PARTICULAR WOMAN, PARTICULAR PREDICAMENT
By Tcheser
The hotel elevator opened to divulge the harried manager, Mr. Withers, two of the security guards and a nearly naked girl which they held firmly between them. Working at the check in desk, I had no idea what the commotion was and couldn’t help but watch with rapt attention as they half dragged half led the girl straight up to my desk.
From her angry red face and the way the guards warily held her, it appeared that the girl had been caught doing something naughty, and judging by the angry red scratches on both the guards faces, she had put up quite a struggle, not that she stood much chance against the two burly security guards. The girl looked to be about 12 or 13 years old, maybe a fraction over five feet tall and skinny as a rail. She couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds sopping wet. Her only clothing was a pale pink t-shirt with frolicking kittens on it which I recognized was from the gift shop. It must have been an extra small because it barely covered her privates and was tight enough for me to see every detail of her mosquito bite like breasts. Her tiny nipples looked hard.
“Mr. Fields,” the manager addressed me as he mopped his brow, “This girl was caught wandering the 8th floor hallway, completely nude, she claims to be the lady who checked into 802 yesterday afternoon. If I recall correctly you were working that shift and most likely checked her in. Do you recognize her?”
I nearly laughed at the very idea, but kept my cool. There was no way however that this short little barefoot girl, with the messy brown pixie haircut, muddy brown eyes, skinny flat-chested body and baby face was the haughty lady I checked into that room. No I remembered that particular lady quite well. She was just a couple inches below my height, had long flowing blonde hair, large shapely breasts, had her makeup done impeccably and wore the finest designer clothes and jewelry money could buy. She also had the most remarkably blue eyes I had ever seen. I didn’t know who this mousy haired little barefoot scamp in the too small pink t-shirt was, but I was certain she wasn’t the lady I had checked into room 802.
