I couldn't believe my luck when I was received notice that I would be sent to New Orleans to set up the network and workstations for a newly renovated hotel that was set to open in a month... I would be housed there for three weeks, as their guest, and would get the chance to finally work on a project by myself! Until now, I had always been part of a team and, truthfully, I never really played well with others. I've always been an independent, loner type. I like working at my own pace, making my own decisions and not having to negotiate with anyone. This sounded like the perfect job for a self-starter like me, and I expected to gain a lot of experience from it.
What I did NOT expect, however, was that the Hotel Merveilleux was nowhere near being fully renovated. Thanks to a couple of investors bailing out unexpectedly, they were way behind schedule and I had unwittingly walked into a building that had nothing more than running water and electricity. The elevator was non-functioning... there was no air conditioning... seven of the nine floors had no flooring or wall coverings. It was going to be a long, exhausting three-week stint.
I showed up for my first day in the best mood I could muster, dressed to the nines and ready to prove that they had hired a professional. For some reason, I thought wearing three-inch spindly heels and a skirt suit on my first day would be a brilliant way to make a great impression... it never dawned on me that I would have to traipse down block after block of sidewalk to the hotel, then a hell of a lot of walking up and down stifling hot staircases, over and over again. By the end of the day, I was drenched in sweat, my legs felt like achy noodles and my feet were so swollen I honestly thought they would split the seams of my shoes. By the time I found my hotel room (on the ninth floor... and of course the elevator isn't working yet...
fantastic)
, I was numb from exhaustion and pain, and it took my last crumb of energy to drop my luggage onto the floor and survey the room.
At this point in the day, they could have housed me in a janitor's closet with a leaky faucet and I would have happily accepted. As it were, the room was simple but comfortable. It was a two-room suite, of sorts... a small sitting area with a blue-gray overstuffed couch and chair hovering around a flat screen TV on the wall. Through the doorway on the left, I could make out the bedroom area, and I guessed there was a bathroom back there as well. They hadn't bothered to decorate yet, but given the general tackiness of hotel décor, it was probably just as well. The walls were a pleasing warm peachy tone with a nondescript metallic gold inlaid design, and the floors were freshly carpeted in light shaggy cream. I was hesitant to be the first to ruin their new carpet, so instead I plopped down on the floor and gently peeled off my shoes.
It was such a relief to finally get off my feet that I didn't even bother to close the door behind me... I found myself leaning against the wall, rubbing my sore calves and feeling like a limp rag doll. I could feel my eyelids growing heavy and weary and was considering taking a nap right there on the floor when I heard footsteps approaching the open door. Before I could open my eyes and manage to lift myself off the floor, I heard a man's voice with a light but distinct southern Louisiana accent.
"You must be our new IT person!"
I looked up to see a devilish, crooked grin and a pair of heavy-lidded green-gray eyes gazing down at me. He was dressed in sharply pressed gray dress slacks, a matching gray buttoned vest and a long sleeved white shirt, gaping open at the collar, wide enough for a little bit of dark chest hair to peek out. Even from my awkward angle, I could tell he was a little shorter than me, and his body was well-proportioned... my eyes were drawn to his firm shoulders, and then to his dark brown hair slicked neatly back. He had this effortless, boyish charm that always gets under my skin, and as soon as I realized this, I knew he was going to be nothing but trouble for me. I didn't even know who he was, and yet the dawning realization of my downfall washed over me. And I've always had a thing for short guys.
This is the last thing I need right now...
After staring up at him like an idiot for an indeterminable amount of time, I finally noticed that he had a gift basket in his hands. I stumbled to my feet, and before I could respond he stepped over the threshold and extended a hand to me. "I'm Jackson, the lead concierge. I'd like to welcome you to the Hotel Merveilleux." He grasped my right hand tenderly, still gazing at me... I probably looked like a walking disaster, barefoot and sweaty. "Um.. thanks... sorry about how I look...", I mumbled as I found myself staring at the gift basket. It was a cheesy arrangement of wrapped candy, a local magazine, some pens and other gimmicky stuff. I spied a bottle of wine in there and figured right now was the perfect time to try it. Jackson saw me looking at the basket and gingerly set it down on the nearest table as if it were an unstable grenade. It was obvious that he was embarrassed by the quality of it. "There's no need to apologize. As you've already noticed, we're nowhere near fully functioning yet. We did manage to finally get the air conditioning running this morning, but it will take a few days for the upper floors to cool off...", his voice trailed off in embarrassment as he shrugged his shoulders.
He might have said some other things about the hotel, but frankly, I wasn't paying much attention. It was taking all of my willpower to not gaze at his face and that open collar... I realized that he was also feeling the effect of the heat and was sweating like crazy.
Stop this shit right now... this is your first day on the job... you don't need to be drooling over the hotel staff!
I silently chided myself as I tore open the gift basket and unscrewed the lid off the cheap wine. There was a couple of plastic glasses in there as well, and I poured myself a liberal amount as he chattered away about the current restoration efforts. I was still feeling woozy and exhausted from the long day, and leaned against the couch as he talked. At some point during an awkward pause, I heard my voice pipe up.
"So... um... what exactly does a concierge do?"
His back was turned to me, and I could see his fingers were now fidgeting with the torn wrapping on the gift basket. He acted as though he didn't hear me at first, but after a few seconds he turned around and stared right through me with those heavy-lidded greenish gray eyes and that crooked smile again.
"A concierge makes sure his guests are
always
happy."
Maybe it was the wine... maybe it was the heat or the exhaustion... but there was something about the way he said that. It settled deep within me and seriously impure thoughts began flashing through my brain. I could feel a flush of embarrassment creeping up my neck and across my face and before I could catch myself I took another gulp of wine and heard myself ask, "So you'll do
anything
to make me happy?".
Oh, goddamnit you idiot, he's going to take that the wrong way!!
Jackson didn't seem to notice... he gave off this air of class and professionalism that would lead him to brush off comments like that At least, that's what I wanted to believe. He smiled sweetly and sauntered slowly towards me, until he was just a couple of feet from me. I could smell a faint whiff of his cologne... rich, spicy, engaging. It was all I could do to keep from leaning closer to him, but stopped short when I realized his eyes were still locked on me. I guess I was kind of nervous and embarrassed at this point because I felt myself avoiding his gaze, instead staring at his hands as he adjusted his cufflinks.
"It depends on the guest... admittedly, some guests get better treatment than others.", he said in a low, soft voice. He paused, and after a few seconds I looked up to see that he wasn't staring at me anymore. Now he was sizing me up, maybe trying to figure out if I'm a generous tipper... it wouldn't be worth his time to treat someone like a VIP if they wouldn't tip like one, would it? Before I could ask him what he was looking at, he spoke up again. "Since you'll be working for us and staying here for the next three weeks, I can guarantee you will be well taken care of.". His voice trailed off to a near whisper as he leaned in a little closer to make eye contact with me, still toying with his cufflinks. It was then that I realized I was holding my breath. I always did that when I was nervous or tense, and I had to deliberately force myself to relax and breathe as I felt the flush in my face and neck turn feverish. There was something about his smile, the smell of him, and his husky voice... I could feel the moist, dewy heat building up between my legs and defensively crossed my legs as if to hide it from his knowing eyes.
