Late Night Grande Hotel (Part 3)

(FYI: This part of the story contains fairly explicit sexual situations…noted just in case you’d rather skip this section.)

Part III: Room 525 (Voyeur)

Jerry the bellboy, a sloe-eyed blond who moved just fast enough not to be completely annoying but not fast enough to be considered conscientious, told Red that he was going to take his lunch break.

Red nodded absently and threw him an inscrutable glance; then he went back to reading his book.

Jerry arched a wary, guilty eyebrow...Red always struck him as being somehow omniscient to all the goings-on in the Grande... and stole away across the reception area to the bank of elevators.

He slipped into the first open car and punched the desired button. A number of seconds later, the doors whizzed open and Jerry stole purposefully out into the still fifth floor hallway.

Jerry was old enough to drink...but not old enough to consider growing up yet. He took the job at the Grande when his vague ambitions of modeling and/or acting in porn movies came to nothing. He'd been there two years and was making no active plans or ambitions to leave anytime soon.

Glancing back and forth for eyes that were not there, Jerry hunkered down and made his way quickly to 525. He reached into his pocket and produced a keycard with a number...525...embossed onto it.

Jerry slipped the keycard into the slot...quiet as a whisper...and held his breath while he pushed open the door.

The pungent darkness...perfumed with cigar smoke, rum, cocaine dust, sweat, and sex...rushed his senses. He gave the hallway a quick glance and, with practiced grace, he slipped into the room and shut the door softly behind him.

He stood still waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The only light came from the bedroom door of the suite, languidly dancing candlelight seeping through the open door.

Jerry moved through the room... avoiding the coffee table and the recliner but getting caught up in some of the items...shoes, a dress shirt, a brassiere...strewn like breadcrumbs from the couch to the bedroom door. He waited to see if his presence had been detected...and then he moved on towards the bedroom door.

As he drew closer, the unmistakable sounds and musk of sex assaulted his senses and gave him a small electric charge and a half-hearted erection. Jerry went flat and against the wall and, ever so gingerly, moved the door open with the flat of his hand.

On the queen-size bed, haloed in the flickering light coming from a half-dozen, strategically placed large candles, a couple rutted feverishly their flesh commingled and flushed.

On her back, the woman thrashed and yelped, her painted fingernails raking the man's back, her legs (a bit too pudgy around the thighs in her own estimation) high and wide.

On top of her the man, middle-age sag taking his midsection despite his best efforts at the gym, worked furiously... grunting and swearing and pawing randomly at her quivering breasts... between her welcoming thighs.

Jerry slipped into the shadows along the wall of the bedroom and stood there watching...his lips getting dry and his erection taking a bit more interest underneath the rumbled pants of his uniform.

The couple on the bed collaborated on a symphony of profane endearments and heartfelt prayers as she locked her ankles under his ass and moved up to meet his every thrust with equal force and fury.

Jerry couldn't really hear what they said because his ears were filled with pressure and seemingly about to burst...this surprised him a little as did the fact that his erection was now angrily trying to force itself past his zipper...but he just stood there and watched.

The couple was rolling and crying and swearing and thrusting, moving back and forth across the bed as Jerry, disguised as a shadow, watched from the edge of the room.

The woman gasped and began to shudder...the man swore and began to spasm...they seemed to levitate for an instant, bathed in candlelight and sweat, and then they collapsed into each other panting and caressing and giving breathless thanks.

Jerry, his erection giving up its anxious struggle, kicked free of the rush and the lust that he felt and slipped back from the animal humidity of the bedroom and backed up into the living room.

The couple lolled about the bed, a hair's breadth between them, spent and satisfied.

Jerry moved towards the door, his flagging erection quickly leaving his mind. He stumbled over a glass on the floor and it moved rolled through the darkness tinkling. It rattled against the sofa and the sound echoed through the stillness.

There was a rustling in the bedroom and Jerry froze. The door slipped open and the man...covered by a hotel robe and not moving with any alarm or wariness...came out and turned on the light in the bathroom.

Light oozed out into the living room and Jerry was revealed standing still near the front door.

The man, his hair still dark and slick with sweat, came closer to Jerry. Jerry stood still and waited.

The man smiled and amiably slapped Jerry on the back. He reached into the pocket of the robe and then brought out a small packet and pressed it into Jerry's hand. "Thanks again, Jer," the man said happily, glancing back at the door of the bedroom, "your timing was perfect as usual."

Jerry pocketed the packet and smiled. "Anytime, Mr. Johnson."

The man winked and patted Jerry's shoulder once more.

Jerry nodded and quickly exited the room, making sure to lock the door. He paused at the door long enough to see the light from the bathroom disappear once more. He opened the packet, finding the promised recompense...two crisp hundred dollar bills...therein.

Jerry sighed with unabashed, unrequited lust...replaying the dance in his mind's eye...and ambled unhurriedly towards the elevators.