Room 814

Room 814 was not the room Daniel had booked.

The hotel apologised three times before giving it to him.

There had been some problem with plumbing on the sixth floor, and because the conference had filled most of the building, the receptionist handed him a keycard for an upgraded room facing the central atrium.

“Better view,” she said.

Daniel looked at the enclosed concrete shaft rising eight floors through the middle of the hotel.

“Definitely.”

She smiled as though she had heard that before.

He was forty-two, travelling alone and already tired of wearing a lanyard.

The conference lasted three days.

His plan was simple: attend what mattered, avoid networking drinks where possible, answer emails, go home.

The first evening he returned at ten, loosened his tie, opened the curtains and discovered another room directly opposite.

A woman stood near the window removing earrings.

Daniel saw her only because both rooms were lit.

She saw him too.

For a second they looked at each other.

Then both stepped away.

That should have been the entire interaction.

The next morning Daniel opened the curtains at seven thirty.

The woman opposite was sitting beside her window drinking coffee.

She looked up.

Recognised him.

Raised the cup.

Daniel raised his.

It was such a small thing that he almost forgot it by breakfast.

Almost.

At six that evening, after eight hours of presentations about organisational resilience from people who seemed personally incapable of enduring a delayed lunch, Daniel returned to his room.

The opposite curtains were closed.

He felt an unreasonable flicker of disappointment.

He showered.

Answered email.

Ordered room service.

At seven fifteen, the opposite curtains opened.

The woman appeared wearing a dark green blouse and black trousers.

Conference clothes.

Daniel realised she might be attending the same event.

He held up his lanyard.

She laughed.

Then held up hers.

Of course.

Daniel pointed down towards the lobby as if asking whether she was going to the evening function.

She shook her head emphatically.

He gave her a thumbs-up.

She returned it.

They ate dinner separately in facing rooms.

It became funny surprisingly quickly.

At one point Daniel held up the tiny bowl of salad that had accompanied his meal.

The woman examined it from across the atrium and shook her head sympathetically.

She held up a packet of chips.

Daniel pointed approvingly.

There was something liberating about communication stripped of introduction.

No job title.

No organisation.

No careful conference small talk.

Just two people trapped in identical hotel boxes judging food.

The next morning Daniel saw her in the lobby.

He was almost certain.

Same hair.

Same dark green blouse under a coat.

She stood twenty metres away speaking to someone.

Daniel could have walked over.

Instead he went to his session.

He spent the first ten minutes wondering why.

Across the atrium that evening, the woman held up a piece of paper.

COWARD.

Daniel laughed aloud.

She had seen him too.

He found the hotel notepad.

BUSY.

She read it.

Then:

COWARD.

Daniel wrote:

MAYBE.

The reply:

HONEST.

That became their language.

BAD SESSION?

VERY.

MINE WORSE.

IMPOSSIBLE.

DRINK?

Daniel paused.

He wrote:

LOBBY?

She disappeared.

Returned with:

TOO MANY LANYARDS.

He laughed.

Then she held up another page.

HERE?

Daniel pointed at himself.

Then her.

She nodded.

They each poured a drink.

Sat beside their respective windows.

Talked with signs.

Ridiculous.

Slow.

Surprisingly intimate.

NAME?

DANIEL.

Her answer:

MAYA.

AGE?

Daniel laughed.

He wrote:

RUDE.

Her response:

42.

He stared.

Then wrote:

SAME.

Maya held up:

OLD.

Daniel replied:

SPEAK FOR YOURSELF.

She laughed.

They learned fragments.

Maya lived in Adelaide.

Worked in procurement.

Hated conferences.

Had a daughter at university.

Daniel lived in Sydney.

Divorced.

No children.

Preferred trains to planes.

Maya wrote:

WEIRD.

Daniel:

CORRECT.

By eleven, both had gone through most of their notepads.

Maya finally held up:

ROOM?

Daniel hesitated.

The number was on his keycard beside him.

He wrote:

814.

She disappeared.

For several minutes nothing happened.

Daniel wondered whether he had misunderstood.

Then a new sign appeared.

806.

Eight rooms along the corridor.

Not across the world.

Not even across the building.

Daniel looked towards his door.

Maya did the same.

She raised one hand.

Wait.

Then wrote:

COFFEE. 7:30. ATRIUM.

Daniel nodded.

The following morning she was already seated when he arrived.

No glass.

No twenty metres of air.

Just Maya.

She looked exactly like herself and nothing like the version he had constructed.

There was a faint scar beside her chin.

She wore reading glasses.

Her voice was softer than Daniel expected.

“You are taller,” she said.

“You are more intimidating.”

“Good.”

They ordered coffee.

For five minutes both were unusually polite.

Then Maya put down her cup.

“This is terrible.”

Daniel laughed.

“The coffee?”

“Us.”

“Agreed.”

“We were funnier with stationery.”

“That’s because handwriting hides social anxiety.”

“I knew there was a reason.”

The awkwardness disappeared.

They talked until eight forty and missed the first sessions.

Neither cared.

That evening was the final conference dinner.

They went together.

Not as a date.

At least not initially.

They sat at the back.

Shared commentary under their breath.

Left before dessert.

Outside the lifts Maya said, “One drink?”

Daniel looked at the numbers above the doors.

“Lobby?”

She smiled.

“Too many lanyards.”

So they took drinks back upstairs.

Maya entered Room 814 for the first time at ten twelve.

Daniel opened the curtains.

Across the atrium, Room 806 was dark.

“Strange from this side,” Maya said.

“Very.”

She stood near the glass.

Daniel beside her.

Their reflections floated over the opposite wall.

Maya glanced at him.

“Do you think we would’ve spoken if our rooms hadn’t faced each other?”

“No.”

“Neither do I.”

“That’s depressing.”

“Or efficient.”

Daniel laughed.

She leaned against the window.

“I liked not knowing you.”

He looked at her.

“Thanks.”

“You know what I mean.”

He did.

The absence of context had made them curious.

Now context was arriving anyway.

Maya touched his hand.

A simple gesture.

Not accidental.

Daniel turned towards her.

“Still curious?” he asked.

“Yes.”

She kissed him.

Slowly at first.

Then with more certainty.

Daniel put a hand at her waist.

Maya moved closer.

There was something strange about finally touching a person he had spent two days communicating with through glass and paper.

Her body was warm.

Immediate.

Real.

Maya broke the kiss.

“Curtains?”

Daniel looked towards the open window.

Across the atrium, Room 806 was dark.

“You want them closed?”

Maya considered.

“No.”

That answer sent a pulse through him.

She kissed him again and tugged his shirt free.

Daniel undid the buttons of her blouse.

Maya watched his face as he opened it.

Underneath she wore a black bra.

“You've been imagining this,” she said.

Daniel laughed.

“Dangerous question.”

“Answer it.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

She pushed his shirt from his shoulders.

Daniel reached behind her and unfastened the bra.

Maya let it fall.

He stared.

“Less awkward without stationery?” she asked.

“Much.”

She smiled.

Then dropped to her knees.

Daniel stopped breathing for a second.

Maya unfastened his trousers and pulled his cock free.

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

She wrapped her hand around him.

“Very clear answer.”

Then she took him into her mouth.

Daniel gripped the edge of the desk.

The hotel room was silent except for the air conditioning and the wet sound of her mouth moving along his cock.

Maya looked up at him.

That almost undid him immediately.

He touched her hair.

She took him deeper.

Daniel groaned.

“Bed.”

Maya pulled back.

“Bossy.”

“Please.”

“Better.”

She stood.

Daniel kissed her and walked her backwards towards the bed.

Maya slipped out of her trousers and underwear.

Daniel stopped.

She was completely naked now, with the open atrium window behind her.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“That is clearly something.”

“You're beautiful.”

Maya rolled her eyes.

“Conference dialogue.”

“I'm serious.”

“I know.”

She pulled him closer.

Daniel kissed her neck, breasts, stomach.

Then knelt.

Maya leaned back against the bed as his mouth moved between her legs.

Her hand went into his hair.

Daniel tasted her and felt her thighs tighten around him.

“Fuck.”

He smiled against her.

“Don't get smug.”

He used his tongue harder.

Maya’s commentary disappeared.

She lay back and opened her legs wider.

Daniel kept going until her body went rigid and she came with one hand pressed over her mouth.

He climbed over her.

Maya grabbed him and kissed him.

“Do you have a condom?”

Daniel reached towards his suitcase.

“You travel prepared.”

“I travel paranoid.”

“Useful tonight.”

He put it on.

Maya rolled onto her side.

“Come here.”

Daniel moved behind her.

She guided him between her thighs.

He entered slowly.

Both exhaled.

Maya pressed back until he was deep inside her.

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

Daniel started moving.

The position kept them facing the open window.

Across the atrium, the dark glass of Room 806 reflected nothing.

For two days the distance had defined them.

Now Daniel had one arm around Maya's waist, his hand on her breast while he fucked her from behind.

Maya reached back and pulled his head towards hers.

“Kiss me.”

He did.

Their rhythm quickened.

The bed creaked.

Maya's hand went between her legs.

Daniel watched over her shoulder as she touched herself while he moved inside her.

“Harder.”

He gave her what she asked for.

Her breathing broke.

A few seconds later she came, tightening around him hard enough to make him lose rhythm.

Daniel followed, thrusting deep and staying there while the orgasm passed through him.

Afterwards they lay on top of the hotel sheets.

Maya turned her head towards the atrium.

“You know what's funny?”

“What?”

“Tomorrow that room is just going to be a room again.”

Daniel followed her gaze.

“Disappointing.”

“Maybe.”

She moved closer.

“Or maybe we don't need the room.”

The following morning Maya checked out before him.

Daniel returned from breakfast and found an envelope pushed beneath his door.

Inside was a page from the hotel notepad.

NEXT CONFERENCE?

Underneath she had written her phone number.

Then, in smaller letters:

OR SOMEWHERE WITH BETTER FOOD.

And beneath that:

AND BETTER BEDS.

Daniel laughed aloud.

He folded the page into his wallet.

Months later, the hotel notepad remained there.

He kept meaning to throw it away.

He never did.