2:Hello Brianna
1146 Words
Luther’s POV
“Shut him up,” I instruct my assistant, Robin, once I tap on the sensor of my pod.
She... the red-haired receptionist, presses her lips together in a thin straight line as if suppressing a gasp.
Ignoring her, I pick up the blue card from the counter and look at the room number. “310” is inscribed on it. That’s the second floor.
The lake view is beautiful, which is one unique feature of the Morison, unlike a few luxurious hotels with fake water bodies. The view from up there gives me the feeling of being on top of the world, just like I am.
“Better still, blow up his brains.”
“Eff!” Unable to keep up with the pretense, she screams.
“And clean up the mess. I will call you shortly.”
Tap. I end the call and fix my gaze on the nosy receptionist.
Now, she looks sorry, like she wishes to bury herself six feet below, and her colleague only stands in shock... Maybe terrified too.
“Brianna,” I read the letter on the name tag pegged on her breast pocket. “Are you curious to know...”
“No!” She jumps in her response. “I’m sorry, sir, I meant no.” This time, it’s more of a whisper.
I smile, enjoying the moment. Her scared yet innocent face, chubby cheeks, light brown pupils, hot red hair, the shade of chili.
“Curiosity kills.” I start to leave.
I walk away, not minding their hard to ignore murmurs. Of course, I left them with a mouthful of gossip.
Locating my room isn’t so hard as I’ve been here a couple of times whenever I fly to California. With capable hands on my multi-million-dollar companies and obviously no commitment to any woman, I jet out like a virus, spreading around the globe and having a taste of money, power, and women. Scratch that, sexy ladies.
The fresh scent of lavender greets me once I slide the card in the lock designed for it. As expected, the room is neat, and the bed is well-laid.
Fun time. I grin and kick off my shoes after stepping in and shutting the door. It’s February 13th, and a classy hot lady is in need of flowers and brain f*****g s*x.
First, I will pick one from the VIP profile of the global escort services app I’m registered with. As an exclusive member, I get only the best; busty blonde, butty nympho...
Second, I will go take a shower, and third, I will serve myself a cup of hot latte from the dispenser before keeping track of my managers while I await my hot pick for the night.
Bringing out my phone, I sign into the app and click on the search icon. ‘Busty blondes’, I type and hit search. Instead of hundreds of random s*x workers flooding my timeline, I get just ten high-profile escorts, limiting my stress while giving me the best.
The first is tall, very busty, not curvy, and... Swipe. The second is just like the first, only prettier and... Swipe. The third, pretty but nah.
Robin thinks I’m too picky. I smile and swipe.
The fourth is even sexier; her racks are bigger and well-curvy. She looks like she can handle whatever she’s given. I sneer. I guess I’ve gotten a date for the night. Down for business, I whip in the first two thousand dollar deposit and allow the admins to do whatever the f**k they’re good at.
I set my phone on the stand by the TV and begin to strip off my clothes. Fully nude, I get into the shower for a cold bath. The downpour of cold water is refreshing, and as much as I love to remain in the shower, I’ve got a few things lined up before noon.
Picking up the pure white towel, I pat myself dry and head back into the room. Zipping open my Prada bag, I pull out neat black Louis Vuitton boxers and get in, my huge limp d**k creating a scene.
“Great job.” I commend myself as I pick up the thick coffee mug and head for the dispenser by the door. Slipping the mug beneath the outlet, I press the dispense button.
No response.
“Fuck.” I sigh. I can’t get it wrong.
Again, I press the same button, this time harder, but still nothing.
“f**k!” I groan, hating to not have things my way. “This hotel is suddenly crap. Who f*****g keeps a f*****g faulty dispenser in a diamond-class room?”
Angry, I head to the telecom and punch in the details of the reception.
“Get the f**k up here and fix your freaking coffee dispenser.” I slammed the phone back on the case after I ordered the receptionist. She immediately picked on the first dial. Quite efficient.
In less than five seconds, there’s a knock on my door. Not so far from it, I lean forward and open it.
The red-haired receptionist is before me with oddly dilated orbs and she’s a bit nervous. Is she still scared? Her cup of coffee, I have yet to have mine.
Her eyes roam my huge frame, and she immediately darts her gaze when it trails down my lower abdominal area.
“You called.” She stutters.
“Okay?”
It’s weird to catch her gawking once more. Jeez!
“Will you come to fix your dispenser or hand me a refund?” I roll my eyes.
“I’m sorry.” She tries to smuggle her petite frame into my room through the narrow space.
She yelps when her bum cheeks glide past my groin.
I suppress a chuckle.
“I’m sorry.” She shudders.
“Always sorry.” I sigh before pointing at the empty mug and making her refocus.
To my surprise, the smell of strong black coffee infiltrates the air. How did she...?!
“How do you like your coffee?”
“Plain.”
“What... I’m sorry.” She catches her tongue before it ruins her again.
“I’ve had enough, maybe you should stick a sorry note on my door.”
Red with embarrassment, she bows her head.
“My coffee.”
She picks up the half-filled mug, hands it to me, and turns to pick the saucer from the table.
I put the mug to my lips to take a sip.
“Here, sir.” She stretches the saucer over.
Still buried in my hot cup, I reach out blindly for the saucer. My hand brushes hers and she jolts.
The thud and clatter of a broken dish stops me from satisfying my curious taste buds.
She whimpers, about to cry a river. “I’m...”
“Leave, before I change my mind.”
- Writer
