His mouth curled up in that smile that always could make her dizzy from across the room. He swiped open the hotel room and stepped back to allow her in. Bathroom to the left with a huge oval soaking tub on one side and a separate shower on the other. Huge round mirror over the gold veined white marble sink and counter. Mirrored doors over the closet on the opposite side giving her a momentary glimpse of never ending reflections. The room opened up beyond the dim, narrow hall. King sized bed with a burgundy spread and six crisp white pillows. The closed dark wood cabinet probably held the television and mini bar. A dark blue love seat and wing backed chair behind a long oval coffee table. An elegant dark stained desk with a mirror hanging over it. His clothes would all be neatly placed in the closet. He hated a messy room. More, he hated housekeeping digging through his things.
This room is based on the room I had when I went to Kuala Lumpur. I was there over Christmas break, but it was so hot that I would go out in the morning to sightsee and then stop in the room to cool off, shower and change so room service had a hard time making up my room. They were, however, very generous with the bottled water. First night, I drank up the two bottles in my room and asked for another. I was given two. The next day when I came back from my jaunt, room service had dropped off four bottles, but hadn’t gotten to make the bed. I went through those during the afternoon so turn down service left me two more, which I drank. (It was very hot!) The third day, room service left me six bottles of water and turn down left two more. I needed all that water (plus the juices, teas and sodas I had with my meals) because it was so swelteringly hot and I tend to prefer to walk as much as possible.
When I went to the butterfly garden I took the train to the nearest stop and asked a cop for directions. He looked at me and said, “It’s very far away. Are you sure you want to walk it?” I thought he was assuming I was a pasty tourist who couldn’t handle the distance and set off in the direction he indicated. An oppressive hour and a half later, I found the butterfly garden, which was spectacular fortunately. I skipped the deer park and the orchid garden that were supposed to be nearby and asked directions to the Chinese Market of a trio of Muslim women who were on their way back to work from the mosque. After some conferring, they chose to walk me half the way there rather than get me lost. I stopped halfway to go through a textile museum to cool off.
If there hadn’t been so much neat stuff around, I would have been happy to just hang in my room, drinking my water. The bathroom alone was marvelous and I could see for miles from my window.
Christa Maurice 