The salon is full. The night's atmosphere for the Grand Hotel's guests gives an invitation to dance the night away. Why not? The drinks and food are free to all VIPs like him, sent by his company to attend a Symposium on How to Prevent A Divorce. He is a marriage counselor like the rest of about a hundred people in the room, men and women.
In his 50's, he deceives people, especially women, with his neat look, pleasing and charming personality. He loves to maintain his physical appearance through good habits when it comes to food and exercises.
Almost a narcissist before the eyes of his loving wife of the same age, who to his own set of standards for an excellent body for a woman has never met, unfortunately. He laughs to himself at that. But, he loves her. Besides, he will rather stand that, live with it, than to damage his reputation for the sake of his job. What is good that night, she is not with him. Otherwise, she will have to stop him from having his fifth glass of martini. He smiles to himself at the thought of her.
People around him, younger and older than him, have been having fun dancing, drinking and whispering to each other. Some are obviously flirting with each other. He shakes his head and smiles.
"Of course, we are exempted to the rule."
He talks to himself to find an excuse.
Though the night is so inviting, he decides to leave the salon when his thoughts reminds him of his wife. With her taking care of their three grandchildren back home. His faithful wife has been an excellent wife and mother to his four children. She has been taking care of him, not just as a wife, but almost like a mother! He has been so babied by her.
"I think I have enough, even more than I usually drink."
He wants more, but convincing himself to stop.
"Well, pretty boy, you have to go to bed now or you can be led astray somewhere."
He gives a little laugh at the thought. Then drink the last drop from his glass. He leaves the glass on top of a hallway table leading to the Main Lobby, where he has to cross to the other side to take the elevator to his room.
Passing by the big lobby, there just came a young couple with a baby crying loud while being swung by a mother in her arms. Her singing a lullaby. He gives no importance, but before reaching the front of the elevator, he glimpses the mother preparing herself to feed the baby by lifting her blouse.
The elevator's door is already opened. It is empty. He is alone. He stands there for a moment. His mind shouting something to him.
"Take a look! Take a look!"
He answers himself with a shake of his head.
"Nee, what for?"
At least he is trying to resist. But he turns around walking backward into the elevator while his eyes are purposely searching for that mother. He finds her. The baby is already sucking the mother's breast. Though the mother has a nice wrap on top of her feeding baby, the whiteness and fullness of her breast is exposed. He looks at her. She is lovingly looking at her husband besides her. Both have fixed eyes on each other.
"What a beautiful, attractive woman she is!"
His eyes reveal to him admiringly.
"Oh! it is too late, man!"
He feels some sort of disappointment. He is already inside the elevator. No chance but to press the elevator's button before he can be tempted to something else.
"Just like that?"
That is his mind asking him.
"Stay in the lobby and watch the mother at least."
His mind keeps tempting.
He shakes his head as if to speed away the evil thoughts out.
"God, send that evil out of me, please!"
He closes his eyes pleading those words. The elevator moves up. He feels relief upon reaching the floor to his room. He is almost running even if his room is just a few steps from the elevators. As soon as he enters his room, he takes off his clothes and straight to the shower. Hot shower.
The writer stops for a while. Trying to figure out what happens to his character. Smiling about it, The Pen suddenly falls to the floor. It is in the hand with the arm hanging on the chairs armrest.
"Finish my story!"
The Pen claims. So the writer obeys.
Right after drying himself, he struggles to put on his pajama and drop his body to bed. The drinks in combination with the hot shower seem to knock him out to sleep.
"There it is your ending The Pen!"
The writer drops his pen, looks at the table clock then rubs both eyes. Finishing the fifth beer in hand, lying back to the rolling chair with full backrest, without realizing it, sleep creeps in.
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