Accidental Surrogate

Cora

I’m gasping as we burst through the door of the motel, Roger quickly turning to force it closed behind us as the wind batters us, making his job hard. I pant, looking around, my eyes settling on the startled eyes of the gnarled little man sitting behind the front desk. I work hard to give him a polite smile as Roger grunts, finally forcing the door shut behind.

“Nasty weather out there, ain’t it,” the desk attendant says, giving us a toothless grin.

“Bit of an understatement,” Roger murmurs, straightening and looking anxiously over his shoulder as he moves forward to the desk. I follow him, my hand pressed to the papers under my shirt. Some of them the outer ones, I think – are probably ones feel dry against my stomach…

– are probably ruined, but the inner

“Well, you’ll be good and dry here,” the attendant says, giving us a happy little nod. “You lookin’ for a room?”

“Sure,” Roger says, shrugging and glancing at me. I nod and shrug back. We could wait it out in this lobby, I guess, but as I look around and take in the patchworked chairs and the musty smell…honestly, being able to sit down somewhere a little cleaner sounds good to

“We got room six,” the attendant says contemplatively, turning to point at a set of keys on the wall. “That’s our best room, but you gotta go out into the storm to get to it.” He points to a set of keys labeled “12” next. “Twelve ain’t as nice, but it’s just in the back of this building,” he says. “So you can stay inside, if you don’t want to get wet…” he turns back to us then and grimaces a little. “Or, well…wetter.”

“Twelve,” Roger and I say in unison, our faces serious. The attendant smiles at us and hands over the key. Roger nods and takes his wallet out of his back pocket, sliding some cash out and pushing it across the counter to the man.

Seeing the line of green bills left in Roger’s wallet, the attendant’s eyes light up. “Will you be needing any room service on top of that, then?” he asks.

“No,” Roger replies firmly and I’m grateful for it, thinking about what kind of delicacies a place like this might serve up. My stomach turns over a little at the thought of it. The man nods and tosses the key to Roger, who catches it in the air. Then, he takes my hand and

a polite smile and he returns it with a naughty little wink which makes me realize –

think, as Roger leads me firmly down the hall towards the rooms at the back of the main building. That guy thinks we’re a couple… that we’re going in

alone. With beds. To wait out this storm. Suddenly my heart. begins to pound as I follow Roger down the hall. Roger, perhaps hearing the change in my heartbeat, or smelling some physical change in my body’s scent, looks over his shoulder at me with

he deftly puts the key in the lock and twists it, pushing

from my mind as I go rigid at the sight of the water-marked ceiling, the rug with the mysterious stains, the television that looks like it

it might just give up at any moment

the ground. There are windows at the far side of the room next to

leads to the parking lot outside and a set of woods beyond that.

it clearly shows that the storm outside still rages.

Roger murmurs,

gasp, appalled.

or won’t they get murdered.’ I like a motel room with a little bit of

dropping his hand and sweeping into the room. Roger laughs behind me as he closes the door. I quickly approach the slim bed in the center of the room, leaning over to take a good

the top.

the blanket between my fingers and then quickly whipping it off the bed and tossing it to the floor, revealing what actually looks like a set of crisp white sheets beneath. “That’s better,” I say, surprised

the sheets, Cora,” Roger says as he crosses the room and sits on a wooden

dry and warm Roger just chuckles and says nothing, though I feel

dangling from my fingers. I can’t help myself, though, from glancing at the contours of his abs, which I haven’t seen. since that night when he cried in my arms. My mind flashes suddenly to that moment, the intimacy of it – but that’s all wiped away when I

god!” I say, jumping up and turning towards him. “Where are your

Cora,” he says simply, a little frustrated, gesturing to the heap of his pants on

floor and tossing his shirt on top of them. “They’re soaked. I’m not sitting in

how much he’s unsettled me with his nearly-naked body. Then, to my shock, he leans back. against the

that he looks like a damn underwear model, laying there like that, his gorgeous tan set