We get those kinds a lot; he was ashamed I could tell. He faked his name, you can always tell when people fake it cause they give you a long pause before they tell you their “name”. And boy, did he pause.
I worked mostly night shifts there at the motel, it wasn’t bad I mean you get some odd faces here and there but it’s not bad, not at all. Its actually pretty fun, watching married men with girls young enough to be their daughters, the freaks really do come out at night.
But anyways there was this man, Benedict Cumberbatch he claimed his name was. British actor? I asked, boy he nearly shat himself when I said that. Boy was he startled. He nodded very anxious; he seemed on edge, he must have been really ashamed.
He held only this one brief case, it didn’t seem full. He was kinda handsome, dashing almost, grey hair, strong jaw, he was attractive I’ll give him that.
I assigned him the last vacancy left, which meant I was off the job for a while, luckily the last room, his room, was right across the staffs room. I don’t know I guess I was kinda bored, intrigued almost, I mean he was kinda suspicious, how could you not? I mean he left the curtains open and everything.
I was about 10 minutes in from when he entered the room, curtains opened and everything, as if he was suspecting an audience. He seemed less tense sitting on the mattress, he positioned this long mirror at an angle to his bed, I could see almost everything. He definitely was putting on a show.
He looked so different from the counter, so relaxed, serine almost. Casually pulling off his clothes he stood before me, well about 20 meters away guarded by 2 windows, he stood before me in only his boxers. His body was alright, not bad but not great, pretty good legs I’ll give him that.
The brief case was on the bed, opened wide, you wouldn’t believe it but he brought out all these women’s clothes. Real womens clothes, he pulled out a black lacy bra and slipped it on, to tell you the truth I felt kinda disgusted, boy did I feel awkward but I couldn’t look away.
After a moment he brought out these silky stockings, rolling it on to himself in front of the mirror, muttering to himself, giving himself flirty kisses to the mirror. It wasn’t even funny, it was kinda sad.
He paraded in the bra and stockings then slipped on this really tight black dress. He paused at himself in the mirror, he looked… happy. He looked even happier when he pulled out a wig. My eyebrows sky rocketed; my eyes were glued on him as he brushed it slightly and flipped on the long brunette wig. Things got a bit weird from there, putting on these large white pumps and threw on a hot pink scarf, beginning to pack on layers of make-up.
He watched himself, all finished, he watched himself. He looked like he as in a trance, he pulled the mirror in and kissed himself.
But at that point, I didn’t feel weird anymore, I felt, kinda, I don’t know, happy for the guy. He seemed so much more comfortable now than when he was at the counter, then when he sat on the bed, from when he put on the.. bra. I know it’s a bit weird, but I felt happy too, I don’t know, boy if you saw the guy in that outfit, all confident, clopping away in those heels, that wig, you would feel happy too.
In a way, it was kinda like, that was him, the real him. I guess he kinda wanted an audience, someone to see who he really is, and honestly I was glad to see it. Boy did he look happy.
The next day when he checked out he was the man again, he seemed sad, lost almost. I felt sorry for the guy. But yeah, the jobs not bad, we get those types around here a lot, it’s not bad, It’s not bad at all.