Maria glanced at her own naked body in the bathroom mirror as she slipped into some expensive black underwear. Not too bad, considering, she appraised her thirty-year-old form. She smoothed a pair of tights over her long legs and checked herself again. Her bra strap was twisted, so she slipped the whole thing off and put back it on again. Then she turned her attention to her hair. Steven liked it tied up, so he could kiss her neck. She was going to a lot of effort tonight, more than she had for a while, but it would be worth it, she told herself. That baby isn’t going to make itself.
Steven quickly turned off the television set as the connecting door opened and Maria entered their grimy hotel room. Drinking up the vision of her beauty, he smiled at what he saw so she knew he was appreciative and stepped forward to embrace her.
‘Do you think it’ll happen tonight?’ she asked as he kissed her shoulder. ‘It’s bang on the right part of my cycle.’
Steven stepped back, annoyed. ‘I remember when we made love for fun, seems a long time ago now. Now it’s just straight to business!’
‘Don’t be like that,’ she wailed, any built-up romantic desire rapidly fading. ‘You know how much having a baby means to me.’
He sighed, calmed slightly by the proximity of her body. ‘Yeah, I know.’ He sat down on the rickety bed which creaked loudly – even before they’d started putting to other, more vigorous use. ‘I’d like a little loving as well – it’s not all just about the act itself!’
Here we go again, thought Maria.
He continued. ‘I’d like to think you enjoyed the process, rather than just seeing every shag as a potential fertilization event.’
She controlled her response and sat next to him. The bed springs creaked again. ‘I do see it as more than that! This is romantic isn’t it? Just the two of us, gone away for the weekend…’
‘In this so-called luxury hotel,’ he deadpanned, waving at the faded décor. ‘It’s horrible, this place, isn’t it? Sort of seedy, don’t you think?’
Maria flushed slightly. ‘That’s why I picked it. I thought it might inspire you.’
‘Filthy cow.’
‘You love it,’ she grinned, putting her hand on his knee.
The blood rushed to his groin. ‘Yeah, you’re right, I’ve got to be honest,’ he laughed. ‘Although I’m not sure about having Hitler over there watching us while we’re doing it.’
He indicated a portrait hung over the bed of a stern, moustached middle-aged man with penetrating eyes. Unlike the rest of the room, it was clear that the picture had been cleaned recently.
‘Oh god,’ she giggled. ‘Yeah, he’s really creepy isn’t he? Do his eyes follow you around the room, or is it just me?’
‘It’s not just you.’
‘Well,’ she moved her hand higher up his leg. ‘Shall we give him something to watch? Put on a show?’ She bit him on the ear and he let desire take over for the next few minutes.
…
‘Enjoy your stay, did you ducky?’ the gap-toothed landlady crowed next morning. ‘Certainly sounded like you did.’
Steven and Maria looked across the breakfast table at each other guiltily.
‘Don’t be shy,’ the old woman crooned. ‘It’s natural, ain’t it? A man and a woman. Not like some of the stuff folks get up to these days.’
Steven coughed awkwardly, then focused on his finishing his complimentary fry-up.
Maria returned to their room before they left to give it one last check-over to ensure they’d left nothing of theirs behind. She looked at the ruffled, stained bedsheets with a little shame and wondered whether she ought to strip the bed, then dismissed the notion – the old woman could do it – that was her job, after all. She cheekily waved goodbye to the Hitler on the wall then dropped her suitcase in shock when he winked back at her. Too stunned to do anything but stare for a moment, she blinked and when her vision cleared, the man in the portrait again looked as he had done so before – the serious staring eyes. Of course, it hadn’t winked at her. She shrugged and picked up the bags. Must be imagining things.
…
‘What’s wrong, love?’ Steven rolled off her body and sunk back into his side of the bed. They’d returned home that afternoon, and as soon as the suitcases were unpacked, Maria had insisted upon them having another go at it. Straight to the act again. Yet to Steven, she seemed strangely distracted. ‘You’re heart’s not in it, even less than usual!’
He framed it as a joke, but they both aware that it wasn’t.
Maria exploded. ‘Oh, it’s that bloody painting back at the hotel! I can’t get it out of my head!’
Steven deliberately misunderstood. ‘I’m sure that old bag would have sold it to us, if we’d asked.’
‘That’s not what I mean,’ she snapped, mostly angry at herself for not being able to express to him that she’d been sure the man had winked at her for fear of looking foolish. ‘Didn’t you feel it was sort of.. watching us?’
‘Well, I thought you liked that,’ Steven took a sip from a glass of water – staying hydrated was vital for fertility, he had been instructed, several times.
They lay in silence for a moment. ‘I keep seeing his eyes, Steven,’ she confessed quietly. Especially when we’re… you know…’
‘Getting it on?’ he suggested, sniggering.
‘I can’t shake the feeling that dirty old man is watching me, even now.’
‘You’re letting your imagination run away with you, love.’
‘I don’t think so. He’s watching us. Me. I’m sure of it.’
He turned to face her and gently circled his index finger around her nipple, watching it stiffen. ‘Let me take your mind off it?’ he suggested.
They tried again that night, but it didn’t work for Maria, who eventually pushed him aside, frustrated. Both stared at the ceiling for a while, until the curtain of sleep pulled them even further apart.
...
One week later, and after several unsuccessful attempts at the process of baby-making, Maria finally lost patience.
‘I’m not going mad, Steven!’ she cried. ‘I can see his eyes, all the time. Watching! This time I’m sure I saw his whole head appear out of thin air! Just sort of floating there!’
‘It’s all in your mind,’ he grumbled.
‘No it isn’t. You can’t see it? You really can’t?’
Steven made a show of examining the four walls. ‘All I see are photos of babies and ovulation charts.’
‘I’m sure he’s in the room with us. Like he’s got out of the painting and has followed us home. I’m being haunted by a pervy ghost! This is no good, we’ve got to do something about this!’
Steven laughed without humour. ‘Like what? See a psychologist? An exorcist? Do you realise how nuts you sound, Maria?’
She made a decision and hurriedly got off the bed and pulled on her clothes. ‘Each time I see him, he’s getting stronger, more physical. I’m going back to that hotel, Steven. I’ve got to see the picture, make sure he’s still in it!’
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ Steven erupted, pulling the sheet over his naked body.
‘This is interfering with my fertility plans,’ she announced. ‘It can’t go on.’
There she goes again, Steven thought, nothing was more important than getting pregnant. It was never about his needs. All he wanted was a little loving, and it was being denied him. ‘You do whatever you want to, love, but I’m staying right here in bed!’
…
She drove all night back to that dingy hotel, charged with a kind of steely resolve to get to the bottom of things. It was only when the old woman answered the door that she started to lose her nerve.
‘Oh, hello again, ducky,’ the Landlady blew a puff of cigarette smoke at her. ‘Back again so soon? What ya doing coming here at this time of night? I don’t do refunds, if that’s what you're after?’
Maria shook her head. ‘I… this is going to sound foolish, but I just had to come back here. I want to talk to you about the painting. I need to see it, actually. Will you let me in?’
‘Don’t know what you mean, ducks,’ she replied, but it was clear from her twisted rubbery face that she was being evasive.
‘There’s a portrait in the room we stayed in – of a man with a moustache and these piercing eyes…’
‘Oh yes, dear, that’s our Charlie.’
Maria pushed the old woman aside and started up the stairs. ‘I want to look at it again, is that alright?’ though she was already nearly at the door to the room, unstoppable.
The Landlady looked flustered, but as no guests were currently occupying that particular room – as business was slow – she happily allowed the younger woman to go inside.
The portrait was still on the wall, unchanged. Charlie still iside the borders of the frame. Of course he was. What else could he be?
‘So, he’s Charlie?’ Maria asked, not taking her eyes off the man in the painting.
‘That’s right, dear. That’s our Charlie. Died fifteen years ago, so he did. My husband, he was.’
‘Your husband?’ Maria exclaimed. She wasn’t about to accuse this woman’s deceased partner of being a spirit pervert, was she? She talked around that central issue as her mind raced. ‘I know this will sound crazy, but I keep seeing his eyes, watching me – whenever I’m… well.. naked. Sometimes, it’s almost like he’s in the room with us.’
Improbably, the Landlady just nodded. ‘Oh, he likes to watch, does our Charlie,’
‘Oh God,’ Maria murmured, her worst fears being realised. She fought down a sick feeling that was pushing itself up from her stomach. The horrible sensation of being leered over by a dirty old man.
‘Though you’ve got nothing to worry about, ducky,’ the old woman continued.
Maria snapped back to attention. ‘I’m sorry? I don’t know what you mean?’
‘Not interested in women, our Charlie.’
‘What? What does that mean?’
‘Oh, it’s no secret, ducky. We just kept up the pretence of marriage, you know. I loved him, of course, even if he didn’t love me back. He was always out with the boys, gallivanting. The young boys. I’m just saying, it’s probably not you he was… you know… looking at.’
This was all so confusing. How could the damn woman be so blase about all of this? She stared into her watery eyes, looking for answers.
‘Well, then what was he looking at?’ As the words left her mouth she suddenly realised with abject horror that Charlie was no longer a figure in his own portrait. The picture showed the background only. Charlie had got out. Gallivanting, again, perhaps?
The Landlady crossed her arms but seemed to take it all in her stride. ‘If anything, I’d say he was more interested in that fella of yours…’
…
Back at home, Steven was sleeping soundly until a creaking floor board stirred him to the edge of wakefulness. He kept his head safely under the duvet to avoid the harsh light of dawn and mumbled ‘Is that you, love? Back already?’
The bed shook as the weight of another body joined him.
‘Got it all sorted out have you?’ he patronised, still half-asleep. ‘I hope you’ve got it out of your system. I could do with a little loving.’
The bottom half of the duvet was gently moved to one side and a cold hand took a firm hold on his manhood, which was then fed greedily in to a hungry wet mouth.
Steven moaned quietly, his eyes tightly shut, his face taking on a blissful expression as he concentrated only on his own pleasure. At last, he thought. A little loving at last.
