Hotel Room Service

Hotel Room Service

By Corey R. White





Eight o’clock in the morning? Shit, I’m going to be late again, I thought as I jumped out of bed and sprinted towards the bathroom. This was the second time this week that I was late for work. My boss is going to have my ass if she sees me walking in almost an hour late. I’m almost sure that the platinum “Dakota LeBlanc” nameplate will not be on my door when I arrived. I turned on the radio to Q-93.3 and jumped into the shower. As I was in the shower, my cell phone vibrated on the bathroom sink. It must be Kendria, my boss, wondering why I am not in my office. I ignored the cell phone as I resumed my grooming ritual. I was humming to “Juicy” by Biggie Smalls when I looked down at my phone. It was Khalid Dobson, the brother that I met at the Club Vibe and hooked up with four months ago. He must be in town for one of his wrestling house shows. I’d already heard that the American Wrestling Council was going to do a couple of shows in New Orleans, but I wasn’t sure if Khalid was on the card. Either way, I couldn’t care less at the moment because I had to head to work and sneak into the office unnoticed.

As I sat idle in traffic on Interstate 10 eastbound heading towards Downtown New Orleans, I thought about the last time Khalid and I had sex at my place. I was naïve to think that he would be the one for me. I remembered when I woke up from the sexual slumber that Khalid put me in, I found him on the foot of the bed on his cell phone quietly arguing with what sounded like a female voice on the other end. “Baby, I left my phone in the car. I promise I’ll call you when I land in Houston,” he assured the voice. When he felt my movement in the bed, he wrapped up his phone call and hung up. He then told me that it was one of the road agents at the Lakefront Arena looking for him for role call. I rolled my eyes as he went into the bathroom to change his clothes. He came out of the bathroom and I walked him to the door. He laid a damn good kiss on my lips and told me, “I’ll call you when I land in Houston,” just like he told his female voice ten minutes ago. “Fine,” I responded nonchalantly as he left my apartment. He never called me up until this morning. As I came back to reality, I missed two cell phone calls. The first call was from my mother checking up on her favorite son as usual. I’ll definitely give her a call back when I get to the office. The second call was from Kendria, who has probably found out that I’m not in my office by now. I finally got off the interstate at the Canal Street exit and head towards the New Orleans Marriott Hotel. I’ve only been employed at the New Orleans Marriott for six months since I graduated from The University of New Orleans across town. I parked in the parking garage that was connected to the hotel and got on the elevator to the lobby.

I walked through the lobby towards the Front Desk. I entered the administrative offices that were located just behind the Front Desk. I gave a quick nod to Chauncey, the office receptionist. “Dakota, Kendria is on the warpath looking for you,” Chauncey informed. When I asked him why Kendria was looking for me, he shrugged his shoulders in confusion. Then Chauncey told me, “She’s waiting for you in your office.” After he told me where Kendria was, he came from around his desk to make copies. As he was walking towards the copier, I caught a glimpse of the imprint his penis was making in his khaki pants. I stood there for just a moment to see if he noticed me staring at his bulge, but he just went on to make his copies.

I walked down the narrow corridor to my office. I walked into my office only to find Kendria sitting in one of the two chairs facing my desk. I can already tell that she was having one of her PMS days. When Kendria has one of those days, nobody in the office or the front desk was spared her wrath. I told Kendria good morning and apologized for my tardiness, only for her to growl, “Next time you decide that you’re going to be late, can you give a sista a little notice?” My assumption was right. Kendria was in no good mood. In a way, I knew that my tardiness wasn’t the primary reason she was pissed off. She’s been in this mood ever since the divorce from her now ex-husband and the demotion from her previous position of Assistant General Manager to Sales Coordinator. I sat at my desk and Kendria handed me the sales document for a group that I scheduled to stay at the hotel. Her demeanor lightened up a bit and she sat back in her seat. “I’d like to congratulate you on booking the American Wrestling Council to stay here for the New Orleans leg of their tour last week,” Kendria applauded. I shot one of my fake, megawatt smiles at Kendria and said, “Thank you.” As she got up to leave, she snapped, “Now all we have to do is work on work on your crappy attendance and we will be okay,” and walked out of my office. I didn’t even have the time defend myself against her. Despite Kendria’s meeting me in my office to throw hate my way, I went about the rest of my day checking my messages on my office voicemail, answering emails regarding future functions at the hotels, and calling back potential clients.

I couldn’t help but wonder about whom Kendria mentioned I had booked the hotel stay for. I only talked with Richard, the promoter, only one time to discuss hotel accommodations. I had no idea he was the promoter of the very same company that Khalid wrestled for, nor did he mention it. I started to wonder why, of all the hotels in Downtown New Orleans, Richard would call to the very hotel I worked at to book accommodations for his wrestlers. He didn’t even check out other hotels in and around New Orleans. I remember last week when he called the hotel and asked for me personally. I talked to him about the amenities and rates and faxed the final figures to his office in Dallas. Not even ten minutes later, I received a fax from Richard. It was the final figures and confirmation with his signature on it saying that the reservations were official. I figured that Khalid had something to do with all this, since he knew where I worked. I couldn’t be upset though because since I booked the group, I would be receiving the 25 percent commission.

As I was on the phone with a potential client, there was a knock on my door. I looked up and it was Chauncey with the list of the wrestlers that were staying at the hotel for the house show. I hung up with the client and invited him in. As I thanked Chauncey for the document, he also handed me a cup of coffee for me. “Thank you, this is just what I needed,” I told Chauncey. I offered Chauncey a seat in my office while we sipped our cups of coffee together. “So are you going to the AWC Supershow at the Lakefront Arena?” Chauncey asked. He knew that I was a huge wrestling fan. “I didn’t really have plans to go,” I responded. “I have two tickets and I was thinking maybe you would like to go with me,” Chauncey asked as he sipped his coffee. “I’ll have to get back to you on that one, okay?” I said. “Well, just in case you want to go, here’s my number. Give me a call to let me know wassup,” Chauncey said. He passed me a piece of paper with his name number on it with a smirk on his face that told me that this wasn’t just an outing with a friend. “I’ll do that Chauncey, thanks.” I confirmed to Chauncey as he left out of the office to go back to his desk.



I glanced at the list of wrestlers who were staying at the hotel and found Khalid’s name on the list along with the room he was staying in. The group hadn’t arrived yet, which gave me enough time to pick up my paycheck and leave for the rest of the day. Just when I picked up my check from Chauncey and was about to walk out of the office for the day, Kendria comes out of her office to get in one more crack about my attendance. “Dakota, can we try to be on time Monday morning?” “I’ll try, just for you,” I sarcastically shot back at her with my normal fake smile designated just for her. Damn I can’t stand that hatin’ ass bitch, I thought as I got in my 2007 Chevy Malibu so I can make my way through the dreaded Atlanta traffic back to the suburb of Kenner.

Friday evening was a quiet affair. All I did was check my email messages and lay on the couch eating popcorn and watching episodes of Cheaters that were saved on my DVR. I gave consideration to the offer Chauncey gave me to attend the supershow with him. It would be nice to see Khalid again. He was quite a sight to see with his caramel complexion, six-foot even frame, fresh cornrows, chiseled body, and a smile that can slay anyone, man or woman. I was always attracted to the rough, thuggish-type guys. I called Chauncey and left a message on his voicemail that I would accompany him to the supershow the next night. As I was hanging up on the voicemail, another call was coming through. It was Khalid. I answered his call:

“Hello?”

“Hey wassup Dakota, it’s Khalid.”

“Hey there Thug Paradise.”

“Did you really have to use my ring name?” Khalid shot back at me.

“I figured that since you were in town for the house show, it would be more than appropriate,” I explained jokingly.

“I guess. Do you know what else would be appropriate?”

“I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure you’re going to tell me,” I answered.

Khalid then suggested, “Me and you finishing where we left off four months ago.”

Right then and there, my nature started to rise. The thought of Khalid and I fucking again burned deeply in my mind. “That can be arranged,” I responded in a business-like manner.

“Great, can you come to my hotel room? I didn’t get a rental car this time around,” Khalid explained to me.

“You do realize that I work at the same hotel that you stay at. Or did you simply forget that fact?” I jokingly asked. Khalid laughed off the question.

“Isn’t there a back entrance that takes you straight to the elevators?” Khalid asked. I almost forgot that I had access to the west entrance that faced Carondelet Street. “Yeah, there is one. So when should I come and see you?” I asked.

“I’m ready to see that beautiful apple bottom of yours right now,” Khalid responded with a hunger that I never heard in a man before. It just about turned me on. I gave in to him almost immediately. “I can be there in about 20 minutes.”

“I will be waiting for you. I’m in room 1518.”

“I know that. I booked your group, remember?” I questioned.

“Yeah, how soon do we forget,” Khalid responded as he was laughing.

“Well, see you in twenty,” I informed Khalid as I was hanging up the phone with him. I threw the phone down on the couch and went to the bathroom. I turned on the radio and turned it to 98.5 WYLD. Michael Baisden’s show was on and in full effect. My mind, however, was not on the topic of the day on his show. My mind was on Khalid’s eleven inches of dick with the curve in it. I showered quickly, got out of the shower, and put on a pair of track pants from the O. Perry Walker High School days when I ran track for them. I slipped on one of my athletic t-shirts that showed off the nice, flat stomach that was the result of the minor dieting that I was doing. I put on a pair of flip-flops and my sunglasses so I wasn’t recognizable. I got in the car and hauled ass though Jefferson Parish into the City of New Orleans.



I parked on Carondelet Street, close to the hotel. I walked through the double doors on the side of the hotel. I jumped into the elevator right when it was about to close. I asked the guest closest to the elevator buttons to press for the 15th floor. My heart started to race just thinking of Khalid and how close I was to that gorgeous man. As the guest got off on the eleventh floor, I grew more and more anxious. The elevator arrived on the fifteenth floor and I walked down the hall to Khalid’s room. The door opened immediately and it was Mr. Thug Paradise in all his glory. He shot that killer smile at me, and that was just the hello that I needed. “I missed you, boo”, he whispered in my ear. “I missed you too,” I whispered back. He softly took my hand and pulled me into his room. I closed the door behind me. Khalid pinned me to the wall as if I was one of his opponents in the ring and laid one of his sweet, passionate, tongue-lashing kisses on me. Our wet tongues greeted each other warmly. Then, out of nowhere, Khalid lifts my five-foot-seven, one hundred-seventy two pound body into his cannon-like arms. We kept kissing passionately, expressing to each other how much we missed each other. He carried me to the king-sized bed and laid me down slowly and gently. I slipped my flip-flops off. He pulled my track pants off and threw them to the floor. He was in awe of my thick, juicy thighs and round, bubble ass to match. He laid his head in between my thighs and started to lick the spot where he knew I was the most sensitive. I moaned and groaned in utter ecstasy. I laid my hands on his cornrows to keep urging him to lick the sweet spot of my ass. He stopped and he took off all his clothes and got on top of me. I used my body and rolled him over to where I was on top of him. I immediately went down on Khalid and took that hard dick of his in my mouth. He couldn’t sit still while I took his entire dick in my mouth repeatedly. His moans were so intoxicating to my ears. It just made me want to torture him more with my lips and tongue. He lifted my head off of his dick and put a condom on it. I went to assume Khalid’s favorite position, doggy style. I laid my head on one of the pillows on the bed and arched my back to show him the booty that he was missing for the past four months. Khalid got in back of me and slipped his dick up inside me. An intense rush came over me when he finally hit the spot that made me hot. When he knew he found my spot, he started to bang that spot repeatedly, making me sing his name, literally. I was hitting notes that Mariah Carey couldn’t even imagine in her wildest dreams. I started to bounce my ass on his dick. I looked back at him, and he had a shocked look to his face. “Damn nigga, I didn’t know you can do all that,” he mumbled. He then started to thrust in me faster and faster.

Just when my rhythm and his rhythm became one, I heard someone attempting to slide a card in to a door lock to get in. I thought maybe it was someone getting in one of the rooms next door. As our rhythms worked together to create pure ecstasy, a voice let out a scream that can peel the paint off the walls. The scream was accompanied by a baby crying. I look back and there stood a white woman with a baby in her arms. “Khalid, what the fuck…?” screamed the woman. Khalid pulled out of me and looked back in shock and disbelief. I rolled off the bed to where my clothes were and started fumbling to put my clothes back on. Khalid started stuttering like a third-grader that just got caught in a lie. “b-b-baby, it’s not really what it looks like,” Khalid tried to explain. “Like hell it’s not. So when was I and your son gonna get the memo that you were a faggot?” She asked redundantly. She then turned to me and extended her hand. “I guess we’ve never met. I’m Melissa. Melissa Dobson,” the woman introduced. That introduction clicked in my head. Melissa was Khalid’s wife and the baby that Melissa was holding was his son. All sorts of feelings were shown on my face, and Khalid’s for that matter. Khalid ran and got a towel from the bathroom and shouted, “I wasn’t expecting you to come into town until tomorrow night.” “Gee I wonder why?” Melissa shouted back sarcastically. Next thing I know, hotel security barged into the room to find out what was going on. One of the guests must have called for security. One of the security guards recognized me as I excused myself from the room and scrambled down the stairs in embarrassment. I headed out of the hotel and got back in my car and bolted up the interstate back to Jefferson Parish.



Monday morning was anything but eventful from the start. I spent the rest of the weekend in my apartment in front of the TV. I cancelled my outing with Chauncey to the AWC Supershow. After what happened on Friday night, Khalid was the very last person that I wanted to see or speak to. I didn’t even know that he was a family man, yet I should’ve known better. My mother always told me, “If it’s too good to be true, it normally is.”



I arrived at work on time to notice that my office door was already opened. I walked into my office to find Kendria and the same security guard that came up to Khalid’s room Friday night. “That’s him,” rang a third voice in the room. It was Melissa Dobson. “It was he that was fucking my husband in my hotel room.” Before I can mount a defense against Melissa’s allegations, Kendria stepped in and added, “Dakota, this is a violation of hotel policy. And because of this, your employment here at the Marriott has now been terminated, effective immediately.” She handed me a box that held my belongings and instructed the security guard to escort me out of the building. The security guard escorted me to my car and wished me good luck. I ignored the security guard and returned home to Kenner brokenhearted and unemployed.