Chad stepped off the plane onto London soil. He felt like kissing the ground after such a terrible flight. The turbulence was massive, and he had to sit next to a set of newborn twins the entire time. His ears were still ringing. He looked around, took a deep breath, and headed inside the terminal to claim his baggage. Once he found his small leather suitcase, he hailed a cab.
"Please take me to the Dorchester Hotel on Park Lane," Chad closed the cab door and tried to relax. London was only the first stop on his itinerary. At twenty-three years old, Chad was the head of his family's outerwear company. It was a lot of work, sometimes too much, but Chad felt like he owed it to his mother after his father passed away two winters ago. He needed to discuss business with overseas companies for the next few weeks.
"Looks like you need a drink, Kid," the cab driver looked at Chad through the rearview mirror and grinned. Chad wondered if it was that obvious. He sighed loudly, looking around the interior of the cab, and noticed a couple of sleek silver-embossed grey business cards on the seat next to him. They said "Amira Massage: The Ultimate Room Service." He took one and put it in his pocket, just in case.
Chad wondered if that's what he really needed; a relaxing massage. A few minutes later, they arrived at the hotel. It was beautiful and expensive looking, one thing that Chad never got sick of. He paid the driver, grabbed his suitcase, and ran up the steps. He suddenly felt excited thinking of a hot bath and clean sheets.
After he checked in, a maid showed him to his room, on the top floor. It was enormous and lush. Chad picked up a chocolate from the pillowcase, and debated about calling for a massage. He didn't have any meetings that night. Besides, he was sore, and could actually use some company. He pulled the card out of his pocket and dialled the number.
"Hello, I'd like to book an appointment,"
"Where are you located?" a sensuous women's voice filled his ear. He hadn't thought about the masseuse coming to him.
"I'm at the Dorchester Hotel on Park Lane, room number 876," The masseuse was to be there in exactly thirty minutes. It was nine pm. That left him with enough time to shower and eat a small dinner.