Sigh, Alaska: a short story novel

Maxwell Campbell

The room was dark, smelly and a little damp when he walked in. The sun had been set for several hours though it was only seven-thirty in the evening. Maxwell Campbell flipped on the light and got a better look at his surroundings. In a room with six bunks, four of them appeared to be occupied. Shrugging, he took his sheets and started to make his bed on one of the available top bunks. He was a scrawny little guy, though he preferred the term wiry, but had the lucky fortune of being much stronger than he appeared.

Though thinking on it, maybe it wasn't such a lucky fortune. God knows it had gotten him in trouble more than a few times. Most recently, what should have been a bit of fun, chased him out of Maine and across the country.

No. Max wasn't going to focus on the past. He was in a new place; a place where someone could remake themselves and that is exactly what he planned to do at the Northern Lights Hostel.

Upon his arrival, he noticed there weren't many hostelers around. The front desk clerk, Ethan, mentioned some of them were at work and a few others went to grab some pizza at a nearby place. Max decided to take his extra alone time and peruse his roommates' things.

He wasn't a thief, he was just curious at what people felt comfortable leaving lying around unattended. He spotted a few laptops and several digital cameras, one of them laying on the dresser that seemed to collect a bunch of receipts and dirty shirts, but did not appear to be used for its original purpose.

Max had a long flight and many things to reflect on. One thing he knew for sure was that he absolutely would not let his baser impulses get the better of him this time. As far as anyone knew, he had a heart of gold and no history of any kind of violence. Of course, he wouldn't consider his past as violent, but some of the charges he fled from reflected otherwise. Max crawled into bed, trying his best to keep up a litany of happy thoughts and affirmations of success and power, so he wouldn't focus on the growing need that appeared between his legs. He was glad his roommates weren't around so he could snatch a couple hours of sleep, and eventually drifted off.

Settling into a routine at the hostel had been easy enough. Max found a full time job driving auto parts around the city. He didn't interact much with his roommates or other hostelers and that suited him just fine. Max hadn't even been upstairs since he arrived two weeks before. There was a full kitchen and living room downstairs with the only TV in the hostel. It didn't have cable, but it had the news and that was good enough.

It was his own rotten luck that he couldn't seem to stay asleep during the night. Since he'd arrived, his reoccurring dreams had been tormenting him. Faces, smells, feelings would ricochet through him, and he'd be sure she really wanted it this time. Her lips would smile up at him invitingly and he would sink into her and- wake up with a raging hard on. To be twenty-seven years old and still having wet dreams was embarrassing enough, but to come in his sleep surrounded by relative strangers was unconscionable.

Shoving his face into his pillow, he decided to go to the bathroom and take care of it. When he reached the slightly open door of the room, he heard sounds coming from the living room. The lights all appeared to be off, except the nightlight near the entrance. As he slowly moved out into the hall, he let his eyes adjust. A swathe of curly dark blonde hair floated down the back of the tired blue couch. After a moment, he could see her better now. Her lips appeared to be slightly opened, her eyes definitely closed.

Max didn't think he'd ever seen such a beautiful face. Petite features to go with her petite body. The small light from the entrance illuminated the shadows of her face, and her tight green dress. Her legs were obscured to his view, and Max realized she wasn't alone.

Standing in front of her, a man Max had been briefly introduced to as Howard, had his hand pumping slowly up and down the length of his hardness. He was staring down into the young woman's face, as though it were her fault he was there at all.

It took another moment for Max to realize the young blonde-haired woman was asleep. He stood and watched as Howard defiled her, first shoving himself into her slackened mouth, then pulling up her dress and having his way with her right there on the couch.

Max didn't know what to do. Stopping Howard seemed like the obvious choice, but he was vaguely aware that his own hand had traveled into his boxers. Just a little bit longer, he thought. If he got caught, he'd turn the blame around. Max instinctively knew that he wouldn't be caught, he never was in situations such as these.

Howard groaned his release into the couch cushion next to the young girl's face. Max knew it was time to step back into the shadows until Howard moved away.

"Ugh, Howard," moaned the girl. "No, Howard. You said not again." Her hand went up to her face, and she rubbed herself awake.

"Okay, Daph. Not again. Promise. Now let's get you to bed." He reached down to pull her up and straighten out her dress.

Max watched as Howard led Daphne out the door and up the stairs. Leaning back against the wall, he ran his hand through his sleep tussled hair and groaned. As he closed his eyes he could picture it all again; her mouth around his hardness, then her legs on his shoulders as he moved inside her with fast shallow strokes. But this time, it was Max she was wrapped around, not Howard. Shaking his head to clear himself of the idea, he went into the bathroom and relieved himself.

"This is bad." He murmured to himself, thinking of Daphne, and trying to keep the rising interest at bay. Max reentered his dorm room, and crawled up to his bunk. "This will never do."