I was driving along a barren stretch of highway, an hour and a half from home when my car broke down.
I stepped out into the cold. dark night air and took a look under the hood. I needn't have bothered. Unlike the men of prior generations, I wasn't ashamed to admit I didn't know anything about cars. Unfortunately, I did know that it was too late at night to call someone to fix mine. It only took a minute out in the cold and dark to confirm what I'd already suspected: I had no idea what to do.
I also knew from the dozen times I'd driven this road for work that the section I'd broken down on was very sparsely populated and visually uninteresting. I dreaded the three hour drive I had to make every month for work -- six, really, since I did have to drive back as well. I hated the two days I had to spend working in the country office, but I needed the job badly enough that I just put up with it.
But now, here I am. Stuck in the middle of nowhere. Too far from home to get back there tonight, too far from work to double back. Running through my options, I quickly realised that the only thing I could do was find somewhere to stay that night and try to get my car fixed in the morning.
I looked around and spotted a neon sign a few hundred metres up the road with two words that made my day: "Hotel - Vacancy." I couldn't believe my luck. I couldn't remember ever having seen a hotel on that road at all. I supposed of all the places to have broken down, my car could've picked a far worse one.
It was so dark that the building didn't come into view until I approached. First I noticed its shape; it was a tall, two-story, English-style manor house with a large timber sign announcing that it was named "Desire Manor."
Though the soft golden glow coming from the windows cast an inviting spell, the building itself remained shrouded in darkness, as if coated entirely in black paint. A chill ran down my spine, which I tried, unsuccessfully, to tell myself was because of the cold. Surely, the building won't look as sinister in the light of day.
I entered the lobby, prepared for a modest space, but was met with a sight that exceeded all expectations. The walls were covered in a gallery of majestic oil paintings, breathing life into the room, while a dark red carpet guiding the eye towards a grand double-width staircase that ascended to the upper rooms. On one side stood the reception desk, a solitary modern touch.
The desk wasn't the only contemporary-looking thing in the room, however. The receptionist behind it was a picture of modernity. With her short black hair and captivating eyes, she commanded attention effortlessly. The black horn-rimmed glasses perched upon her nose added an air of sophistication. In what appeared to be a historic building, she was, comparatively, a beacon of cutting-edge style, even though her white blazer and pleated grey skirt would have seamlessly blended in with any modern hotel reception.
As I explained my story to her, a strange expression crossed her face that I couldn't quite place. She looked like she'd suddenly remembered something.
"Huh, that's funny," she said. "That's how I ended up here, too. My car broke down outside this hotel, and it feels like I've never left." She smiling at her own joke. "Welcome to the Desire Manor. My name is Yvette, by the way."
"Unusual name for a hotel," I remarked.
"Hmm? Oh, yes, I suppose it is. The name of the building predates the hotel. The manor house was named Desire. We've taken it on as something of a motto. '
We always aim to meet your desires!
' She sang the last line, as though she were repeating an old jingle. "Speaking of which, what size room would you be after? And do you want to include our breakfast package?"
Any other day, I would have been able to answer her easily, but after the night I'd had, my head was a mess. I couldn't stop wondering how I was going to fix my car, get home or even pay for the repairs. I wasn't in the mental space to answer her questions, no matter how objectively simple they were.
"Look, I've got a lot on my plate at the moment. Could you make those decisions for me?"
She thought for a moment. As her smile spread across her face, she let out a small puff of laughter, as if she was laughing at a private joke. "Certainly. Here at Desire Manor, we aim to do whatever you desire. If it's what you want, I'll take care of
all
your decisions. You will of course have to sign our standard disclaimer, and opt out of any of the extra activities on this list."
She opened a compendium and left it in front of me, indicating where to sign the disclaimer on the left and the opt-out list on the right. Wishing I was in my room already, I signed the disclaimer and gave the opt-out form a brief scan before signing it too. Some of the words played over in my head after I'd signed. Should I have signed a consent form without knowing what the word 'noncon' meant? I wasn't in the mood for any outdoor activities, so I opted out of watersports. I skimmed the rest without taking any of it in, but I could have sworn one of the other opt-out activities was anal. Should I have opted out of it too?
Once I'd settled into my room, I realised I was starting to get hungry. I hadn't eaten dinner, assuming I'd have made it home at a somewhat reasonable hour. I looked around the room to see if there was a room service menu. Failing to find one, I picked up the phone and pressed the 'Room Service' button.
Yvette answered and said she'd have something sent right up. It wasn't until after I'd hung up that I realised she hadn't asked me what I'd like.
Less than five minutes later there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find the hallway crowded with people. Three gorgeous women walked in, each pushing a hotel trolley, followed by Yvette.
The three new women in the room were unusually dressed to be in hospitality, like they might normally have worked in entirely different parts of the hotel and had been pulled in for dinner duties with no notice. One looked suited to an office, another looked like a personal trainer, and the third was casually dressed. I wondered if she might be an on-site hairdresser or the like.
The first woman, the one I assumed worked in an office, was of average height, her plain brown hair falling to shoulder length. She looked friendly and had that girl-next-door sort of charm about her. She gave off warm vibes in more ways than one, from her friendly face to her cable-knit sweater. She lifted the cloche on her tray to reveal a homemade pie and rustic thick-cut chips.
The second lady looked like she belonged in a gym, not delivering a meal. She was tall and thin, dressed in activewear from head to toe. She lifted the cloche on her tray revealing trussed roast chicken with a side salad. The string that tied the chicken in shape looked almost thick enough to be called rope, and the knotwork crisscrossed in an intricate pattern.
The third lady, the one I assumed must be a hairdresser because of her black t-shirt and matching black tights, lifted her cloche to reveal the third meal, a bowl of soup and a slice of baguette. The soup was a chowder so thick that the spoon in the bowl was standing directly upright without falling!
Speaking of being thick, though, the meal had nothing on the lady standing behind it. She was short, with a blonde bob, but her most outstanding features were her wide hips and even wider behind. Even looking at her from the front on, her dump-truck arse was all I could see.
Yvette walked over and stood beside me.
"Which do you want to eat?" she asked with an almost suggestive tone in her voice.
I looked across the women and the trays of food. My stomach was growling, but I was overwhelmed by the choice. They all looked amazing. I was just about to say that I'd prefer the home-style pie when Yvette cut in.
"Although, I did say I'd take care of all your decisions for you, didn't I? You look like you've got a hunger only something thick could cure."
Yvette pointed, to my surprise, not at the bowl of soup, but at the beautician behind it.
"Her," Yvette said, indicating for the other two women to leave.
