My worst hotel sex

It was a crisp Wednesday night in Canterbury city centre. The town was awash with the scent of half price jagerbombs and VKs. There was a sense of anticipation in the air: who would be getting with who in the dark, sticky corners of Club Chemistry tonight?

I decided, as I hopped on the ‘Chem Bus’ that tonight would be my night. I was nearing the end of my first year at uni, and was yet to do anything too chaotic. Sure, I’d passed out in my bathroom during a fire alarm, got with my housemate and thrown up in more places than I could remember, but what fresher hadn’t?

So that night, feeling bored and quite frankly, horny, I decided I was going to get with the boy I fancied. And failing that, I would get with someone – anyone that moved. Unfortunately, it ended up being the latter.

The gentleman in question approached me on the almost empty dance floor. He was a short fellow, and not conventionally attractive. A skinny ginger man who went by the name Steve, or something like that – names were the least of my worries. We danced near each other, belting out the cheesy club tunes in one another’s faces. Within minutes we were kissing, or more accurately – heavy petting. It was a disgusting moment of PDA that only 19-year-olds can get away with. He, at 26, was far too old to be engaging in such activity. 

His hands caressed my back and started to wander to other places they certainly shouldn’t have and before I knew it, we’d jumped in a taxi back to his.

“Premier Inn please mate,” he yelled at the cabbie. The first detail I learnt about “Steve” was that he didn’t live in the same city as me. An out-of-towner, how thrilling! “Yeah I’m staying at a Premier Inn because I live in Margate,” he explained. It wasn’t the sandy beaches of Barbados, but I’d take what I could get.

A hotel was far from my usual hook up spot, but the comfort of a Premier Inn bed would be an improvement from the bush I had once let a man give me a love bite in, so I went along with it.

As we entered the hotel, I felt the judgement of the reception assistant, who peered over her glasses at me. To her, I was just some hussy my new man had picked off the street in a matter of hours. 

The bedroom door shut behind us and my playsuit was already on the floor. Looks may not have been his best attribute, but his kissing was certainly up there. 

Things were going well, and I was enjoying every second of the surprisingly good shag. But suddenly, the door burst open. My view was partially blocked by the skinny man positioned on top of me. I had no idea who had entered this sacred place at 2 am.

In my shock, I pushed Steve out of me, army rolled off the bed and under it, protecting my modesty in the strangest way possible. Sure, I was keen for one stranger to see me naked that night, but the second was too far.  

Steve and his friend, who I quickly inferred from Steve’s whining was called Robert, were having a disagreement above me. “Robert please just go in the bathroom for five minutes so we can finish up.”

I continued to lay under the bed, questioning the life choices that got me into this situation, and hoping Robert would take his KFC, the smell of which was wafting towards me, and leave.

Steve explained through the gap under the bed that Robert was his friend he was sharing the room with, and that I should roll out from the safety of my self-made nest. 

“Aw, come out, don’t worry about it,” they pleaded, trying to coax me out as if I were the family pet. 

After much deliberation, we came to an agreement as a group that Robert would eat his bargain bucket in the bathroom, allowing Steve and I to continue our act of love.

The light clicked off and I exited my hiding place, mildly concerned at what diseases I might have picked up from the floor of the cheapest hotel in Canterbury.

Steve kissed me passionately, and my irritation towards the situation was gone. We continued to do the deed, when suddenly I could hear a mysterious voice coming from the other side of the room. “Steve Steve Steve Steve,” the voice chanted.

Caught up in the passion of the moment, I hadn’t noticed Robert escaping the bathroom to cheer on his friend as he neared the finish line.

But that finish line never – errr – came. 

“Right this is too weird,” I announced as I climbed off the man I was straddling and rummaged around for my clothes in the pitch black. After some disagreements with both Steve and Robert, who continued to try to convince me to stay, I eventually made my way out the room, past the judgy receptionist and in a state of shock, decided to venture back to the club. The night was still young, and at only 2 am I couldn’t miss the opportunity for round two.

After lying to the bouncer to get back in, I found the friends I had abandoned a number of hours before. 

“Sorry I got stuck speaking to some girls on my course,” I lied again.

While it was far from a perfect night, it was the blend of drunken chaos I had craved earlier that day. But still, I vowed never to go searching for it again.

*names have been changed to protect identities.

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