The Voyeur's Motel

Ordinary life is boring, he concluded, not for the first time; no wonder there is always a big market for make believe: staged dramas, films, works of fiction, and also the legalized mayhem inherent in such sports as boxing, hockey, and football. Gerald wrote, “Talking about football or hockey, if the players were armed with knives and guns, there would not be stadiums large enough to hold the crowds.”


Gerald often witnessed examples of his guests’ dishonesty, their admissions of double-dealing in their businesses, and their willingness to compromise their principles if it was financially profitable. They sometimes tried to cheat him out of the room rent, and hardly a week passed without him witnessing instances of chicanery whenever a male guest, eager for sex, entered the motel with a woman he did not know well. As described in The Voyeur’s Journal:

Checked in this “hot sheet” white male and white female in Room 9. He was a white-collar type in his 40s, 5’10”, 175 lbs, average appearance; she was in mid-20s, 5’3”, attractive.

After they entered the room, the male immediately began negotiating a contract for sexual pleasure. He had offered her $25 for oral sex and intercourse, but she said, “Give me $45 and I’ll give you the best blowjob you’ve ever received. I’m an expert.”

He finally agreed, and gave her the money.

“Take off your clothes and get comfortable,” she said. After he had taken off his clothes, she said: “I need a Coca-Cola to keep my throat clear when I’m performing. Do you have any change for the machine?”

“I’ll get the Coke for you,” he said; but she said: “Oh, no, you’re already undressed. I’ll get it and be right back.”

She took his change and left the room. As she was gone he began playing with his penis, attempting to get an erection. About ten minutes passed, and he was still waiting and playing with himself.

Finally, he got up, looked through the window, and said: “Son of a bitch—that whore’s gone!”

He put on his clothes quickly and left the motel room. I immediately came down from the observation platform to see what was happening. But I missed seeing him go, and so I went to the office.

About fifteen minutes later, I see him heading back to Room 9. Returning to the observation platform, I see him taking off his clothes again, looking thoroughly disgusted. He now had a pornographic magazine, and was reclining on the bed, and then he began masturbating and finally ejaculated onto the centerfold photo of a nude model. He then ripped the photo out of the magazine and flushed it down the toilet.

Conclusion: Unfortunately for him, the woman he was with was not a prostitute but merely a con artist. Prostitutes rarely, if ever, operate using these con-game tactics. I have seen many hookers operate with their clients, and they are nearly always fair, and deliver whatever has been agreed upon. He should have recognized this woman’s motive after she’d taken his forty-five bucks and then left him alone in the room with the excuse she was going out for a Coke.





SEVENTEEN


WRITTEN OVER so many years, Gerald’s journal not only illuminates changing social patterns as seen through the observation vents, it reflects demographic changes as well. From 1960 to 1980, Colorado’s population grew by 65 percent, over a million new residents, some of whom passed through the Manor House Motel. They were not always appreciated.

White working-class couple in their 30s, with a U-haul trailer attached to their old sedan, arrived from Chicago and rented a room for a week. He was a 6-foot man of about 190 lbs, and she was about 5’8”, slim and of average appearance. Both were very talkative, and he in particular expressed a desire to acquire work in the area and ultimately settle here.

I observed them from time to time during the week and they were having a terrible time finding work and housing. Their sex life was non-existent, and when he would approach her she would resist him and also say something critical. She said he was not trying hard enough to get a job.

From time to time, he would discuss his problems with me in the office. But he would present a different attitude than the real one of desperation that I overheard from the vent. He told me that things were looking up. At the end of the week, when the room rent was due, he asked for a three-day extension, saying he was expecting a check from Chicago. I sympathized with his situation and granted his request.

During observation the next day, I overheard the guy telling his wife: “The dumb guy in the office thinks I have a check coming in from Chicago, and we’ll fool him the same way we did at the motel in Omaha.”

She was upset with him, saying he should get a job and stop taking advantage of people’s generosity.

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