Bows and arrows
Posted: 07 Jan 2021 19:49
Some years ago I used to travel between a few large cities in connection with work. I would spend two or three nights in a four star hotel midweek before returning to the office at the end of the week. Although I did overhear a few nocturnal exercises during this time I did not try to record any.
My firm had an account with a well known hotel chain and had negotiated a preferential rate. I therefore frequently revisited certain hotels and got to know their habits, staff, layout, rooms, occupancy levels etc very well. That allowed me to request rooms which I knew to be bigger or quieter, had better bathrooms than others. The details acquired with familiarity.
On one particular occasion I arrived in the early evening to discover the lobby full of people mostly in casual dress with some of the women got up as if for a party. Mutton dressed as lamb. I later learned that there had been, of all things, a darts tournament taking place that night at the music hall nearby. The people in the lobby were the competitors and their entourage. Darts exists at a different social strata from say Polo, or Lacrosse. As will become evident.
On checking in I learned that the hotel was completely full and my requested room was not available. There was no alternative to the room I had been allocated, apparently. I did not make a fuss and I could see from the lobby that it was extremely busy. When I got to the room I discovered that it had been adapted for people with mobility difficulties and so it had rails around the bath and long draw cords for the light switches. It also had a connecting door to the next room. I took a shower and got my things ready for work next day. During this time no sound at all came from the next door room. If the hotel was not completely full I could not understand why it had not been allocated to me, leaving my room available for anyone arriving with genuine mobility issues. I did not pursue it and went out shortly afterwards to eat at a restaurant I often used. I returned to my room just after 10pm and after the usual chores went straight to sleep in preparation for a busy day to follow.
Just after 1am I was woken I think by the slamming shut of the door from the next room to the corridor. As I came to my senses I thought I heard a woman with a West Country accent demand at a contralto pitch, “What the f*ck was yer playin’ at? Yer ‘ad ‘im beat and now we’ve lost two grand stupid f*ck.” I didn’t hear the substance of the reply from a baritone male voice but I sensed it was more apologetic than assertive. Slowly and quietly I sat up, now fully awake. Then I heard the male voice ask, “Where we playin’ tamorrer, what’s it for?” I think he was asking how much the prize money would be at the next venue. However, it didn’t elicit a very helpful response because the female retorted, “’Ow the f*ck should I know?” To which the male replied in an accent from perhaps Birmingham or Wolverhampton, “Well you’re supposed to be f*cking manager!”
“Yeah and you’re supposed to be f*cking darts player!”
This revealed a number of things. 1, I’m not very good with regional accents. 2, The warring couple next door had a professional relationship. 3, They appeared to share a room and possibly a bed. 4, Judging by the noise they made they didn’t realise my room was occupied. I’ve always since assumed they were a couple, he was a player and she managed the arrangements. I could be wrong. Maybe they just had no regard for anyone else’s sleep.
While they busied themselves for bed and continued their angry post mortem I used the noise as cover to move stealthily from my bed to the business chair at the desk adjacent to the connecting door. I was only wearing boxer shorts and a T top but hotel rooms are usually overheated so I was not cold. And now I could hear very well their argumentative conversation.
F: “Well there’s no point in keepin’ this up if yer gonna play like a tit is there? Be as well goin’ back to the buildin’ with a steady wage comin in.”
M: “Christ, yer can’t win ‘em every night fer f*cks sake.”
F:”Well yer don’t ‘ave to f*ckin’ throw ‘em away do yer? ‘Ow many beers did yer ‘ave in the game?”
M:”Yeah, I ‘ad a few but that’s got nowt to do with it.”
F:”No it wouldn’t ‘ave, would it?”
M:”Well if yer don’t like it yer can f*ck off.”
F:”Oh that is nice, that is.” It sounded as if they'd been over the course before.
My folks went through an acrimonious divorce. If you’ve listened to as many arguments as I have you’ll know that they usually have a bell curve structure. They erupt, they persist and grow louder. There is some conciliation and they subside. Silence follows. Well not my neighbours. They went at it hammer and tongs for fully 30 minutes. Finally the male announced, “Well please yersel’ but I’m turnin’ in now.” A rustle of duvet followed and the headboard settled once against the wall. A brief lull ensued followed by some very quiet footsteps on carpet and the headboard knocked again, more quietly this time. Presumably they were both now in bed. It hadn’t sounded as if a night of passion was in store. And indeed it wasn’t.
The calm continued for about ten minutes and I would have gone back to bed but for one thing. Every minute or so one of the pair would huff and puff, and turnover. The duvet would crackle and the headboard knock once quietly. They weren’t done yet and I could not drag myself away from this fascinating study in human behaviour.
F:”What’s wrong with yer now?”
M: “Can’t sleep.”
F: “Why can’t yer sleep?”
There was no immediate reply from the male but the female then said, incredulously, “WOT? Yer must be f*ckin’ jokin mate, no I don’t wan’ it.” Presumably some non verbal communication had provoked her rejection.
The uneasy lull resumed, again periodically punctuated by the huffing and puffing and turning over. That was when the female announced with an exasperated sigh, “Oh give over will yer, come on then…” Almost as if she'd had a last drink in the bar forced on her that she didn't want. Who knows what had happened to trigger the capitulation. Perhaps the initial request had eventually stimulated some carnal thoughts. Or maybe sheer pragmatism had reluctantly persuaded her that no sleep would be obtained without agreeing to some brief unarmed combat with the enemy. Or was this her way of trying to coax a better performance from her dubious sportsman at the next venue? Commercial incentivisation, as it were. I’ll never know but I expected the net result would be a brief joyless union followed by some much needed sleep for everyone. So I was surprised when the next interjection came from the male. “Well come over ‘ere then.”
More rustling suggested she was surprisingly in the process of complying and some slops and pops suggested she was providing service well beyond the call of duty.
M: “Aw that’s f*ckin great that is.”
F: “Mmm, mmm, oh…”
Incredibly, in spite of everything, her default position seemed to be that she got from giving. She was actually enjoying the power of giving him a blowjob and the control which it gave her over him. After a few minutes of him grunting and her gagging the male urgently pleaded, ”Can yer hold it when it’s comin’?”
It was all the more surprising therefore when she hissed tetchily, “I don’t wan’ it all over the sheets.” As these were hotel sheets I can only think that she didn’t want to sleep on a wet patch. However, maybe she was just being manipulative.
M:”What d’yer wanna do then?”
F:”Put it in.”
M:”Go on then.”
More duvet sound effects and headboard knocking as they changed positions.
M:”Is that a’right?”
F: “Yeah I’d have told yer if it warn’t.”
The headboard was bouncing at a rate of 2hz. I know from my own experience that 3hz is the trigger frequency. Notwithstanding her reluctant path to this point she was clearly enjoying his weight and the penetration, emitting a low pitched and powerful, “Aw…” with every other thrust.
M:”Can I put it all in? Yer never let me put it all in.”
F:”I’ve told yer why.”
Jeez, I thought. Are they never going to stop arguing? Not even mid coitus?
M:”But why?” I think he meant why not but I’ll forgive him the grammatical error in the circumstances.
F:”Cos it’s not comfortable for me, that’s why.”
The headboard rate increased to 3hz.
The female suddenly squealed and shouted, "I'VE ALREADY TOLD YER. If yer do that again we're stoppin'!" My guess is he tried full penetration and for whatever reason she wasn't accepting it. Maybe he was too big. Or perhaps she was too small. Could be he accidentally on purpose slipped in the back door.
M:"Yeah a'right keep yer 'air on. 'Ow long 'ave I got like?" I don't think he was talking about linear measurement. I think he was sort of sarcastically asking if there was a time limit to be observed.
F:"Just get on with it will yer?" Very annoyed now.
The headboard continued to thump. Then.
M:”Hold it, hold for us.” He meant "me", I’m sure.
Confirming her controlling nature, when he started grunting in spite of her general disgruntlement she commenced a series of unconsciously loud gasps. She seemed to be inspired by his orgasm even if she preferred not to be. The headboard stopped bouncing then bounced once. Presumably he had rolled off her and back to the other side of the bed. Some footsteps padded quietly across the room. After a minute the cistern flushed. All was now clear. She was prepared to act as a vessel for transporting semen to the bathroom. Or happier, at least, than she would have been sleeping on a wet patch. She went back to bed. I gave them five minutes to doze off then crept back to my own bed.
In the morning I had no reason to be unduly quiet. I went about my ablutions and dressed in the usual way, making no attempt to hide my presence. The zippers being pulled next door suggested they were getting ready to leave. They were more subdued than when they came back. Perhaps they had been a little drunk. That my neighbours had been blissfully unaware of my existence – or as blissful as they ever get – was confirmed when I heard the female say, “Christ, there’s somebody in there.”
M:”Well they know that we’re about, any road.”
As I walked through the lobby the darts circus had assembled to board their coaches to the next venue. It was 7.30am, cold and dark outside. Some of the old girls were still grotesquely dressed in their party clothes. I never saw my neighbours. Not surprisingly I never again experienced such a bizarre encounter.
My firm had an account with a well known hotel chain and had negotiated a preferential rate. I therefore frequently revisited certain hotels and got to know their habits, staff, layout, rooms, occupancy levels etc very well. That allowed me to request rooms which I knew to be bigger or quieter, had better bathrooms than others. The details acquired with familiarity.
On one particular occasion I arrived in the early evening to discover the lobby full of people mostly in casual dress with some of the women got up as if for a party. Mutton dressed as lamb. I later learned that there had been, of all things, a darts tournament taking place that night at the music hall nearby. The people in the lobby were the competitors and their entourage. Darts exists at a different social strata from say Polo, or Lacrosse. As will become evident.
On checking in I learned that the hotel was completely full and my requested room was not available. There was no alternative to the room I had been allocated, apparently. I did not make a fuss and I could see from the lobby that it was extremely busy. When I got to the room I discovered that it had been adapted for people with mobility difficulties and so it had rails around the bath and long draw cords for the light switches. It also had a connecting door to the next room. I took a shower and got my things ready for work next day. During this time no sound at all came from the next door room. If the hotel was not completely full I could not understand why it had not been allocated to me, leaving my room available for anyone arriving with genuine mobility issues. I did not pursue it and went out shortly afterwards to eat at a restaurant I often used. I returned to my room just after 10pm and after the usual chores went straight to sleep in preparation for a busy day to follow.
Just after 1am I was woken I think by the slamming shut of the door from the next room to the corridor. As I came to my senses I thought I heard a woman with a West Country accent demand at a contralto pitch, “What the f*ck was yer playin’ at? Yer ‘ad ‘im beat and now we’ve lost two grand stupid f*ck.” I didn’t hear the substance of the reply from a baritone male voice but I sensed it was more apologetic than assertive. Slowly and quietly I sat up, now fully awake. Then I heard the male voice ask, “Where we playin’ tamorrer, what’s it for?” I think he was asking how much the prize money would be at the next venue. However, it didn’t elicit a very helpful response because the female retorted, “’Ow the f*ck should I know?” To which the male replied in an accent from perhaps Birmingham or Wolverhampton, “Well you’re supposed to be f*cking manager!”
“Yeah and you’re supposed to be f*cking darts player!”
This revealed a number of things. 1, I’m not very good with regional accents. 2, The warring couple next door had a professional relationship. 3, They appeared to share a room and possibly a bed. 4, Judging by the noise they made they didn’t realise my room was occupied. I’ve always since assumed they were a couple, he was a player and she managed the arrangements. I could be wrong. Maybe they just had no regard for anyone else’s sleep.
While they busied themselves for bed and continued their angry post mortem I used the noise as cover to move stealthily from my bed to the business chair at the desk adjacent to the connecting door. I was only wearing boxer shorts and a T top but hotel rooms are usually overheated so I was not cold. And now I could hear very well their argumentative conversation.
F: “Well there’s no point in keepin’ this up if yer gonna play like a tit is there? Be as well goin’ back to the buildin’ with a steady wage comin in.”
M: “Christ, yer can’t win ‘em every night fer f*cks sake.”
F:”Well yer don’t ‘ave to f*ckin’ throw ‘em away do yer? ‘Ow many beers did yer ‘ave in the game?”
M:”Yeah, I ‘ad a few but that’s got nowt to do with it.”
F:”No it wouldn’t ‘ave, would it?”
M:”Well if yer don’t like it yer can f*ck off.”
F:”Oh that is nice, that is.” It sounded as if they'd been over the course before.
My folks went through an acrimonious divorce. If you’ve listened to as many arguments as I have you’ll know that they usually have a bell curve structure. They erupt, they persist and grow louder. There is some conciliation and they subside. Silence follows. Well not my neighbours. They went at it hammer and tongs for fully 30 minutes. Finally the male announced, “Well please yersel’ but I’m turnin’ in now.” A rustle of duvet followed and the headboard settled once against the wall. A brief lull ensued followed by some very quiet footsteps on carpet and the headboard knocked again, more quietly this time. Presumably they were both now in bed. It hadn’t sounded as if a night of passion was in store. And indeed it wasn’t.
The calm continued for about ten minutes and I would have gone back to bed but for one thing. Every minute or so one of the pair would huff and puff, and turnover. The duvet would crackle and the headboard knock once quietly. They weren’t done yet and I could not drag myself away from this fascinating study in human behaviour.
F:”What’s wrong with yer now?”
M: “Can’t sleep.”
F: “Why can’t yer sleep?”
There was no immediate reply from the male but the female then said, incredulously, “WOT? Yer must be f*ckin’ jokin mate, no I don’t wan’ it.” Presumably some non verbal communication had provoked her rejection.
The uneasy lull resumed, again periodically punctuated by the huffing and puffing and turning over. That was when the female announced with an exasperated sigh, “Oh give over will yer, come on then…” Almost as if she'd had a last drink in the bar forced on her that she didn't want. Who knows what had happened to trigger the capitulation. Perhaps the initial request had eventually stimulated some carnal thoughts. Or maybe sheer pragmatism had reluctantly persuaded her that no sleep would be obtained without agreeing to some brief unarmed combat with the enemy. Or was this her way of trying to coax a better performance from her dubious sportsman at the next venue? Commercial incentivisation, as it were. I’ll never know but I expected the net result would be a brief joyless union followed by some much needed sleep for everyone. So I was surprised when the next interjection came from the male. “Well come over ‘ere then.”
More rustling suggested she was surprisingly in the process of complying and some slops and pops suggested she was providing service well beyond the call of duty.
M: “Aw that’s f*ckin great that is.”
F: “Mmm, mmm, oh…”
Incredibly, in spite of everything, her default position seemed to be that she got from giving. She was actually enjoying the power of giving him a blowjob and the control which it gave her over him. After a few minutes of him grunting and her gagging the male urgently pleaded, ”Can yer hold it when it’s comin’?”
It was all the more surprising therefore when she hissed tetchily, “I don’t wan’ it all over the sheets.” As these were hotel sheets I can only think that she didn’t want to sleep on a wet patch. However, maybe she was just being manipulative.
M:”What d’yer wanna do then?”
F:”Put it in.”
M:”Go on then.”
More duvet sound effects and headboard knocking as they changed positions.
M:”Is that a’right?”
F: “Yeah I’d have told yer if it warn’t.”
The headboard was bouncing at a rate of 2hz. I know from my own experience that 3hz is the trigger frequency. Notwithstanding her reluctant path to this point she was clearly enjoying his weight and the penetration, emitting a low pitched and powerful, “Aw…” with every other thrust.
M:”Can I put it all in? Yer never let me put it all in.”
F:”I’ve told yer why.”
Jeez, I thought. Are they never going to stop arguing? Not even mid coitus?
M:”But why?” I think he meant why not but I’ll forgive him the grammatical error in the circumstances.
F:”Cos it’s not comfortable for me, that’s why.”
The headboard rate increased to 3hz.
The female suddenly squealed and shouted, "I'VE ALREADY TOLD YER. If yer do that again we're stoppin'!" My guess is he tried full penetration and for whatever reason she wasn't accepting it. Maybe he was too big. Or perhaps she was too small. Could be he accidentally on purpose slipped in the back door.
M:"Yeah a'right keep yer 'air on. 'Ow long 'ave I got like?" I don't think he was talking about linear measurement. I think he was sort of sarcastically asking if there was a time limit to be observed.
F:"Just get on with it will yer?" Very annoyed now.
The headboard continued to thump. Then.
M:”Hold it, hold for us.” He meant "me", I’m sure.
Confirming her controlling nature, when he started grunting in spite of her general disgruntlement she commenced a series of unconsciously loud gasps. She seemed to be inspired by his orgasm even if she preferred not to be. The headboard stopped bouncing then bounced once. Presumably he had rolled off her and back to the other side of the bed. Some footsteps padded quietly across the room. After a minute the cistern flushed. All was now clear. She was prepared to act as a vessel for transporting semen to the bathroom. Or happier, at least, than she would have been sleeping on a wet patch. She went back to bed. I gave them five minutes to doze off then crept back to my own bed.
In the morning I had no reason to be unduly quiet. I went about my ablutions and dressed in the usual way, making no attempt to hide my presence. The zippers being pulled next door suggested they were getting ready to leave. They were more subdued than when they came back. Perhaps they had been a little drunk. That my neighbours had been blissfully unaware of my existence – or as blissful as they ever get – was confirmed when I heard the female say, “Christ, there’s somebody in there.”
M:”Well they know that we’re about, any road.”
As I walked through the lobby the darts circus had assembled to board their coaches to the next venue. It was 7.30am, cold and dark outside. Some of the old girls were still grotesquely dressed in their party clothes. I never saw my neighbours. Not surprisingly I never again experienced such a bizarre encounter.