The Son of God
Dawn knew the hotel where he was staying. She worked there as a hostess for five years before she married Joel, a man thirty years her senior and had to beg to get her job back. Joel, a regular customer, had swooned Dawn with kind words, gifts, and attention. He told her he was rich. He told her that he could give her the things she wanted. He gave her lies, heartache, and abuse. He was a controlling man who wanted to dominate her and she was tired of being feeling like a victim. She fled when he wanted her to quit her job and stay home to care for him.
Like all the rest of the world, Dawn had been following the emergence of Devkumar. She hung on to the belief that he was the second coming of God in the way that someone would believe that they would win the lottery one day. Already, she was a devoted follower. Mesmerized by him as if she was in a hypnotic trance, she had already relinquished her free will to his power. If only she could have a private audience with Devkumar, she would finally receive everything she deserved to receive in life. If only she could have a private audience with him, her life would change. If only she could bask in the glow of him and touch him, she would live the good life that his disciples now enjoy.
Since she didn't have the ten million dollars that he asked for to have a private audience with him, she had a plan that she hoped would work to get Devkumar alone, if only for a minute. Indeed, if he was the Son of God, a minute was more than she needed.
"Hi Peter."
"Dawn, what are you doing here? You're not schedule to work until tonight." Peter looked at her with stars in his eyes. He moved away from the other customers standing at the front desk so that he could have a private conversation with the woman of his dreams. At 5'7", Dawn was everything her name promised. Blonde and beautiful, she had the body that any big hotel would want their hostesses to have.
"I need a favor."
"What?"
"What's Devkumar's room number?"
"You know I can't give you that. This place is crawling with security and Paparazzi. The whole top floor is blocked. Ask me anything else but his room number."
"So, he's on the top floor?"
"I can't give you his room number, Dawn. They'll fire me."
"What if I did something for you in return?"
"Something for me? What do you mean? You couldn't pay me enough money to make me lose my job. I need this job. This is a good job. I was out of work forβ"
"I'll blow you."
"You will," he said with a gulp.
"Yeah, sure, but only if you give me the room number."
"Okay."
"Do you have a room where we can do it?"
"Meet me in room 112 in five minutes," he slid the key across the counter to her.
As soon as Peter entered the room, Dawn was on her knees unzipping him.
"Wait," he said. "Let's at least go on the bed. I told them at the desk that I was ill and was taking a little longer break. I have 20 minutes. I want to make out with you and see your tits before you blow me."
"Making out with me and seeing my tits was not part of the agreement, Peter."
"Well, now it is, if you want his room number."