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Catering Girl
, is in the final voting for
Best Lesbian Story
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I drove up to the valet station in front of the hotel. The door to my Mercedes was opened by the attendant, who politely offered his hand as I stepped out. After popping the trunk, I handed him my key fob.
"How many nights will you be staying with us, ma'am?"
"Just two," I replied.
"Are you here for the conference?"
"Yes."
He scribbled a couple of notes on the claim ticket, tore off the stub, and handed it to me. "Welcome to the Soundview, enjoy your stay."
A bell hop had already pulled my bags out of the trunk and was waiting for me. I tipped the valet, then smiled and nodded to the bellhop.
"Do you need to check in at the front desk?" the fresh-faced teen girl asked. Her bright smile lit up her face.
"No, thank you. I checked in via the phone app and have the digital key. We can head straight to my room."
"Excellent. If you'll follow me to the elevators, then. Do you know your room number by any chance?" There was a pleasant enthusiasm in her voice. Eager to serve, but not in an overbearing or smothering way.
We passed a sitting area, with a large waterfall as its central feature. I smiled as we walked past. It always reminded me of a waterfall my wife and I found years ago, while hiking on our honeymoon. It wasn't as big of course, just from the ceiling to the floor of the lobby, but it still evoked the memory of that day. She'd sat leaning back in my arms during a rest and, like the honeymooners we were, we — well I'd better save that story for some other time.
I snapped out of my daydream and looked back at the bellhop.
"Do you know your room number?" she asked again politely, holding the door of the elevator open for me.
"801, top floor please."
I saw her eyes widen a fraction as she figured out we were going to one of the two penthouse suites of the hotel. Juggling my suitcase and garment bag, she pressed the top right button and turned to face me.
"Is this your first time at our hotel?"
"No, I've been here many, many times. But I've not seen you before. Are you new?"
"Yes, I started last week. I enjoy working here. Everyone is very nice to work with."
"Well, congratulations on the new job. I know the manager here, he does a great job running the place. You'll enjoy working for him." I gave her a knowing look and made a mental note to remember to comment to him about how nice his new bellhop is.
"Yes, Mr. Dewey is a pleasure to work for. I also met one of the property owners the other day, and she was very nice as well."
"Oh?" My interest piqued, "Whom did you meet?"
The young lady paused in thought. "Mrs. Mitchell, I think her name was. Yes, that was it. Jennifer Mitchell."
I gave her a knowing smile and chuckled inside. "Yes, I know her. Wonderful woman. She's a good person to work for."
The door slid open and the young lady guided me down the hall. As we approached my room, I had my phone ready and gave it a gentle shake to activate the app. The digital key sprang to life and, with a quick tap, the door unlocked.
She held the door open for me, then followed me in. As usual, the suite had fresh flowers waiting to liven up the room for me. It was well appointed but within the brand guidelines set forth by the national parent company.
"You can set the suitcase in the closet and hang the garment bag, if you don't mind."
I watched her take care of the bags and then turn back to me.
"Is there anything else I can do to assist you, ma'am?"
"No, I think I'm good." I handed her a couple of folded up banknotes. "A little something for you, thank you. I think you're going to do well here in your new job."
"My pleasure ma'am. I'm Melissa, by the way. If there is anything else I can do, or any of the staff here, please call the front desk."
"I sure will. And please, call me Whitney. When you say 'Ma'am' it makes me think of my mother."
Melissa giggled. "Okay, but I'm supposed to call people by their last name, sir, or ma'am."
"Well, I don't want you to get in trouble. I'm Whitney Mitchell."
I watched as Melissa processed the new information and realized who I am. "Are you—"
"Yes, I'm Mrs. Mitchell's wife."
Melissa gulped, then recovered her professionalism."Enjoy your stay Mrs. Mitchell."
As Melissa left the room, I pulled out my phone and texted my wife.
Me:
Just got to my room, missing you already.
Jenn:
Miss you too, my dear. Have fun at the conference. See you soon. Loves
💗.
Me:
Love you too babe
💗.
I set my phone down on the coffee table and unpacked. Once finished, I glanced at my watch. I had a few hours until the opening reception of the conference, so I grabbed my iPad and headed to the ground floor.
I walked past the waterfall and to the bar tucked behind it. The bartender recognized me, as I'm a frequent visitor of the hotel."Mrs. Mitchell! Hello, welcome back. Can I pour you a glass of your usual?"
"Please, Denise. And for the umpteenth time, call me Whitney. Mrs. Mitchell is my mother. The only ones who I want calling me Mrs. Mitchell are my kid's friends. Adults should call me by my first name."
I watched Denise snicker a bit while she grabbed a fresh bottle of Malbec and a glass. As usual, she gave me a very generous pour.
"You don't pour that much for everyone, do you?" The cost accountant in me was cringing. I had done little day-to-day accounting in years, not since Ruben retired and I took over running the full operations of Whitney Enterprises.
"Just for our special visitors. Are you here for the conference?"
"Yep, they wrangled me onto a panel tomorrow. 'Growing International Trade in the Pacific Northwest.' A hot and sexy topic for sure, but a vital one." I rolled my eyes as I said 'hot and sexy.' It wasn't by any stretch of the imagination. But it was a topic that was important to the business, thus important to me.
"Shall I start a tab for you?"
"Sure, I'm going to sit in my favorite chair over there and read my book." I used my iPad to point to a comfy chair by the waterfall.
"Very good Mrs. Mitchell. I'll check on you soon."
"Denise—" I gave her a look I normally reserved for a petulant child.
"I know, it's Whitney. I just don't want to get in trouble with the management here. They prefer we call people by their last names."
"I need to have a talk with your management."
"I'm sure you will." Denise smirked as I walked over to the chair. I had fallen in love with this chair when I first saw it. And since it was right next to the waterfall, it was so relaxing. I made a point of sitting here with a glass of wine every time I came here.
I was well into my glass when I set my iPad in my lap to take another sip. It was then I noticed a very attractive woman cross the lobby, headed to the bar. She was wearing a black cocktail dress with matching black stiletto boots that disappeared under her hemline.
Snap out of it, girl, you're a married woman!
I thought. I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts from my brain. But as I stopped, my eyes rested back on her. This time she was looking right at me.
For a moment, our eyes locked. A flock of butterflies took flight in my stomach, a feeling I'd not felt in years. I could tell she was tracing my every curve with her eyes.
It took every ounce of my willpower not to stare at her. I picked up my iPad and returned to my book. Attempting to distract myself, my eyes wandered over the small, crooked shapes on the screen, but none of them registered in my brain. I peeked over to the bar out of the corner of my eye and was greeted with the sight of her shapely back as she talked to Denise.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, causing her hips to sway.
That is a really toned ass on that woman, I thought as I pondered
what it might be like to hold those cheeks in my hands.
Realizing my hands were getting sweaty, I wiped them down the sides of my legs. But the physical contact, even through my jeans, just heightened my arousal. I looked down at myself. Not bad for a woman in her mid-forties. Thanks to my continual working out, I could still pull off skinny jeans when most women my age could not. They went well with the plain white canvas sneakers I had on. Jenn would approve. It was one of her favorite things for me to wear. I didn't understand it, but they always got her heart racing. If I remember correctly, I was wearing a pair when we went on the short hike from the resort in Belize when we found the waterfall.
I was staring at the splashing water and heard footsteps.
"Beautiful isn't it."
I looked up and saw the woman in the black dress. The smile she wore lit up her face, as if an angel were looking at me. Or perhaps, judging by the heat coming from my lady parts, she was a succubus; a demon who takes on the form of a beautiful woman in order to seduce her victim.
"The waterfall, it's so beautiful," she said again.
This time I was able to reply, "Y-y-yes it is." I stuttered, as if words were lost to me.
I watched her place a glass of red wine next to my empty glass. Another matching glass was in her hands.
"I noticed you were needing a refill. Hope you don't mind, but I asked the bartender what you were having." My eyes drank her in as she took a sip, impressed that none of her red lipstick remained on the glass. "I'm Renée."
"Whitney. Thank you for the wine." I wanted to say more, but couldn't. Eventually I remembered my manners, "Please, have a seat."
