They also said they were going to be joined later by a friend, also a pilot, and he would need a room. So after I got his name, I booked him in Room 7, right next to the couple, where there are connecting doors.
By the time I’d gotten up to the observation platform, the woman was taking off her ski boots and stockings, and leaning back on the bed.
The blond man was in the bathroom, complaining of a headache, and he said: “I need to get something to eat. It’ll make me feel better.”
So she put on her boots and they soon left the room, returning to it in an hour or so. Not long after they got back, there was a knock on the door. It was their friend, a tall dark-haired man in his late 20s. After a warm greeting at the door, he came in and then the three of them sat around for an hour or so talking, even though the TV continued playing all the time.
The men talked mainly about flying, with some references to helicopter missions in Vietnam. The man who was booked in Room 7 even recalled once throwing a Viet Cong soldier out of his gun-ship. The subject makes me sick.
The blond guy in Room 6, who apparently is now working somewhere in Colorado as a flight instructor, described in detail his favorite sport, which is chasing and shooting coyotes from his aircraft. He also said he liked to chase them in the direction of a 500-foot cliff and watch them topple over to their deaths. “Those coyotes become so preoccupied and frantic in trying to elude the plane that I’m able to drive them over the edge, and what a thrill to see them tumble end-over-end and crash into the canyon.”
At about 11 o’clock this disgusting conversation ended. The dark-haired guy got up to say good night and went to Room 7. The couple in Room 6 began taking off their clothes. She was absolutely stunning. She was tall and very slender, but the pair of breasts jutting out from beneath her ski sweater made her look anything but slender. Finally, she was nude. But before he joined her in bed, she asked him to turn off the TV and room lights, which he did.
I hurried down from the observation deck toward the parking area and my car. But since every parking space in front of No. 6 was occupied, I could not get my car lights focused on the couple’s room, which was now in total darkness. But as I passed No. 7, I saw through the curtains that their friend had opened up his side of the connecting door and he had an ear pressed against it, listening to whatever bed sounds were coming from the couple’s room next door, and he also had his pants down and his penis in his hand.
Returning to the platform, I watched him through the vent, continuing to listen as the woman’s voice was groaning with pleasure in the dark, louder and louder, as her partner is making love to her. I couldn’t see any of it, of course, but she was really loud, and as I shifted to peek down on Room 7, I could see this other guy, standing with his head pressed against the door, masturbating to orgasm.
Conclusion: This observation makes a truism out of my contention that all men are voyeurs to some degree, and will demonstrate this capacity if given the opportunity. But this man, and his fellow pilot next door, disgust me. Their disregard for animals, and the throwing of that Viet Cong individual out of the gun-ship, it makes me hope that somehow these two men will meet the fate of those coyotes.
TWENTY-FOUR
THE MOTEL was a place where guests retreated to act out their kinky desires. The Voyeur observed one man, a married father of two, having sex with one of the many teddy bears he had brought into his room. “Apparently he only practiced his unusual depravation when he was on the road, away from his family,” the Voyeur wrote.
In another far more common encounter, the great diplomacy of a woman turned what could have been an ego-shattering night of embarrassment and disappointment into one of gratification.
A dignified and neatly-dressed white man, probably in his late 30s, standing about 5’8” and weighing at least 175 lbs, explained that he was here on business from Kansas City and needed a room for only one night.
Standing next to him was his attractive 25-year-old companion who seemed to be of Spanish origin but spoke perfect English. I placed them in Room 11, which has double beds, and gave them about ten minutes to settle themselves before I went up to the platform to see and hear their situation.
He was on the phone when I arrived, speaking loudly while sitting on the side of the bed. The Spanish woman was unpacking a suitcase placed on the other bed.
“My wife and I just arrived,” he said. “We’ve just checked into this motel, and we can meet you at the restaurant we mentioned at 7 o’clock. Is that okay?”
The party on the other line, a woman, said it was okay, and that she and her husband looked forward to it.
After hanging up, the Kansas City man turned to his companion and said, “Now, look, let me do all the talking, and let’s just go along with whatever they want, okay?”