The Dirty Hotel King

by Cassandra Dee

  “It’s none of your fucking business,” I grunted. Grabbing my wallet, I shoved it in my pocket. “And no one calls me Randolph. You know that.”

  Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he said. “You need to get laid. Like, yesterday.”

  Ignoring him, I strode out of the restaurant.

  “Keep your head up, pal! Something could be right around the corner!” I heard Jonathan call out. Groaning, I shook my head and ignored him before climbing into the back of my limo.

  The ride back to The Grand took no time at all. As the wheels rolled, I felt my irritation with Jonathan fading. We were such old friends that I could never stay mad for long, even if he did have a tendency to overstep his boundaries. As the limo pulled up in front of the hotel, I pushed my sunglasses higher on the bridge of my nose.

  I stepped out of the limo and took a deep breath as I waited for the champagne buzz to fade. The Grand was one of the most luxurious hotels in Las Vegas, so it was always busy with tons of tourists and ritzy housewives. When I started in this business, I had nothing. Nada. But slowly, I worked my way up, and acquiring The Grand has been the capstone of my career to date. Of course, it pretty much takes all my time and attention; right after the first year of owning the hotel, life became a never-ending cycle of chaos and staying on my toes.

  But I thrive on my life. I loved the chaos and the power that came with owning such a property. It kept my mind exactly where it needed to stay: on business. And today was no exception. As soon as I stepped inside, I was met by Alicia, my assistant, and Terry, the hotel’s general manager.

  “Mr. Steele, Jonathan called twice today, he wants you to call him back.”

  “Fine.”

  “Then Michael Wang called about the renovations for the bar on the fourth floor, he wants to go ahead and start that next week.”

  “Okay.”

  Terry ran over with sweat trailing down his round face.

  “Please, Mr. Steele, there are two guests trying to check in with expired cards, and they won’t give up.”

  “Oh, also,” Alicia cut in. “The dry cleaners called and said your Givenchy suit is ready for pickup-”

  I raised my hand to cut them both off. Alicia falls silent and her cheeks turn red, while Terry merely looks anxious.

  “I just got in, for fuck’s sake,” I growled. “Give me a fucking minute!”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Steele, I didn’t—“

  “Enough,” I snapped loudly. “And why is that disgusting van parked outside by the valet?”

  “What?” Alicia frowned.

  “It’s your job to pay attention to these kinds of things while I’m gone,” I said angrily. “What is that van doing here?”

  “I’ve never seen a van like that pull up here,” Alicia whispered in a mortified tone. Terry shifted nervously from one foot to the other.

  “Should I call security?” Terry asked.

  Ignoring him, I turned to the doors and stared at the van. The driver’s side door screeched as the driver opened it and I watched in disgust as a dirty looking man with a receding hairline climbed out. He had a huge pot belly and was wearing a dirty, white t-shirt with a brown jacket that seemed to be a size too small. His arms were short and hung right above his hips, and his face was sweaty from the Nevada heat.

  A hot wave of anger and disgust washed over me and I narrowed my eyes. How dare this hideous, disgusting little man come into the beauty of The Grand? I noticed how other guests were looking at him with shock. As I watched, he darted to the side of the hotel and pulled a raggedy plastic bag out of his jacket pocket.

  “That fucker thinks he can steal from me,” I growled. “No way in hell!” Turning to Alicia and Terry, I crossed my arms over my broad chest.

  “Get back to work, I’ll take care of this,” I ordered my staff. They both backed away nervously as I strolled out of the hotel. I rolled my sleeves up and walked swiftly to the side of the building. There he was: digging in the dumpsters, like a street rat.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I yelled. The man stopped and looked up, then rolled his eyes.

  “What do you want, Mr. Fancy?”

  “Get out of that dumpster, now” I growled. I balled my hands into fists. “Or you’re going to regret the day you ever came to steal from me.”

  The man blinked. “From you?”

  “This is my hotel,” I hissed angrily. “And I don’t tolerate thieves.”

  “It’s garbage,” the man said. He shrugged and the simple motion pushed my anger into genuine rage. “What were you gonna do with it, anyway?”

  “Get out,” I growled.

  The guy smacked his lips against his teeth and whistled. “The dumpster has lots of unknown treasures that make Frank Butler some nice money.” He hopped in the dumpster and pulled up an old, broken lamp.

  “Like this beauty right here! I could get a good one-fifty for it, maybe even one-seventy-five if I say it belonged to some rich asshole like you!” He winked at me and started to dig in the dumpster again.

  “I’m not going to tell you again. Get the fuck away from my hotel and my dumpsters,” I said angrily. “I don’t do charity.”

  Frank snorted and hopped out of the dumpster with his plastic bag slung over his shoulder.

  “Yeah, whatever. Not much in there anyways,” Frank muttered. I grabbed him roughly by the arm and put my foot in front of his chubby legs. He skidded to a stop and looked up at me blithely. “What? I’m leaving,” he grumbled loudly. “Take your hands off me!”

  “I’m escorting you to that piece of shit van, and you’re to never return to this hotel again, got it?”

  Frank started to protest, but I tightened my grip on his arm, and dragged him back to his van. Right as we neared the van, Frank wiggled free from my grip. Before I could grab him again, the back door opened and my jaw dropped.

  The most gorgeous girl I had ever laid eyes on started to climb out of the back of the van. She was on her hands and knees, and had a head full of glossy, brown curls that fell softly in her face. She had a small frown on her face, and she had a luscious, juicy body that was ripe with curves. Just looking at her made my cock twitch. I swallowed hard as Frank walked towards her. How did he know her? Was she some victim of his?

  My anger turned to venomous rage as I looked at Frank’s nonchalant expression. “You fucking prick. You thought you could just waltz in here and traffic women?” I grabbed Frank by the collar and slammed him against the car. I was just about to knock his teeth in, when the beautiful girl jumped in between us and cried out in protest. Her breasts lightly brushed against my body and my cock stiffened.

  “Please, don’t hurt my dad! Don’t hurt him!” the girl yelped. Her brown eyes pleaded with me and her lower lip was quivering anxiously. My jaw fell open in amazement. How was the drop dead gorgeous girl the daughter of this, hideous, dirty man?

  “It’s fine, Rosy,” Frank breathed. “Mr. Fancy Pants here doesn’t want us to make a living off of his precious dumpsters.”

  I gave Frank one last shove against the side of the van before releasing him.

  “It’s fine,” Rosy said in a small voice as she fixed her dad’s collar.

  Frank swatted her hand away. “Can’t help but admit this is a nice place you’ve got here, Mister Rich Boy,” Frank mused.

  “It’s Randolph Steele. And yes, The Grand is my pride and joy, which is why I protect it from scum like you,” I growled.

  “Oh, of course! I guess Rosy and I are used to the motel life.”

  “Motel life?” I repeated with disgust.

  “Yup, Rosy works at one of them, uh, what’s the name of it…” Frank’s voice trailed off.

  “The Pink Flamingo,” Rosy answered softly as she twirled her curls around her finger. She looked up at me shyly, and then quickly looked away. Her shy behavior was turning me on and I had to resist the urge to grab her and shove her against the side of the van in a passionate kiss.

  “Did you
say the Pink Flamingo?” I narrowed my eyes. I had been trying to get that dump shut down the last three years, and as of last week, thanks to the meeting with the city council, it looked like my wish was finally going to come true.

  “Yes, the Pink Flamingo,” Rosy said. “It’s the only job that pays me well enough.”

  “Too bad she’s only the maid,” Frank snorted. “She just graduated high school, so it’s all she could find.” Rosy flushed hotly and shifted away from Frank.

  I frowned. Men like Frank were bad news, but I couldn’t deny my insane attraction to his daughter.

  “Well, Frank. I suppose I could allow you to search through my dumpster, as long as you only search through between one and five in the morning,” I said casually. I wasn’t sure if Rosy made a habit of going to “work” with her father but I wanted a chance to see her again.

  Frank winked at me as he and Rosy got back in the beat up van. Rosy looked at me once more before closing the door. I watched them pull away, and looked down to see that my pants were tented with my bulging erection. That girl was so fucking gorgeous, and it blew my mind that she was the daughter of that dirty man. There had to be a way I could see her again. After all, I was a hotel magnate, and she was a maid. It was perfect. I was going to see her again. One way or another.

  Chapter 3

  Steele

  The next morning after my encounter with Frank and his gorgeous daughter, I couldn’t get her out of my head. She was so young and fresh. How in the world did a man like Frank have a babe like that for a daughter?

  And she had the hottest body I’d ever seen. The magnificent curve of her plump ass, and her perfect tits were enough to make my mouth water. I could feel myself getting hard just thinking about her. I just knew she’d be a great woman. After all, Rosy had it all: youth, beauty, big brown eyes, and an ass that wouldn’t quit.

  It was a Herculean effort to get her out of my head. I needed to focus on the papers that would officially end the Pink Flamingo. It was ridiculous, but a part of me wanted to find Rosy another job. I didn’t know why I cared – after all, I’d barely spoken to her. Maybe she’d like to work at The Grand? As I was daydreaming, my secretary, Lisa, buzzed me.

  I groaned in annoyance as I reluctantly accepted the call. It was barely eight in the morning, and I hated talking on the phone. Plus, I had the hangover of a lifetime because Jonathan and I had stayed out drinking until the wee hours of the morning. I’d acted like it was a favor to him, but in reality I had been glad of a distraction from Rosy. We’d hit at least six different bars.

  My mind drifted back to the previous night and I closed my eyes, wishing that I was anywhere but at work.

  “Yes! We’ll take three more shots!” Jonathan screamed in excitement. I laughed and took the shot filled with whiskey, knocking it back without so much as a wince.

  “I need to go,” I rumbled. “I’m working tomorrow.”

  “Don’t be a pussy! You’ve got to stay out!” Jonathan wrapped his arm around my neck and pulled me close like we were drunk frat brothers.

  “Jesus, man! Get off!” I pushed Jonathan’s arm off as he grabbed another shot, throwing it back. Jonathan made a face but shook his head and resumed his idiot grin.

  “Yeah, yeah. What’s got you so riled up?” Jonathan asked.

  I sighed. “I saw the hottest girl today. Her father was that fucker who was digging in my dumpster. Remember that one I just told you about?”

  Jon makes a face. “Oh shit. How old was she again?” My buddy sucked on a lime and smirked.

  “Eighteen? I dunno. She just graduated high school.”

  “Holy shit! That’s young, dude. Like real young.”

  It was my turn to make a face then, although my expression was more of a morose grimace. “Fuck, I know. They seem to get younger and younger these days.” I heaved a sigh, shrugging. “But she’s a kid, and I don’t have a lot to offer a kid. She wouldn’t want some old man – I could be her father, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Nah, it’s all good,” Jonathan burped loudly and took another shot.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m not gonna see her again, anyway.”

  “Didn’t you tell me that dad of hers wants to dig in The Grand’s dumpster again?”

  I nodded. Jonathan shrugged and grinned at me.

  “Well then, that’s your chance! Find the old bastard, and strike a deal. Get his daughter through the dumpster. It sounds lame, but whatever works, dude. Otherwise, you'll never get another opportunity.”

  I knew Jonathan was right, but I felt so conflicted about it. I mean, digging in a dumpster in exchange for a beautiful, innocent girl? What man in his right mind would agree to that? But then again, this was Frank Butler we were talking about. That guy would sell his soul to the Devil for two cents.

  My phone buzzed again and I snapped out of my reverie, blinking as I reached for the receiver.

  “What,” I grumbled. I took a sip of my piping hot coffee in hopes it would grant me with a magical burst of energy.

  “Hi, Mr. Steele, you have a, uh, Frank Butler here,” Lisa announced. Well, Lordy Lordy Lordy. Guess who just happened to be at the door. Maybe he brought Rosy with him.

  “What does he want?” I rumbled.

  Lisa lowered her voice. “I can’t really say. If you want, I can call security?”

  I sighed. There had to be a logical reason why Frank was here. Probably the dumpster business again.

  “Send him in.”

  “Um, sure boss,” Lisa muttered as she hung up.

  I frowned as I absentmindedly ran a hand through my dark hair. Why was Frank here? Did he want to try to get some money out of me? Did he find something valuable in the trash that he wanted to bring to my attention? When I heard his knock at the door, I pressed my lips in a firm line and narrowed my eyes.

  I didn’t have to wait long. After a few seconds, the door swung open and Frank sauntered in. Under the florescent lights of my office, he looked even worse than before. His hair was greasy and his face was covered in adult acne and scars.

  “Mr. Man of Steele!” Frank called out jovially, as if we were best friends. He out reached his arms as he stood in the big doorway.

  “Mr. Butler, sit down.”

  Frank cackled and hobbled into my office. He slammed the door behind him and made his way to the chairs in front of my desk.

  “Nice set-up,” Frank complimented with a toothy grin, looking around at the lavish space with the solid oak desk and unobstructed view of the Strip below. When he smiled, I saw that the man had three gold teeth, and quite a few rotten teeth in the back. My lip curled in disgust as a gust of his body odor wafted across my desk.

  “What brings you here?” I managed in a civil tone.

  “Is that real silver?” Frank asked, pointing to the shiny vase behind me.

  “Yes. It was a gift,” I said. “It’s Italian. Very rare and expensive.”

  “Italy?! So you’re an Italian fellow?” Frank winked.

  “Does it matter?” I narrowed my eyes but then took a deep breath, trying to be patient. “Why are you here, Mr. Butler?”

  He completely ignored my question. “Interesting. I had a great aunt who was from Italy, but she wasn’t Italian.” Frank leaned back in the chair and crossed his hands over his large belly.