Sandra's nerves were on edge. As she checked into the hotel she didn't notice the appreciative glances of the male business travellers that made up the majority of the hotel's mid-week clientele. All she could think of was her interview tomorrow. After years of study she'd finally gained her PhD and now she was about to enter the real world. Her research had been well received by the business community and five prestigious multinationals had contacted her, requesting a meeting. Tomorrow she had her first interview. It was the one that mattered the most. She knew that if she made a good impression on the president of this company she could expect a six figure salary and a start whirlwind career. She was so nervous she thought she was going to throw up.
The receptionist handed her a key card and watched the tall blonde walk towards the elevators, discreetly stroking his bulge as he imagined those long, shapely legs wrapped around him. As she entered the elevator he caught a last glimpse of her generous cleavage as she leaned forward to press the correct button. He toyed with the idea of sneaking up to her floor at the end of his shift and offer his services. She'd seemed a bit uptight and he knew a trick or two that could solve the situation.
Just as the elevator doors were about to close and give Sandra shelter from the creepy receptionist a guy shoved his briefcase in the gap and opened the doors again. He smiled apologetically and glanced over at the buttons. He didn't press any so Sandra assumed he was on her floor. They rode up in silence. She looked at her fellow passenger in the mirror. He must be 20-30 years older than her, but he still looked fit and attractive. He wore a wedding ring on his finger and that crisp white shirt had surely been ironed by a devoted wife somewhere.
Like a true gentleman he let Sandra exit the elevator first. She looked at the signs and went towards the room number that was written on her key card holder. She could hear the steps behind her. He must have a room near her. She found her room and swiped the card through the reader and just as she opened the door she heard the clearing of a throat.
'I think you've got the wrong room,' said the man from the elevator.
'No,' Sandra replied. 'This is room 817.'
'But I'm in 817.'
'No, you can't possibly be. I've been given 817.'
Sandra went inside the room, only to be faced with a lot of male paraphernalia.
'There must be a mistake,' she stuttered nervously and showed him her key card. 'This is the room I've been given.'
'It seems to me that they've screwed up,' he said and picked up the phone to dial reception. 'I'll sort it out for you.'
He listened for a while and then hung up.
'They're not answering in reception. Can I offer you a drink while we're waiting?'
'Maybe I should just go back downstairs,' Sandra suggested.
'No, don't you worry. They made the mistake, and besides, I hate to drink on my own. Have a drink with me and then we'll call them again.'
He seemed harmless enough so Sandra put her bag on the floor and sat down on the double bed. There was only one armchair in the room and it had papers all over it. The man poured her a glass of whisky and sat next to her. The amber liquid felt smooth as it slid down her throat. She sighed with content.
'That must have hit the spot,' he smiled at her.
'You have no idea how much I needed that,' she smiled. 'It's been a stressful day and tomorrow is going to be even worse.'
'I know something that'll help the stress,' he smiled and moved closer to her. 'We could fuck.'
