FICTION
Weathering the Storm
A storm, a dilapidated motel and something under the bed
A loud crack of thunder tore through the walls as he entered his room. The windows rattled. The floor shook. Instinctively, Ryan closed his eyes and pulled his head between his shoulders, trying to shield himself.
Relief washed through him when only the clattering of the rain against the windows remained. Normally, a storm wouldn’t scare him, but this one was the worst he had ever seen. He had a luxury room booked in a hotel only two hours from where he now had to spend the night — in an old, dilapidated motel in a town he hadn’t even known existed. The storm made it impossible and irresponsible to continue his journey to the city.
He slipped between the sheets after a quick shower, his body still hurting from being too tense at the steering wheel. Pulling the blanket up to his chin, he turned off the light on the nightstand and closed his eyes.
Ryan had just drifted off to sleep when the scratching woke him. At first he thought the sound came from outside. Maybe a tree branch moving in the stormy wind, against the roof or the wall? He turned his head towards the window, and just in time stifled a scream.
Was that a woman watching him from outside?
A flash of lightning exploded from the clouds and wiped the image from the window. Ryan shook his head, mumbling something about his tiredness playing tricks on him. He breathed in deep to calm his racing heart and closed his eyes again.
They flew open when the scratching started again. This time, the sound was much closer. Ryan listened intently and realized it came from under the bed. He reached to switch on the light, but found himself incapable of moving. Something held him down on the bed — something… invisible.
He screamed, but heard nothing.
An intense panic took hold of him when whoever was in the room with him pulled off the blanket and sheet covering him. Another soundless scream escaped his mouth when the cold air in the room stroke his naked body. It touched the sides of his legs, moving up over his hips, his flanks, and to his chest and shoulders. It gently touched his cheeks before it returned down the same path it came from.
Ryan shivered. He was cold and scared, but also strangely… comfortable.
The feeling of comfort disappeared when the same cold took hold of his limp member. He squirmed without moving; begged with silent words. Embarrassment colored his cheeks when that soft part of his body erected itself to meet the cool touch.
The scratching under the bed sounded in the same rhythm as Ryan mentally pushed into the grip around his hard flesh. He closed his eyes, allowing lust to wash through his body and take him into the arms of a zenith he had craved for longer than he cared to remember.
A welcome warmth washed over Ryan. When the woman appeared next to his bed, he didn’t panic. He blinked his eyes several times, but couldn’t focus on her face. Ryan battled to keep his eyes open. He lost the fight. His heavy eyelids slowly closed, and his last thought before he fell into a deep sleep was: the storm has passed.
Ryan woke up, stretched himself out, and only then opened his eyes. From his bed he looked out over the sleeping city, the luxury velvet curtains framing the window, and dawn just breaking on the horizon. It took a split second for his content state to turn into confusion.
What the…?
He looked around him and took in the white interior of the hotel room — the room he had reserved for this business trip. Ryan shook his head. He didn’t understand. The last he remembered was checking into a motel. Then, slowly, the weird events of the night entered his memory.
When did he get here?
How did he get here?
He threw back the covers and swung his legs off the bed. As he pushed himself up to sit, something stuck to the back of his leg. He lifted his leg to see what it was, and then just shook his head, while his cheeks turned the same red it had always done when he was still a teenager.
He whispered: fuck… the horror! It was a wet dream!
I wrote this story for the Microcosm prompt Under the bed. This is my second story — click for the first — for their monthly theme ‘Oh the horror!’ and I am flexing my horror-writing-muscles. Sort of!
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