The room smelled like mildew but I was tired so I didn’t care. I had gone to four inns and three hotels but none had any vacant rooms except for this one. This room was the best I could do for now. My phone beeped, my husband again. I switched the bloody device off and threw it on the bed. I crushed my skirt, the frustration making me want to tear the fabric into shreds. I had to take deep breaths to calm myself.
The window was slightly open. I looked out and was pleased to see that it faces the swollen yellow Sarawak River. Sampans bearing cheesy advertisements on their roofs crisscrossed the river from side to side, trying their best to stay out of the turbulent wake of the bulky tugboats. Maybe I should stay in the hotel for a few more days, but then I had run out of the house with nothing but my handbag and the clothes on my back. As I turned back to the room, I noticed a patch of black mold on the carpet in a corner by the window. That must be where the smell was coming from, I thought. I couldn’t complain, however, because the manager did say that the room had a problem, yet even so I had made him agree to let me stay here by promising to check out the following day.
I didn’t want to go home, not today anyway. My husband’s clinginess was suffocating, his jealousy unbearable and his insistence that I recount to him every single thing that I did during the day was becoming impossible to tolerate. He called me every half-hour, and I actually had to resign from my last job because his obsession was affecting not only my work, but also my colleagues’. I was mentally and emotionally exhausted. I loved him, I still do. But at that point in our relationship, I needed to get away.
I lay down on the bed, fully dressed and soon dozed off into a beautiful dream. I could feel my heart ache, I could almost hear it crack like thin glass but at the same time, a wonderful warmth began to spread in my belly. And in that half-dozing state, I bent my knees and opened my legs wide. Then I fell into a deep sleep.
It was pitch dark when I woke. I switched on the bedside lamp and was startled to find that I was half-undressed. Or rather that my skirt had rolled up to my waist, and my blouse and bra had slipped off to above my breast. Even, my panty was askew. I pulled all these bits of clothing back in place, a little embarrassed. I must have had an erotic dream, I thought to myself, because I felt warm and swollen in my secret places.
I washed my face under the cold tap of the bathroom, feeling both tired and desirable at the same time. The cold shower did not help either. While putting on the white cotton bathrobe, I decided to call room service instead of eating out. Knowing my husband he would be calling or walking into every inn and hotel in the city to look for me. Luckily I still kept a credit card with my maiden name. Hopefully by the time he thought of asking for that name, I would be long gone.
A bus boy brought up the pasta and glass of wine I ordered. After signing the receipt and telling him that I would leave the tray outside the door, he left with an ‘enjoy your dinner ma’am’ and a smile.
I struggled to eat even half of the spaghetti in my plate. The wine, however, went down a lot easier. After leaving the tray outside, I opened the minibar fridge and picked out five mini bottles of scotch, brandy, whisky maybe, then sat down on the floor with my legs stretched out in front of me as I leaned back on the side of the bed. I stared into the night sky, neither thinking nor seeing. I opened the second bottle, a third bottle. Was it me who fondled my breast, I couldn’t tell. The alcohol was far headier than what I was used to. A bite teased my thigh, I giggled.
I sidled up to the mattress, my legs opened. Then I felt it, a cold hard finger entered me which I followed with a wonderful shudder. Another hand-blue, small and cold-cupped my breast and there it warmed itself. I smelled her mildew as her head slowly went up my torso, licking my belly then my breast, then my neck with her cold, cold tongue. The whole time her finger moved inside me in slow caressing thrusts. I wanted more of her, I needed more of her. Suddenly she was gone. I sat up, trembling and wet with desire. I bit my nail, then feeling a terrible need to be alone, I got up and hung the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the doorknob outside.
I slipped back into bed naked and dimmed the lights. Soon, I felt the cold fingers again, squeezing and pinching me most delightfully but none went inside me. I thrust my hips up, once, twice to urge her inside but the fingers eluded me.
“Please, please,” I begged.
She kissed my neck then with the voices of seven women she said, “Do you love me?”
“Yes, yes,” I panted, out of breath with excitement.
“Do you promise to take me with you?”
I tried to touch myself, but a hand stopped me and finally I had to relent, “Yes.”
She kissed me-tasting like newly fermented wine, smelling like the sweetest mildew-and entered me with something else that was not her finger. We made love all night, until morning light filtered through the window. After she disappeared, I fell asleep, exhausted.
A sharp relentless knock woke me. I quickly put on the robe I had carelessly flung onto the floor the night before and opened the door. The manager stood there, his face sallow and sweaty.
After heaving a sigh of relief, he said sternly, “Madam, you promised me you would check out today.”
I looked at my watch, 2pm. “I’m sorry. I overslept. I would like to stay another night if possible.”
“No, it is not possible. Please you must check out now,” he said with an earnest frown.
“But what is the rush?”
He sighed. Then as though realizing that he needed to scare me into leaving he said, “I am so sorry I let you take this room. The last three guests who stayed here have all died, one from a heart attack and the other two from suffocation. There is very bad mold in the room. We have been trying to fix it, but the mold keeps growing back. I am so sorry about this.”
“That is alright,” I said and promised to leave as soon as I dressed. When I dropped my mobile phone into my handbag, the voices said, “Don’t leave us. Take us with you.”
I hesitated before taking out a pen knife and cutting out a corner of the carpet. I brought her home with me. Two days later my husband died of an asthma attack. And now, I am pregnant.
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