Hello there, you can call me Lisa (not my real name) and I'm a lady in my early 30s. I'm pretty tall, standing 5'10" in stocking feet, and have a have a tight toned athletic body.
So I work as a manager in a major upmarket chain hotel in London, its name and the names of those I mention will be changed throughout to protect identities.
As you can imagine we see all sorts of things and deal with our fair share of odd, annoying or aggressive individuals. It's for this reason some of the other female managers dread the late shifts. I've never minded them too much and indeed there have been some great stories, one of which I'll tell you now.
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So it was a few months ago and I had my feet up in my office taking a break with a cup of tea when the phone rang. It was one of my bar staff, suggesting I came through, he thought a customer was going to need an intervention. I sighed and told him I'd be right there. Getting to my feet I checked I was presentable in the mirror: smart black court shoes, buffed to a high shine; tan stockings; black suit, skirt dropping over my knees; white blouse and topped off with a company colour cravat. I wore minimal makeup and had my brown hair cut to fall to shoulder length, tucked back away from my face. A professional look for sure but the suit was well enough tailored to show there was a reasonable body beneath it.
I arrived behind the bar and quickly spotted the problematic customer. He was a bulky bald man, probably early 50s, the usual business type. He had a shadow of stubble on his cheeks and his clothes were rumpled, obviously he'd been having a long day before he got back here. As I watched the girl he was talking to gasped and slapped him across the face before storming off. He swung back round on his bar stool and morosely ordered another drink. I gave the barman a nod to serve him while I went to talk to the girl he'd been with, the barman who'd called me said this was the third or fourth he'd had the same response from.
She seemed a nice enough girl, if a bit dim and shy. After a couple of minutes she finally admitted what he'd said. He'd asked her (and presumably the others) to go back to his room and sit on his face. I had to fight to keep a straight face at the poor girl's look of shock and horror. If that was all he was after at least he was honest and direct. I apologised to her for the embarrassment and offered her a drink on the house.
Back at the bar our businessman had his eyes on a new target, I stepped in quickly before we had another slapping. "Excuse me sir, I hear you're harassing our female patrons."
"Harassing?" He slurred, a strong German accent evident in his speech "I am merely trying to find a companion. None of your ladies are accommodating."
"Our ladies? I think you may have the wrong idea sir, this is not that sort of establishment" and I wasn't lying. Hookers didn't hang out in our bar, it was too expensive and out of the way (not that the staff didn't know any, I was sure). "I think it's best I take you back to your room now."