B. Alexander Howerton by The Wyrding Stone Page A

her hand back.  The room
erupted in laughter.
    Alan hopped to his feet.  “Party down the hall,” he
exclaimed.
    There was a chorus of “All right!” and “Yeah! Let’s go,” as
some of the revelers made their way toward the door.
    “See you down there.  Room 242,” Steve called over his
shoulder, shoving Alan out the door.  They sauntered back down the hall.  “And
just what the hell was that disgusting display?”
    Alan shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I was just having fun.  I
don’t have a chance with her, anyway.”
    “Yeah, definitely not now.  Whatever.”
    They reentered the party room.  Alan made another rum and
Coke, then went and stood out in the hallway, against the doorjamb, to let the
people from the other room know where the party was.  After a few minutes,
Carol and Julia came wandering down the hall.  Alan called “Party over here!” 
He reached out for Julia’s hand as she turned into the room.  “How are you, my
dear?”
    “I am doing fine.  You look ravishing with that flower in
your hair.”  She gave his hand a slight squeeze, then entered the room.
    Hmmm, perhaps all is not lost, Alan mused.
    The revelers carried on, drinking and laughing, squeezing
many more people than could comfortably fit into Jeff and Sandy’s room.  After
a while someone got the idea to serenade the motel with Christmas carols,
perhaps to generate some more funlovers for the party.  Alan and Julia were
dragged along in a group that wandered up and down the halls, belting out
carols at the top of their lungs.  Alan whispered to Julia, “I’m surprised
we’re not getting kicked out of here.”
    She laughed and answered, “practically everybody here came
for the wedding.”
    They eventually found themselves back in the party room,
Julia perched on the low dresser, and Alan sitting on the edge of one of the
double beds facing her.  Alan attempted to engage Julia in conversation.  He
asked, “So, where are you from?  What do you do for money?” and several other
innocuous questions, and receiving standard responses.  Suddenly Julia’s eyes
lit up.  She looked over Alan’s shoulder to where Steve was sitting behind him
on the bed, giving Carol, who was sitting on the edge of the other bed, a foot
rub.  “I want one of those,” She exclaimed.  She hopped over and flounced down
next to Carol, thrusting her feet toward Steve.  Alan pivoted around.  “I’ll
take care of that,” he said, reaching for and taking Julia’s foot.
    Julia moaned in relief as Alan applied his hands to her
feet.  “That’s wonderful!”  She elbowed Carol lightly in the ribs.  “How about
this?  Two men, at our service.”
    “We’ve got to do this more often,” Carol sighed.  Alan and
Steve grinned to each other and kept rubbing as the party progressed around
them.
    After about ten minutes, Alan bent down and kissed the tops
of Julia’s feet.”  How’s that?
    “Wonderful,” she replied, sipping from her cup of White
Zinfandel.
    He patted her feet and set them gently on the floor. “I need
a drink of water.”  He got up, grabbed a clean plastic cup, and edged his way
around the other partiers toward the bathroom.
    “Me too,” concluded Julia, and followed him.
    They entered the unlit bathroom.  Alan turned on the water
and stuck his hand under the stream, waiting for it to get cold.  Julia stood
close to him with her cup, waiting.  They looked up from the faucet at each
other as best they could in the dark bathroom, the only light coming from the
entranceway to the room.  Before either knew what had happened, they were
kissing, exploring each other with their hands.  Steve came around the corner. 
“Hey, how long are you going to…  oops, sorry.  Hey, why don’t you two get a
room?”
    Alan and Julia pulled their lips apart, chuckling.  “I guess
we better rejoin the party,” he whispered.
    “Yeah, good idea,” she answered.
    They spent the rest of the evening getting to