In need of a break from my book – I turned yet again to A Writer's Book of Days: A Spirited Companion and Lively Muse for the Writing Life (by Judy Reeves) for a new writing prompt to give my imagination a jolting jump start.
Here is the chosen one! You’re in a hotel room.
Not much to it but that’s even better – gives more room for you to play! :)
I’ve titled this story “You are Anita” and I hope you can truly experience how Anita feels.
Imagine, for a moment, that you are Anita.
You’re in a hotel room.
Your hair is in curls and set into a hypnotizing up-do. Stray ringlets frame your face.
Diamond studs rest on your ears instantly drawing attention to your high cheekbones with their sparkle.
Voyeuristic eyes will then drift from the curls to the earrings down to your lips blanketed by a frosted cherry red shade.
Hazel eyes are shadowed and lined. A face painted. A body set.
This is what your life is.
You’re in a hotel room waiting for today’s selection.
Always taking one and then moving on to the next.
You suppose it could be worse. You could be a lower class prostitute. But no – that’s not you.
You’re not just a desperate hooker.
You have class. Elegance. You’re not abused or cheaply paid. You’re well taken care of and given the finest gifts, whatever necessity you require to stay beautiful and happy.
To keep you performing impeccably.
You’re needed – wanted – demanded.
You cover your smooth skin in luxurious lingerie and shelter it with a flowing baby pink satin robe, its ends drift lightly across the floor as you walk.
A light, romantic scent is spritzed onto your throat, wrists, and chest. A scent that includes vanilla and gardenia and lavender hints that cloud the senses.
Before walking out to the balcony you poor a glass of scotch – it accustoms your lifestyle.
Sipping its flavor and savoring its personality you lean forward, resting against the imprisoning railing. The ocean rages and the wind disrupts your calm, protective robe.
From your penthouse suite you have a panoramic view of the strip across from the water.
The room was decorated in contemporary grays and crisp whites. This wasn’t a room for comfort – it was a room for business. Quick, predetermined business.
The sun was setting. The last rays of light encourage a shine on your skin. The electrifying nightlife would soon come to life.
The world outside is so foreign to you. The hotel room is your safe haven.
You check the time.
The tap on the door sets you in motion.
You let the half glass of liquid slip down your throat and burn a path throughout your body.
Louboutin heels adorn your delicate feet - the newest endowment from a regular.
Two hours later you’re again silent in the hotel room. Alone once more. Breathing normally. Your internal weeping is through and you refill the glass for warmth.
After all – this is your life. This is what you chose. A life spent – trapped – in a hotel room. You are Anita.