The walls even smelled like this was a place people came to die, to give up and drop dead on the floor, even if it took them years to get around to it... This was a world of frayed carpets, of peeling, cracked linoleum, and of bare light-bulbs hanging from broken fixtures — like the necks of old men after a trip to the gallows. If I had to write building code violations for a living, I could have made this place into a career. Still, the essential truth of places like this is simple: nobody cares. To you I will admit it to, but to anyone else, her, I won't, I just can't. It's weird how I feel having done this thing, ashamed and horny as hell. Normal? I can't say.It started when a close family friend of mine needed a place to stay while she went through the throes of her impending divorce. She showed up crying on my doorstep so I said she could stay with me. I thought just for the night, maybe two, then she would go home, patch things up with her husband like usual, no harm on my end.. More

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