Am I the first to post my story?
I should get extra paddlings for that!!
RD1
She entered the lobby of the hotel with a gust of wind and a slam of the door. It was 7:27pm. The desk clerk looked up from her computer and smiled a broad smile. “Hi! Can I help you?” Embarrassed at having made such an entrance, she gave a quick look around the lobby and realized that she and the clerk were the only ones there. She hadn’t wanted to draw any attention to her presence there. She relaxed a bit and smiled back, but didn’t move toward the desk. “Uh, hi. Yes, you can help me. I’m supposed to meet someone here.” The clerk stood and smiled as she straightened her vest and replied, “Ah. So you don’t have a reservation?” Blushing slightly and lowering her eyes, she ran her fingers over the
velvet rope that was to keep lines separate during busy check-in rushes. Yet, from the looks of the place it didn’t look like the kind of hotel that bustled with activity. Ever. She found it amusing that they were putting on airs.
“Uh, no . . . I don’t have a reservation. I am supposed to check for a
message at the desk, though.” She paused. “A message for Mrs. Doubtfire.” At that, the clerk let out a horsey laugh and showed her many fillings. “It’s silly, I know,” she said as she blushed again. She had to physically hold onto the velvet rope to keep herself from bolting from the building and never looking back. But the clerk really didn’t have to be so rude and she found herself flipping from being utterly mortified to being incredibly
angry and her knuckles turned white around the rope. “Look, you don’t have to be such a bitch. I would just like to check for a message. Please.” The clerk, who was rather used to being called a bitch, tapered off her laughter and with a sarcastic smile said, “Sure thing,
Mrs. Doubtfire.” The grin on her face was worthy of being slapped off, but she didn’t say anything else as she turned around to the message board.
“Well, looky here. There’s a message for you, Mrs. ...
ma'am.” She held it out over the desk and waited for her customer to approach. A silver bracelet on her wrist caught the light and flashed as she held out the paper. Letting go of the rope the red-headed woman took a step toward the hateful clerk, hoping that she was exuding more confidence than she actually possessed. “Thank you,” she mumbled and turned to walk away. She gripped the note in her hand as her feet carried her to the other side of the lobby. She could feel the clerk staring at her, probably grinning and holding back her obnoxious horsey laugh, but she resisted the urge to turn around, hurl herself over the desk and beat her face in. She resisted because she had a feeling that she was being watched and she didn’t want that impression to be a lasting one. She was trying very hard to keep her head level.
The note explained very clearly what she was to do next and she paled as she read it. She knew it was a secretive encounter, but was a blindfold really necessary? She hadn’t been blindfolded since she was 7 and had played Pin the Tail on the Donkey at her cousin’s birthday party. The urge to run overcame her again and she looked toward the exit. She thought she could see the clerk eyeing her, but pretended the clerk didn’t even exist. Instead of running, she sat down on the edge of the wing-back chair and pulled a tube of lipstick from her clutch. As she positioned the mirror she could see the clerk now blatantly staring at her, her chin rested in her palm, grinning a close-mouthed smirk that was worthy of being beat off. Without turning she said loudly, “Why am I so intriguing to you?” Even though the clerk had been caught, she didn’t even flinch, but replied back just as loudly, “Because I’ve been where you are right now.”
She frowned as she lowered the mirror, thinking to herself,
Great. She thinks I'm having an affair. . . She thought about leaving. But no, it wasn't a tryst she was here for and she had come too far to go back now. She had researched, inquired, read and investigated, covertly at first, then blatantly, in order to get where she was at that moment and she wasn’t going to throw it all away because she didn’t want to be misunderstood by a horse-faced desk clerk in a cheap motel.
She snapped her clutch closed, stood and straightened her skirt and blouse, took a deep breath and then began walking toward the elevators. She glanced at the clerk as she passed the desk and held back the urge to stick her tongue out at her. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, smiled and continued walking as she said in a syrupy voice, “By the way,
nice vest.” The clerk said nothing, but toyed with the chain on her wrist. As she stepped into the elevator and the doors slid shut she heard the clerk say, she presumed into the phone, “She’s on her way up.”
Panic gripped her and she frantically began pressing the Open button. Something was not right here. How could the desk clerk know why she was here? And why? Was this a trick? The elevator didn’t slow and the doors didn’t open. She heard the engine whirr and clank as the box began rising up and up, closer and closer to the 14th floor. She watched the buttons glow as higher she climbed. When the “9" lit up she opened the emergency phone box on the elevator’s panel and took the blindfold from inside. “I hope there’s never a real emergency. Someone’s going to be in poor shape with only a blindfold and no phone.” She laughed a loud, short, nervous laugh, glanced down at her watch and slowly brought the blindfold to her eyes. Reason was gone. Moments before she was panicking and scared, but she was so close to her prize that she forgot any fear and shut out the dim light of the elevator with the black material.
Even though she was blindfolded, she could sense bright lights ahead of her when the doors opened. She stepped forward, tripping slightly on the threshold of the elevator, but steadying herself quickly and flinched almost imperceptibly as the doors slid shut behind her.
She could
smell something,
candles maybe, but couldn’t quite place the fragrance. Persimmons? Or was it oranges? She was disoriented, yet calm. The smell was inviting and almost reassuring. She felt someone in front of her suddenly. She didn’t hear the rustle of clothing or feel the movement of air as if someone were approaching. It just seemed that suddenly they were there.
“Do you still agree to the price?” She felt hot breath on her neck as the words were spoken quietly. She was dizzy. Why was she dizzy? She took a deep breath and quietly said, “Yes. I agree.”
Suddenly hands were on her; her arms, legs, back, hips were being touched by hands she couldn’t see. Strangers were touching her and even though her rational mind should be resisting, she couldn’t. She felt her blouse being ripped open, her skirt roughly forced up to her waist and she was trying to form words. Words of what, though? Approval? Pleasure? Fear? Excitement? Gratitude? Her breath was coming in ragged pants as hands grabbed her wrists and cold metal enclosed them as they were raised above her head and fastened there.
**************
She awoke in a small room. She was lying on a bed and was wearing clothing that looked familiar, but she couldn’t place where she had seen it before or who she had seen wearing it. It wasn’t what she had been wearing when she began the evening. On a small table next to the bed was a lamp and . . . her prize. The ceramic unicorn that had been the subject of her dreams for nearly two years, the cause of too many sleepless nights searching the internet and making phone calls to people who barely spoke English. She reached for it. She needed to touch it, feel it in her hands and know for sure that it was real. As she reached she noticed the silver chain on her wrist. She reached to touch it with her other hand and saw that wrist had one as well.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and heard the tinkling of the chains around her ankles. She picked up the unicorn and held it in both hands, running her fingers over the gold horn and smooth mane. Slowly she brought it to her cheek and felt the coolness on her skin. There was a note on the table; it had been under the figurine. She held it close to the light of the small lamp and read:
“Your shift at the front desk begins at
midnight.”
I have been watching for a while now... I brought my own.
Have I frightened everyone away? Has the electromagnetic pulse from my arrival erased all of your hard drives? . . . Is this thing on?
I should get extra paddlings for that!!
