It had been a crazy day and all Liz really wanted to do was fall into bed and crash, because Sunday morning would come early enough, bringing with it a four hour drive home. But she knew the hyper little girls in her motel room were not going to let her get much rest tonight. Liz shared her room with her two daughters, Missy, who was twelve, and Aubrey, who was eight, and another of the little girls from the dance troop. The younger girls' class had taken first place in their category and were very excited. Missy's class had not done as well and she was pouting, constantly snapping at the other girls to be quiet. When Liz couldn't take it anymore she announced she was going to go get some ice from the machine.
So there Liz was, in an alcove on the second floor landing of a Red Roof Inn on a chilly March night, wishing she was anywhere else. It was moments like these she seriously reconsidered her choice to raise a family instead of focusing on her career. When her husband went away for the weekend it was hunting at a cabin with the boys. When she went away, it was for dance competitions. This was not her idea of a weekend away. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gone to the spa with her girlfriends.
Pulling out the cigarettes she'd secreted in her jeans pocket, Liz lit one and inhaled deeply while leaning back against the wall, lulled into relaxation by the rhythmic hum of the ice machine. She'd been careful not to let anyone see her cigarettes because she'd promised the family she'd quit and the girls would certainly report her to their father.
"'Scuse me," a warm female voice said. It was Carly, the head of the dance school and her younger daughter's teacher, who carried an empty plastic ice bucket.
"Sorry," Liz said, moving back against the wall so Carly could squeeze past her. The teacher's firm, round butt rubbed against her as she passed.
"No, I'm sorry. It looks like I interrupted your five minutes of peace. Are you hiding out here?" Carly smiled warmly.
"Is it that obvious?"
"I know what it's like to share a small motel room with a bunch of little girls. Does it make me a bad mother that I'm happy my little one was too sick to come this weekend?"
It was Liz's turn to laugh. "Only if I'm a bad mother because I'm jealous. I would be in heaven if I had a room to myself for the night. I don't care if it's a motel or not, I would still sink into that tub with some bath salts and wine and just veg."
"I'm with you, Liz, except that I had my Kindle with me and Josh Groban playing."
"Still sounds like heaven to me."
"Well, I can at least offer you the wine. Why don't you come down to my room?"
"I don't know," Liz said. Every fiber of her being was shouting, Go, go now! "I have the girls to look after."
"Missy's old enough to look after her sister and Dakota for a while. You'll only be a few doors down," Carly urged.
"That's true, but I wouldn't want to horn in on your relaxing evening."
"Please, it's been ages since I've had some grown up girl talk."
"Okay. Just let me tell the girls I'll be in your room for a while."
Liz went down and told the girls she would be down talking to Miss Carly for a while and made them promise to go to bed as soon as their movie was over. They promised and even though Liz knew they lying she let it slide. They could stay up as late as they wanted as long as she got some adult time. And maybe they would be so tired the next day they would have an uneventful drive home.
"Come on in," Carly said, greeting Liz at the door.
It was the same generic motel room Liz shared with the girls, coarse beige wallpaper, busy, patterned carpet. Between two full sized beds was a bureau bolted to the wall and there was a long dresser across from the beds with a television on it. In front of the window, which was covered by two heavy, ugly curtains, was a small, round table. An ice bucket, filled with cubes and a large bottle of wine, topped the table. The far bed, against the wall, was hidden beneath scattered clothes and an open suitcase. Music came from iPod speakers set up on the counter outside the tiny bathroom at the far end of the room.
"Have a seat," Carly offered.
Liz sat on the end of the clear bed, the only place to sit. The cover had been peeled off and the sheets and blanket were pulled back. She pulled off her faux-fur topped snow boots and wiggled her toes in their multicolored socks.
"Only the finest for you," Carly said, handing her a small plastic cup filled with red wine. It would take a lot more of those to get drunk, Liz thought. She nearly drained it with one swallow. She felt like she was back in college drinking wine out of plastic cups.
"I feel like I'm at a five star resort. The only thing miss is a hunky masseuse," Liz laughed.
"Maybe we could arrange something," Carly replied meaningfully.
"It isn't fair that men have call girls, but we don't really have that option. A guy could probably call some girl to this room tonight, but there aren't call guy services."
"Would you use one if there were?"
Liz thought about it and giggled, "I dunno, maybe. How naughty am I feeling?"
"Have you ever been worked on by a hot guy?" Carly asked, refilling Liz's cup.
"Not for a massage!" Liz laughed and drank more wine. "Seriously though, my spa only seems to have women so it's never come up."
"That doesn't exclude hijinks," Carly said slyly.
"Maybe these days," Liz replied with a wink. "That wasn't so much in vogue when I was back in college."
She was about ten years older than Carly, who was in her late twenties and could have been her sister. Both were slender blondes with light eyes, Carly's blue and Liz's a pretty hazel. Liz's hair was cut in a smart, shoulder length bob, while Carly's hung halfway down her back, but Liz was curvier from her two kids and about three inches taller at nearly five-foot-ten.
"I had my fun in college." There was a twinkle in Carly's eye. "So you've never had a massage at some resort? I always ask for some hunky masseuse when we go away."
Liz was very interested now. "And did it get ... inappropriate?"
Carly laughed at the awe in her friend's voice. "Not really ... well, sort of. A couple times some hands have wandered very close, which I'll admit was really hot, but no one's really crossed the line."
"Did you tell your husband? Isn't he jealous?"
"He knows I get the massage, but he doesn't know every little detail. Like I said, no line was really crossed and he always gets the benefits when I come back, so I don't think he has a problem with it. He's not jealous by nature."
"I'm not sure mine would feel the same way. He's not even comfortable when I show too much cleavage. Not that that stops me!" They both laughed at that.
Liz had a great time sitting there with Carly. It had been so long since she'd had any kind of girls' night. She and her friends were all at that point in their lives with kids and families that made scheduling anything a Herculean task. She didn't actually know the teacher all that well, having only spoken about the girls and random things and found Carly was a fun, funny, interesting young woman. She had that off-beat, Bohemian artist mentality. Before she knew it they were through that first bottle of wine and Carly pulled a second from her suitcase.
They talked about the challenges of motherhood and being married and dealing with everyone's expectations. As Liz was a little bit older and had been married for over ten years, Carly was very interested in what the future of her own marriage might hold, especially how things were with her husband. Liz said things were still very good with her husband, but it obviously wasn't like when they were first married and on their own. They bickered a little more and did not go out very much. Liz did feel they were stuck in a bit of routine and wished her husband would try a little bit more, but she could not imagine her life without him.
"And what about in the bedroom? Is that too personal?" Carly asked.
"No, we're just two girls talking here," Liz said, blaming her blush on the wine. Without realizing it she'd become quite buzzed. "Things are good."
"That's a ringing endorsement!"
"Seriously, things are good. Our love making is still great, but just like everything else it's different, you know? And finding the time with two kids is tough. We're lucky to get it in more than once a week."
"Sounds like you'd like it more."
"Well, sure. Who wouldn't?"
For the past year or so Liz had been becoming more and more aware of a need to spice up things with her husband, or at least make love more often than the once a weekend session they usually squeezed in after the girls were in bed, or early Sunday morning before they got up. Maybe there was something to all that sexual peak stuff. Liz had even taken to masturbating on a semi-regular basis, at least a couple times a week and usually in the shower in the morning. It wasn't something she planned. She would just be in the mood and start touching herself without really thinking about it. She found those quick, unplanned orgasms very fulfilling.
"We still do it at least three or four times a week," Carly said. "Just the other night I was clearing the sink and Paul comes up behind me and starts kissing my neck. Next thing I know he's pulling me into the dining room and we're doing it right there on the dining room table. Can you believe it?"
.... There is more of this story ...