I inhale deeply as I walk from the limo to the revolving door of the five star hotel. I love my career. Not a traditional position for a woman, owning a professional football team. I am not the first, but quickly becoming the best. The tension of traveling all day is easing away. Making my way through the revolving doors of the hotel, my thoughts are on the soothing sounds of the rain pounding the earth outside. Today’s weather although a bit gloomy, is a welcome break from the blistering dry heat that is sweeping across this part of the country. The travel that accompanies my position, for the most part is wonderful. However, on a day like today, I would rather be at home in the bed with a good book. The delay in my flight, the rain and the pressures of having a winning season in my first year of having total control of my team, are taking a toll on me.
I have several bags with me this trip, as I will continue on for a well-earned vacation after Sunday’s final regular season game. The speed of the revolving door propels me into the broad chest of a very tall attractive black man. Staring down at me with a spectacular smile as my eyes take in his physique, I can not help but to stare back. Reaching out his hand to wipe away a few droplets of rain from my face, I can feel the warmth of his touch on my cheek. I recoil just a bit from his hand as I am unprepared for such a gesture. A polite smile of thanks spreads across my lips as I inform the bellman that the remainder of my bags are in the first limo.
The hotel is a buzz of activity as guests and employees zoom from one place to another. In one smooth movement the bellman grabs a brass luggage cart and heads to the limo. The awning over the driveway affords him some protection from the elements as he loads the cart with my luggage. As I stand and watch him through the etched windows of the hotel, I can see his muscles flex with each movement. A blush rises on my cheek to replace the droplet of water just a few moments earlier. I realize that I am smiling and looking at more than the bellman’s attractive face. His arms are strong and lean. His thighs and ass firm and tight as he moves briskly to complete the task of removing my luggage from the limo.
Once the cart is full, he presses an outside button to open another set of double doors. His charming smile is back in place on his lips as he returns and asks questions regarding my stay. He is very attractive, I think as attempt to reply to his questions, all the while I can feel a familiar sensation stirring down deep.
The rain is a refreshing relief, he informs me as he places the bag that I hold on my shoulder on the cart. The weather has been unbearably hot this summer he tells me as we begin to move toward the front lobby desk. I think to myself, it is becoming unbearably warm right in this building as I watch his muscles bulge. His uniform is not the normal uniform for such a well known establishment. As I survey my surroundings I notice that the majority of the bellmen have their suit jackets off and are wearing a unique designer white cotton shirt. Most of the shirts have short sleeves, but a few have no sleeves allowing for bare strong arms to appear.
The
Adonis
that is assisting me with my luggage is taking advantage of the no sleeve look and doing a very fine job of it. His ebony skin contrasts lusciously with the white sleeveless shirt he wears. After having my flight delayed earlier today and arriving late to the hotel, a little ‘
eye candy
’ is just what I need. I cannot help but stare as we move forward through the patrons.
Following the cart across the high polished marble floor, my eyes find there way to my personal bellman’s ass. How perfectly round and solid it is. His stride allows his hips to rotate just enough to give him a very masculine swagger. He catches me eyeing him and his brilliant smile reappears across his lips. I feel like a schoolgirl as I avert my eyes and fumble in my purse for my wallet. I manage to divert my attention from him and regain enough composure to take care of the business at hand…checking-in.
“May I help you Miss?” a very proper sounding gentleman speaks just as I make my way up to the front desk.
“Yes you may. I’m here with the football team. My flight was delayed and I’m probably the last person to check-in.”
Without hesitation Charles, the Reservation Specialist, as his name badge states, begins to type in some information. His eyes never leave my face as his fingers rapidly enter my information. “Yes Miss, I have your reservation right here and it does appear that you are the last to check-in. Your suite is ready Ms. Williams,” Charles says.
The feeling of relief quickly passes over me. In the past, I have had my room given to anther patron in error due to my late arrival. However, this is not the case and I can rest a bit easier knowing that I will soon be in my suite. All I can think of is soaking in a warm tub of bubbles before I let any of my staff, team members or the media know I’m here. I need a bit of
quite time
, which is not always easy for me to ascertain.
Charles says, “It appears, Ms. Williams that there is a note on your reservation. If you will excuse me, I will get the manager to clear this up.” Before I can even ask what type of note, Charles turns and walks towards a large redwood door.