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It’ll all end when we touch back down on the tarmac in Seattle, so why not enjoy it while we can?
When we return to our room, we’re all so relaxed that we decide to have a night in, ordering room service and sitting out on the balcony.
When we get inside, Imogen hands me an envelope that’s been slipped under the door while we were out.
It has the hotel’s letterhead on it, and my name.
I rip it open and frown.
There’s a key card with a new number on it and a note from the concierge saying we’ve been upgraded to a suite.
The girls peer over either side of my shoulder.
“Upgraded?” Imogen says, as she and Charlize glance at one another. “Is this for real?”
I shrug. “I should call down there first, just to be sure they haven’t made a mistake.”
“It has your name on it, though,” Charlize points out. “Let’s go check it out. What number is the floor?”
“Eight.”
“Wow! There are only ten floors,” Imogen squeals. “Jesus, is the concierge one of your many admirers?”
I ring my ear out with my finger. “Seems a little odd.” I frown. “But I’m not going to question it.”
“Maybe it could be someone else?” Imogen winks at Charlize as they both giggle.
I stare at her blankly. “Who?”
Charlize sighs. “This is exactly why she’s single,” she snaps, then begins fanning herself with her hands. “Could it be Mr. Dark and Dangerous who bought us screaming orgasms and couldn’t keep his eyes in his head with you in that hot, little bikini.”
I still haven’t forgiven her for ordering those. More to the point, my self-consciousness at wearing basically a thong and atiny top that barely held my boobs because I was having some kind of ‘aha’ moment when I bought the damn thing.
“He doesn’t know we have a teeny tiny room,” I argue, ignoring the quip about my bikini. “And anyhow, why would he care if we did?”
“He knows our room number,” Imogen helpfully points out. “And he seemed to be enjoying himself a whole lot more when you gave him your full, undivided attention.”
She and Charlize cackle between themselves like they’re hilarious.
“You two are sick.”
“What’s sick is how cool this suite is gonna be. Let’s go check it out.” Charlize grabs the key card out of my hand, as she and Imogen make for the door.
We get to the elevator and scan the card, hitting the button to the floor. While the resort isn’t that high, it is very large, with over two thousand rooms, and it expands across the vast space on the cliffside of the beach. The property is outstanding, really. I can’t imagine anyone complaining about anything in this place.
When we get to our new floor, it’s like we’re trespassing. I glance around like someone will pounce on us at any second, telling us we’re on the wrong level.
A butler, however, greets us as the elevator doors open.
“Miss Michaels?” he says, as my friends and I all stop in our tracks.
“Is it April Fools?” I ask out loud.
“I don’t follow, Miss,” he replies, confused.
I shake my hand. “Sorry, nothing. Yes, I’m Miss Michaels.”
“Right this way.” He smiles as he leads us down a small, secluded hallway.
