Barnsley – Fourth Visit

Page

It was my last evenig at Barsley before I returned home. Todays meeting had taken a long time so everyone just went about their own business. That left me with an unexpected free evening at the hotel. While I could have gonne for another trip to the wellness, I didn’t feel much for it since I was getting a serious headache on top of some unfinished business I needed to wrap up at my laptop. In other words: boring.
It’s one of those things that also come with the job, that you sometimes will spend your time in your hotel room running emails and following up on various affairs going on in the company. It was one of those evenings, and those evenings always pair up with ordering some roomservice to maximise my time.

I took the menu and browsed to the page where I found all the snacks that could be served to my room. A classic burger would do it. But when I picked up the phone at my room there was strangely enough to dial tone.
“Nothing, that’s odd.” I thought and reached for the instructions located nearby to make sure I got it all in the right order. Still nothing, and even the speeddial buttons for reception didn’t function either. Instead all I got was an unusual tone. After trying it a couple of times I realized I was wasting more time than doing a quick run downstairs and order it at the bar itself. So that’s what I did and not without passing by the front desk to give them a heads up that their technician might wanna check up on that phone.

Next stop was the bar itself. There was a single young woman behind it running what seemed an endlessly long list of orders. I patiently waited till she would be done and at some point she signaled me that she would be there soon, as soon as the long list had been taken care of. It still took a long while and at some point one of the bar guest leaned in to me: “sorry mate, I’m ordering for the whole crew here.”

I shrugged and told him politely that was okay, while in the meantime my eyes couldn’t help but notice the young woman behind the bar was actually super cute. A blond girl, not too thin, not too chubby either, pretty nice skin as well and very beautiful eyes. There was something about her that told me she was the type of girl that would usually go under the radar but could be a true gem once you’ve discovered her secrets.
“Alright, sorry about the long wait,” she said as she had finished the order of the other folks at the bar. I smiled because of the way she said that, there was a hint of exhaustion in her voice.
“How are you holding up?” I asked. The young woman looked surprised as my question. “Holding barely,” she said with a big sigh and it felt almost as she was relieved she could say that to someone.
“That busy, ey?” I asked with sympathy, “like crazy,” she replied while rolling in her eyes and looking at that the group of people the one guest had referred to as ‘the crew’.
“Sorry to hear that,” I said, “are you doing it all on your own then?”
“Yeah, hardly time to get a breather… so can I get you anything?”
“Well, I actually came down here to ask if I could order some food to have at my room. I hope that would not be too much a bother.”
“No, that’s fine. It might take a while though.”
“How much is a while?”
“Like 30 minutes or so?”
“Okay, no problem, but I won’t wait around though. Would you mind to have it delivered?”
“Sure, whats your room number?”
With that I gave her my room number and walked back up.

Thirty minutes had passed and I still hadn’t received my order. Additionally my headache had gotten worse so I decided to call it quits on the work that was waiting for me. Now something started to get brewing in my mind, very unexpectedly, but unavoidably since I was taking a look through my window and I was reminded that my room window was still open—not that I ever close it. But the sun had gone down and with my lights on I knew that anyone could see me who passed through hallway with its stairs leading up and down. I wanted to start stripping down as I had done before, yet it had not lead to any success because of the few amount of visitors in the hotel that week, timing and probably most guest taking the elevator. This strip down would be different though, because I was still expecting my classic burger to be brought up to my room at any time now.

I slowly began to undress in front of the window. Clothing piece by clothing piece, while carefully draping them on the chair nearby, until I was in the fully nude. I breathed in and out a couple of time while keeping my eye on the window of the hallway. No one.
A knock came at my door and a male voice announced himself as Room Service. Adrenaline shot through me and I quickly jumped in my pijama trousers while going for the door. I opened it and as soon as the servant observed my naked chest he awkwardly averted his eyes to floor as I let him in and pointed him where he could place the tray. The way he behaved appeared to be embarrassed and I found that pretty odd for one of my own gender. As he made his way out he did not take his eyes away from the floor, even when I had remarked that the coke I had ordered was missing. He apologized and assured me he would get it for me right away.

Now, right away is a relative term, which was proven back then again. That coke wasn’t coming and I had long finished my meal without any drink at all. But the time I was dining I was not only enjoying the burger but also the reaction of the man. It made me want more and I had an idea.

I took my keycard and slipped it in the side pocket of my pijama trousers and left my room wearing just that. My plan was to go down to the bar and ask where my coke was. Unfortunately I never got there because once I got down in the lobby—which I need to pass through to get to the bar—I was intercepted by the man behind the reception. He had seen me coming and I will admit that his quizzical look with the hint of amusement pleased me. He gestured me over and asked if he could help me with anything. Long story short, I explained about the missing coke and the phone not working to which he replied that it had been brought to his attention and that the coke should be on its way as we spoke.

I rushed back to my room as fast as I could. I wasn’t in my room for very long time when a knock came to the door.
“Room service,” it sounded, but this time it was the voice of a young woman.
“Coming!” I shouted as I rushed to the door, I briefly stopped and lowered my pijama by just an inch, enough to bare my hip bones and the lowest of my abs. At the same time I heard the woman try to open the door—if only room service could open your door—probably because she had miss read my words as “Come in.”

I opened the door as wide as possible. In front of it stood the cute young woman who had taken my order earlier that evening. Her fair pale skin immediately ran red as I saw her eyes dash down from my face to my chest.
“They had forgotten your coke earlier,” she stammered, “I noticed it was still standing there… so err … I thought I’d bring it myself.”
I couldn’t help but smile as well now, because it was one of those moments you realized the part where she should have handed over the coke had already passed and I just stood there listening to her. Not that I minded because this whole scene suddenly had gotten this complete Bridget Jones vs Mr Darcy vibe: filled with pleasant awkwardness.

That moment had only lasted a minute or so, because once she handed over that coke all purpose to both parties to keep standing there had vaporized. Still red on the cheeks the girl went about her business again after which I closed the door. I savoured the idea of the encounter for quite some time that evening and it made me curious if it would have been mutual.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s