Ha-hallway

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"The Hotel Anthology"

a series of short stories by Robin Roberts


My Hotel Room • "Furniture" • My Massage • Room Service • The Banquet Room • Room Service 2 • In The Hallway • The Laundry room • The Garage


(Also see The EMF Trust)


Incident in the "Third Floor Hallway"
by Robin Roberts


It was my second day at "The Hotel," and I was 'almost' getting used to the way they run this hotel. The guests need only to ask, and the staff would obey.

I was leaving my third-floor room, on my way to The Hotel Lobby, and as I approached the guest elevators, I passed the staff (or maybe service?) elevators. The elevator door opened, and an obviously female form almost ran into me. She was dressed(?) in a full-body, ultra-shiny, rubberized cat-suit, and a pair of high-heels with the highest heel that I think I have ever seen: they must have been nearly seven inches high. Her light brown hair flowed over her shoulders and down to the middle of her back. She was carrying what appeared to be, clean towels on a black, lacquered tray. No, it was attached to the belt around her waist, and extremely fine silver chains connected the front to her nipple rings, and then continued up to a wide, black leather collar. Also, there was no way that she could have relieved the weighty pressure of the tray on her nipple rings. Her wrists were bound side by side behind her back with her fingertips touching the base of her collar. It was as if she were praying, but her hands were behind her back.

At first, I thought I should apologize for nearly running into her. Then I remembered that as a guest; I was always right. She should apologize to me for not watching where I was going, but that would have been impossible: she was wearing what appeared to be a strap around the lower part of her face that could only be a gigantic pump gag. No, I don't think any sound, let alone an apology would have escaped the lips of this lady. Her very blue eyes went very wide. I was unable to determine if she was using her eyes as a way to beg my forgiveness, or maybe she was asking me not to report this transaction. I asked her name. (Stupid me, she was gagged.) She turned her eyes down and to the left, guiding my gaze to the nameplate on her left breast. There was no name, just a number: #305. I asked, "Your name is number 305?" in a dumbfounded query. She shook her head in the negative and pointed down the hall with her chin. I asked, "You are staying in room 305?" She shook her head up and down in a yes motion, and her eyes lit up as though she had just won a large cash prize playing "Charades" on television. "Are you a 'guest' or 'staff'?" I asked. She looked at me quizzically. There I go again, showing my stupidity. She can't answer "or" questions. "Are you a 'guest' of the hotel?"

She slowly shook her head, and she turned her head down so that her chin was nearly touching her chest and rolled her eyes up to look at me in a way that would melt an iceberg.

She stepped to my left in an attempt to continue her trip down the hall. I stepped to my left to halt her travel. "Then you are a member of 'the staff'?" brought another silent, yes answer. "Are you permanently assigned to room 305?" brought an almost imperceptible shrug of the shoulders in an "I don't know" answer. "Have you ever been assigned to another room?" brought a negative shake of her head. Again she tried to continue her travel down the hall, but I stepped in front of her again. "If I were to rent room 305, would you be assigned to me?" brought an almost coy look of approval. "Could I change that outfit you are wearing?" elicited an almost pleading look from her eyes. "If I were to modify your bondage, what would you like changed most?" She thought about it for a moment and then her face went into an almost comical look as she turned her eyes cross-eyed and down, pointing to her gag. I asked, "The gag?" She responded by nodding her head. "If I were to remove your gag, it would be for one of three reasons: to kiss you; to have you use your mouth and tongue on my body, or to replace that pump contraption with a cloth gag." She responded with her eyes that told me that she would be very pleased with any of these options and stepped forward so that her head softly touched my shoulder and moved her head up and down in an almost kitten-like manner. I stepped back and reminded she had not completed her tasks. The look on her face was one of near disappointment. She stepped to my right and proceeded up the hall toward room 305. She had taken about ten steps when she abruptly stopped, turned to face me and with her eyes never leaving my face. She bowed her head in a combination of messages: invitation and submission. She then smiled with her eyes, turned and continued on her way.

As I turned and continued toward the elevator on my way to the Lobby, I made a mental note to myself to ask the Concierge about moving me to Room 305.


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