"Nathan, I'm home. And glad that particular shift's over," Angela called, the boutique shop's bag behind her back."Nathan? Are you here?"
"Just going over our bank statements," came the youthful male voice from the spare room. In the bathroom, she unzipped her back and hoisted the hem of her hotel uniform up and over her head. Dropping it in the laundry basket, she added his clothes strewn around it as usual. She'd put on a wash tomorrow. Pulling the long pin from her bun, she shook out her shoulder blade long tawny hair and grabbed the brush.
Like a kid with his pocket money, Nathan was forever online counting their money. He took the credit for the whole idea to everyone who'd listen. Get jobs on some tourist island, share expenses, and learn to live with one another before marrying.
Well, Hamilton Island in the Whitsundays was such a different place to where they'd grown up in Sydney's inner suburbs. They had both got casual jobs there a year ago. Hers was at the front desk of the resort's main reception where her intelligence, nice personality and good looks saw her quickly earn promotions. She had also gone on to find rostered night work at one of the island's private restaurants two or three nights a week. He was employed cleaning rooms and making beds. That brought an ironical smile to her face every time she came home like this to him at home with the place dirty and their bed unmade.
Taking off her makeup, she checked her eyes. Their staff accommodation was pretty basic but enough. At least the double bed was comfortable. After a year now at the resort, that was important. She was often exhausted at the end of her long working days and needed her sleep.
Angela was beginning to grow tired of some aspects of their life in paradise. Nathan hadn't matured much at all. Their shift hours often meant long periods apart. And then there was the scrimping every week after he transferred most of their combined casual income less rent into their long term bank account. This was meant to be the deposit for a unit back in Sydney.
But it meant they lived off her wages and tips from her second job. He seemed unwilling or unable to get one himself. At least today he was out of bed. And speaking of bed, for a host of reasons their physical life had dwindled away nothing and she had stopped caring about that. But at least each month, there was that bank statement duly showing they were on track in at least one area of their so called idyllic life together.
Today she had cut loose. How could she break the news to him? They'd got a big lot of tips at a function at the restaurant last night. So she had half of them on the garments she was guiltily sliding from the bag she'd sneaked in. Bra and pants off and she had put hers on again, quietly admiring the way it enhanced her young figure. This should rev their life together up. Especially today.
"Come to the beach for an hour Nathan," she invited him, putting her head around the spare room door and playfully tossing his colourful new board shorts towards the PC. "Happy five years together. It's the third of November, and we met today at my fifteenth birthday party, remember."
She looked at his crestfallen face. "You'd forgotten?" she queried as It sat limply there on his head. No matter, she would be in a good mood if he made it up to her by tonight. She started laughing as he peeled it off his head and held it out for an examination.
"We got tonnes of tips last week to share around, so I lashed out on a new costume for us both," she explained." Mine is a bikini that's guaranteed to get rid of most white strap marks before our wedding day."
"Show me," he said, turning to face her. She unwound the concealing towel from under her armpits and dropped it, taking her time to turn her slender figure in a circle. She could hardly wait for his reaction to the G-string bottom.
"As staff, you know you can't wear that on any of the public beaches," he lectured. "And how much did these set us back?" Neither was the type of feedback she particularly wanted to hear.
"I'm the one working 2 jobs Nathan," she tersely reminded him. "One week buying something nice for us won't matter a jot in the long run. And thanks for the happy birthday by the way! Well, you can stay here and count our pennies. I'm off to the beach for an hour. By myself! And no, not the public one, Captain Obvious!"
Snatching her beach towel up off the floor, a boiling Angela wrapped it back about her slender body. Throwing random items into her accessories bag in her fury, she slid angrily into sandals and stomped out, slamming the front door behind her.
She was only forty metres away when she recognised Brie half-running towards her, haphazardly waving a Hotel message pad.
Regaining her composure, she stopped and waited for her relief at front desk to reach her. Brie was older, but while quick to pick up most basic things, she was still new and unfamiliar with the more unusual aspects that came with their job.
"Room 4201 has rung advising that a girl they booked this morning didn't show up," a breathless Brie gasped. "I knew of course what they meant, and the porters confirmed they had definitely booked a callgirl for three. The guest is asking for a replacement asap and has asked whether these girls would be likely to object to kissing?"
Angela took the pink slip from the girl's hand.
The penthouse executive types were often quite demanding, yet at times so naive in their ivory tower, she thought to herself. True, the hotel had ways of getting trusted callgirls for guests at pre-arranged times. The basis was cash between the girl and guest. But it wasn't official hotel business, so if a girl didn't show, it wasn't the resort's fault. As far as them finding another girl at such short notice? This no doubt middle-aged fellow with his degrees had obviously never torn his gaze from his desk and walked out onto his panoramic balcony. If he had, he would have got a reminder this was an island, not some bustling metropolis
