Room Service

Content Advisory: male/female sex.




No-one ever sees her when she is in a uniform. She’s just another nameless, faceless lackey; a minion to turn down beds, change towels or polish mirrors. Not someone anyone notices or cares about. It should piss her off, but at times it has its benefits.

She is in the suite of a celebrity. A pop star of marginal ability, but one with a savvy PR team and a talent for sexcapades that keep her constantly in the tabloids. Izzy Devine has achieved stratospheric fame, despite the mediocrity of her talent. The hotel suite is a set of rooms dripping in decadence for the depravity of a diva.

A sharp rap at the door draws her attention. The maid checks her reflection in the mirror and idly smoothes down her dark bobbed hair as she crosses the room.

She swings the door open to the eager smile of a hotel porter holding a large parcel. His grin falters slightly when he sees her standing there, but, with an eager intake of breath, he announces;

“Delivery for Miss Izzy.” His hazel eyes flit over her head and into the room, trying to catch a glimpse of the celebrity hell raiser.

“Izzy and her entourage just left for a sound check. She said a parcel might arrive and it was to go there.” The maid waves a hand at large table behind her already laden with designer label shopping bags, a vase of tropical flowers and a gigantic fruit basket.

The porter’s broad shoulders slump slightly, disappointed he will not get his anticipated brush with fame. He walks to the table and puts his parcel beside the mountain of shopping bags and turns to face her.

“Damn. I was really hoping to meet Izzy. Would’ve been up here sooner if security hadn’t just had a run in with some of the paparazzi staking out the hotel. It’s mayhem down in the lobby.  Those are the breaks I s’pose.” He grins at her.

She looks up at him, admiring the breadth of his shoulders. The arms extending from the short sleeves of his white shirt are tanned and defined. He looks like a college boy working the holidays for extra cash.

It irks her that the polyester hotel uniform makes her look like a nest of rats in a sack. Whereas College Boy looks delicious, even wrapped, in such nasty, ill cut fabric.

She returns his grin and leans towards him in a conspiratal manner. “No-one’s here. Do ya wanna have a quick look ‘round?”

“Serious?”

“Deadly.” Her eyes flash with mischief.

“God, yes.” His tone is almost reverential. She swings the door shut and ushers him deeper into the superstar’s inner sanctum. College Boy’s hazel eyes devour the room and its contents.

“I’m Jake,” he says. “Who are you? I don’t think I’ve seen you round before.”

“Beth,” she replies. “I usually work the graveyard shift and don’t see a lot of the day staff. Quick, come and get a load of this bedroom.”

She strides across the room, her tread muffled by the lush pile of the carpet, and  flings open the double doors leading through to the suite’s bedroom. With exaggerated arm movements, her voice changes pitch, becoming more nasal. She projects loudly into the room imitating a realtor.

“And here we have the Porn Palace for your delight and delectation. Acres and acres of carpet to shag upon, chandeliers to swing from and bed so big it has its own postal code.”  Jake’s jaw drops and he openly goggles at the utter luxury of the room in front of him.

“Holy crap. So this is how the other half lives.”

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. C’mon in here,” says Beth, her eyes twinkling as she beckons him towards the walk in wardrobe. He is by her side in an instant as they enter the Aladdin’s Cave that is Izzy’s wardrobe.

Every hanger in the closet is draped with high end fashion and couture.

“Oh my God. Is this the outfit Izzy wore to the MTV awards?” His fingers are caressing a gold sequined dress as if it is 24 carat.

“Sure is.” She catches his gaze. “I’m gonna try it on.”

“Ummm, not so sure that’s a good idea.” Jake’s gazes flits guiltily to the door and back to her again.

“No-one’s gonna be back for ages. C’mon Jake, what’s the point of a crap job like this if you can’t have a little fun sometimes?”

Before he can object again, she kicks off her slip-on shoes and unzips her hideous uniform. It falls in a graceless polyester puddle at her feet leaving her standing in nothing but a black satin thong and matching bra. She pulls the micro-dress of its hanger and yanks it over her head, shimmying it down over her hips. It fits like a glove.

“Fuck, you look amazing Beth.” Jake sounds breathy and there’s a flush creeping up his neck. Beth knows if she looks down there will be a tell-tale bulge in his polyester trousers.

“Find me a pair of her shoes, Jake - something tall and sexy.”

After some rummaging, Jake digs out a pair of gold spiked heels and goes down on one knee before Beth, waggling a shoe in his hand. They glint even in the muted light of the wardrobe.

“Give me your foot, Cinderella.”

She places her foot on his bent knee, knowing from his position directly in front of her he will be able to see under the hem of the short dress, right at her satin covered crotch. Anticipation builds low in her belly. She can feel the slight tremble in Jake’s hands as he slides her foot into the shoe. .

“Awesome, a perfect fit,” she coos, looking down at him. “Put the other one on.” The tremble in his hand is more pronounced as he slides on the other shoe. She steps away from him, puts her hand on her hip and strikes a pose.

“Whaddya think?” she asks.

“I’m think you’d give Izzy a real run for her money.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard.

She turns and leaves the wardrobe and he scrambles after her. She sashays across the carpet, the height of the heels making her legs look endless. The heat of his stare burns into her sequin encased ass as she struts across the room. There is a rush of dampness between her thighs. Role playing always makes her horny.

She reprises the nasal realtor voice as she puts her hand on the door handle to the ensuite, “And if you would care to inspect the bathroom, you will find an Olympic size jacuzzi with jets to set you all a quiver.” Her heels clack across the marble floor as she continues. “On the vanity you will find a selection of sex toys to ensure you never suffer an orgasmic emergency.” She turns her head over her shoulder and flutters her long lashes at him.

“Are you kidding about the sex toys?” His tone is disbelieving.

She steps aside allowing him a view of the vanity unit and the collection of phallic play things adorning it.

“I would never joke about sex toys my friend. Come check them out.”

“Holy Mary, Jesus and Joseph” snorts Jake, as he picks up a particularly bulbous looking black dildo and wiggles it at her incredulously.

“And all the Saints and their dogs too, I’m thinking,” sniggers Beth as she selects a very realistic looking flesh colored phallus. She strokes the fake cock down her cheek and snakes out her tongue in her best imitation of a gagging-for-it porn star. Making sure his gaze is locked on her, she moistens her lips and parts them, allowing the head of the dildo into her mouth. Jake stares at her, utterly hypnotized. The dildo pops out from between her lips and she drags it down over her chin, down her neck to the valley between her breasts. Her nipples rasp against the rough backing of the sequined dress. She flicks the switch at the base of the dildo and a faint hum echoes around the marble room. Jake is like granite, frozen, watching her every move.

“I’m so horny, Jake. Do you mind if I use this?” She strokes the dildo with her forefinger. Jake’s head slowly moves from side to side.

“Hell no,” he whispers above the buzz of the toy.

She sits up on the vanity, leaning back against the mirror, letting her legs splay apart. She pulls her thong to the side and his eyes flare as he clocks the swollen lips of her sex, already dripping with her juices. She is too far gone to tease him much and she runs the toy around her clit, jumping from its electric thrill. Without preamble, she moves the humming dildo to her moist, pink opening and thrusts it deep inside herself. Her eyelids dip slightly and she moans at the sensation of the pulsing phallus, within her clenching sheath. She plunges it in again. Jake’s breath labors as he watches her sexy little show. He unzips his fly and pulls out his turgid cock, stroking it. It is flushed dark with blood and he works it with a firm fist.

She slips the dildo from her pussy and flips herself over, draping her torso over the vanity, and pushes her ass up and out at him.

“Fuck me now, Jake. Right now. Hard and fast.”

Jake moves straight in, pulls her thong to the side and without finesse buries himself to the hilt in her scalding pussy. Beth whimpers and pushes herself back, grinding hard. Jake emits a low groan. She can hear the wet sounds of their coupling as he pulls back and then slams into her again.

‘Oh God yes, exactly like that, don’t stop,” she cries. And he plunges into her, again and again. Their flesh slapping. His crotch bashing against her quivering ass, over and over. Each stroke lifting her high on her toes, pushing her inch by inch towards release. A raw animalistic fuck. The room echoes with the sounds of their rutting. Her nostrils are filled with the stench of their arousal. It is primitive sex without flair or elegance; clumsy and without refinement.

Jake pounds and pounds, his face reflected in the mirror is screwed up; a tortured mask of pleasure and pain. He is grunting with every heave of his hips. A bead of sweat snakes its way down the side of his face and drops onto her trembling ass cheek. She slides her hand down to the junction of her thighs, seeking out her clit, to add the friction she knows will push her over the top. Her manicured finger finds the swollen nub within her slick folds and she rubs frantically, without mercy. The walls of her pussy clamp hard against Jake’s cock, as she throws her head back and howls at the ceiling with the sheer force of her orgasm. Jake cannot hold out against her pulsing sheath and with a tormented groan of his own he climaxes, pinning Beth’s ass tight against him as he twitches, moans and shoots his load deep within her channel. The two of them slump. Beth against the cool marble of the vanity and Jake against the raised circular discs of Beth’s sequined dress. There is nothing left but the thumping of blood in their ears and the gasps of air rushing into their lungs as they struggle for breath.

Suddenly there is a muffled click as the main door to the suite is opened and a female voice calls loudly,

“Izzy, are you in here?”

Jake’s head jerks up from her shoulder, his terrified gaze catches hers in the mirror.

“Oh Jesus,” he whispers, “this is not good.” His now wilting cock slips from her with a soft pop and she can feel his seed leaking from her, sliding down her thighs. His hands are tense on her hips. She can smell his fear.

“Quick, do yourself up and run,” she says taking pity on him. “I’ll take the rap for this.” He throws her a grateful look and drops a kiss on her bare shoulder as he pulls up his trousers and zippers himself. He turns and walks away, but then stops at the bathroom and smiles shyly at her.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “That was amazing.”   He leaves  the suite, his head bowed.

She wiggles the sequined dress back up over her hips, smirks at herself in the mirror and turns to sit down.

A petite, red-headed woman in a business suit sticks her head around the bathroom door. She does not look remotely surprised to find a maid wearing a superstar’s sequins lounging on the bathroom vanity.

“I take it that scared employee, streakin’ outta here hell-for-leather, was your afternoon’s entertainment?’ Without stopping for a response she carries on, “What the fuck’s with the bad wig?” Her brow is furrowed in disapproval.

“It’s hard to be incognito when you have hair as long and blond as mine, darlin’”

“Elizabeth Susan Devine, why can’t you just wear a baseball cap, sunglasses and go jogging like every other celebrity when you need a little exercise?”

“Because of all the freakin’ paparazzi outside. And because, if I have to sweat, there are things I would much rather be pounding than the pavement.”

“Smart ass. Hurry up. Time for the sound check.”

“Sure thing, just let me get tidied up.” Izzy pulls off the dark, bobbed wig, sending her trademark blond locks tumbling down her back. She returns to the wardrobe looking for jeans and a sweatshirt, when she spots the maroon of the maid’s uniform, where she had abandoned it earlier. She snorts with amusement.

“Hey Donna,” she calls, “make sure you order me another housekeeping uniform from the next place we check in to.”

As a house maid, Izzy is not someone anyone notices or cares about. It should piss her off, but at times it has its benefits.

**************

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Copyright © 2010 Greta Goddard

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.