Hotel- 4. (Funny, business)
She was not new to going to strange mens' rooms. But this was different and mildly silly.
"You know, I expected him to be down here in the lobby."
"Yeah, this is kinda shady..." she chuckled.
Tim walked up to the concierge's desk. "I'm looking for a Mr. W. Svenson."
Jake shifted his weight. He wasn't usually here at this hour. His eyes met hers and there was a scared, uncomfortable moment. Wasn't she the one who was always going around with that guy who lived in 312 and all sorts of other men?
Jake cleared his throat. "Ok, one moment." He called up. "Mr. Svenson? You have some guests in the lobby to see you." A few seconds. He hung up.
Another man was in the elevator when they got in. She and Tim giggled at the awkwardness. Considering her job, she should have learned to ignore that sort of thing by now, like smelly gym socks in a corner somewhere, but it was just too random. "So you think I should start taking a really loud shit in his bathroom when we get in there?" she giggled.
They arrived at Svenson's room. A tall man who appeared to be of Indian descent answered the door. He was already talking a mile a minute. He invited Tim and her to have a seat on chairs. The entire bed was covered with fabric sample books. "Good way to ensure no funny business goes on" she chuckled in her head. Funny, business...
Svenson seemed to have this habit of explaining the tailoring process to Tim, and then diverting off on some other sales-related tangent. Tim had asked for her help in choosing fabrics and she coyly suggested some of the more flamboyant options. Blue with dark green plaid, pink plaid. Eventually Tim decided, amidst effusive interjections and suggestions by Svenson.
At that point, Svenson asked Tim to stand up so he could take measurements. First, he patted Tim's wallet in his back pocket. She held in snickers. "Oh man. That guy just patted your ass," she said, under her breath. A few minutes later, Svenson asked Tim to remove his shirt for further measurements. "This is rich," she thought.
Tim eventually shelled out more money than she charged for some sessions. She'd always been proud to run with these high roller guys.
"They should be ready in a few weeks," said Svenson.
The whole interaction was what she imagined a prostate exam might be like.
--------------
"You know, I've never actually seen a traveling salesman in action," she said, as they were walking back through the lobby. She was a little thrilled at how strangely old-fashioned the whole thing had been.
"Isn't that basically what you do? But with spankings and stuff?"
"Yeah. I'm a traveling salesman. Of spankings."
Jake saw them walk by the front desk. He wondered what kind of stupidity these godless fucks were always up to. She was strangely intimidating and disarming at the same time. Jake and she took care to make little eye contact whenever they interacted. Sometimes, though, it happened anyway.
"You know, I expected him to be down here in the lobby."
"Yeah, this is kinda shady..." she chuckled.
Tim walked up to the concierge's desk. "I'm looking for a Mr. W. Svenson."
Jake shifted his weight. He wasn't usually here at this hour. His eyes met hers and there was a scared, uncomfortable moment. Wasn't she the one who was always going around with that guy who lived in 312 and all sorts of other men?
Jake cleared his throat. "Ok, one moment." He called up. "Mr. Svenson? You have some guests in the lobby to see you." A few seconds. He hung up.
Another man was in the elevator when they got in. She and Tim giggled at the awkwardness. Considering her job, she should have learned to ignore that sort of thing by now, like smelly gym socks in a corner somewhere, but it was just too random. "So you think I should start taking a really loud shit in his bathroom when we get in there?" she giggled.
They arrived at Svenson's room. A tall man who appeared to be of Indian descent answered the door. He was already talking a mile a minute. He invited Tim and her to have a seat on chairs. The entire bed was covered with fabric sample books. "Good way to ensure no funny business goes on" she chuckled in her head. Funny, business...
Svenson seemed to have this habit of explaining the tailoring process to Tim, and then diverting off on some other sales-related tangent. Tim had asked for her help in choosing fabrics and she coyly suggested some of the more flamboyant options. Blue with dark green plaid, pink plaid. Eventually Tim decided, amidst effusive interjections and suggestions by Svenson.
At that point, Svenson asked Tim to stand up so he could take measurements. First, he patted Tim's wallet in his back pocket. She held in snickers. "Oh man. That guy just patted your ass," she said, under her breath. A few minutes later, Svenson asked Tim to remove his shirt for further measurements. "This is rich," she thought.
Tim eventually shelled out more money than she charged for some sessions. She'd always been proud to run with these high roller guys.
"They should be ready in a few weeks," said Svenson.
The whole interaction was what she imagined a prostate exam might be like.
--------------
"You know, I've never actually seen a traveling salesman in action," she said, as they were walking back through the lobby. She was a little thrilled at how strangely old-fashioned the whole thing had been.
"Isn't that basically what you do? But with spankings and stuff?"
"Yeah. I'm a traveling salesman. Of spankings."
Jake saw them walk by the front desk. He wondered what kind of stupidity these godless fucks were always up to. She was strangely intimidating and disarming at the same time. Jake and she took care to make little eye contact whenever they interacted. Sometimes, though, it happened anyway.
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