Foreshadowing:
It's late Fall; and you've arrived in Stowe, VT. You're staying at a nice upscale hotel, in a room rented by the Manager of the nearby airport. This by the way, is my part-time job.
*NOTE: Thank you, Sir L. Sagramore, for your invaluable assistance!
*Now ~ to the story*
"Good Morning, Mr. Symthe-Granger. This is Vicki from the Front Desk? You asked that an 07:40 wake-up call be given?
"We have a very nice, complimentary Continental Breakfast being offered, would you like one sent up? Good! What would you like?
"Hmmm," Vicki said somewhat thoughtfully, "I'm not sure we have that on the menu, but I'll do my best to find out; and if we do, I'll send it along to you. Ok? All right then, let me get that order of yours started." Smiling, I ring off the connection and dial the extention of Room Service.
After placing your order, I ready the desk for the next shift and prepare to leave for the day as I am the Night Shift Desk Manager. About five minutes later your tray arrives, as does my shift relief.
"Good morning Neil, and thank you for bringing this to the desk. I'll take it from here."
I smile at the young man who brought the tray. After a friendly greeting, Neil inclines his head in my direction, turns quietly around, and heads back to the Dining Room area and the kitchen beyond. I then turn back to finish up the desk and greet Kris, my shift relief.
"Good morning, Kris. You're looking sharp this morning," I say, smiling and straightening her tie.
"Good morning to you too, Vicki." Nodding in the direction of the tray, "Yours," she continues questioningly.
"Sort of," I reply, and smile at her quizzical expression. Having gained the other side of the front desk, I quickly take the tray, and with a small wave to Kris, I head for the elevator bank and press the UP button.
As the doors glide open quietly, I note that there are NO passengers; only a RS trolley that someone left, so I step inside and wait for the doors to close behind me.
Putting your tray down on the trolley, with slightly shaking hands, I press 8, and let my breath go on a quiet sigh. I realize I'm nervous; mainly because I've never done anything like this either for, or with, another hotel patron.
As the elevator glides upward, I quickly raise the skirt of my uniform and remove my black lace panties. Then, lifting the cover from one of the dishes, I place them on the empty plate beneath and replace the cover.
The elevator doors open soundlessly. I pick up your tray, and step out onto your floor. Feeling deliciously wanton and wicked, I turn to my left and head down the hall to Room 800 - last door on my right. Steadying the tray on one hand, I knock with the other.
"Room Service," I call out.
The door whisks open, and you stand aside to usher me in, slip the Do Not Disturb sign on the outside of the knob, quickly close it, and slip on the chain, as I place your tray on the table, which also serves as a desk.
"Good Morning again, Mr. Smythe-Granger. I trust you rested well."
"Good Morning yourself, Miss Phillips. Mmm, something smells devine. What's under all these covers, dear?"
At your eager glance from me to the tray, I continue, saying, "If you'll look under the medium-size cover there, you'll see I was able to find that specialty item you requested. It was not on the menu as I had suspected."
You look at me in some surprize, as you say, "You were able to find what I asked for?" A devilish glint appears in the corner of your eye as you lift the medium cover and give a whoop of jubilation.
I have busied myself with placing your breakfast onto the table by the window and sliding the heavy drapes open, leaving only the liners closed, as the room is filled with soft sunlight and a gentle breeze flutters the liners.
You have crossed the room and have come to stop and stand almost directly behind me. You take the last few steps and reach to pull me back against you, and press my back against your chest, quickly slipping your hands inside the blazer of my uniform.
"Mmmm, how can I ever thank you for the special item you found?" You ask me this as your hand finds my breast.
Cupping first one breast, then the other, your palm is branded by each of my erect and hardened nipples. You press your arousal deeper into me through the material of my skirt. One hand slides down to the hem of my skirt and you raise it slowly, as your fingers glide upward feeling the texture of my nylons under them. It's an erotic feeling; one you savor.
Your hand stops when it reaches the top of my thigh-high nylons; feeling the cool skin of my thigh. You then inch your fingers toward the "v" between my thighs and soon feel warmth and wetness.
Pressing your fingers into my thigh, and with the slightest of pressure, you signal me to open them and allow you further access.
I oblige and do as you request. As you hear the rustle of the skirt lining against the top of my nylons, you continue your move inward, and are further rewarded as you feel a slight slickness to my thighs as you inch ever closer to your goal.
