Finding Friction

It was windy. God, how Iliana hated it when it was windy. Standing outside on her balcony she halfheartedly picked at chipping paint that splayed the metallic railing. She couldn't keep jumping hotel to hotel, in fact she wasn't sure if she really had the funds to do it again after tonight. She'd made the money only by conjuring tips from wealthy donors from the downstairs lobby when she commandeered the grand piano that sat, dusty, in the corner of the room. The hotel staff had allowed her to finish her piece before the manager pulled her off to the side and informed her that panhandling from their guests was prohibited. After a smooth conversation, Iliana had him all blush and content to let her stay another night since she had the money to, but he was sure to reinforce the fact that tomorrow she would not be allowed to lay her metaphorical hat across the back of the grand again and play for her stay. A shame really, the music they played in that place was absolutely awful. At least the classical pieces that flowed from Iliana's fingers down into the keys had melody, soul, purpose. It was art as opposed to the trumpeted prerecording of what must have been the owners grandmother smashing around on the keys like a blind wallaby. And the voice that warbled from the speaks was obnoxious and sounded more like a whale than anything bluesy she had ever experienced. Not that Iliana sung herself outside of the shower, but she knew beauty, and art and that was neither.

These, however, were trivial thoughts and the three-knuckled rap on her door stirred her from them. Wrapping the hotel issued housecoat tightly around her she tiptoed up and looked out the peak hole, only to find none other than the hotel manager standing suited up in the hallway. Her head lolled back and she made a silent gesture of why with her hands before mustering up her smile and opening the door. Technically speaking, she wasn't supposed to be in the suite but she had given the little boy working the lobby desk such a convincing smile and line that she'd secured the keys to it under a corporate discount almost as quickly as she'd decided she wanted it. Wiggling her fingers, she readied herself and cracked the door, "Can I help you?"

"Ms Martin," he spoke not in a commanding tone, more... exasperated than that, "open the door. Now" If she didn't know any better she would have sworn he made the same annoyed face she had at his knock. Allowing it to swing open, Iliana stood a few steps back from the door and looked at him, "Do we have a problem?"

"You know very well you did not have my means to book this room," he said, looking her over, "we agreed you would stay your night and not burden us again."

"I don't see where I have gone against that agreement," she quipped in her saucy Australian accent, "I was offered this suite at an amazingly discounted rate. This is something you need to take up with your desk staff." While she had every right to be snippy, she wasn't. She gave an almost-apologetic grin and shrugged, moving to shut the door. The man placed his hand on it and went to open his mouth again, but Iliana's phone rang. That phone rang. Playfully she bit her lip before pressing her finger against it and turning to skip off to answer. Flopping down on the bed with a bounce, she hit accept just as the manager was once again about to say something.

"Welcome down under, this is Aussie. Who's come to keep me company tonight?" Her voice was sultry and low, laced thickly with her accent. After a few moments, she smiled brightly, "awww, has my British boy had a long day at the office? Can I help make your night any better, I've been thinking about you since last time you called. Mmmm, mmhmm I can't get the thought of you stroking ..." Her voice trailed into lower murmurs and hums as she entertained the man on the phone.

Forty minutes later, Iliana heard the click of her door and paused, sitting up and looking at the man who entered. Eyebrow risen, and this time not in her robe but only her bra and underwear, she rose onto her knees on at the foot of the bed, "Can I help you?"

"I wasn't aware you were one of the Club girls, I thought Down Under closed down. I guess 'welcome to Friciton' with that accent wouldn't be as sexy now would it," he said, although his voice was more guttural than before, "Had you told me you were from the club then we could have worked something out." As he licked his lips, Iliana's head wrapped itself the best it could around his intention and meaning. Had he called her before? If so, this was problematic. She didn't meet with her customers from Oral Artist, no matter how full of promises and sweet words they were, "I haven't seen you there, are you new? By the sound of that call, you're not very new at all. Sounds like you've been around a time or two."

"Wrong," she said, shifting back as he approached the bed. As he rounded the side, she stood to face him. He wasn't very large, only a few inches taller than her. As his hands slid down her curves, Iliana reached her hand out and struck him, leaving them both standing, staring at one another. His shocked face bored into her stern one and then he did something Iliana least expected.

He laughed, "Got it, appointment only. Do you have a card?" She looked down at her stinging hand and around at the bedside table, looking for something else to hit him with so it would get through his thick skull. Apparently he took that as her search for a 'card' and shook his head, producing one of his own. Opening the drawer, he removed the pen and scrawled his name across the back. "Aussie, right? Well here, stick it on your mirror and I'll be by in a few days. We'll see what kinda things you play other than the piano. I'm surprised you stayed the night up top. I've seen your guys rooms there, lucky whores. If someone gave me a free place to live just for sharing some skin, I'd be set for life."

He went to hand her the card, but she made no move to take it. Still glaring at the man, he chuckled and tossed it on the bed, "I pay too well for that face, I'd practice something a lot more welcoming." And with that he turned and left a very confused Iliana standing half naked in the hotel room. After her initial recovery from the shock of the incident, she made her rounds in the room. Washing her face and hands, and side for that matter, and rolled over what the lunatic meant. Sure, she was accustom to teasing and tempting people into getting her way, but what he said? What he implied? That she was a hooker of some sort?

'free place to live'

Despite her disgust, that line there continued to nag at her until she picked up his card and turned it over. The black edges were crushed down and the word Friction was scrawled in bright purple lettering across the front, along with an address.