Back Luke trots, past the stairs and elevator and though another automatic door. Room 303, 305, 307… and eventually 323, 325 and finally room 327. He faces the door, takes a deep breath and knocks, only to find the door swinging open on his second knock.
“Ough… About time boy! I thought you’d forgotten about me.” a well-to-do lady said.
“Sorry Ma’am… it’s my first day.” Luke politely replied.
“Well that’s an original excuse if ever I’ve heard one!” she spat.
Luke gulped. This is one woman he doesn’t want to get on the wrong side of. “Are these your cases?” he asked.
“No… they’re part of the furniture!” she sarcastically retorted.
Luke grimaced at her overbearing sense of sarcasm and picked the two cases up. “This way Ma’am.” he said, gesturing toward the door.
She rolled her eyes, glanced around the room and walked. Luke sheepishly followed. The stern silence, save for his heels thumping on the carpet, felt heavy and oppressive. “Have you enjoyed your stay?” he asked.
“It’s been adequate.” she bluntly replied.
Clearly she had no interest in small talk. Luke followed to the elevators. She glared at him until he worked out that he’s supposed to press the button, despite his hands being full. When the doors opened, he stepped inside, put the cases down and once the lady was inside, he pressed the ground floor button. The elevator is mirrored on three sides whilst the door is a highly polished steel. There’s no escaping his reflection. He glares at his long smooth legs; pale bare flesh filling the void between his short tunic and high heeled shoes. He gulped at his pale face and vivid lipstick.
He feels like an extra from some cheesy old science fiction show… a swinging sixties vision of the year two-thousand, a year that came and went some thirty years previously. A year when feminism meant equal opportunities, a decade before the matriarchs took office and declared that no longer shall any woman be servile. Slowly but surely, boys and men found themselves becoming increasingly marginalised; shafted into menial jobs with low pay and few rights.
The elevator landed and its doors parted. Luke picked up the cases and escorted the lady to the reception desk. The cases weren’t particularly heavy but he put them down momentarily whilst she checked out. “Forty three J.” the receptionist said. “Enjoy your day Madam.”
Luke followed the lady through the foyer towards the vestibule. Martin and Andrew opened the double doors and held them open. “Enjoy your day.” they said in unison, smiling falsely.
The first thing Luke noticed as he exited the vestibule was the fresh air on his bare legs. He gulped and glanced down. They look paler than ever in the sunlight. “Which one’s yours?” he asked as his eyes panned and scanned the vast car park.
“Shouldn’t you know?” the lady bluntly asked. “Weren’t you told?”
Luke bit his lip and tried to recall what the receptionist said. “Forty three J.” he said, wondering where the fuck that was. He found it relatively quickly although the lady was in a bit of a mood after being taken down the wrong lane twice. His heels clacked loudly on the tarmac as he made his way back to the hotel. Martin and Andrew stood ornately in the vestibule. Luke acknowledged them with a nod before pushing the waiting room door open. He glanced at the big mirror. The wind had gotten the better of his hair. He returned to his seat but his clutch bag wasn’t where he’d left it. “The concierge has it.” Gavin told him. “And she’s not happy.”
“Where is she?”
“You’d best ask the receptionist.”
Sheepishly, Luke approached the reception desk. “Erm… I left my bag in the waiting room and apparently the concierge has it.” he timidly explained.
“I told you to keep it with you.” the receptionist stated.
“Yes but… I can’t carry the guests’ bags if I’ve got that to hold too.”
“The other boys manage.” she stated before inviting him behind the reception desk. I say ‘invited’. It was more of an order. “The concierge is in the office.” he’s told.
