The storm that was expected blew in worse than anticipated but the staff at the hotel was prepared for that. Many were already tucked away into their rooms for the evening as dinner and turn down service finished for the night.
The hotel had a maximum occupancy of 30 rooms, a small restaurant, and an elaborate bar that most guests visited daily. And as the snow came pouring down most of the guests who were not tucked away in their beds sat in the lounge around the fire that the manager and the barkeeper kept burning throughout the evening and night. It wouldn't be until daybreak that the fire was allowed to die. Every morning when guests came down for breakfast the scent of firewood still clung to the air.
It was heading towards midnight, I had just finished my shift in the kitchen, being one of two staff that stayed at the hotel in anticipation of the coming storm. I was tired from my fourteen hour day, my feet were aching and I was looking forward to a hot tea by the fire and then my borrowed bed for the rest of the night. The lounge was empty except for a few guests who were not ready for their room. Marvin, the barkeeper, had just finished closing out everyone's tab, closing up the bar for the night. He sat out the complimentary tea and the electric kettles, cups, saucers, spoons, and sugar. Bidding the guests a good night he headed to his room for the night. He handed me a mug on his way out. It smelled of hot whiskey.
I sat in the large blue chair by the main window, sipping my Irish tea. I could still see and feel the fire but I was closer to the outside as much as I could be, waiting for the snow to stop in the moonless sky. I sat there with my tea, warm and cozy, scanning the room to see which guests were sharing the coziness of the fire with me. The young couple that had to check in unexpectedly called it a night headed up to their room; the older gentleman that had been staying with us for the last two weeks followed behind to his. It was just one more guest and me left in the room.
The other guest, a man about my age, taller by at least a foot and a half sat on the opposite side of the fire, staring into the flames. He had dark brown eyes that would have appeared black in the dim light of midnight had the fire not burned so hot. His hair was just as dark, with little flecks of gold illuminating off the light cast by the flames. His hair even this late in the night was brushed back and kept tidy. His long-sleeved shirt was pushed up to his elbows, exposing tattoos that while they fit the curves of his muscles well, were still unexpected on someone as "tidy" as he looked. He wore slacks; held delicate China in his large hands. He must have been someone comfortable on both sides of the working world: the side that gave the orders and the side that took them.
After catching myself staring at him for far too long I looked back to the window and the ever-falling snow. The flakes were large, clumping together easily as they drifted straight down. It was twenty degrees outside and our always on site ground crew took turns using the hotel's plows and snow blowers. While the parking lot was mostly a lost cause, all the walkways were kept clear so that when snow eventually stopped guests and staff could easily navigate outside to get fresh air and feel the light of day after the long days and nights kept inside. The parking lot would be a priority after the snow stopped and the ground crew had a long rest.
I finished my tea and got up to rest my cup on the tray for Marvin to gather in the morning. I headed to the elevator and to my room. The hot shower I took that night emptied my muscles of all the aches and pains it could, relaxing me to sleep as soon as I placed my head on my pillow.
That night I dreamed of the man by the fire. I could feel him on top of me, feel his body pinning me to my bed. I could smell him and the scent of the fire still on his skin, a woodsy but clean scent that in my dreams drove me wild. My hands were wrapped around him, one on his shoulder, my nails digging into his flesh, and the other gripping the strands of his hair. In the dark of my room, in my dream at least, his eyes and hair were black; like the moon in real life, the light had left. In its place, the devil played. And as he drove himself into me, my legs spread apart to welcome him in, a wicked smile shown on his face. I could feel that I was trapped.
I woke the next morning refreshed. I could remember my dream clearly as the panties I wore to bed were still soaked through.
*
Marco and I were the only two in the kitchen to volunteer to stay at the hotel the duration of the storm. To be fair to everyone else in the kitchen we didn't have children or older parents to take care of during the expected weather. If he could run off to bed earlier in the evening he agreed to be the first one in the kitchen in the morning to start the breakfast shift. And even if I didn't have that sex dream about the Devil last night, I would still have slept as late as I did. I haven't had a day off in two weeks due to the hotel being at full capacity in the last few weeks. We had call outs from the cold that was going around all month long. It was winter and we were on reduced staff, and we were wearing thin. I took extra shifts to make certain we ran smoother, which often meant I didn't have a day off.
I pulled my brunette hair back braiding it as I walked to the elevator. The hotel only had four levels. Two were set aside for the rooms, the ground floor for the bar, restaurant, and the front desk, and the basement for service work within the hotel. I was the last employee assigned a room and they put me on the top floor in one of their smaller rooms. There was only one other room occupied on that floor. I figured out who it was as he approached the elevator from behind me. It was the man of my dream last night, and I could still smell the fire that burned in the grate. I am not certain if I am just associating that scent with him now, or if maybe he bathed in the ashes that morning. But as we entered the elevator together and the doors shut all I could think about was the feeling of his body pressed against mine, the taste of his lips and his skin. I kept my hands busy with my braid a bit longer, staring at my own reflection in the mirror inside the elevator, refusing to talk as I was not certain I would form appropriate words. I felt as if my mouth would betray me. The man beside me kept busy with his cell phone, thankfully paying no attention to me.
On the ground floor, when the doors opened, he waited for me to exit first before he followed behind me. I adjusted my skull cap on my head as I walked into the restaurant with him following behind.
"Good morning Chef." Pierre winked at me as I walked by.
I smiled, laughing as I walked by and into the side door to the kitchen. He always called me Chef even though that was not my title. To be fair, our actual chef Bryan is a pain and no one likes to deal with him. He managed to have the last few weeks off for a nice sunny vacation in Bora Bora. And with the snow storm that came in he got another few days off as there isn't any way any person is getting in or out of the hotel just yet. Everyone liked me more, and they were hoping that Bryan would take the job at the private resort in Bora Bora that was rumored to be the whole reason for his vacation. Secretly I was hoping for that too so that I could get the promotion to chef that I had been training religiously for.
As I went into the kitchen I heard Pierre say good morning to Dominic. I could only assume that was the name of the guest I had taken to bed with me in my dream last night. Though, to think back on it, I am not certain I invited him to my bed with me, even in my dream. No, it feels more like he invited himself and I just allowed it with no other choice.
Marco was behind the station frying sausage and stirring a large pot of whole eggs. I was watching him as I washed my hands in the sink. He was a morning person, always happy and peppy. He looked up as I finished rinsing off my hands and said good morning in his ever-present good tone. If I didn't rely on him so much, his positive attitude might have caused me to kill him already.
"You look fresh this morning. Sleeping in these beds definitely put some color back on your face." Marco placed a pan of sausage in a chafing dish next to the bacon as our first ticket came in.
"Yeah, that bed was relaxing. Also could have been that whiskey Marvin slipped me last night."
"Marvin never slips me whiskey," Marco actually looked offended.
"That's because Marvin wants to take you to bed and wants you sober when you make the decision." I looked at Marco a second longer and began to mix the ingredients together to make the omelet that had been ordered. "I don't know why you haven't gone up with him yet. We've been stuck here for two days now, and you two keep making sexy eyes at each other all the time. Y'all are going to burn this place down with this sexual tension."
