Immediately prior to the current issue – someone entering this room – Lance Walker had been pondering exactly how sinister his employer was, and what their possible motivations could be. Of course, in his mind this was phrased differently.
What the fuck is wrong with this place, and why are they fucking with people like this cute, scared girl next to me. And what's wrong with me for not bailing when my wife split? Sure, three-year contract blah blah blah, I could've just ignored that shit and not told the next job about it. People probably do this shit all the time.
Fact of the matter was, when he walked into this building for his interview a little over a year ago, he was just blown away. By all of it. The panel interview, which was a new experience for the security supervisor, had consisted of two suits that introduced themselves as part of the ownership group, Director Callaway, and a seductive looking raven-haired woman in her early forties or late thirties who worked for HR.
On the way to the interview, the number of gorgeous women walking around the still-unopened property was astounding. A fact that hadn't been lost on his wife at the time, with her commenting that the casino and Victoria's Secret shared a staff somehow.
Then there was the pay, which was insane. Lance had bounced around various clubs for about nine years. Basic security for three and supervisory ever since. At his peak, managing security operations for three clubs in Philadelphia, he'd been making about $65,000 a year. They weren't starving, they didn't have kids, and it was more than enough. But this place went and contacted him out of the blue, offering a full $25,000 more than that, for just one nightclub. No brainer.
Should've looked for the catch. Never take your eyes off of what the other hand is doing, pop said.
Even in his awed state he'd commented on the extremely generous package, which included the bumped salary, a suite in the South Tower on-premise free of charge, and a $10,000 signing bonus. The Director, who'd seemed a little strange but mostly earnest and excited back then, explained that their company was privately held and took their talent and privacy very seriously. As a result, he'd have additional paperwork to sign, a contract commitment, and other documents, but to make up for it they offered top-of-the-industry compensation.
And now I have no idea what's going on here, no fucking idea what'll happen to me if I leave, and just now I'm picking the shittiest time in the world to suddenly become a better person. On my tombstone they can write that my life was valued at $90,000 plus a signing bonus, and that I spent my last days doing what I loved – fucking the shit out of women who weren't smart enough to find someone better than ol' Lance. Didn't even rate high enough to get the top half of the fucking employee tower. Just beneath it – 2401. Corner room though. Worth it all, buddy, worth it all.
As he looked over at the adorable woman next to him, her breasts rising and falling with each breath, her right arm draped across his chest, he tried to recall all of the documents he'd signed.
Contract. Yupp. Something about a background check, which was standard. There was the third one, something about not talking to other people? Or other companies? What was that?
Then the door opened. The light from the hallway cast itself almost directly on Lance and he immediately closed his eyes. He felt an initial wave of darkness as whoever was entering blocked the light from the hallway, then more darkness as the door to the room was closed quietly. There was no chance they missed the 6'3" muscular fellow in bed.
"Oh, wow." It was a female voice, a whisper to herself. "Wow, Mallory, wow." Lance placed it as almost directly in front of their bed, which was the closer to the window of the two.
There were some very light footsteps, then the sound of someone sitting on the edge of the bed. Lance heard one clunk, then another as two items hit the floor. Then it sounded like the woman got off the bed, but there were no more footsteps. She must've removed her shoes. She obviously knew Mallory and didn't want to wake her.
Lance heard the fridge open. A light unscrewing of something. Then the woman let out a cough which she quickly muffled. Mallory stirred next to him but didn't wake. He felt a presence next to him and risked opening his eyes ever so slightly.
He was glad he did. Lance found himself looking at the back of a tall young woman getting undressed for bed. She was probably still six inches shorter than Lance, but that would've made her 5'9", tall for a girl. She was thin, too, which gave a sort of elegant look to her. She pulled the top over her head to reveal her bra. Lance wouldn't have minded the view from the front, but then of course she'd see he wasn't sleeping. She stepped out of her jeans, revealing hipster panties and the round, firm ass of what he assumed was a current or former athlete.
She started to shift a little as she prepared to get into bed, and Lance closed his eyes again. Thoughts of the unknown woman in the other bed were interspersed with the memories of the body of Mallory next to him, and before long he drifted off.
He woke up what couldn't have been more than a few hours later – the sun was still in the early stages of rising. He usually slept til noon, given he didn't start work until 5PM. He was going to be tired all day now.
He realized his room should obscure the sunrise – he got midday and sunset. Then he realized he wasn't in
his
room. He was in Mallory's – the scared, cute girl with the nice rack and tight pussy. But the space beside him was empty. A note was written on the hotel stationary.
Had to get fresh air. Feeling dizzy still, and not myself. Nothing to do with you. You were super nice. And I know you might not be around when I get back, it's OK. I'm here to do some work for the City – I'll be here for another two nights. Call the room if you want. ~M.
