Motel Exotica Alternate Ending

As a result of waiting for my marriage to end I was waiting for a hooker, both of which would end up fucking me over. I didn’t see how falling out of love with someone required a financial penalty. Porn, donuts, affairs, you were bastardized for enjoying life’s pleasures. Now here, in the rancid calcium encrusted bar of Motel Exotica, they had a way of making me feel dirty, even though I’d just come from paying my taxes. I leave half an ounce of liquid in my drink so the female bartender won’t talk to me. Unfortunate-ly, since I am the only breathing pulse at the bar she feels compelled to keep me company. I turn my head to the jukebox and pretend to be absorbed by the chubby, half-naked woman grinding up against its me-tallic covering. “Hey stud. Who you waiting for?” She smirks at me. “Come on humour me, I’m so bored.” She emphasizes the end of her …show more content…
Leave me alone. Her sticky perfume invades my nostrils. I realize I have to take action if I want her to leave. “Can I get another rye and coke?” I say dryly to my antagonist. I force myself to look down at her. I let my upper lip curl back, trying to indicate my disgust for her middle-aged stomach rolls, merci-lessly wedged inside her leopard-print leotard. Her limbs deflate as she slumps back, dejected, behind the bar to fix my drink. They send a pain of hurt to the inside of my stomach. Where the fuck is Nancy? The little twenty-something nicotine addict I’d been seeing for over a month was late, as per her usual GenX entitlement. Her smoky breath made me think of Mrs. Robinson from The Graduate. We were essentially the characters in reverse, except I don’t think she ever graduated anything. Nancy struts into the bar, the click of her Louboutins trailing behind her. Ironically, I know this brand of shoe because I was watching a documentary on SugarBabies. I am overpaying Nancy. “Hey.” She flashes a white key card in front of my face. Pain. They don’t like white