Another City, Not My Own

It was a last-minute decision to attend the convention. It was out-of-town, and might not lead to any new business. But as long as I would be in town, I could meet with another client. And it gave me a chance to spend the night with him…it had been nearly two years since I’d been single and we’d been able to spend the night together.

I know this city well, so when I arrived in town, I took public transportation to the hotel. It’s one of the enormous places that caters to convention traffic. No tourist in their right mind would want to book a room there, because the hotel has no charm. It’s run a major chain, but it’s a decrepit property. The carpets are stained, the wallpaper is peeling. I don’t even want to think about what lives on the bedspreads. I’ve stayed there a dozen times for a dozen trade shows.

I walked into the hotel and went straight to the concierge. “I believe you’re holding an envelope for me,” I said to the woman behind the desk. She checked her log then handed me an envelope. My first initial and last name were written in a familiar handwriting. I opened it as I walked toward the elevators, pulling my suitcase behind me. Inside was a plastic room keycard, and a four-digit room number written on a piece of hotel letterhead.

As I expected, the room was empty when I got to it. Well, no one was in the room. I looked around before I started to unpack. His briefcase was sitting on the desk chair and his laptop was on the desk. A few of his suits and shirts were hung in the closet, where his suitcase was neatly stowed. His toiletries were evenly arranged on the bathroom counter. We’d spent to much time together in so many hotel rooms in so many cities over the years. It was comforting to see that nothing ever changed.

After putting my things away, I took out my cell phone and made a call. “Hi B,” I said. “I’m at the hotel.” He was just finishing up with a cocktail party, but told to meet him in the lobby in 15 minutes. B is an old friend and former colleague. Ironically, when I first met him 15 years ago, he was also best friends and roommates with A2, my passive-aggressive post-college boyfriend. These days they hardly talk to each other.

We wanted to avoid the trade show crowd, so we went to a restaurant about 10 minutes away. Both B and I grew up in the suburbs of this city, so we although we’re no longer locals, we know it well. After dinner, we strolled back to the hotel and decided we had time for a drink in the bar. It’s the hotbed of trade show socializing, and B was more interested in networking than I was. But most people who know us know we used to work together, so no one would give it a second thought to see us walk in together.

I was ahead of B as we walked into the bar, scanning the crowded room for two empty seats. Suddenly I realized I’d lost him. I turned, and spotted him near the entrance, talking to a seated group. He waved me over. Suddenly I realized who he was talking to. I put on my game face.

There was J2, the president of his company, a few other executives and a few of their clients. His company and my former company used to do a lot of work together, so I know many of his colleagues. And his company is still a client of B’s company. B and I worked together when J2 and I dated, so B is also aware of our history. (But no one at J2′s company ever knew a thing.)

I walked over and started shaking hands and introducing myself to the few people I didn’t know. When I got to J2, he gave me a warm smile, and kissed me on both cheeks.

“Do you mind if we join them?” B asked me, with a little concern in his voice. “Absolutely not,” I replied. “Let’s sit down.”

Chairs were pulled up, and J2 conveniently pulled one empty one next to him. I sat down and politely ignored him, striking up a conversation with the woman seated to the other side of me. The night wore on, and at one point, most of the group got up to momentarily talk to other people, go to the restrooms or head to the smoking area. B and I were among the few people remaining. He asked me, “Are you sure it’s OK that we’re sitting here? We can leave if you’d be more comfortable.” I assured him I was OK. (I may be submissive, but I can hold my own.)

When most of the group returned, they’d brought another colleague with them who I hadn’t previously met. As he pulled up a chair, I made a space for him between J2 and I. Then I struck up a conversation with this colleague. J2 was sitting back, listening, ocassionally adding a comment…only the most observent watcher might have ever guessed that we had a history together. At point his colleague made a comment about J2′s wife, and J2 laughed just a little too hard while I glared ice daggers at him. (Our breakup had been a difficult one, and although it wasn’t a factor in our breakup, I’d always known we’d never be together forever because he placed little value on marriage, and had no interest in marrying for love. After we broke up, he married a woman who wanted US citizenship and it still to this day it still feels like salt in the wound.)

Finally a waiter came by to tell us it was last call, and I stood up to leave. Better to head to my room alone than to raise any suspicions. I warmly said good-bye to each person. To B, J2 and his boss, who were all standing together, I told them that I hoped to see them on the trade show floor the next morning. And then I walked away.

As I headed toward the elevators, I laughed to myself. In their wildest dreams, would any one of the 10 people I was just talking to have ever guess that I would be fucking one of those men within the next hour?

I got to the hotel room, changed into some more comfortable clothes and relaxed on the bed to read a magazine. I knew he’d have another drink, and once he go to the hotel room, he’d want to take a shower together. It was late, but after spending the day wearing suit and standing on a trade show floor, you need one. We may only spend the night together a few times year, but after all of this time, I know him well and I can predict his behavior.

About half an hour later, I hear the electronic door lock click, and the door open.

“Hello Darling,” J2 said as he walked into the room.

“Hi Sweetheart,” I answered as he came over to the bedside and kissed me. When we finally pulled apart, we looked at each other and burst out laughing.

(You didn’t think I was sleeping with B, did you?)