Hotel Lamia

JENNY

The places where I’d felt the warm touch, or whatever it was, had suddenly turned cold. My fingers glided over the spot on my shoulder. The skin was freezing. How bizarre.

I tried to remember last time this had happened. It had felt so good, until I came out of the dreamy state and panicked.

I bit my lip, pondering. I’d been taken by surprise, and I didn’t know what it was, and that had startled me.

As I pulled on the clean shirt, I made up my mind. I wouldn’t let myself freak out next time—if there was a next time.

I released my dark curls from the messy bun and let them fall down over my back. I looked at myself in the mirror and applied a sheer lip gloss to my plump, but dry, lips before turning to make sure the back of my pants were still clean.

Oh! These pants makes my ass look good! I grinned to myself. I stuffed my things back in my locker and went back to the bar.

Pete was rubbing down the counter as I entered. He turned his head to me and smiled broadly. I returned his smile and started preparing garnish for the most popular cocktails.

One by one, the guests from earlier came strolling back. The rest of the night was busy but uneventful.

On the walk home, my mind wandered back to the touch, sensation, or whatever it was. Maybe I was going crazy. Maybe I had a brain tumor. Or maybe it was something else, something I don’t know about?

I chuckled at the thought. A brain tumor seemed more plausible.

Suddenly, I was home. I’d been so deep in thought I didn’t even register my surroundings until the door clicked shut behind me.

I changed into pajamas and cuddled up in front of the TV. I always had to unwind before I was able to sleep after an evening shift.

My mind drifted again. An hour passed as I tried to wrap my head around everything. I didn’t pay any attention to the TV. It was just a low buzz in the background of my galloping brain. I finally gave up and went to bed.

***

Six days passed without anything happening. I was starting to wonder if I’d made it all up.

Even though it had frightened me at first, it had also given me a strange sense of calm, something I wasn’t really used to. And I kind of missed it. I felt alone, cold, and honestly, a little sad. It was a confusing feeling, not knowing what caused all this in the first place.

The first few days I had waited, longed for it to happen again. I’d even gone as far as trying to recreate the scenarios, but it didn’t work.

I’d never even been this obsessed with anything before, so why the hell was I pining like this for something I didn’t even know what it was? I was definitely not that kind of girl.

Finally, I’d managed to push it down so I could focus on everyday life. I was trying to get a contract for a larger job position, preferably full-time, and this distraction was getting in the way.

Today was Friday, and I had the evening shift with Pete. I pulled my hair up in a tight, posh bun and studied my pale face in the mirror.

I actually felt like wearing makeup today, so I did a light smokey eye and used an old blush to enhance my high cheekbones. I applied my usual sheer lip gloss, got dressed, and headed out.

It had been quite a nice day, but now that the sun had set, the streets were cold and unwelcoming. I hugged my arms around myself as I rushed to the hotel.

When I turned the corner into the alley, I felt unsure. It seemed darker and more unsettling than normal. It was always disgusting and uninviting, but this was different. We weren’t allowed to go through the main entrance, so I didn’t really have a choice.

I ran the short distance up to the door. Just as I grabbed for the door handle, I heard glass shatter farther down the alley. It startled me, and I bolted inside.

I took a few deep breaths before I burst out laughing. A few of the kitchen helpers walked past, arching their eyebrows at me. I gathered myself before throwing my bag in my locker.

On my way to the bar I bumped into Rob. He looked a bit agitated, a little more than usual.

“Everything okay?” I asked him.

He frowned and let out a heavy sigh. “The top-floor executives are coming to the bar tonight,” he replied, eyeing me up and down, his lips slowly curling up into a smirk.

I crossed my arms over my chest.

“I’m glad you managed to make an effort today. Show them why I give you all the extra shifts. Don’t disappoint me!” he said, pursing his lips tightly.

“Yes, sir!” I replied mockingly as I walked around him.

The bar was empty, so I started preparing an overflow of garnish. I knew by experience that these posh office rats loved their fancy cocktails.

When I turned around, there was a man sat at the bar, studying me. I almost jumped out of my skin. He gave me a dashing half smile.

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t hear you come in. I didn’t mean to overlook you,” I said, smiling with my hands on my chest, trying to calm my racing heart.

His smile widened into a toothy grin. “No worries, love. I have all the time in the world,” he said, winking at me. His voice was like soft velvet. He spoke with a slight accent, so faint that I couldn’t place it.

He was breathtakingly handsome. Sharp jawline with a five-o’clock shadow and cheekbones that a lot of women would happily pay a lot of money for. Brown hair, messily styled to one side. His eyes were dark amber, almost with slight red tint in them.

How unusual, I thought to myself.

I snapped back to reality. “Would you like a drink, sir?” I asked, trying to stay professional. I was not one to ogle a guest like this, or anyone else for that matter. I felt a slight blush creep up as I realized he must have noticed.

“You wouldn’t happen to know how to make a Sazerac?” he asked, a challenge in his eyes.

I couldn’t help but smile. It was not at all a common drink around here. “I do, actually!” I replied as I grabbed a lowball glass off the back counter.

“Hmm. Really? Let’s see if you can do it right, then,” he said, chuckling.

I poured a dash of absinthe in the glass and swirled it around, coating the inside of it. He narrowed his eyes slightly. I started soaking sugar in bitters, then added two ounces of Hvenus Rye Whiskey and stirred it all with ice in a mixing glass.

I bit my lip in anticipation. I knew I was taking a risk with not going by the standard recipe, swapping the usual American whiskey for a cheaper, Swedish brand.

I grabbed the lowball glass and poured out the excess absinthe before straining the mix and adding a curly lemon peel as garnish. I slid the glass over to him and started wiping down my work space.

He cocked an eyebrow while looking at me.

I bit my lip to suppress my grin and continued rubbing down the counter.

He took the drink and lifted it to his lips, taking a sip.

“Is it to your liking, sir?” I asked politely.

A delightful rumble sounded from his throat. “Indeed, it is,” he said, taking another sip.

Just then, the executives from the top floor started strolling into the bar. The man nodded at me and walked up to the table in the corner.

People started crowding around the bar, calling out their orders. Pete and I were running around each other, mixing drinks, and pouring brandy. Talk and laughter filled the whole space, drowning out the low background music.

I glanced over the room until my eyes landed on the corner table. He was still there, alone, watching me.

I felt a flutter in the pit of my stomach. My cheeks heated up, and I turned my head to avoid his gaze.

It had been ages since I’d had a man’s attention like this, and I didn’t hate it. Normally, an interaction like this would be completely uninteresting to me. Obviously, there hadn’t exactly been flirting, but there was just something about him that was alluring.

I noticed one of the executives walking toward the bar. She had long, bright red hair and very dark brown eyes. She was wearing a short, green dress, complementing her fair skin tone. Her black stilettos made her legs go on for days.

I knew her name was Oriana. She was the corporate executive responsible for marketing activities, or CMO if you like.

I smiled at her as she approached me. “Good evening, ma’am. What can I get you?”

She smirked playfully. “A glass of the deep red, darling,” she replied sweetly.

I nodded and reached for the two-step stool hidden under the counter. Standing on it, I grabbed one of the black, label-less bottles from the top shelf. I tipped the bottle up and down a few times before slowly pouring the thick, dark red liquid into a wide, red-wine glass.

As I slid the glass carefully toward her, she gave me a toothy grin and gazed straight into my eyes.

“Gratias, cara,” she said in a teasing tone as she elegantly took the glass and turned around.

A small frown formed on my face. Even though it didn’t feel like an insult, it stirred something deep inside me that I couldn’t explain. One could tell by her accent that English was not her native language, but I’d never been able to place it.

I glanced around the room, and I noticed she was now standing next to the Sazerac guy. I discreetly watched them in the corner of my eye. She didn’t sit down, just leaned her hip against the wall as they talked.

He suddenly rose from his seat and pointed a finger at her face, looking rather agitated. I quickly turned around to throw something in the trash, and when I turned back, Oriana was walking back to the other executives.

The corner table was empty.