Her feet ached. Her back ached. But most importantly of all, her soul ached. The cool air prickled her skin with gooseflesh as she sat in her late model sedan. The static drone of guitars and distorted vocals filling her ears as she lifted the cigarette to her lipstick smudged lips, holding it there with trembling fingers as she was forced to do something she had not done in months, contemplate the velvet length of night as it stretched on toward the sheer embrace of dawn. Then, and only then, would she know peace. Peace through the turmoil her body craved like an addict after their first injection.
It all came back like a nostalgic perfume when she closed her eyes. The intricate patterns of the plush carpeting, the cold, unyielding tile of the bathroom floor, and most of all, that presence—those tiny feet in their simple black dress shoes—the perfectly-pressed ebony slacks that tapered so beautifully...
Yes, it would be an eternity until tomorrow. She turned the key in the ignition, the engine grinding into life as the car began to move through the silent, glossy lot of the hotel.
The stop had been her last of the evening. Just delivering some whiskey, a couple of glasses, and a few dessert selections. She moved with the dogged determination of the overworked—passing maids and guests alike as she went, offering her best mechanical, kind and weary smile as she hurried along with her cart, her shoes making not the slightest whisper on the plush hall carpets as she approached the suite door.
"Room service," she called with a brisk knock. "Ma'am?"
One of the double doors swung open and she was admitted by a rather brisk, yet pretty enough blonde, in her early thirties. The word androgynous came to her then, as she recalled the video vamps of her youth—such beauty tempered with a masculine flair had been all the rage.
"Just bring it over to the desk," the guest sighed, her tone self-assured but rather weary, as if she, too, had just made her way to the end of a long, difficult day.
"Very good, Ma'am."
She silently pushed the cart over to the large, mahogany desk with its brass accents while the woman watched, arms folded, as she stood at the end of an immense crème leather sectional. The soft glow of a nearby lamp caught the pale gold brilliance of her closely-cropped hair, and her face appeared distant and clean, as if she were lost in thought, darkly-penciled brows lending her eyes a hint of seriousness as she watched the girl empty the contents of the cart, placing the covered dishes onto the polished surface.
"So where does a girl go to have a good time around here?" the woman asked, tapping one foot against the piece of furniture upon which she leaned.
"Ma'am?"
"If you were going out, dear, where would you go?"
The maid paused, bottle in mid-air over the silver tray, her classically pretty features confused for a moment. A rut was thrown into the usually smooth path of interaction between she and the hotel guests, and it made her pause.
"Well..." she began, blushing softly. "It all depends on what you'd consider fun, I suppose."
She returned to her work, aware that the guest was moving about behind her. The radio was tuned to a modern rock station and a suitcase was dragged toward the bedroom suite.
Turning with her cart, the girl started toward the door, not seeing the woman. She didn't want to interrupt her, but had to ensure all her needs were met. Frowning, she left the cart to peer down the hallway.
"Ma'am? If there's anything else you should need, please feel free to call again. Is there anything else I can get for you before I go?"
"As a matter of fact, there is. Come back to the master suite, would you?"
Despite the nagging doubt in her mind and the newly-emerging butterflies in her diminutive belly, she did so, her stockings making her legs itch, her feet longing to be out of the dress flats she wore and into socks. She hurried toward the spacious bedroom.
"Yes, Ma'am?" Her eyes widened when she beheld the blonde.
Perched upon the edge of the bed, the guest held two items. The first was a bulging, sealed envelope, the second a delicate length of silver chain connected to a gleaming ebony leather collar studded with bits of sparkling crystal.
"I am only going to be here for three days, and I don't know anyone in this Godforsaken town. I don't know your name, and it doesn't matter. In this envelope..." she raised her hand, holding the package out to the girl, the thick paper packet straining obviously as if it were about to burst. "There is three thousand dollars. Believe me. I can afford it. And this?" she gave the leash and collar a soft shake. The fragile-looking length of chain jingled softly like faerie chimes. "This is where it gets interesting.
"You're cute, you have a pretty lousy job, and just the right personality. Does your shift end soon?"
"Ma'am ... I don't know what you're implying, but—"
"That was a yes or no question," the blonde cut her off with a sharp gesture of the hand holding the envelope. The maid's eyes were drawn first to it, then back to the collar, and she swallowed hard, lowering her eyes.
"Yes, Ma'am. It does."
"Then I am making you an offer. I've had one Hell of a day, I don't know exactly where I could find what I'm looking for tonight, and you'll do nicely. I will pay you three thousand dollars for an hour of your company. But I don't want a whore. I want a girl who is coming back because she wants to."
