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“Dang, I definitely had you pegged for pleasure,” he says. “And I’m usually very good at reading people.”
“Sorry to ruin your track record,” I say, flashing him a smile.
He leans forward slightly and peers over his thin, wire-rimmed glasses at me. My paranoia kicks up about a thousand notches when he gives me a knowing smile.
“Let’s be honest with each other,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only I can hear him. “I think we both know the real reason you’re here, don’t we?”
“We do?” I squeak.
He nods, looking proud of himself.
What the heck did Lou write in the comment section of the booking?
I glance at my reflection in the mirror behind him, just in case it’s scrawled across my forehead that I haven’t climaxed in over two months, but nope, there’s nothing there. I shift on my feet and take a deep breath, trying to force myself to calm down. He can’t know. It’s just not possible.
“You’d be surprised how many young women, just like yourself, have checked-in tonight on ‘business.’ I’m guessing it’s not a coincidence that it’s a night we have members of a very popular band staying with us. Am I right?” He gives me another exaggerated wink.
“Oh,” I breathe out, relieved that he thinks I’m a groupie, and not some sex crazed maniac. “You caught me.”
“I thought so,” he exclaims. “I told you I’m good at reading people, didn’t I? Are you going to the concert?” he asks, tapping away at the keyboard on his computer.
“Wouldn’t miss it for anything,” I say.
I have no idea what band he’s talking about and to be honest, I don’t care. All I want is my key so I can get up to my room and relax. I look around, impatiently tapping my fingers on the desk, hoping he takes the hint and hurries the fuck up.
“Wonderful. Here is your keycard and your room details.” He smiles at me as he slides them across the desk. “And I hope tonight exceeds all of your expectations.”
That makes two of us.
I pick up the keycard, eager to get as far away from this conversation as I can.
“Thank you,” I say, reaching down for my overnight bag. At the same time the bellboy reaches for it, his lips stretched into an overenthusiastic smile.
“Here, let me take that for you.”
My heart pounding, I yank it out of his hands with much more force than I intended. He stumbles back and then looks up at me, alarmed and confused. I know I’m just being paranoid, but the last thing I want are his hands anywhere near my toys.
“Thanks, but I’m fine,” I assure him.
“Um, okay.” he mumbles, standing there awkwardly, like he’s not sure what to do next.
I clutch the bag tightly and walk over to the elevator, relieved that I just averted a potential crisis. I find it hard to believe that I’m the first person to refuse his services, but I’ve got more important things to worry about right now than an embarrassed bellboy.
The small group of people standing next to the elevator abruptly stop talking as they turn to stare at something behind me. Curious, I turn around. I’m shocked to see the bellboy rushing toward me.
“Uh, excuse me. Miss?” he pants.
My eyes widen when I see what’s he’s clutching his left hand.
Long, smooth plastic and eggplant purple in color, there’s only one thing it could be.
My lucky dildo … which apparently isn’t so lucky after all.
“I'm sorry but your, uh…it fell out of…”
He stops talking as his face pales, like he’s just realized what he’s holding. The color rushing to his cheeks, he drops it on the floor, but then lurches forward to pick it back up, as more people crowd around us to see what’s going on.
If this were happening to anyone else, I’d be laughing my ass off—much like the crowd behind me is doing right now
“It, uh, fell out of your bag,” he whispers, his voice breaking.
The attendant who checked me in swiftly intervenes, collecting the toy from the bellboy’s hands and placing it in mine. He gives me a reassuring smile as the bellboy rushes off, mumbling to himself.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” He says earnestly. “It’s his first day, so he’s still learning how to deal with certain situations,” he explains. “I can promise you that we’re usually much more discreet than this.”
Great, I’ve probably scarred the poor kid for life.
“It’s fine,” I assure him, attempting to stuff it back into my bag. “I guess I should be thankful the rest didn’t fall out.”
My attempt at lightening the mood fails miserably.
After an awkward silence, he clears his throat and nods at me.
“Again, I’m sorry. I hope this doesn’t spoil your stay with us.”
“I’m sure it won’t,” I say with a forced smile.
I glance at the elevator with caution, because there’s no way I’m riding up ten floors in a cage full of people who just witnessed what happened. I’d rather scale the outside of the building, blindfolded and naked than put myself through that, so when I see the sign for the stairs, I don’t even hesitate. I push through the door and lug my bag up the ten flights of stairs.
