I hesitated outside the door of room 205. It was only my second week working in housekeeping at the hotel, but I already had a sense of which guests would cause trouble. And the man in room 205 was definitely going to cause trouble.
I doubled up my shift yesterday and worked the front desk for an evening. We were short staffed and I could use the extra cash, so I took the extra shifts whenever I could. Which is how I got the distinct displeasure of meeting Mr. Flaherty, an old man with a wandering eye and wandering hands. He was the kind of old man the hunches over a little. Gravity was doing everything in its power to bring him six feet under, but the bastard was just too stubborn to go.
But no amount of "bad feeling" was going to get me out of cleaning his room, and losing my job was unthinkable.
I knocked on the door. "Housekeeping!" I called. I turned my ear to the door, desperately hoping for a moment to hear something like, "Come back later!" or "Nevermind!" but there was only silence. I held my breath. Maybe he wasn't in. Wouldn't that be nice?
I scanned my master key, and the door clicked open. "Housekeeping," I said again as I propped the door open. I looked around the room, but I didn't see Mr. Flaherty. I let out the breath I was holding. This was going to be easier than I thought.
I moved quickly through the room, stripping the bedsheets and picking a few napkins and receipts off the ground. I liked to multitask while I worked, so I could get the room cleaned faster. Especially rooms like this one.
When I bent over to pick up another piece of trash, I felt a cool hand press against my ass. I yelped and jumped away, nearly falling over in the process.
Mr. Flaherty grinned, showing off a smile that was missing a couple teeth. "Hey there darlin, it sure is good to see you again."
I backed up. "I can come back later if you're busy," i said, edging towards the door. "I thought the room was empty."
"Oh, it was," he said. "I just stepped out to the vending machines. But don't let me keep you from your work."
I hesitated. I didn't have a valid reason to leave, and if he complained about me to the front desk, management might let me go. Being short staffed didn't stop them from ruling with an iron fist; whatever workers remained would just have to work that much harder until they replaced me.
I swallowed. "I'll need to grab new sheets of the cart," I said. I spoke slowly, like I was trying not to spook a wild animal that might attack me at any moment.
His grin didn't change. "Go ahead then," he said pleasantly. "Don't let me stop you."
My heart was racing. I wanted to bolt as soon as I left the room; freedom was right there! But one of the beds was already stripped, there was no way I could leave it in that state.
I gathered up a fresh set of sheets and carried it in with me. Mr. Flaherty was seated on the second bed, his eyes following me as I crossed the room.
I hooked the first corner of the fitted sheet onto the mattress, then stretched across the bed to reach the second one. I don't know why I did that--it was dumb, I never try and put the sheets on like that, but I could only attribute it to panic. Like I thought it might go just a little faster than what I normally do.
But it didn't work, and my fingertips fell just short of the edge of the bed, unable to carry the other corner across the edge of the mattress.
