motel was when she was eight and was driving across country with her mother and father.
Now she was going to one to go to bed with a man who was a total stranger. What did she
know about him anyway? Only that he was handsome, popular and knew an easy lay
when he saw one.
Ron reached over and took her hand. “Your hands are cold,” he said.
“Cold hands, hot legs.” Oh, Christ, she thought. There I go again. For some reason,
the lyrics of “Ah, Sweet Mystery of Life” started to go through Catherine’s head. Well she
was about to solve it. She was on her way to finding out what everything was all about.
The books, the sexy advertisements, the thinly veiled love lyrics—“Rock Me in the Cradle
of Love,” “Do It Again,” “Birds Do It.” OK, she thought. Now Catherine is going to do it.
Ron turned south onto Clark Street.
Ahead on both sides of the street were huge blinking red eyes, neon signs that were
alive in the night, screaming out their offers of cheap and temporary havens for impatient
young lovers. “EASY REST MOTEL,” “OVERNIGHT MOTEL,” “COME INN,” (Now
that had to be Freudian!) “TRAVELER’S REST.” The paucity of imagination was
staggering, but on the other hand the owners of these places were probably too busy
bustling fornicating young couples in and out of bed to worry about being literary.
“This is about the best of them,” Ron said, pointing to a sign ahead.
“PARADISE INN—VACANCY.”
It was a symbol. There was a vacancy in Paradise, and she, Catherine Alexander, was
going to fill it.
Ron swung the car into the courtyard next to a small whitewashed office with a sign
that read: RING BELL AND ENTER. The courtyard consisted of about two dozen
numbered wooden bungalows.
“How does this look?” Ron asked.
Like Dante’s Inferno. Like the Colosseum in Rome when the Christians were about to
be thrown to the lions. Like the Temple of Delphi when a Vestal Virgin was about to get
hers.
Catherine felt that excited feeling in her groin again. “Terrific,” she said, “Just
terrific.”
Ron smiled knowingly. “I’ll be right back.” He put his hand on Catherine’s knee,
sliding it up toward her thigh, gave her a quick, impersonal kiss and swung out of the car
and went into the office. She sat there, looking after him, trying to make her mind blank.
She heard the wail of a siren in the distance. Oh, my God, she thought wildly, it’s a
raid! They’re always raiding these places!
The door to the manager’s office opened and Ron came out. He was carrying a key
and apparently was deaf to the siren which was coming closer and closer. He walked over
to Catherine’s side of the car and opened the door.