Hellacious Hospitality Ch 02

Forward from the author -

Here we are, the awaited second chapter of what I initially thought was going to be a simple tale.

I already had a rough outline going in, but it grew and grew beyond my wildest expectations as I started putting words down.

Dialog is hard. And I knew I wanted this chapter to be almost full of it. It took a lot of writing and rewriting to get the characters to where I envisioned them. But I think, and hope, that the end result will be worth it.

Writing this chapter has been immensely rewarding as a fledgling author. Writer's block was a real problem, trying to find ways to seamlessly transition from moment to moment for the characters as they were. But people talk of "shower thoughts", and as I was writing this, I was getting 3-5 of them per day. I'd run myself into a corner, only for a beautiful solution to emerge hours later, and have me rushing back to the keyboard to make sure to get it all down, and puzzle pieces started to come together, as if by magic.

So that's enough of my story for this session.

This chapter's a bit of a slow burn, with a decidedly different and singular focus than my first chapter, but please bear with it, as I attempt to build this story's backbone that will be immensely important for future chapters.

Without further ado, enjoy!

===================

An awkward silence had descended over the room.

Benson's jaw hung slack, failing to articulate his voice. His right arm was held limply outstretched, index finger partially extended, caught somewhere between an orative gesture and an emphatic pointing. His hand wavered in the air with nervous uncertainty as fingers twitched, as if blindly grasping for the invisible pull-cord that would drop the curtain to end this uncomfortable scene.

The girl merely stood silently, still regarding him with an open, gentle smile. Sensing his intent, she ever-so politely gave Benson the space to speak his mind uninterrupted. She was unable to mask her own anxiety, though. As she stood patiently at attention, her full, luscious thighs rubbed together as her hips wriggled with nervous energy.

Internally, Benson was horrified. An entire week's worth of listlessness, and then anticipation, and then excitement had brought him here, to this place once again. For the past three days, the things he would say, the questions he would ask, had consumed his every waking thought. But for all the strangeness he had already experienced in this place, he somehow hadn't expected the curve ball that the ravishing young woman before him had just thrown his way. At that very revelation, his entire script had been blown to the wind.

Existential terror gripped him, rooting him in place. Not because of what his eyes were seeing, however. But because of the strange, out-of-body experience he was feeling, utterly helpless as his body gawped at the air idiotically, like a beached flounder.

It was only as the girl's bright smile faded into something more like a nervous grin that Benson regained his senses, suddenly feeling guilty for the obvious discomfort he must have been causing her.

Benson's shoulders relaxed, and he buried his forehead against his palm and shook his head in embarrassment.

Screw the script.

"S-sorry about that," he finally spoke, still somewhat unsure of himself, a silly, sheepish grin now plastered to his face. "I, uh, just came back to return this." He reached into his pocket to fish out the dark metal key.

Liar. That was the

last

thing on your mind. Whatever. Just play it casual

. The ice had finally been broken.

With solemnity, she approached him to receive the object. She took hold of the key, grasping it firmly, and held it tightly to her chest as if it were precious. Puzzling at first, she silently reached into one of her sleeves to produce a second, identical key. Still befuddling was her next action, which was to suddenly thrust out both arms, so as to hold the heads of both keys to his face, at eye level. Her brow was furrowed, her jaw clenched.

Benson had to suppress laughter because she wore the expression of someone trying

too

hard to appear deathly serious, and her delicate feminine features simply didn't wear it well. Obliging her, though, he turned his attention to the objects held forth. He had to squint because it was hard to discern the details on the black iron keys under the low, ambient room lighting. At his left was the original key he had returned, embossed with ornate numerals reading "346". On his right, he instead made out a very similar "364".

"I don't understand," he said, with a befuddled tone to his voice, a finger waggling and pointing dumbly in the air towards the two keys.

She hesitantly withdrew her right arm, that held his original key, leaving only the second for his further inspection. She dropped her gaze towards the floor, as she finally opened her mouth to speak, sighing audibly in the process. "

This

was the key I meant to give you," she spoke softly. Eyes flicked repeatedly in his direction, but struggled to make contact.

This time, Benson laughed aloud. Just a single "ha!", but it was loud, and boisterous. Enough to shake the girl from her sullen, withdrawn state. Instead, she recoiled, with an intense look of worry on her face, as if she had sensed that he had somehow cracked.

"Seriously? You practically

forced

me into that room in the first place. Then you wake me up, scare me half to death, and chase me out? All that mess because you mixed up the room number?" Benson scoffed loudly. He was afraid he had actually oversold the mock indignation, but he wanted to gauge her reaction.

Her response was immediate, dropping her arms to her sides, and bowing deeply for him. "I really must apologize, sir! I was simply really afraid that Syl--" There was that name again. He actually

really

wanted to hear what she had to say on that subject, but he intentionally cut her off with a dismissive wave, leaving only a look of bewilderment on her face. There would be time for more of that talk later, he hoped.

"Really, don't sweat it," he said, shifting to a more casual tone, as he waved her off again sensing she wanted to launch into another apologetic spiel. "Say, do you think we could, y'know, just chat? Just clear the air a bit."

A thought crossed his mind as he looked back at the concierge desk that had been so abruptly vacated. "Wait, I'm sorry. I haven't kept you from your job, have I? You've got your key back now. If there's nothing else you need from me, just say the word and I'll get out of your hair."

She reached out and grabbed delicately at his sleeve, as if afraid he were actually about to leave, and shook her head fervently.

"No, it's fine. Let's talk. I'd really like that," she shyly admitted. She turned toward the depths of the hall and gestured broadly. "Perhaps the lounge area would be more to your liking." Her professional manner started to show through again.

He spotted the seating just around the corner. Somehow, he'd missed the space entirely on his first visit here. He chalked it up to that night's many distractions. "That sounds great! Honestly, probably would've just stayed standing here for hours if you did nothing to stop me, but my legs would've hated me after."

"Shall we, then?" She wore a gentle smile, but her eyes seemed more conflicted.

They walked together. Rather than the excitable, bouncy rhythm with which he had previously only known her for, this was a leisurely affair. He noted that rather than lead the way, she chose to keep pace aside him. As they made their way across the room, she gradually seemed to lean in closer and closer, until she nearly stood with her shoulder against him. He couldn't help but watch in fascination as the thin, whip-like tail that protruded from her backside also seemed to perk up. Throughout the awkward, tense parts of their interaction, it had hung limply between her legs. But as they walked side-by-side, it started to swish around with its own sort of personality. It reminded him of a dog's tail, with how transparently it betrayed its owner's emotions. Benson immediately rushed to expunge that last thought from his mind, because it felt somehow disrespectful the moment it had formed.

His curiosity got the better of him, as he could no longer keep himself from addressing the elephant in the room.

Another bad animal metaphor. Those words had better not pass your lips, idiot

.

Benson cleared his throat conspicuously, causing a hitch in their pace. "By the way, something's been rubbing my leg now for the last twenty paces. You care to tell me what that's about?" He coyly pointed downwards.

She glanced at him with a look of puzzlement, before her eyes suddenly widened in horror, as her tail swung back into view. She hesitantly raised her hands to her head, poking first at the mildly pointed tips of her pale ears, and then grabbing a firm hold of the jagged horns protruding above them. A wing waved in the corner of her vision, as if to say hello.

She buried her face in her hands as a luminescent blush crept over her face, incredibly obvious in stark contrast to her pale skin tone. Her strength seemed to fail her as her legs gave way, suddenly kneeling on the tile floor. Only through spread fingers did she dare to look up at Benson, and all she saw was the bemused smirk on his face, upon which she immediately fused her fingers shut again.

"I think maybe I should just go ahead and take a seat. Come and join me when you're ready", he said with a wry smile on his face.

Face still rooted firmly in the seat of her palms, she gave gave him a full-bodied nod, letting an embarrassed squeal escape, muffled, into her hands.

Any lingering sense of fear or danger that Benson had felt due to the sexy demoness was now long gone. The way she wore her heart on her sleeve was nothing short of

adorable

.

*****

Benson picked a spot at the end of a white leather couch and planted himself, haphazardly throwing his jacket over the back. He ran a hand over a cushion, marveling at the smooth, velvety feel of the material. He still couldn't quite process the shear opulence of this place. Being here made him feel like some moneyed VIP, and not some low totem-pole office schmo.

The wide lobby diverted into an "L" shape at its end to house this glitzy lounge area. Various forms of seating, all in similarly pristine white leather circled the perimeter of a massive rectangular glass table. Adjacent to the seating area was a low platform, home to a grand piano, also polished and gleaming white. At the far end of the room was a well-stocked bar. He recognized some of the bottle shapes as vintages and brands far and away above his pay grade. The ceiling was high, almost humblingly so, and above hung a great crystal chandelier that broadcast all manner of dazzling highlights over the room.

He couldn't help but let out an appreciative whistle.

"Flattery will only get you so far," the melodious voice spoke to him, with an enigmatic edge, from over his shoulder. He craned his neck to the side, to see the girl smoothly sidle past him from behind, gracefully slipping into the armchair adjacent to him, around the corner. She sat poised, upright, with legs together and ankles crossed. The self-assured smile upon her face suggested a return to form of the energetic girl from his memory, but a certain tension in the rest of her features told differently. He noticed he could no longer see her extended canine teeth. In fact, all her inhuman accoutrements seemed to have vanished, apart from her fiery, otherworldly eyes, which regarded him warily, seeming to pierce straight through him.

Regardless, Benson was happy that she had been able to regain her composure. While it hadn't taken much time for her to pick herself off of the floor once he had left her side, he had watched her standing motionless at her desk, bent over with her face buried in her hands for what seemed like ages, and he had begun to worry that he had somehow gone too far with his teasing, and blown his chance to have his many lingering questions answered.

"Hey, do you think we can we just... start over?" He asked, hopefully. "I feel like somewhere, somehow, we just got off to a very bad start here."

She nodded gently. "I'd like that very much," she said, the intensity in her eyes dimming, and a hint of an unforced bright smile finally returning to her face.

"So, from the top; the name's Benson." He remembered the first time he met her, "Or I guess just Ben, if you prefer. And please, none of this 'Sir' or 'Mr. Lachlan' stuff. Makes me think you're talking to my dad. It's nice to meet you." He offered out his hand.

She reached out with her own hand, tentatively, only brushing his fingertips with her own at first as she hesitated. Something about that timidness reminded him of his initial meeting with the ghostly woman in room 346. A more confident second attempt, she placed her palm in his. He was surprised that despite her daintiness of her hand, the firmness of her grip matched his own, as they shook hands.

"Nice to meet you, Ben! You can call me Caeli. C-A-E-L-I," she stated plainly. Her voice also brightened.

"Well, Caeli--"

Caeli.

He liked the sound of that. As sunny as her disposition when they first met. And hopefully, on its way to making a return for good "--I'm happy you're feeling better, by the way. You seemed really freaked out earlier, and I'm really sorry if I crossed a line back there."

She shook her head fervently. "No, there's no need to apologize. You might find it hard to believe, but it's been a good while before I've had a chance to talk with someone like this. I was just caught off-guard."

There was a tinge of loneliness to her voice that caught Benson somewhat by surprise. His mental image had placed her at the center of attention. Surely a pretty, spirited, and outgoing girl like her wouldn't lack for company. There was something amiss in this place, even beyond these supernatural beauties he had met here. Oddities surrounding his first visit to this hotel suddenly resurfaced in his head.

As if reading his mind, she spoke again. "I...have a proposition for you. I know you must have many questions about the things you've experienced here, but I'm afraid things could get a bit... overwhelming. So if you wouldn't mind, I'd like if you could limit yourself to just three questions, for the time being. I will, of course, answer them fully, to the best of my ability." Her words were careful and deliberate, as if she were considering to revoke the offer at any time.

While it had been, in all reality, less than a week that thoughts of this place had occupied Benson's waking consciousness, he almost felt as if his entire lifetime had been awaiting this moment. He agreed wholeheartedly with a nod.

"And if you'd be so kind, I'd like to you to return the favor by answering some questions of my own."

Benson had no idea what he could possibly offer that would be a fair trade for the riddles currently living rent-free in his own head, but he couldn't see the harm in her proposal.

"You've got yourself a deal!" He exclaimed with a warm smile on his face, offering his hand again in good faith. Suddenly, all the tension in the room seemed to evaporate, and the girl bounced from her seat to clasp his hand in both of her own.

"Thank you for your understanding. Now, if you could pardon me for just a moment, I'm afraid I have been quite derelict in my duties as your hostess. Allow me to fetch some refreshments to make this evening more enjoyable." She suddenly let loose a melodious giggle before sticking out her tongue in a cheeky sort of manner. "Heh, sorry, got a bit too into the role-play there. Guess I'm probably not fooling you with that anymore. But seriously, hang tight, I'll be right back!"

Benson was left reeling in shock at this girl's whirlwind energy. Her pace seemed near impossible to follow, and yet her unfettered earnestness was utterly enthralling. He could only watch in awe as she practically danced in the direction of the bar, her stiletto-induced strut causing her perfect ass to sway to-and-fro seductively.

*****

Much to Benson's surprise, Caeli returned in a few minutes, not with alcohol, but instead two cups of freshly-brewed cappuccino. They were full to the brim, yet she somehow managed to have not spilled a single drop, even as she set his cup and saucer down on the coffee table by his feet. She had even taken the time to make a little foam art of a heart with cute little devil horns on top. Glancing back to her, all she could do was offer a small smirk and a little shrug.

Also unexpectedly, instead of returning to her own chair, she smoothly took a seat at the other end of the couch he was currently occupying. Studying her graceful motions, he noted with interest how there never seemed to be any wasted energy with her. Any normal person would shift and fidget to find their most comfortable seating position, but not so with this woman. She slid deftly into place if she belonged there, and every motion along the way seemed expressly calculated for maximum sex-appeal.

Eschewing her formal mannerisms, she reclined casually into the seat, left arm propped up on the back of the couch so that her body twisted to face him. The way the moody lights of the room played off every curve and valley of her taught, toned torso caused a lump to form in his throat. She crossed one leg over the other, causing her ever-so-short skirt to ride up even higher, exposing even more delectable thigh, and the beginnings of the under-curve of her buttocks. Her effortless sensuality was utterly mesmerizing.

It was Caeli that broke the silence, when she brought her coffee cup to her lips, which coaxed a low, sensual moan from her that sent Benson's heart into palpitations. "Ooh, I needed this. Like a warm hug to invigorate the soul!"

Shimmering yellow gemstones flicked in his direction, breaking him from his silent reverie, imploring him to try for himself. Not wanting to disappoint his host, his attention turned to the steaming mug before him. He sipped the piping-hot brew gingerly, savoring its smooth, rich flavor. In that instant, he couldn't stop the pleasured moan that escaped from his own lips. "Mmm! This is

really

good!"

She smiled proudly at his reaction, a hint of rose color tinting her cheeks.

"Honestly, I don't think I've ever had a cup that good in my life! Total honesty, never been much of a coffee fan. But if they all brewed a capp that good, I think I'd be a convert!" He wondered if he was laying it on too thick, but it was the truth.

"T-Thank you!" She wiggled in her seat a little bit, as the praise sent a happy shiver down her spine. He sensed an opportunity in her reaction.

Momentum was on his side.

"Friendly reception, world-class barista, anything else they got you doing here? If so, I can't possibly imagine they're paying you enough."

"That's really nice of you to say, but please, you're too kind. The coffee thing is actually more of a personal indulgence. And remuneration doesn't really factor into the equation. This isn't exactly what you'd call--" she was suddenly aware of excited, hungry look his face, and mischievous glint in his deep brown eyes.

Jack...pot?

She threw a steely glare back his way. "--A 'normal' hotel." Upon finishing the statement, she gave him another hard look, before she burst out laughing. Not one of her polite, girlish giggles. A full, side-splitting, cackling belly-laugh that had her grasping at her side, kicking her feet, and falling backwards into her seat, until everything hurt and her lungs started to protest.