Nader did his best to snuggle up under the thick, crispy hotel duvet. He checked his watch: 4.00am. Sleep was not in the stars this night it seemed. Having arrived in Manhattan just before midnight, he assumed exhaustion would take over and allow him a few blinks. He wasn’t sure if it was his recent 3 month bout of insomnia, or just old fashioned jet lag, that made the idea of sleep inconceivable.
It was Tuesday night. For a minute he considered getting up and going out for a drink, but decided it would be 5am by the time he made it anywhere, and that would be too ambitious for a Tuesday night even for this city. His laptop was within arm’s reach, he pulled it towards him and threw open its lid. Manhunt, the only way to kill enormous amounts of time without ever a moment of boredom. His eyes scanned the assortment of faces, torsos and genitalia. He wasn’t aroused, but he was sufficiently entertained. The steady stream of messages in his inbox appeased his ego enough to keep him hooked and going. Like his insomnia, Manhunt put him in a state of semi-consciousness. His perusal and movements were robotic.
Before he knew it, daylight was creeping into the room. Nader jumped out of bed and into some running shoes, Hollister sweat-pants and a polo shirt. It was –6 degrees outside, but he knew once his body started heating up he wouldn’t need to wear anymore for his run.
Outside the fog was clearing up and the sun bounced off the million panes of steel and glass spectacularly as the urban jungle smothered Central Park. The lakes were frozen, Bethesda stood delicately beyond the arches, and park rangers were making their rounds. Nader’s heart raced as he sped through the lifeless trees.
Back at the hotel, Nader held the elevator door open for a handsome gentleman that had just checked-in early. Feeling slightly self-conscious about his sweaty state, Nader stayed quiet. When it transpired that this intriguing stranger had actually checked into the room across the hall, Nader volunteered smoothly “Hey, we’re neighbors.”
The man, 5’11’’, tanned with piercing grey eyes and a wide smile replied back “Are you sure you’re not just stalking me?”
Out-maneuvered, Nader laughed awkwardly and turned to his room. Later that night, he began feeling anxiety as he realized the number of hours he’d spent awake. In his bathroom mirror the whites of his eyes were no longer so. Red rivers pulsed through them, forking their way to his iris like devil’s fingers. He walked to his closet door, and threw it open.
Clad in leather, metal and mink, Nader zigzagged his way around the island from bar to bar to club to bar with an assortment of former lovers and friends. His vodka never ran dry, and despite his exhaustion, he never felt drunk.
Back at his hotel at 4am, he decided to give its heaving bar a short visit for a nightcap. Just because he could do so with more ease than anyone else. Being a guest at the hotel meant there was a separate entrance that he could use to skip the dull line and intimidating bouncers (“Now where y’all from? Can ah see sum aahhdee?”).
The room was heavy with the scent of expensive cologne and New York swagger. His leather diva outfit turned a few surprised eyes, but they knew better than to comment lest they be known forevermore as “tunnel and bridge”. At the bar, he was two sips into his vodka rocks when a hand fell on his shoulder. He turned around slowly and it was his hotel neighbor, smiling barely. His eyes were now even more transparent in ambient glow of the bar, and full of questions. Nader extended his hand, which with the exception of his fingers was still covered in sharp metal and rugged leather, and held the back of the handsome strangers neck. He pulled it in, and the man submitted. They kissed slowly, but intensely. For the first time in days, Nader suddenly felt like his eyes wanted to stay shut.
Recovering from the sweet taste of this man’s mouth, Nader slowly regained consciousness. He had another sip of his drink and took him by the hand back through the private exit to the 10th floor.
In Nader’s room, the clothes were peeled off in haste as they both remained lip-locked. Nader forcibly turned him around and pushed his naked body against the wall. He got down onto the floor and began slowly to taste his prey’s skin with the tip of his tongue. First the back of the ankles…his calves…his thighs…his tongue gently making its way to his anus as the short hairs tickled its tip. His neighbor moaned violently.
***
The next morning, Nader realized he’d actually gotten some sleep. Two and a half hours. A miracle. He felt an unbelievable amount of energy. Next to him, his lover was also already awake, running his fingers through Nader’s hair. “I like your hair.”
Nader looked at him and thought, ‘Your eyes are not human.’
Within 2 hours, his lover had departed for Los Angeles.
Nader lay awake in his lifeless bed. The contrast was noticeably severe.
The events of his days in room 1077 in Manhattan’s Hudson Hotel did not change significantly over the coming days. Then, one night, as he lay in bed, his eyes bloodshot and his lover asleep, he slipped into last night’s jeans and put on a heavy shirt and coat. His bag was packed, and his flight was in 2 hours. He planted a gentle kiss onto his bedmate’s cheek and explained gently that he could stay until noon before the room was due for check-out.
In the street, Nader pulled behind him his bag on its silent rollers. It was 6.30 am. Sunrise was an hour away, and the forest of skyscrapers, usually lit up randomly and intensely, was pitch black with darkness. He could see their silhouette just barely traced against a sky of deep purple. Like a silent army, poised, lifeless, they stared down at him. His hand shot up at the sight of the first yellow cab. “JFK,” he grunted, wrapping a scarf around his neck and holding on tensely to his passport.
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