I had been traveling for 17 hours. I opened the motel room and flopped down on the bed, leaving my bags by the bathroom for the moment. “11:30 pm damn”; next time I’d make a two day trip of it and get some more rest. My system was plugged up solid and I felt bloated even though I had not had much to eat. I thought about taking an enema, but I was really tired and I wasn’t looking forward to the ordeal. Yes I usually enjoyed the feelings that are generally associated with taking an enema but I was not looking forward to the time that it normally takes to comprehensively complete the process. Besides that, I only had a small bulb unit with me that I only used for travel and not for pleasure. So I took off my clothes, turned the bed all of the way down and just laid on the bed for a while. I turned off the light, but I couldn’t get to sleep. I had missed my normal check-in time and lost my hotel reservation and had to take room in a cheap motel in a distressed part of the city. There I laid, footsteps coming through the ceiling and television noise coming through the wall next door. ‘What a dump’ I mused to myself.

Finally at least the TV noise stopped. Then I heard something that made sit up and pay attention; a sound that was oddly familiar. I got up and went into the bathroom and put my ear the common wall. There it was; the unmistakable sound of an enema expulsion and it must have been a high volume enema because the expulsions went on for about 15 minutes. I chucked at myself, here I had been dead tired and now my heart was pounding and I was …was what? Excited… well curious for sure, but there was apparently nothing else to hear, so I went back and flopped on the bed but still could not get to sleep.

I became aware that two women were talking through the wall in the bedroom next to mine and one of them had obviously just expelled the enema. I got up on my knees and put my ear to the wall; fragments of conversation came through and my heart leapt into my throat as my ears struggled to pick out the details. “How are you ever going to even find a boyfriend if all you ever want is to play with yourself while you take an enema?” By the pitch and timbre of her speech, this seemed as though an older woman was talking. “Why don’t you just leave me alone Aunt Meg? What makes you think I even want a boyfriend?” This sounded like a younger woman, but I couldn’t quite peg the age. “Because I heard you talking on the phone the other night, ‘oh if I could just find a nice guy that would like me, I know I would be a lot happier’ you said.” There were a pause and then “Hell, how do you think you’re going to find a boyfriend if you’re not meeting anyone?” The reply came quick and sounded defensive. “I don’t know where to look, Meg.” There was a minute or two of silence, then the old girl started in again, “I know you’ve been sleeping with a zucchini up your ass; I’ve noticed the Vaseline on them when I take out the garbage. Is that your dream boyfriend?” Then an emotional eruption, “Shut up Meg! Why are you being so mean to me?”

The door slammed and I heard footsteps fading outside. I got up and peered out of the side of the curtain. The woman had walked over to a bench and had sat down cradling her head in her arms. I couldn’t make out what she really looked like and the distance was too far to judge how big or small she was. I looked at the clock and it was quarter after one and I was finally sleepy and my erection quickly faded. I needed the rest because I had a pre-development meeting at the city planning department on my project tomorrow and I lay back down and finally dosed off.