An Otherwise Ordinary Day By Zeppelin The door to the room swings open slowly. A figure emerges. Its a youngish man, twenty-something, medium height, skinny build - gaunt even, pale complexion, slightly balding, nervous looking. He is wearing a cheap, slightly wrinkled navy suit; off-white shirt; skinny, solid black tie. At his side, he clutches a cheap, imitation leather briefcase. He enters the room, slowly, inspecting it carefully. It is a fairly featureless, anonymous place. To his right lies a large bed, queen size, with a red corduroy bedspread; on one side this sits a small bed table, on top of which lies a bulky gray, plastic phone, and a small bedlamp, no lampshade. To his left, a dull wooden desk sits patiently, a small chair parked underneath it. On the desk, a few random items lie scattered about: an ugly ceramic ashtray, a couple of pens, a pamphlet advertising a local pizza delivery service, a lone tattered "TV Guide". A little further away from the desk hulks a cantankerous old TV, its volume knob missing. On the far end of a room is a single large pane window. He slowly walks over to the desk and places his briefcase on top of it. He carefully opens the briefcase. Inside is a large mess of papers. He rummages through these, muttering quietly to himself. After a few moments, he withdraws a large yellow document from the stack. He closes the briefcase. He examines the document pensively for a moment. He walks slowly to the where the bed is, and sits, heavily, on its edge. He adjusts his tie for moment. He mutters something to himself. He reaches over to the bed table and grasps the phone receiver. He punches in a quick sequence of numbers. He wipes his brow. He waits tensely for a few moments. Suddenly, he launches into a speech: "Ah, yes, hello Mr Carson! This is Don Parker from Comp- Tech...yes, we met yesterday...very good...well, I was calling to see if you had made a decision regarding the account..." A long pause. "I see" Another pause. "OK..." Another pause. He scratches the back of his neck. "Well.... yes.... I understand your reasoning... its just that ... I mean...as we had discussed...you will be paying significantly more with our competition..." Another pause. He runs his hand through his hair. "Very well, Mr Carson. I understand...yes... thats business, of course....yes, its been a pleasure doing business with you as well ... yes... good-day, Mr Carson." There is an audible click from the receiver. The man puts the phone down, very slowly. He runs his hand through his hair again, and curses quietly under his breath. He looks at the yellow document in his hand, curses again, and tosses it angrily to the floor. He puts his hands on his knees, sighs, deeply. He glances at his wristwatch. He then proceeds to take off his shoes, his jacket, and places both, carefully, on the floor. He stretches his arms over his head, and then, slowly, proceeds to slowly lie back on the bed. He groans, softly. He stares up at the plaster ceiling. Directly above him, a bit of of the plaster is beginning to peel off. He lets out another deep sigh, and folds his arms over his chest, continues to stare at the ceiling. After a time, he shuts his eyes... Soon, he is snoring, softly... ******************************************************** Some time passes. Suddenly, he wakes, with a start. He rubs his eyes and looks at his wristwatch . He relaxes, and yawns. He stretches, lazily. He rubs his eyes again. With great effort, he rolls lazily off the bed, landing on the soft, carpeted floor with a soft thud. He stands, scratches his backside. He looks sleepily around, yawns, then spotting the desk on the other side of the room, plods over to it. He notices the TV guide: a picture of large grinning black man graces its cover, his smile like a horse. He picks up the guide, lazily shuffles back over to the bed, itches his backside again and plops down on beds edge. The bed to creaks noisily in protest. He began leafing absently through the guides worn pages. Some time passes. He tosses the guide on to the floor indifferently. He looks at his watch. He gets up, stiffly, and limps over to the large window on the far side of the room. Gazing through it, he sees a large, mostly barren, black asphalt parking lot outside. From where he stands, he can only see three cars in it: at the far end of the lot, a small tan, weather beaten Honda Civic; on the side nearest to him, a large, black, delapitated Buick sedan, its hood ornament broken off. Its license plate reads "MO-MONEE"; next to the Buick is a crusty old, rusting yellow- green VW Bug. Other than the cars, the only other features to the lot are a few trees at the far end of the lot - a massive, heavyset oak, and a couple of stringy dogwoods, their remaining leaves dark brown or gray, a sign of the late fall season. As he watches, a brisk wind picks up suddenly, causing the trees branches to sway, sending a cluster of dead leaves spiraling towards the ground. Presently, he hears a faint crunching sound - the sound of tires running along gravel. A small forest green minivan suddenly ambles into view, gently pulling into the parking lot. It hesitates for a moment, and then silently swings into the space next to the bug. It idles there for a moment, and then the engine shuts down. For a few moments, nothing happens. Then, the front door slowly swings open, and a smallish gray figure clambers out. He moves slightly towards the window and squints at the figure. It is of medium height, and draped in an old gray parka. In one hand, it appears to be carrying a blue sports duffel bag; the other hand clutches tightly at the parka, as if to keep the wind from blowing it away. The figure stands still for a few moments, hesitating, looking about slowly. After a few seconds, it begins to shuffle to the right side of the lot. Soon, it is out of view. The man stands for a few moments, continuing to stare through the window. He scratches the back of his neck, absently... Suddenly, he is startled by a sound: "EHHH-EHHH.....EHHH-EHHH...." It is the phone ringing. He stumbles over to the bed table, lurches for the phone, grasps it violently: He croaks: "Hello?" A pause. "Oh yes, hi... did you find the place ok?" Another pause. "Ok then. Can you get here yourself or shall I come down to the lobby to fetch you?" Another pause. "Ok. Its room 201, on the second floor...yes... see you in a bit then." He puts down the phone, runs his hand through his thinning hair. He gets up, and walks over to the desk. He grabs the chair from under the desk, and drags it to the where the window is. He places it so it faces the door to the room, the one through which he first entered. He sits down in the chair, stretches to pick the TV Guide off the floor, and fingers nervously through the guide, absently. A few minutes pass. He drops the guide, and loosens his tie. He looks at his wristwatch. Suddenly, a sound from the front door: "RAP-RAP-RAP"" The man freezes. The TV guide tumbles to the floor. "RAP-RAP-RAP" He man stares at the door for a moment. The he gets up, stiffly. He adjusts his tie. He moves, slowly, cautiously, towards the door. He reaches the door. He reaches for the knob, then abruptly withdraws his hand. He sees a small eyehole directly in front of him, on the door. He presses his face up against the door carefully, and peers through the eye hole. Through the hole, he sees what appears to be a lone figure, a woman, late thirties, medium height, professionally dressed: plain white blouse; dark-gray, knee-length skirt; black nylons; dull black pumps. In one hand, she holds a blue duffel bag with a small black logo printed on one side; in the other, she clings to a folded gray parka. She is fairly attractive: large brown, nervous eyes; dark, thick eyebrows; a strong, clenched jaw; dyed black hair, straight, fairly short, worn in a bob - page-boy fashion. She looks nervous. He reaches for the lock to the door, struggles with it for a few seconds, curses softly under his breath. He yanks the door open. "Hello", he says faintly. He smiles, weakly. "Hello", says the woman. She offers him a forced smile. She looks down at the ground. A pause. "Nice to meet you", he says. He extends his hand stiffly towards her. "Likewise" she says. She shakes his hand, weakly. He notices large veins on her hand. "Please... come inside". "Thanks". She walks quickly past him into the room. Her calf muscles seem a little large, for a woman. He runs his hand through his hair, and shuts the door. She turns to him: "I'm sorry I'm late," she says. Her voice is unusually deep, almost man-like. "I had to pick up my kid off from soccer practice and drop him back home before coming here..." "Thats quite all right". She smiles nervously, and looks about the room. "S-s-s-o, he stutters. He scratches the back of his head," you said ... on the phone...that you were preparing for ...a competition?" "Yep, thats right...the Nationals ... in two weeks.". She wipes a stray strand of hair from her face. "The Nationals?" "Yep, the Nationals in Atlanta." "Its ...its an important competition?" "Well, yeah...if you want to turn pro. If you place in the top five at the Nationals, you qualify to turn pro." "And thats what you want to do?" "Yep, I sure do" "Oh..." He notices a small pimple on her chin" and, uh...how long have you been competing for?" "Oh I started competing three years ago...but I've been training for nearly 11 years now" "Thats...thats a long time...uh...training, that is" "Yep, it sure is" She wipes a stray strand of hair from her face. "It sure is." She looks about the room. " So..you think you'll win at this ... competition?" She chuckles, nervously "Oh, I don't know...the competition could be brutal this year. I know that 20 more girls have entered this year" "Oh...that could make it... difficult". "Yep". She looks about the room again. A long pause. "You...you... say you have another job?" he stutters. "What? Oh yeah...I work as a legal secretary in town." "Oh... a legal secretary". He feels an erection growing in his pants. "Yep." She grins, slightly. "Not a fun job, but it helps when you gotta raise a kid on your own. "Oh". Plus you compete in a sport that is so damn expensive." She looks about nervously, again. "Um, do you mind if I put my coat on the bed?". "Sure, uh...please...". She walks over to the bed. "And what is it that you do?" she inquires. She lays the parka on the bed. "Oh, I'm...I'm just a salesman..." "Oh...who do you work for?" "Oh, with Comp Tech. There a small computer company in town." "Oh" She grins, blankly, "That must be... interesting." "Yes...yes it is". He looks down at the shoes. His right shoelace is loose. A long pause. The woman looks at the man, a bit quizzically. Then, she ventures: "Um.... well... would you like to get started?" "Yes...yes... ok, thats a good idea". "Fine". The woman moves over to the bed, placing the duffel bag on it. As she walks, large calves bulge from underneath her nylons. She continues: "Ok, now you said on the phone you were interested in a the fantasy session, right?" The man struggles: "What? Oh... yeah...yeah... thats right". "Good...I think you'll like it" She grins, nervously, "Most of my clients seem to...its a little different from what some of the other girls in the business offer." She goes over to the bed, and unzipps the duffel bag. "Now what I need for you to do is to take this..."she removes a white cotton T-shirt from the bag and hands it to him "...and strip down to your underwear, and wear it. In the meantime, I'd like you to strip down to your underwear, and put the shirt on" She smiles, weakly "Is that ok?" He flushes visibly. "Um...yeah...sure...". "Ok.". She takes the duffel bag, and walks over to the bathroom. She walks inside, her pumps clicking on the tile floor. She looks about, somewhat confused: "Now where's the switch...ah, there it is!". She flips the switch. A pale fluorescent light blinks to life. She turns: "I'll just be a minute". She pushes the door shut behind her. The man stands frozen for a few seconds. He looks at the white bundle in his hand, and slowly unfurls it. Its a plain white t- shirt, roughly his size. Printed on the shirt are a few plain black characters: S-L-A-V-E The man flushes slightly. "What the ..." he mutters quietly under his breath. He looks at the bathroom door, opens his mouth slightly. He sighs, shrugs his shoulders, mutters something to himself, and begins to disrobe. He is a scrawny, stick-figure of a man. His naked flesh is pasty pale, bony ribs jut from his rib cage, his limbs are long and thin. He strips down to a pair of cheap white, slightly yellowed, briefs. He then wriggles into the T-shirt. He looks down at the shirt, smirks. He walks over to the chair, sits down, retrieves the TV guide from the floor, and begins to leaf through it again. Some time passes. He glances, furtively, at the bathroom door. Abruptly, the bathroom door swings open, noisily. The woman emerges, carrying the duffelbag. She is draped, from the shoulders down, in a long blue corduroy bathrobe. She is barefoot. A white bandanna is knotted about her head. She does not look at the man: "Ok then?" "Yeah... I guess". She puts down the duffel bag. She unzips it, rummages through it a little, and then pulls out a small, transparent bottle. She holds the bottle up, slightly. "You don't mind if I have a quick sip? Helps me relax a little..." . "No...no... please, be my guest...." She uncaps the bottle, presses the bottle to her lips, and, suddenly, jerks her head back. She guzzles down the contents of the bottle. She grimaces, and quickly wipes her mouth with her sleeve. She grins: "Ok, now I'm ready!". She caps the bottle, and tosses it on to the desk. It lands there with a loud "clang". She moves slowly in front of him, until she stands only a foot or so in front of him. She can hear his breath quicken slightly."Now I want you to close your eyes for a second". "Um ...Ok" He shuts his eyes, tightly. His hands clutch the armrests of the chair. "You ready?" "Uh huh". She loosens the bathrobe belt, and lets the robe gently fall to the ground... ******************************************************** The parka wearing woman is ... gone. The legal secretary has ... disappeared. In her place stands ... a powerful figure. A tanned, thickly muscled, half naked figure. A female bodybuilder. An awesome, 5'6 180lb muscle-bound beefcake goddess of the beach. A coffee-colored vision in the middle of this dank, miserable little motel room. She is wearing a white cotton tank top, cut off tantalizing at the middle, so that she can display rippling, perfectly sculpted abs. Scrawled on it in huge black characters is one word: M-A-S-T-E-R Underneath the shirt, she is wearing a tiny slip of a black bikini thong. A few small, light colored pubes can be seen peeking from under the thong. She is otherwise completely naked, her tanned skin a rich, cappuccino color. She is heavily muscle-bound. Dangerously muscle-bound. "You can open your eyes now!" she murmurs. The man opens his eyes, lurches back in his chair with a start. His eyes bulge in amazement, his mouth opens slightly. He emits a queer, choking sound: "J-J-J-e-e-z-u-z!" He clutches madly at the armrests of his chair.. "Yep..." She smiles calmly, "I'm still two weeks away from the contest, so I'm still not in my best shape yet". She tugs on the t-shirt, adjusting it slightly. "J-e-e-z-u-z!" the man repeats. His stares at her, unblinking, his mouth wide open. "How bout from the back?". The man gasps as she slowly turns around, pivoting on one foot. Her back is massive, knotted with muscles. The slender black thong disappears between an enormous pair of hard, bowling ball size, glistening glutes. She slowly does a lat spread, her broad back expands into a vast, enormous V- shape. She holds the pose, and slowly shifts from one foot to the other. Her tight powerful glutes clench and unclench as she does so. The man stares, unflinching. Beads of sweat appear on his forehead. She abruptly turns around. She grins, shyly, and ever so slowly, she hits a mighty double front bicep pose, squeezing it hard, trembling from the exertion. Her biceps are unbelievably peaked. She holds the pose for a bit, eyeing her own massive arms. "So... what do you think of my body?" she says quietly. She looks him straight in the eyes - her eyes seem a bit blurred, a bit unfocused... The man hesitates. He blushes furiously. "I...uh...I...uh...I mean....wow!". She relaxes from the biceps pose, and gracefully, with careful deliberation, proceeds to hit a mighty side chest pose. Her t- shirt tears slightly. She continues to look directly at the man. She smiles, oddly. "You'd like to touch me, wouldn't you?" she says quietly. The man swallows, hard. His feels his penis stiffen painfully in his briefs. "C-c-c-can I?". "Yep". The man cautiously rises from the chair, wincing from his stiff erection. She smiles at him: "Its ok, I won't hurt you! How 'bout a front double bicep?" She relaxes, and slowly hits a front double bicep. The man gasps softly. He reaches out, and gingerly pokes at her enormous bicep. "They're...they're pretty big..." he says, hoarsely. "Yep" She flexes and unflexes her right arm, slowly, allowing the bicep to inflate and collapse. He watches, doe-eyed, mesmerized. "How...how big are they?" he stammers "Oh, I think their about 17 inches" she says. She stops, abruptly. "Now... how bout from the back?" She pivots gracefully on her right foot. She grunts loudly ..."UGGHHH!"....and, slowly, hits an rear double bicep pose. The man gasps loudly. Spittle begins to collect on one side of the man's mouth. He runs his finger gingerly along the length of her brutish shoulders. He licks his lips. He moans softly: "Oh, you are so big and strong!". She giggles, continues to flex. "So," she inquires, " you really like bodybuilders, huh?" "Yes...yes I do". "Hmmm". She relaxes, and then ever so slowly, squeezes out a full back spread. The man squeals, like a pig. She giggles. He reaches out and begins to spontaneously grope her massive brute shoulders. Suddenly, she turns around. She looks the man directly in the eyes, her expression serious. "What kind of man," she says, quietly, "admires a woman that is bigger, more buffed than he is?" The man's mouth opens slightly, but he does not say anything. She grins, cockily. She jabs a finger in his chest "You're not much of a man, are you?". He still does not reply. He averts his eyes from hers. She puts her hands on her hips "Your just a little weed, a skinny dweeb, a little...faggot, aren't you?" she sneers. He refuses reply. He begins to tremble, visibly. She can hear a small gurgling noise coming from his throat. She chuckles. "I bet you wet yourself dreaming of big, hunks like me, don't you... I bet you gawk at women bodybuilders at the beach, at the gym, follow them around like a little perv... I bet you jerk off thinking about how big and strong we are, how much more manly we are than you, how beautiful and unattainable we are, how...how...how you'd like us to come kick some sand in your face...". The man puts his hand to his face. He farts, quietly. She chuckles again, and moves closer to him. "Why don't you get on your knees and worship me, then, like you want to...stick boy!!!". He hesitates. He crouches slowly to his knees. She extends a large beefy leg towards him."You may begin by worshipping my legs, slave". He hesitates. "Do it!". He grunts and reaches for her leg. Carefully, he strokes her massive calf. He moans, passionately. He begins to kiss her calf, her ankle, her foot. . The woman looks down at the man in fascination: "Gawd, you are a little perv, aren't you". He ignores her, and reaches for her meaty thigh. She kicks the man roughly away from her."Up!" she barks. The man lurches unsteadily to his feet, his face is flushed. "And now, as a sign of respect to your master, you may kiss my biceps". Slowly, she hits a massive double bicep pose, squeezing it, hard. Quickly, the man leans forward and kisses her softball shaped biceps, eagerly. She giggles, and shoves the man away. She hits a massive front lat spread. The word "M-A-S-T-E-R" balloons across her chest. "Have you ever such muscles on a woman or a man before?" she gloats. "Oh no, master", he squeals, "you are by far the biggest and the strongest!" "Hmmm..." She abruptly releases her pose. She smiles and then...hunkers down in an crouch. He stares at her, dumfounded. She grins. His eyes widen... Without warning, she springs from her crouch, surging into him, driving her shoulder into his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. With a twist, she hoists him over her shoulder. She adjust her grip on the stunned man, and chuckles: "Light as a feather!" Slowly, she begins to lumber towards the bed, the man draped limply over her shoulders. Her big, round tight young glutes clench and unclench with every step. His cock is painfully stiff. He feels he might ejaculate at any moment. Abruptly, she tosses him roughly on to the bed. He lands awkwardly on his back, yelps. She approaches the edge of the bed, her massive bulk looming over him. She looks down at him "You ok?" He stares stupidly at her. "Just lemme know if I'm hurting you and I'll stop..." Before he can react, she is clambering on to the bed, her huge bulk causing the bed to buckle. She crawls over him, straddling him. Her shoulders are big, hard, menacing. Suddenly, she lowers herself on to him. Her body is hard, it feels like its made of steel. He can feel her hardened nipples digging into his chest. She grunts and swiftly grabs both of his wrists. She roughly forces his arms over his head, pinning him securely to the bed. He feels her hot breath on his cheek.. His balls are swollen, his dick is on fire. He begins to pump his hips limply against her body. "Stop that." she says She releases his arms, and pushes herself back up. She squats heavily on him, the full force of her weight landing squarely on his chest. His back makes a small popping sound. She runs a hand through her tousled, black hair. She looks down at the man. His eyes are bulging, his lips are dry. She grins, and then slowly hits a double bicep pose. Huge biceps jump to attention. She examines them, admiringly. "I am incredibly gorgeous, don't you think?" She kisses her right bicep. The man wheezes. He is being suffocated under her massive weight. "Hmmm? Speak up, I can't hear you?". He does not reply. His face begins to turn a weird shade of purple. She reaches down, and cuffs him, gently. "C-mon, guy!". He can barely breathe. Suddenly, she rolls off the bed, landing gracefully on her feet. The man gasps loudly, and clutches his chest. She swaggers away from the bed, towards the window. She spots the reflection of her beautiful physique framed in the window. She hits a few poses, scrutinizes her reflection skeptically. "I'm going to have do a little more work on these triceps..." she mutters to herself. After a while, she stops, and looks outside. It is beginning to grow dark. She sees that the parking lot, mostly vacant when she arrived, is slowly beginning to fill. She watches a large white pickup truck amble gently into the parking lot. "I gotta get out of here..." she mutters She swivels around. The man is lying motionless on the bed, a look of agony etched on his face, clutching at his chest. His lower lip is quivering slightly. His fully erect cock is standing straight up in his briefs. She ambles to the bed slowly, studies the man. "Are you ok, there?" The man gurgles softly. The woman shrugs, adjusts her cotton shirt. She clambers onto the bed, and lands heavily on the man, causing the bedsprings to creak, loudly. The man whimpers. She moves her huge bulk around so that her head faces the end of the bed. She looks down at his scrawny feet. His toe-nails are unevenly cut, and yellowish. She grimaces in disgust. She grasps his bony ankles roughly. She gropes for his head with her feet, finds it, adjusts her position, and roughly ensnares his neck between her massive thighs. She pushes herself up on her powerful arms until they are fully straightened. Her tricep muscles bulge like cords of steel. She can feel his skinny neck snugly within the grasp of her thighs. She braces herself. And then, with a massive grunt... "UGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!".... ... her muscle-bound body goes taut as she squeezes him between her rippling thighs! She can hear him wheeze weakly for air. She grits her teeth, and squeezes tighter still... until she can no longer hear him. Sweat begins to glisten across her rippling body. Her rock like muscles begin to quiver in exertion. Suddenly, in desperation, he begins to beat on her thighs weakly with his clenched fists... She grinds her teeth as hard as she can... increases her pressure still further. He beats maniacally at her granite body.... but she refuses to release her hold! She can hear the man begin to sob... "P-p-p-p-lease!" She adjust her arms slightly. Beads of sweat drip from her face on to the bed. She arches her neck backwards, and groans: "UGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!" His blows to her body begin to weaken...then subside... she feels him beginning to go limp... All at once... ....she releases him ... and rolls off the bed, landing ...with a thud...on the carpeted floor. She gets up, panting quietly. She wipes the glistening sweat that has formed along her brow. She looks down at the man who lies on the bed, a crumpled mass, weeping openly like a woman, utterly humiliated, completely emasculated. She looks somewhat frightened. "Are you okay?". He doesn't reply. She prods him gently: "Seriously, guy, are you allright? I didn't think I could have really hurt you..." The man doesn't say anything for a few moments. He carefully wipes his tear streaked face. Suddenly, he lurches from the bed: "I'll be back in a minute" he mutters. He runs to the bathroom, quickly shuts the door behind him... ******************************************************** She watches the bathroom door for a moment. She then walks over to the desk chair, and collapses in it, lets out a tired moan. She closes her eyes, and lets her head fall back. She puts her right hand on her head, and groans. She doesn't move for a while. A faint rustling sound can be heard from the bathroom. The sound startles her, she glances at the bathroom door, quizzically. She shrugs, sighs, and stiffly gets up from the chair. She shuffles over to her bathrobe, lying on the floor. She picks it up, slowly puts it on, knots the belt about her waist. She looks around absently, and spies the duffel bag on the floor. She picks it up, and places it onto the bed. She reaches into it, rummages through its contents a bit. Eventually she withdraws a small black object, a cell-phone. She plods over to the chair, sits down heavily. She unfolds the phone, punches in a quick sequence. She puts the phone to her ear, and waits for a moment, blows a stray strand of hair from her face. Abruptly, she speaks: "Hi, hon, its mom..." Pause. "I'll be a home in a little while; I'm with a client right now...have you finished your homework?" Pause. "Why?" Long pause. The woman sighs. "Ok, ok... well... just do the ones that you can do for right now...I'll see if I can help you out with the fractions when I get home." Long pause. "Well, we'll discuss that when I get home, ok? And, John, no TV until you've finished your homework, ok?" Pause. "No, absolutely not...not until you finished your homework..." Pause. "Ok, now I'll be home in a bit...bye". A click on the other side. The woman snaps the phone shut. She runs her hand over her face, sighs. She looks exhausted. She gets up, stiffly, and lumbers over to the duffel bag. She drops the phone in the bag, zips the duffel bag shut. She plods back to the chair, collapses on it, groans. She lets her head fall back, closes her eyes, gently lets her head sway back and forth. The bathroom door swings open. The man emerges. His eyes are down cast. He looks tired. The woman stands up, stiffly. "Are you Ok? I mean , I didn't mean to um...I mean..." "Thats ok," he says, coldly. He does not look at her. "How much do I owe you, two-fifty, right?" he walks over to the briefcase on the desk. The woman looks at him, quizzically. She picks up the duffel bag. "Lemme just change, and you can pay me on the way out...". She walks into the bathroom, and quickly shuts the door. The man runs his hands through his thinning hair, glistening from the sweat. He walk over to his jacket and pants, lying crumpled on the floor. He stares at them for a bit. Then, he picks them up and begins to change. He finishes changing. He is not wearing his tie. He walks over to the bed, sits heavily on its edge. He looks at the gray plastic phone, hesitates. He picks it up, and punches some numbers. He waits for a second, and then speaks: "Hi Gerald, this is Don...I'm ok, thanks." He puts his free hand on the back of his neck. "Listen, Gerald, um, about the Carson account, um, I'm afraid we ...well....we didn't..." A long pause. The mans face is very pale. "Now wait a minute, Gerald... lets not...lets not get unreasonable here..." Another pause. He runs his hand through his hair. "I thought I did what I could. He was just...he was just insistent." Another pause. The man shuts his eyes, and sighs heavily. "Very well, Gerald...yes I'll see you tomorrow then...bye." The man puts the receiver down, slowly. He looks dazed. He slowly puts his head in his hands. He is still for a long while. The door to the bathroom swing open, the woman emerges, clad in her gray parka. The man looks up. His eyes are heavy lidded. "The money's in the briefcase, over there..." he motions to the desk. She looks at the man for a moment, and then walks over to the desk. "You want me to open it?" she inquires. "Yeah, go ahead." She lifts open the case lid. "You see that folded manila envelope, to your left?". She nods, and picks up the envelope. She unfolds it, opens it, looks inside, studies it for a moment. "Yep, all there." She folds the envelope, and slides it in a pocket on the inside of her parka. She walks over to the bed, and picks up the duffel bag. She looks, nervously, at the man. "Well...I guess I'd better be going now...but...its been nice to meeting you..." "Yes, the same". He does not look up at her. She shifts her stance. "Maybe we can hook up again, sometime..." The man grunts. He stares blankly at the ground. The woman look quizzically at the man for a moment. She turns, slowly, walks to the door. She stumbles before reaching the door, and then recovers. She opens it, and walks outside. And she is gone. The man sighs heavily. He stands up, walks over to the desk, closes the briefcase. He takes a look around the room. Over in one corner of the room, he spots a crumpled white mass on the floor. He walks over to it slowly, and picks it up. It is the T-shirt. With the word "S-L-A-V-E" etched on it. He studies the shirt for a second. Suddenly, his face begins to turn red, scarlet red. He snarls, and flings the shirt angrily to the ground. He storms out of the room, and slams the door shut, with a resounding "T-H-U-D". The room is empty. Silent. Outside, the howling wind suddenly picks up. A wave of dried, gray leaves are released from their tired old grips, and are sent fluttering, spiraling, to the cold hard ground.