"Bitch!"
Eric shouted as loudly as he could. People in the stores that lined the sidewalk poured out to see what the commotion was about. When he noticed that his antics had caused more commotion that he had anticipated, he quickly fumbled around his lap, grabbing a hold of the crumpled dollar she had flung in his face and stuffed it into his pocket.
In the process, he caught sight of himself in the reflection of a store window. He quickly turned away as fast as he could. It was almost too close. He nearly caught sight of his own face in the reflective glass. His heart was beating furiously and anxiously. He had not seen his own reflection in so long he had no memory of how he looked. He could not and must not look at his own reflection. It was an action that filled him with fear to discover that he was a monster.
His eyes fell upon the package that she had dumped into his lap. He made sure that the newspaper-wrapped package was securely nestled on his lap before he pushed the lever that moved his motorized wheelchair along the pavement.
He pulled the edge of his hood to hide his face. He had been too careless, the people would have seen his horrible face. He looked down at the pavement as he zoomed along the pavement towards the "Venus Inn." He wondered if the package was okay. It contained a porcelain figure that he had bought at a thrift store along one of the many streets of Cessville.
He sped quickly along the pavement till he came to the corner of a side street. He turned down this narrow street and zoomed along till he came to a small door at the top of a short ramp that was hurriedly knocked together from bits of plywood.
This was the staff entrance to "Venus Inn." In fact, the motel was the only building in all of Cessville that had handicap access, which often consisted of bits of wood knocked together to create access ramps.
He moved the wheelchair up the ramp and went through the door into a grey, unpainted lobby where he took a slow-moving lift up to the floor where he had his own private room.
His own room was located on a floor where there were no guestrooms and consisted of a few doors leading to the hotel's administrative offices and a room filled with close circuit TV monitors, which was his own personal office.
Eric did not actually run things at the "Venus Inn" although his signature was necessary on documents, cheques and invoices issued by the motel. Most of the day-to-day administration was carried out by Greg Morton, his personal assistant with regards to the business and the face that all the vendors and staff spoke to with regards to the business. Some 10 or so years ago, his mother had set up this motel when she realized that Eric's "condition" rendered him incapable of leading a more or less normal life as an independent young male adult.
Moreover, he had spent time in an asylum for quite a number of years and before that, in a prison. His record alone would have made it quite difficult for Eric to find a normal job.
Eric quickly slipped into his room and began unwrapping the package. He was so worried that the figurine got broken when it fell onto the pavement. He breathed a deep sigh of relief when he saw that it had not snapped in half and that it was intact, more or less.
Another man might have brushed aside the chipped finger of the figure, but the tiny chip irritated Eric so much he screamed loudly in annoyance. He wanted this figure to be perfect. The figure in question was of an archer in princely attire with a noble, handsome visage and his finger resting beside his arrow that was notched to the bow.
The door of his room opened suddenly, he had been expecting Greg to come rushing in.
"Are you ok, Mr Marsson?" Greg's head popped through the door anxiously.
"Just get me a tube of super glue!" Eric replied in annoyance. He searched the wrapping and found a tiny bit of porcelain that had fallen off from the statue. He was so upset by the entire episode, that without realizing it, he had begun to cry. He had searched so hard and for a long time to find the perfect statue. It was almost an emotional relief when he found it.
Greg came back a few minutes later with an old tube of superglue that he managed to scrounge up from the bottom of a drawer. He handed it to Eric, who did not so much as raise his head to look at the man. This was quite normal as Eric did not like to have to look at anyone in the face because then they would be looking at him in his face.
He patiently sat at the table where his entire porcelain collection was laid out and attempted to glue the broken piece back. It took him well over an hour. In the end, the best he managed was a huge lump of crystalizing glue stuck onto the finger of the archer, which really made it look odd. It would have been far better had he left it entirely alone.
Frustrated that the figure was less than perfect, he positioned it carefully on the table where his porcelain statuette collection was displayed. He placed the archer in front of a cardboard throne in the cardboard "palace" he had constructed for the figure.
Then he sat back and admired the scene for a while. He had this in his mind for quite some time now and was happy to see that it was now a reality. He took the cardboard "stand-in" prince he had constructed long ago and dropped it into the wastepaper basket.
He wanted to play with the figure that he had bought, but decided that he would go to the office and do his "job." He had been neglecting it for quite some time now.
The moment he got into the actual office and sat at his desk, he began to remember why it was that he neglected it in the first place. There wasn't really anything much for him to do, except to sign a few documents and read Greg's reports which were really quite similar from month to month.
The main income from the "Venus Inn" came from the streetwalkers who dotted the streets outside the motel. They would come in with their clients for an hour or two and then leave and be back again later in the day or at night. Hardly anyone ever fully stayed overnight at the motel. The café downstairs which was part of the motel was the only business in the entire inn that was busy throughout the day and in much of the night. In the daytime, it catered to the guests of the inn and customers who walked off the street. In the night, it was a hangout for streetwalkers and cops who patrolled the streets of Cessville. Greg noticed the trend and had a nicely stocked doughnut and coffee bar installed as soon as he noticed the first wave of cops coming in from night time patrols of the crime-ridden streets.
Apart from the café, much of the motel's interior looked dingy and old with yellowing wallpaper in certain places that were not heavily frequented by patrons. Although there were no odd smells because Greg had a strictly scheduled cleaning routine in place, there was a real need to replace many of the items in the motel. However, in the interest of saving costs, hardly anything in the motel was ever replaced until it was clearly obvious that it was unusable and unsalvagable.
By 3pm in the afternoon, Eric was yawning. Soon he would have to start his "night shift," he left the office and headed to his room to take a short nap before the evening.
Although he hardly ever had a sound few hours of sleep, the moment his eyes snapped shut, Eric found himself instantly transported to the sidewalk where he met the unpleasant woman that morning. In an instant, almost the blink of an eye, he was at the sidewalk, screaming loudly at the impudent woman.
"Bitch!"
She did not respond to the insult. He saw people coming out of the stores and they were all staring at him. Staring at him in a disgusted manner.
He felt anger rising inside of him. How dare she stand in his way! How dare she cause his package to fall to the ground and chip his precious statue! How dare she take hold of his money and throw it back in his face with vehement scorn! Did she not know who he was?
Who was he anyway? The question seemed to hang in the air, so dense and corporeal that it almost floated visibly overhead, so he could see it like a cloud over him.
However, the anger he felt got the better of him and he ignored the hanging question. Instead, he grabbed a hold of his stout cane and forced himself to stand. Amazingly, though he had not stood in the better part of the last 15 or so years, he felt his feet touch the ground and he stood up straight, as if he still had use of his limbs.
He stumbled towards her unsteadily, lifted his stout cane and struck her heavily on her side. She felt down in a crumpled heap.
Unsupported by his cane, Eric fell backwards and found himself falling, but in an instant, there was a strange sensation that he was unused to and he was now floating in the air. The impudent woman crawled towards him painfully and grabbed hold of his legs, almost in a posture of supplication.
She was now crying and saying something. He did not know what it was she was saying. The language was unintelligible to him. She looked up into his face, his eyes. He looked away, unable to bear her large, doe-like eyes on his face.
Impossible! He thought. He focused hard to comprehend what she was saying, but he could not understand the words. This is not possible! There was this odd notion that he should somehow be able to comprehend all spoken tongues.
She wept and buried her face in his thighs. He looked down and saw that his thighs were bare. In fact, he was not wearing anything at all!
He tried to brush her aside, but her soft skin felt so good against his thighs that he relaxed and enjoyed that rare moment of adoration. Yes, that was the right word, "adoration." She caressed him as if he was the most beautiful thing in the world.
The scene then shifted crazily and Eric found himself in a dark place and the impudent woman was under him, struggling, writhing, panting as he ground against her furiously.
All kinds of strange and yet strangely familiar sensations exploded in his senses. He was feeling good, really really good and there was a fire in his belly, and it seemed to burn hotter than the sun.
He longed deeply for her and missed her terribly. And there was a great sorrow in his heart that he did not understand. The scene lasted a mere few seconds, but the emotions that it awakened in Eric were so strong he awoke from his nap crying.