closet. No one was there, but someone got in, someone with time on their hands.
Not good.
"Traitor?" he rolled the word over in his mouth.
The only thing he could possibly be a traitor to was the club, and he was definitely not a traitor there. Then he thought about what Laura had said about the paparazzi, and the lengths they would go to for a story. "Shit."
He put his gun in his bag, packed up his few things, and then called downstairs asking for the manager, and the head of security to come to his room.
A few minutes later the two men were studying the red-painted word on the wall with him.
"No one has a copy of your key card?" The security man asked.
"No. I've had one guest, and this is not her style. She would just kick me."
The security man smirked with more knowing in his eye than he should have had.
"You've seen it, haven't you," Roman asked him.
The security man grimaced, and then came clean. "Yes, I've seen the Laura Turner kick on YouTube. And, yes, I know she's been here a couple of times."
"Good at your job then," Roman remarked. "Then maybe you can keep this from happening in my new room?"
The manager perked up. "New room? Yes, of course. I'll get one for you right away. I'll need the police to look at this; will you talk with them?"
"Sure, but I have a date, so let's hurry this up." Then he pulled out his phone, and called Laura.
"Yes? Roman?"
"Hey babe. Had a water leak in my room. They are switching me to a new one. I'm going to need maybe another hour? Hour and a half? To get settled in."
"Alright. It didn't get your tux did it? I'm very fond of that tux."
"No, the tux is fine. Well, as good as it can be after your brutal mistreatment of it."
"I did not mistreat it! I...complemented it...vigorously."
"Well, it’s in the same condition," he smiled.
"Could you, maybe, put on the pants, and the bow tie? Just that, for when I come over?" she asked sweetly.
"What's it worth to you?"
"Umm, what would you like?" she asked hesitantly.
"Four, like last time. Only four," he told her.
"Four? You are talking climaxes, aren't you," she breathed, and Roman could picture her biting her lip, which made things in his nether regions shift around, and take notice.
"With the tongue," he added, just to make sure she understood what he was talking about.
"Oh shit!" she gasped. "I... umm... three?"
"Four," he restated, holding his ground. If she wanted him dressed-up like a Chip-n-Dale, she could perform for him too.
"I barely survived two last night!" she squealed. "That's not fair!"
"If life were fair, you and I could live without paparazzi, and you would already be living with me, so put up or shut up, dear."
"You want to live with me? Wait a minute. Paparazzi? Are you being hassled again? There's no leak in your room is there? Roman?"
Shit, she is way too fast. "No, there's no leak. Someone got into the room. Security is here, and the police are on the way. I didn't want to worry you. It's nothing. Just a little vandalism to scare up a story I suspect."
"How little?"
"Someone graffitied the wall with paint. Some gibberish I don't understand. Maybe the police will recognize it, but I am moving rooms, and would very much like you to come over, when I find out the new room number."
"312." The manager said, hanging up his cell phone.
"Ah, 312. The manager just told me." Roman said.
"So, you lied?" she asked, and there was a slyness in her voice.
"Damn," he said. "Fine, three."
"Two," she shot back right away, "and I'll dance for you."
"Dance, huh? Done," he smiled. "You could have gotten down to just one with the dance thrown in. I didn't know that could be on the table."
"Shit!" she exclaimed.
Roman nearly laughed but didn't want to rub it in. "Done deal, baby. See you in an hour?"
"Two. I'm going to finish this script, so
Not good.
"Traitor?" he rolled the word over in his mouth.
The only thing he could possibly be a traitor to was the club, and he was definitely not a traitor there. Then he thought about what Laura had said about the paparazzi, and the lengths they would go to for a story. "Shit."
He put his gun in his bag, packed up his few things, and then called downstairs asking for the manager, and the head of security to come to his room.
A few minutes later the two men were studying the red-painted word on the wall with him.
"No one has a copy of your key card?" The security man asked.
"No. I've had one guest, and this is not her style. She would just kick me."
The security man smirked with more knowing in his eye than he should have had.
"You've seen it, haven't you," Roman asked him.
The security man grimaced, and then came clean. "Yes, I've seen the Laura Turner kick on YouTube. And, yes, I know she's been here a couple of times."
"Good at your job then," Roman remarked. "Then maybe you can keep this from happening in my new room?"
The manager perked up. "New room? Yes, of course. I'll get one for you right away. I'll need the police to look at this; will you talk with them?"
"Sure, but I have a date, so let's hurry this up." Then he pulled out his phone, and called Laura.
"Yes? Roman?"
"Hey babe. Had a water leak in my room. They are switching me to a new one. I'm going to need maybe another hour? Hour and a half? To get settled in."
"Alright. It didn't get your tux did it? I'm very fond of that tux."
"No, the tux is fine. Well, as good as it can be after your brutal mistreatment of it."
"I did not mistreat it! I...complemented it...vigorously."
"Well, it’s in the same condition," he smiled.
"Could you, maybe, put on the pants, and the bow tie? Just that, for when I come over?" she asked sweetly.
"What's it worth to you?"
"Umm, what would you like?" she asked hesitantly.
"Four, like last time. Only four," he told her.
"Four? You are talking climaxes, aren't you," she breathed, and Roman could picture her biting her lip, which made things in his nether regions shift around, and take notice.
"With the tongue," he added, just to make sure she understood what he was talking about.
"Oh shit!" she gasped. "I... umm... three?"
"Four," he restated, holding his ground. If she wanted him dressed-up like a Chip-n-Dale, she could perform for him too.
"I barely survived two last night!" she squealed. "That's not fair!"
"If life were fair, you and I could live without paparazzi, and you would already be living with me, so put up or shut up, dear."
"You want to live with me? Wait a minute. Paparazzi? Are you being hassled again? There's no leak in your room is there? Roman?"
Shit, she is way too fast. "No, there's no leak. Someone got into the room. Security is here, and the police are on the way. I didn't want to worry you. It's nothing. Just a little vandalism to scare up a story I suspect."
"How little?"
"Someone graffitied the wall with paint. Some gibberish I don't understand. Maybe the police will recognize it, but I am moving rooms, and would very much like you to come over, when I find out the new room number."
"312." The manager said, hanging up his cell phone.
"Ah, 312. The manager just told me." Roman said.
"So, you lied?" she asked, and there was a slyness in her voice.
"Damn," he said. "Fine, three."
"Two," she shot back right away, "and I'll dance for you."
"Dance, huh? Done," he smiled. "You could have gotten down to just one with the dance thrown in. I didn't know that could be on the table."
"Shit!" she exclaimed.
Roman nearly laughed but didn't want to rub it in. "Done deal, baby. See you in an hour?"
"Two. I'm going to finish this script, so
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