Zenith Hotel Read Online Free PDF Page A

responsibilities, the absences and paid holidays, the office chair and the train timetable. When she starts explaining, Estelle’s words turn his little admin system upside down. He’s never spoken about it, but now he’s beginning to know himself; he can tell when the light is about to change. He’s not sure whether other people experience the same thing. He doesn’t know whether like him they sometimes feel sad for no reason. It’s not like when something happens to you, it’s stranger than that. You feel it in your body, you feel a bit dizzy. Eventually it passes and you go back to what you were doing.

    He indulges in moments of relaxation, TV in the evenings, when he’s tired. After being on your feet all day long, on the lookout, it’s nice to be able to come home and unwind. When Estelle hasn’t got her period and is in a good mood, things can get a bit wild. Emmanuel loves sex. He feels a bitashamed afterwards but he feels free. It’s not like in the films, though. It’s never like in the films.
    What Emmanuel likes best is breasts. He finds big breasts comforting. When he was little, he stared at breasts the whole time. Now he tries to be more discreet. Just a glance to size them up without looking at the girl, and he thinks about them again afterwards. In the street or in the métro, he fixes an image of boobs in his mind like a photo and thinks about them again, staring vacantly, sometimes for hours. When he has sex with Estelle, he thinks about other girls he’s seen, about all the ones he’ll never have, tall and short, brunettes and redheads, the girl in the bakery. There are so many. He doesn’t think about seducing them. Shadows. He fixes the image firmly in his mind and that way he can think about it whenever he wants.

    On Sundays, Estelle goes to see her mother. He stays at home.
    It’s become a habit. He goes into the sitting room and draws the curtains, then he takes off his clothes and sits on the sofa. That’s when it all begins properly. At first, he rubs his belly with the palm of his hand. He continues like that for five minutes,thinking about a girl he’s seen. He always has a little rag beside him. What would Estelle say if she found a stain on the sofa! Best not to think about it.
    Then he twists round and rubs himself against the sofa arm. Like Granny’s dog against visitors’ legs. Sharp little thrusts. Convulsive, his naked body racked with tremors, his back to the coffee table. His legs are straight, paralysed, his feet on the floor, his hunched body espousing the curves of the armrest. He rubs himself again. When he feels he’s about to come, he stands upright on the sofa cushions and finishes the job by hand. He grabs his penis with both hands, pumping hard. His feet dig into the deep foam cushions. Hundreds of images flood into his mind. Bodies banging into each other. A crowd of bodies. And he rubs against them all as if trying to get inside them. He dominates. The girl from the bakery is always there. Her face stands out. She smiles at him. Emmanuel loves that.
    When it’s over, he wipes everything, puts his clothes back on, opens the curtains and sits on the sofa re-living it all, waiting for Estelle. He finds the images that go through his mind at those times a bit smutty, but that’s what he likes and anyway, he’s not doing anyone any harm. Other people must do the same.
    Sometimes, when he’s sitting on the sofa with Estelle, he thinks about it. It makes him laugh a little. Right there, where the two of them are watching TV! Honestly! He’s a bit ashamed and he stops thinking about it. He stares at Estelle’s big breasts and goes back to watching TV.
    The living room is not very big but it’s got all mod cons. A sofa, a TV. They’ve even put in a little bar with lots of different bottles on it. It’s for when they entertain. Which is rare. Estelle says she doesn’t enjoy herself because she’s in and out of the kitchen. And anyway, five people eating