Sarah yawned and rolled her shoulders as she finished cleaning the last room for the night. The Lengram Motel had two main buildings with a parking lot in between them. Each building had about thirty rooms and only one person to clean them all.
With a heavy sigh, she put the garbage bags on her cart, did a final check and locked the door. As she turned around, she bumped into someone.
He wrapped his arms around her and caught her before she fell over.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," she spluttered.
He released her and stepped back. "No, it's okay."
She looked up at the man and her lips parted. She hoped she didn't look as stunned as she felt. He was probably about 6'4 and had the build of a professional football player. He had perfect black skin that looked porcelain smooth. His hair was short and curly and he had an exquisite jawline. The black vest he wore barely contained his incredible muscles. It was a very tight fit and she could see a perfect outline of his six pack and his big pectorals. His arms and shoulders were enormous and a few thick veins ran down his biceps.
She noticed he had a black eye and several cuts around his jaw and cheeks. Sarah was about to ask him what happened, but decided not to.
"Um, well, have a good night," he said, giving her a polite smile. His voice was deep, but he sounded a little nervous and although he smiled, there was no happiness in his eyes.
"Uh, y-yes. Also. You. You, too. I mean, uh, have a good night, too."
She mentally kicked herself for sounding like an idiot.
His smile widened a bit and he gave her a nod.
She watched him enter his room, which was beside the one she just finished cleaning. He had a beautiful back and the way his ass flexed as he walked made her breathe in suddenly. It looked like he wasn't wearing underwear. She couldn't tear her eyes away from him.
She pushed her cart along and couldn't help glancing into his room when she sensed a sudden movement. The curtains weren't fully drawn and through the sliver, she saw him slip his vest off and use it to wipe his face and chest. She gasped at his broad, sculpted back. The summer heat made him glisten with sweat and she couldn't help but stare at a few drops run down that rock hard body.
When he dropped his vest onto the floor and climbed onto the bed, she quickly moved on before he noticed her peeking.
It had been so long since she had been with a man and even longer since she felt any sort of connection with anyone and someone as stunning as him appears out of nowhere just to tease her. She tried not to think about him and focused on her work.
She threw the garbage bags into the dumpster, put away her cleaning supplies and walked to the motel's front desk.
"Hi, Cheryl. I'm all done for today."
Cheryl looked up from her phone and those green eyes watched her from behind thick glasses. "Alright, then. Head off to bed."
"Okay. Good night."
"Hmph."
Cheryl was an elderly woman who was almost fifty. Her greying black hair was always cut short. After her husband died, she took over managing the motel. She was the reason this place didn't go out of business.
Sarah headed to her own room and locked the door behind her. She had left her radio on and heard the announcer talking about the police looking for someone.
"Anthony Anderson, wanted for assault and theft, is still missing. If anyone has any information, please call the authorities."
She maneuvered around the piles of books scattered around and written notes all over the floor and switched the radio off. She cleaned to earn money, but never cared to straighten up her own room. Cheryl always gave her a hard time about it. She pushed the thought away and went to take a quick shower. She dried herself off and slipped on an old t-shirt and shorts.
Her textbooks were waiting for her at her desk and she wasted no time getting to work. She opened her laptop and turned it on. Sarah switched on her lamp while it booted up. It was incredibly old and slow, but it worked. She bought it for fifty dollars off eBay, so she supposed she was getting her money's worth. It normally took the computer several minutes to load one webpage, but she told herself it was better than nothing. She loaded up the website for her bank account and checked her balance. She was edging closer to her goal and she felt her lips curl into a small smile.
Next, she went to the admissions page for her dream college and stared at the photo of a group of students. A memory she did her best to keep buried suddenly resurfaced.
She felt her eyes sting. "I'm not stupid," she told herself. "I'm
not
stupid."
She held back her tears, put on her glasses and started studying.
***
Anthony hugged his pillow as he laid down on his bed. The argument he had with his stepfather, Michael, still rung in his ears. When things got out of hand, he left as soon as he could with nothing except the clothes on his back.
He needed to figure something out very soon before he became homeless. He thought about the girl he bumped into just outside his room and felt his heart jump. Her name tag said "Sarah." Anthony thought it suited her. It was a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.
She effortlessly took his breath away. She was curvy and voluptuous with an incredible hourglass figure, a tiny waist, bright blue eyes and her golden blonde hair was tied up to reveal her pretty neck. When he caught her, he felt her breasts push against him. They felt big and soft and although he wanted to hold her for a bit longer, he had to let her go so she wouldn't feel his growing erection. When she stepped back he noticed them jiggle a little bit and he felt his heart stutter.
What he liked about her the most was her wonderful Southern accent. He wanted an excuse to speak to her again so he could listen to her talk.
He shook his head and tried to forget about her. He had more important things to worry about. The bruises from the previous fight he had with Michael and the bruises from the fight before that still ached when he breathed. When he ran out of the mansion, he left behind the picture of his mother. Stupid, stupid thing to do.
"And don't you
ever
come back!" he could still hear his stepfather shouting. "You were never my son!"
He tried to get some sleep, but was too afraid and paranoid to relax. He wished his mother was still here. She would know what to do.
There was a knock on the door and Anthony nearly jumped out of his skin. He jumped out of bed and put his best on. Maybe he should jump out the window and run away. No, if it was the police, then they would have to announce themselves, right? Did someone notice him?
They knocked again. "Anthony, it's me. Open up."
A huge feeling of relief washed over him when he recognized the voice.
He opened the door. "Kyle. You made it.""
"Yeah, I made it."
He stepped past him and entered the room. Kyle was an old detective with white hair and a bushy mustache. It didn't matter what mood he was in, he always looked worried.
"Is there any news?" Anthony asked, shutting the door.
"Yeah, but you're not gonna like it."
