissed the top of his head, tipped his chin up and kissed him. 

“Thank you Angel Cisneros, you are a delight. Take care of yourself.” And she walked out of the restaurant. 

He never saw her again, but he remembered her often and fondly and when the appropriately aged women he dated got to be too boring or too annoying, or Annie made him nuts, he would remember her and smile. He wished she’d called him.