The Voyeur's Motel Page 6

  And he sometimes believed he could communicate from the attic to his guests via mental telepathy.

  For example, this particular evening the female subject was reclining on the bed, the television was off, and it was very quiet in the room below the vent. She was clearly of Scandinavian extraction, her hair being ash blonde, her eyes pale blue, her skin fair and freckled. Her figure was soft and supple, yielding and yearning. Her straight hair fell to just below her shoulders and was cropped in bangs across her forehead. Her mouth was full-lipped and the bright pink color of bubble gum. The same shade of pink color was evident under the bodice of her gauzy, silken nightgown, which peaked with her large, slightly pendulous breasts . . .

  She lowered her right hand from her breasts to her vagina and began to rub her clitoris, seeming to be caught up in the rapture which was coursing through her body, and the clammy smell of the fragrant vaginal moisture grew stronger, more powerful to the observing Voyeur’s nose only six feet away.

  Then her restlessness disappeared as she reclined on the bed and began reading a book. Because it had been an incurious and uneventful day in the observation laboratory, the Voyeur decided to conduct an experiment utilizing the female subject. The Voyeur had been conducting this identical experiment during the past two years, and he has realized some success exploiting receptive-intelligent subjects.

  The Voyeur began to concentrate on the female subject’s eyes and attempt to transfer a thought. The thought the Voyeur was attempting to transfer was for the subject to raise her eyes from the book and look upward toward the vent. After several frustrating minutes of concentration, she finally raised her eyes and looked at the observation vent. Was this just an accident of voluntary movement, or had the Voyeur actually communicated using brain waves? On several other occasions, the Voyeur encouraged a female subject to raise her eyes to the vent. This particular female subject was definitely marked by extraordinary perception. But after concentrating on the female subject for some time, she apparently became uneasy with this unknown phenomenon that was thrust upon her intellectuality and she went to the bathroom and closed the door. The experiment ended when she returned to the room, turned out the light and retired.

  Conclusion: If the subject is a female, and has just concluded masturbation, you have an excellent opportunity of getting her to respond. This is perhaps because of her concentration level being expanded. Female subjects appear to respond progressively better to the Voyeur than male subjects. This is probably due to the fact that the Voyeur’s interest is primarily concerned with females, and he experiences a stronger thought level in this application . . . The Voyeur will continue with these experiments and will report any significant discoveries to the journal in the future.

  Often Foss would spend several stressful hours becoming irritated at watching people watching television—especially those attractive couples who, instead of having sex, spent all their time in bed arguing over what to watch, with the men maintaining control over the clicker while the resentful women eventually buried themselves under the blankets.

  We have become a nation of TV maniacs, depending on this medium to supply all our emotional needs. It is a rare occasion when the TV isn’t turned on.

  Equally offensive were the heavy smokers, sending their toxins up through the vents for him to inhale; and there were also those guests bringing fast food into the rooms and then wiping off their greasy hands on the bed linen. Only once while posted in the attic, from which he witnessed the private behavior of close to three hundred guests per year, did he lose his concentration as a silent observer and actually speak through a vent to a person below.

  The Voyeur passed No.6 vent and noticed this fastidious subject was eating Kentucky Fried Chicken while sitting on the bed. He had checked in earlier in the day and apparently was between appointments. The male subject was clean, seemingly of average intelligence, but clearly had messy and untidy eating habits. He had received napkins at the fast-food restaurant because they were positioned on the bed, but he made no use of them. Instead, he rubbed his hands on the bedspread, which was going to be difficult to clean.

  The Voyeur continued his ocular inspection of this male subject expressing absolute disregard for the property of the motel, and the latter also began wiping his beard and mouth on the bedspread!

  At this point, the Voyeur was in a state of frenzy, and in momentarily forgetting the precariousness of his position over the platform vent, he angrily shouted:

  “You Son-Of-A-Bitch!”

  The Voyeur immediately thought:

  “Oh, God, did he hear me?”

  The subject stopped eating and looked around the room, and then went to the window and looked outside. Apparently he knew someone had shouted S.O.B., but couldn’t determine from which direction the insult came. He went to the window and looked out for the second time and pondered the situation for a few minutes, and then continued with his animalistic eating habits.

  The Voyeur was relieved, and promised himself to maintain better control over his emotions in the future.

  TEN

  BUT FOOS would again lose control, and though he was aggravated once more by his guests’ eating habits, the source of his provocation this time would be a frustration of his voyeuristic desire.

  Donna checked into No. 4 this couple who were here on a cattle-buying trip. They were from Roundup, Montana, and the wife was a lovely and slender blonde of about twenty-five, while the husband was a little older, ruggedly handsome, and about 6 feet and 185 lbs. They checked in at approximately 5:30 p.m. and it was getting dark as I ascended to my observation laboratory to watch.

  They had picked up hamburgers at McDonald’s and began eating as soon as they entered. I immediately noticed that she was very beautiful, and had a fantastic figure. She was wearing boots, jeans, and a tight Western shirt, and it was well established that she was in the D-cup category.

  But as I watch this young couple eat, it is obvious they had no manners. They just eat as fast as possible, dropping bits and pieces in their laps, and then brush it off onto the floor. Young people don’t use napkins, at least the majority—just wipe their hands on their blue jeans or the bed sheets.

  Oh, well, maybe I’ll get to see some sex anyway.

  They were both very non-communicative and he laid on the bed fully dressed and watched TV for the majority of the evening. She wrote a letter and departed to the bathroom and closed the door and remained for the better part of an hour.

  When she came out, he crudely replied: “You stayed in there so long I’ll bet you have a ring around your butt.” This is the first thing he said all evening, typical cowboy talk. She was definitely embarrassed by this statement from this vulgar primitive idiot.

  He continued watching a re-run of Gunsmoke and she went to the bathroom again. When she returned, she was wearing a nightgown with a robe over the top.

  God, I’m never going to get to observe those magnificent breasts! These are the times it is difficult being a Voyeur, when your desire to observe is not being fulfilled. She sits on the chair and he smokes and watches TV, and not any word of communication results between them. What I am observing here is exactly what occurs in the relationship of about 90 percent of all couples.

  Much later, he undressed and they go to bed. He is now feeling like sex, but she isn’t, especially since he had insulted her earlier. When he removed his boots, I detected a smell that approached the vent that wasn’t pleasant. He should have taken a shower if he wanted to approach her, but he didn’t. After fondling her through the nightgown and robe, he was making headway toward getting her aroused.

  By this time, I think maybe I’ll get to observe those breasts yet, but no, he immediately gets out of bed and turns off the lights and the television!

  Now I’m thoroughly mad and disgusted with the S.O.B. I feel like killing him. He now returns to the bed and begins his lovemaking in an atm
osphere he is comfortable with: namely, darkness.

  I won’t stand for this at all. I return to the ground level and get in my car, and then drive it and park it directly in front of the #4 unit, parking it and leaving it there with the bright lights beaming on their window.

  Returning to the observation platform, he is standing up peeking through the curtains, complaining that “some son-of-a-bitch has left his lights on.”

  In order to accomplish the remainder of his love­making ­procedure, he placates his position by getting under the covers to eliminate the light. He finally gets her undressed because I see her hands appear on the side of the bed dropping her robe and nightgown out. The room is lit up real well, and he begins his animal-like thrusting under the covers. He is finished in three minutes, and immediately withdraws and departs for the bathroom.

  I finally get to see her body when she uncovers to wipe the semen away on my bedspread. She is very beautifully proportioned, but probably equally stupid and dumb.

  He comes back from the bathroom and notes that the lights outside are still on. He says, “I wonder what the situation is with this car with the lights on.”

  Stupid bastard, he’ll never know what my situation is, but I am well informed as to his unfortunate position in life.

  Conclusion: I am still unable to determine what function I serve . . . Apparently, I’m delegated the responsibility of this heavy burden to be placed upon myself—never being able to tell anyone! If vanity or fate appoints this position for me in life, then I will be appreciably diminished by this unfair compromise. The depression builds, but I will continue onward with my research. I’ve pondered on occasion that perhaps I don’t exist, only represent a product of the subjects’ dreams. No one would believe my accomplishments as a Voyeur anyway, and therefore the dreamlike manifestation would explain my reality.

  There is definitely a correlation between subjects who want the lights off during sexual activity and their profile. Normally, subjects from rural areas; non-­educated types; minority groups; older generation subjects; southern-influenced subjects—are inclined to indulge in sex in darkness. After observing so many of these subjects, I can tell almost immediately the subjects who will turn the lights out. It is difficult to explain, but I accurately recorded an entire year of subjects who turned off the lights and those who left it on during sexual activity. Ninety percent of those who turned off the light fell within the category described above.

  ELEVEN

  THE LIMITED dimensions of the motel’s room space, and the relatively short periods of time that existed between the entrances and exits of his guests—he rented Room 4 to five different “hot sheet” guests on one memorable New Year’s Eve—meant that the larger lives of the Voyeur’s subjects usually remained undetermined; but sometimes, if the guests who had drawn his special interest were also residents of the Denver area, he would capitalize on the convenience and stealthily visit their homes.

  One woman he followed home was a middle-aged, overweight individual of close to fifty who had sex at the Manor House Motel one evening with a well-dressed and attractive gentleman in his early thirties.

  From detailed conversation by the subjects, it was learned that they had met at a P.W.O.P. (Parents Without Partners) dance.

  In the motel, after pouring and mixing a drink for the two of them, the female subject dropped her skirt to the floor and quickly pulled off her sweater. Then she said: “Undress me. Take off my bra and panties.”

  The male subject grasped the snap of her bra, and, in a flash, it was gone, and the female subject’s full breasts jiggled, with the right one being one-third larger than the left, and they hung in a pendulous fashion.

  “Do you like my body, darling?” she asked.

  “It’s fantastic,” he said. “You’re gorgeous.”

  The male subject didn’t waste time. After removing her panties, he moved her to the bed and, after undressing himself, he moved down and touched his mouth on her vagina, and soon she was crying frantically, “Lick me, baby.”

  The male subject then withdrew his mouth and fingers and said, “I’m having difficulty making my car payment.”

  She moved away and reached toward the bed table for her purse, and gave him a hundred-dollar bill . . .

  After fifteen minutes, the female subject had her orgasm, and she made an effort to perform fellatio on the male subject, but he said, “I’m really tired, but I need an extra fifty dollars to finish paying my bills.” She again reached for her purse, paid him the money, and then she slid her mouth all the way down his penis—directly below the vent of the viewing Voyeur.

  She took great interest in performing oral sex on him, and then completely engulfed his penis, extracting all the available semen he could produce.

  The total act took fifteen minutes, and he was gone in his car. I wanted to know more about her, so I followed her to a retirement community near the motel. She went into an end unit of the complex and I waited for a few minutes for her to settle down. I approached her unit from the darkened side of the garage, and her back kitchen window had the curtain drawn open. Upon observation, I could see through the kitchen area into the living room and determined she lived alone with only a dog for companionship. She was walking around the living room area crying. She was in tears and appeared to be visibly upset.

  I walked to the front and noticed her name on the mailbox as being the only person who lived there. I walked down the block, and inquired about her at an adjacent apartment, and was told her husband had been killed in Vietnam and her son was away, attending college.

  Conclusion: The discovery of the tremendous sexual desire that some women of middle age express during these encounters is a definite tragedy. They have no sexual partners because they aren’t attractive enough to acquire male partners, or they are reserved and hesitant. The gigolos, such as this particular one, promise elderly women sexual pleasure and social companionship. But I have seen this same gigolo in the motel with older men. He appears to be able to satisfy either women or men, and is quite unusual in demonstrating with ease this adjustment.

  TWELVE

  ANOTHER SUBJECT of interest to Gerald Foos was a fifty-year-old male physician who was affiliated with a different medical facility than Donna; and, presumably, the doctor had no idea that the motel he favored for his “hot sheet” midday interludes was co-owned by a nurse. Gerald Foos had observed him before, and was predisposed to dislike him, but then, Foos’s instinctive feelings toward physicians were rarely positive.

  Most doctors bear a mystique about themselves, as if they represent the hierarchy of mankind and everyone else should be subservient to their whims . . . Anyway, I assigned this particular doctor to Room 9, and, as I observed him from the platform, he entered the room alone, well-dressed and composed. He was about thirty-five, maybe 5 feet 9 inches and 150 lbs, close-trimmed dark hair. In the bathroom he loosened his tie and looked in the mirror, expressing what appeared to be much satisfaction with himself. And then I saw him urinating in the sink! Yes, he definitely was urinating in the sink! For what ungodly reason did he do that? And then he washed his hands and the penis in the sink with his trousers down to his knees.

  There was a knock on the door.

  He hurried to get his pants up, went to the door, and he let in a lovely young woman who was wearing a nurse’s uniform. She was really beautiful. She is much better looking than the last woman he brought to this motel. This woman embraced him but was also very professional in conversation, discussing happenings in the office and the status of certain patients.

  She took off her uniform, went to the bathroom, and left the door open. Imagine, this absolute feeling of freedom and openness. Then she returned to the bedroom, standing directly beneath the vent as he kissed her and removed a large beautiful breast from her bra and sucked on it, gently teasing the nipple.

  She responded by lowering the zipper of
his pants and removing his penis. She sat on the bed directly below, holding his slow-rising penis in her hands and then kissing its red, purplish head as he stood in front of her. He undressed while she continued to suck his penis, and then fell on the bed beside her and undid her bra, releasing both of those magnificent breasts. The areolas were dark and large, indicating she probably had children somewhere.

  They assumed the 69 position, with her on top, and she continued this until she had an orgasm, and then another. She continued to suck on his penis, and then he came, too, after his toes had curled up and while he drove his fingers into her back. After she sucked from his penis the last dregs of his seminal fluid, he said, “My God, Darlene, you almost turned me inside out.”

  “I always love to swallow semen,” she said. “I’ve always loved to feel a penis coming in my mouth.”

  They rested and then had three other sexual acts that ­afternoon—one of the most unbelievable pure sex exhibitions I have witnessed in years of observing.

  After the doctor had left, and she was taking a shower, I decided I would follow her. I waited in my car, and then trailed her as she got into her station wagon and began a fifteen-minute drive that led us finally into a nice ­middle-class subdivision. As she turned into the driveway of a very nice house, I slowed down and parked along the street, watching her through my binoculars. There were tricycles on her lawn and a swing-set in the backyard. Then I noticed two small children running out to greet her as she climbed out of her car.

  They went inside and I stayed there watching behind some hedges. It was getting dark. Soon another car pulled into her driveway. It was a man in a business suit. Probably her husband. I saw her meet him at the door with her arms outstretched and kiss him directly with the same lips that had so perfectly housed another man’s penis only two hours before.

  Conclusion: From the appearance of her career, her home, her children, and this presentable man, all the necessary ingredients for a successful marriage are on display. Maybe he neglects her. Maybe she just needs additional partners to satisfy her over-abundant sexual nature. I must keep watching.