The Olla Podrida Hotel stood like a sack of potatoes- old world stone, next to the red brick of the Fools & Duels Saloon. Above it, serpentine curtains twisted in the blustery haze of bloody sundown. It was deep summer in a district of debauchery, in flogging heat.
Fifteen bucks and the questionable judgment of cousin Rex put sixteen year old Dustin on the second floor of the hotel, Room 222.
Dustin was a victim of genetic stunt, and had a third-generation broad bottom. In all his sixteen years, a girl had never looked his way any longer than it took for her to shove him out of hers. He had not been kissed, nor even hugged, unless you count an old grandmother who smelled like peanut butter.
Today, Dustin was being prodded by his cousin into his first sexual experience. The damp washcloth of his genitalia was freshly scrubbed and neatly folded for the occasion.
A woman in an Oriental robe answered the door. Big eyes with stained blue lids dipped heavy lashes as she checked out the chubby lad. Her mouth was a judgmental plum, an attention getter, as much so as Dorothy's ruby slippers.
Dustin stood agape.
Where time was money, no time was wasted. She tangled around Dustin, and within a minute, and without removing her satin cover or shucking much of his, she shocked his little member into-and-quickly-out-of-action.
Dustin flopped as weak as a calf in a blue birth bag to the floor, and labored there to breathe.
When the jungle tattoo of his heartbeat calmed, and his limbs were drawn again to purpose, he wore affection like a party hat, and though he had been tested to a remarkable IQ, he never looked more stupid.
The woman was immune to emotional response. After all, isn't the the stock and trade of successful prostitution removal of the heart? I think it's in the handbook.
Although it was obvious she knew Rex rather well, she was weary of the sight of both of them. She folded her take into her poke, the left cup of her bra, and she waved backwards, a wordless, but definitive directive.
As they left, Rex cackled, patted, and asked, "How's it feel to be a man?...."
and the younger, weak-kneed, still half-dazed, blubbered ,"I love you, I love you, I love you," to the worn-white, wooden floor.