Only Rings

“One ring to rule them all.” Maxwell said to himself, his eyes fixated on the gold band, he slipped from his slender finger. He had quoted the line from a popular movie of the time, where a cast of magical creatures fought and died for a magical ring. A ring in the real world is far from tangible magic. Rings are a symbols, therefore, imbued with magic of symbols, yet tangible magic is beyond their boundaries. Fireballs and lighting bolts are the playground of fantasy, but his band of metal struggled to keep the spark of love alive, like an inept boy scout with a couple of sticks. If only his ring were magical, he would slip it onto his finger, and his heart’s hearth would blaze a bonfire, but this was not to be, reality asserts the rules that fantasy bends.

Maxwell pocketed the ring with a sigh, and stepped from the trash filled alleyway. Long shadows and little else greeted him as he stepped onto the sidewalk. The winter months played optical illusions with time and gave Saloon Street a far later appearance than time had allowed. Gust of wind tried to sweep trash from the sidewalks. Empty styrofoam cups, bit of paper, and fast food wrappers danced along the concrete, swept from one place to littler somewhere further down the way. An endless cycle of filth. Though the piles of trash added to the décor of decay known as Saloon Street, the oldest and most forgotten place in Portcity. In its heyday, Saloon Street was “the” location in town. The newest buildings were erected along her sidewalks, the aroma of fine foods filled her air, and names of acclaimed plays lit up the marquees on her face.

Money is the blood of a street and money leaked to new and improved areas. A growing city sucked Saloon Street dry. An empty husk of her former glory is all that remains. Yet, the mark of grandness permeates the street’s face like open wounds. Grand names mark the street signs but their beauty is only name deep. Zanderbelt’s, a department store converted to a pawnshop, was once a shop for the well to do, but now, hawks shattered dreams and ruined lives. The Gentlemen’s Delight saloon is hard-pressed find a single patron who would rank in the gentlemen category. And the Hollywood hotel, once it was a playground for the rich and powerful, is now a jungle gym for the pimps, gangs and all around scum of society.

“Count me in.” Maxwell said to himself. He knew sinners were scum, and if pressed to define himself, sinner, was the nicest description he could allow. Beside to deign sinner status and be in this section of town is an oxymoron. Sin is the only reason to be on Saloon Street, where first names are considered Christian titles and last names are the lexicon of authority. Anyone who tells different has an array of skeletons in their closet.

Maxwell thought about the many skeletons in his own closet, and opened the glass door of the Hollywood hotel by tarnished gold handles. The large open lobby sat with a slight slant which tilted the room and gave the walker a sense of seasickness. Well-worn rugs cover unpolished wood floors. Dust covered furniture sit dead on wooden claw feet. Maxwell made his way to the oak front desk, where a bell and a registry book were the only items on the surface. Maxwell slapped the bell, which issued a loud sharp ring.

“ In the registry book, she is already waiting for you, sport.” A voice shouted from behind a closed door. Maxwell opened the book and found a key with an 8 shaped piece of plastic attached by a key ring. He took the key, closed the book and headed for the stairs, as the voice trailed after him. “Sign the book!”

He needed to sign the book, even less than he needed to know Lucia had arrived. In the past year of their afternoon rendezvous, she always arrived early and waited for him to show up. He ascended the stairs, and wondered if her punctuality was a part of his hidden distain for her. She proved, at every meeting, her affection for him far exceed his own for her. No matter his mood, she met him with kindness and loving touches. From lips and fingertips, she seemed to possess a bottomless well of lust, or love, which incited his jealousy. He had yet to admit that he hated her, but loved the way she made him feel.

He fit the key into the lock on the door marked 8 and went into the room. He walked, first, to the bathroom and took a towel from the pocket of his trench coat. He covered his hand with the towel and turned on the faucet. For a second, he was mesmerized by the cold, brown-tinted water, which flowed from the tap into the porcelain basin. His hands sunk into basin and the cold water stung his fingertips. A sensation that broke the spell and returned him to the present.

“Honey, is that you?” Lucia’s voice came thru the access door in the back of the room.

Maxwell dipped the terry cloth towel into the water, once most of the brown water flushed from the spout, and placed the towel over his face. The cool water soaked his burning intentions. He looked to the mirror. His face appeared to be someone else, it could be his face in a composite picture of him in the future, but not the one, he remembered, from the looking glass.

He walked away from reality and went to the access door. The door on the other side of room 8’s access door was open. The aroma of incenses poured into the open doorway and candles flickered from various places around the room, which gave the room a lively subtle glow, and cast Lucia in a demure light. She lay in the middle of a four-posted bed, which took up most of the room. Her body was already wrapped in a silk negligee that hugged her body and accented her curves. Her long, bight red nails fingered the magazines that lay spread out on the bed top and occupied her time. She looked the part of a sexpot plaster in the nickel magazines.

“Just let me finish this article.” She said.

Maxwell sat on bed, besides Lucia, and took off his cloths. He got as far as the buttons on his shirt, when she tossed the magazine to the side and crept behind him. Her lips pressed against his skin of his neck, as her long nails made trails up his arm. Her erect nipples jabbed his back, when she pressed herself against him. He could feel the heat from her body pour into his. Long cream white legs slipped around him and tossed his body further onto the bed.

Her feline form pounced and pleasured her prey. Her lips sank against his flesh, to taste the salty sweat, while her body humped against him. Her fingers unbuttoned his shirt, followed by her tongue that drew a trail down his stomach. She took his manhood between her lips and lost herself in his flesh. She was engrossed her his flesh, and ignorant of his wondering mind. His fingers stroked her hair and his mouth issued a momentary grunt of pleasure, but his eyes were dull in their inspection of the cracked ceiling. His body had shifted into cruse control. He stumbled thru the motions, but did not man the helm.

Half an hour later, found Lucia in Maxwell’s natural saddle, one hand steadied her body, so her other hand could wave in the air and whip an invisible hat. She now screamed at the top of her lungs, to the great creator, for the glory of Maxwell’s phallus. Judging by her performance, He no longer needed introduction to the neighbors. When her legs pulled against him, her kneecaps dug into his ribs, her body twitched, and then fell onto the bed. She laid painting in quick short breaths. Her body slick with sweat, slid against his body and spilled onto the mattress.

Before Lucia’s head touched the mattress, she was asleep. Maxwell reached down into a pocket of his jacket. His hand withdrew a pack of Nails cigarettes, and he took one out of the pack. He stuck a match against the headboard, lit the cigarette, and sucked in the harsh, satisfying flavor, which is a trademark of the Nails brand. While he smoked, his free hand drew small circles into her flesh with his fingertip. Her body remained responsive thru her slumber and stirred at his touch, but she did not wake. She was such a lovely creature. Any man would kill to be in this bed, yet he could not find the same fire that drove other men.

Once Maxwell was certain that Lucia would not wake up, he slipped from the bed, collected his cloths and got dressed. He took one look back to the bed, as he slipped on his suspenders, and had a realization. He was surprised he never noticed it before, but now that he saw it, he could not stop seeing his wife in the body on the bed. Not the body his wife had today, but the body she had when they first met. He quietly dressed, and thought of the time, when his wife and he had been young and dumb. They were rushed into marriage. The whole event was more for the parents and came from a sense of duty. They both had their doubts.

Maxwell, fully dressed, crept to the dresser. He found a pen and piece of paper among the litter of trash and candle wax. He wrote:

Dear Lucia,

I have a rather busy schedule. I regret that we did not get to talk more than we did, perhaps next time. I hope your slumber is invaded by the sweetest visions.

Love,
Maxwell

P.S. I have left payment for the rooms. I hope you are not insulted, if you find enough money left over for a trinket that might catch your eye.

Maxwell took out his wallet and retrieved a couple of bills from between the leather pockets. He folded the piece of paper around the currency, and placed the package on the borough. He stole a final glance back to Lucia’s sleeping body, and then left thru the access door. He tossed the room key on the front desk and continued towards the front doors.

“See ya next week, sport.” The voice behind the door said.

Maxwell walked out the front door and found Saloon Street waking up. Factory workers had punched out for the day and made their way to the bars for the night. Maxwell walked against the tide of libation seeking blue-collar workers. He fingered the ring with his hand plunged into his pockets with thoughts of his wife. They both had doubts, but they thought the bond of marriage would smooth out the bumps. Innocents begat ignorance and they were a bit drunk with both. He took the ring from his pocket, gave the gold band a quick glance, and then slipped it back onto his slender ring finger.