by Albert Able
Max called me at my office to ask if there was anywhere in the hotel where Stan could set up an office. “Oh and it must be somewhere with lots natural light!” He added adamantly.
Connie laughed when I told her about the special requirements Max was demanding for his ‘accountant’.
I didn’t know why then but when she laughed, it sent a tingle of excitement down my spine.
Anyway, I soon managed to re organise the old equipment store and created a substantial size office as well as a bed-sit complete with a modest area for some food preparation. It was fortunate that at some time in the past the store had been used as a staff room and still had a working toilet and shower room adjoining it. Connie spent almost all night painting and preparing the bed-sit area.
Stan went through the motions of viewing the living accommodation with suspicion. In reality however, he was already relishing his return to civilisation. This was also apparent by his dress, which had suddenly taken on a casual though much smarter look. Connie had presented him with a selection of new jackets and trousers, he’d even had his hair and beard shampooed and trimmed which added a touch of elegance to his appearance.
I also learned later that it was Max who thrust a bunch of notes into Connie’s hand. “Here luv get him some new gear, we can’t have our company accountant looking as though he has just arrived from ‘cardboard city’ can we?” Max had laughed at his own joke, a most unusual gesture for our Mr Max Harris.
Stan’s presence seemed to have a pleasing influence on us all. Although at that time, I had not thought of Connie as anything other than a good member of my team, I was becoming increasingly aware of her presence and found myself asking her to perform endless tasks on my behalf.
Stan warmed to his new life and worked round the clock to reorganise Max’s past and create a suitable structure for the future. Eventually he summoned Max to ‘the office’ and carefully explained how he was going to reconstruct the past activities and make a deal with the ‘tax man’ “That will only work if he can see that we have a professional structure for all future transactions.” Stan picked up a sheet of paper “I calculate that we will have to part with about thirty thousand pounds in back taxes.” He raised an eyebrow and looked quizzically at Max for his reaction.
Max responded predictably and almost leaped out of his chair. “Fuck me.” He swore, a most unusual profanity for Max. “I thought we were supposed to be ducking the bloody taxman not surrendering a fortune to him?”
“Max my friend, I know it may seem strange to your current philosophy but as I told you to begin with, if you are going to build a great empire, what ever else you do, you must pay your taxes!” Stan passed over the sheet of paper. “After the first payment we will establish a pattern of regular account submissions and prompt payment of all liabilities.”
Max reluctantly settled back. “I just hope to God you know what you’re doing?”
“Well now’s the time to decide; do you trust me or not?” Stan dropped the sheet of paper onto the desk. “Once I talk to the tax man, you’re committed to a life of honest accounting.”
Max sat in silence for a few seconds. “Okay okay, you win,” he scratched the back of his head in resignation. “I’m just not accustomed to all this, this paperwork.” He waved his hand at the papers on the desk.
“Yes well, you will have to do a certain amount but you can get most of it done by different members of the staff down there, in fact its better if you do it that way, then no one individual learns too much about your business.” Stan was enjoying himself.
“Okay but how are we going to account for, you know, the other stuff, you know, the girls and stuff?”
“Well I won’t know, in fact don’t want to know about that but if I were to suggest to you, that instead of logging half the numbers of people entering the club as you do now and pocketing a few extra quid. You treble that number so that the book reads say three hundred entering at five pounds each and the same with the bar takings. As far as I am concerned providing the cash matches your figures I will have no way of knowing the real source?”
“Of course.” Max was finally beginning to understand and the more he heard the more he liked it. “I wonder why I didn’t think of that.”
And so the process went on; eventually by the end of the first three months, Stan had all the systems up and running smoothly. Furthermore business was booming in the Max Harris Empire and most importantly, all accurately accounted for. Even the Taxman had been paid and was happy!
Chapter 6 - Connie
With Stan fully established as Max’s accountant and had moved complete with his old pram into the new accommodation I had decorated for him; he was clearly excited but tried not to show too much emotion over his dramatic change of circumstances.
It was also a major milestone in my own life style when soon afterwards I was promoted as Marcus’s personal assistant.
It all happened on that evening of the fire incident in Suite 401. Once Marcus had sorted out the drunken-orgy taking place in the room; we travelled back down to the lobby together in the lift.
There was a sort of embarrassed silence as the lift started its descent. I remember wishing I had the courage to say something but I was far too nervous. All I could do was sneak sheepish glances at him but then suddenly Marcus turned and faced me, I could see at once that he was probably as nervous as I was and surprisingly shy.
“Err” he mumbled, “I know it’s late but do you fancy a drink or coffee before you go off duty?”
I was so thrilled I could hardly speak; the truth was I knew had fallen for my boss long ago but could only dream that I would ever enjoy such an experience.
I think I must have hesitated because he almost immediately apologised. “Of course if you’d rather not?”
I agreed and from the relief in his attitude, it was obvious to me that in spite of his good looks and charming manner, he was not an experienced wooer.
At first, we talked about the man in 401 then the conversation drifted to our personal lives. I don’t think either of us touched the glass of wine in front of us. The time simply slipped away as we exchanged details of our earlier lives. Finally, the barman coughing discreetly cocked his head to the clock at the back of the bar. It was four-thirty.
“Sorry Liam off, you go; I’ll get the lights and lock up.” Marcus checked his own watch as Liam gratefully hurried away.
“So sorry Connie, I had no idea of the time” he stood up and held out his hand to assist me.
The touch of his soft warm skin made me feel as if I was floating on air and as I rose from the chair fell into his waiting arms. We held each other for a moment then he bent and gently brushed my lips with a delicate kiss and then released me.
“Forgive me” he apologised with a flush of embarrassment “I shouldn’t have done that”
But I thought that he should, pulled him back and kissed him again. “I think you should” I whispered “and I want you to do it again”
He didn’t hesitate next time.
Whilst we were both sexually mature and had previously enjoyed the lust and fun of juvenile sex; that night for the first time as we melted into each other’s embrace, we both learned the sweet ecstasy, which only flows with the gentle passion of true love.
Now after forty years or more it is still just a wonderful. Sure, we have endured the occasional impassioned dispute but overall we have enjoyed the bliss of our mutual trust and companionship. Even more importantly to me, with the benefit of a lifetime of experience, I can honestly say that I love him even more today.
At that time however, I had only been working at the hotel for a little over six months and so my sudden promotion raised an eyebrow here and there but time seems to cure most things and soon I was accepted as Mr Marcus’s Personal Assistant.
Amongst my many duties was overall care of the housekeeping and the staff welfare.
One day Conchita, one of our young chambermaids, came to me in tears; she was Portu
guese, in her late teens her and her English was rather limited.
“What is the problem?” I asked and gently hugged the sobbing girl trying to comfort her.
“He promise he marry me. Now he say no marry me.” Conchita sobbed.
“Who promised to marry you?” I asked and released the girl.
“Man from 107 he say he no love me any more and no marry me.”
“Do mean he is a hotel guest?” I asked not entirely surprised.
“Yes he come every week, we make love every day” In between a near hysterical flow of words she dabbed her eyes with a tissue “he stays hotel, important businessman, he say he take me away but I tell him I have baby coming; now he throw me out.”
Conchita suddenly stopped crying. “I think I kill him.” Her mood changed and she grabbed and tugged nervously at the hair either side of her ears.
“You’re sure you are pregnant?” I asked.
Conchita looked down at her hands. “No really,” she said looking avoiding my eyes “I just say, so he take me away and marry me.”
I was not surprised. “Where is he now?” I asked the distraught girl.
“He go, he no come back to hotel” Conchita waved her hand in the air dismissively “he give me money but I no like other girls. I love him; I want marry this one, he not like other guests.” She reached into the pocket of her housecoat and produced a fist full of notes.
“You mean you make love to other hotel guests as well?” I snapped back in surprise.
“Oh yes many girl do” Conchita seemed to have suddenly recovered her composure “we make money to send to family in Madera.”
I began to understand what was really going on; consequently, my own mood also changed. “So you take money for sex and then frighten the hotel guests away?” I interpreted the situation angrily.
“Oh no, guest very happy pay much for love sex.” Conchita smiled looking coy.
“But you have scared the man in 107 away and that is bad for the hotel!” I responded angrily as I moved away from the girl, “I will have to tell Mr Marcus and it will be up to him what he does about it!”
“Oh no, please no tell Mr Marcus. I give you money,” Conchita begged desperately reaching out trying to thrust the notes into my hand.
I ignored her and left her standing dejected. I actually felt rather guilty about leaving her like that but I really wasn’t quite sure what I should do about it.
When I explained it all to Marcus, he was more concerned about loosing the man’s business than the girl’s promiscuity.
“Did you say room 107?” Marcus asked me as he picked up the telephone and called reception.
“Yes 107” I confirmed.
Marcus asked the receptionist to check the guest list. “I see and he has cancelled all his reservations, thank you.” He replaced the telephone. “Oh dear” he sighed “it was Harry Grant one of our regulars. In fact, he was one of the ‘silly syndicate’ I’ll have to talk to him personally; if we’re not careful we’ll loose all his pals as well.”
Later that evening Marcus telephoned Harry Grant on his home number.
A woman answered the call. “Mrs Grant?” Marcus asked.
“It is.” She replied cautiously.
“Sorry to trouble you but I am Marcus Detori, one of your husbands business acquaintances and if possible I need to have a quick word with him.”
“Of course, I’ll get him for you.”
When Harry Grant took the receiver, he was equally cautious. “Sorry but my wife didn’t get your name?”
“It’s Marcus Detori from The Riverside Hotel Mr Grant.”
“Yes?” Harry Grant whispered even more anxiously.
“It would not be appropriate to talk now, so I’d appreciate it if you could call me at the hotel tomorrow. I assure you that I can sort everything out.” Marcus assured him.
“Okay that’s fine and thanks you.” Harry replied in an artificially cheerful tone.
Chapter 7 - Marcus
The following day my direct line rang, it was a very irritated Harry Grant.
“Now look here Marcus, just what the hell do you think you are doing ringing me at home and how did you get my number anyway eh?” Harry continued for some time nervously spluttering the numerous reasons why and how, he was going to suffer at the hand of his wife because of my indiscretion and finally confirming. “That neither he nor any of his company’s other representatives would ever cross the threshold of the Riverside Hotel again!”
That in fact was the bit I was keen to amend and so judging that he had finally run out of steam I asked him. “Where are you calling from?”
“A call box.” Harry Grant snapped.
“Just wanted to be sure, so I can speak without causing you any embarrassment.” I started, trying to regain his confidence. “The first thing I would like to clarify, is that I obtained you private number from Conchita, remember her?”
“I see, so I suppose you’re going to blackmail me with that now?” Harry Grant growled angrily.
“Not at all, I just want you to understand that your little indiscretions are perfectly safe with me. I can assure you that as a professional hotelier, I have and always will honour the highest principles associated with my profession; which means Mr Grant, that I would never take advantage of such knowledge.” I followed with my most profound high dudgeon tone. “Furthermore I am bitterly disappointed that you should even consider I would ever take advantage of your situation!”
“So what do you want then?” Harry Grant asked curiously.
“Well first of all we need to understand each other; Conchita for instance? Did you actually let that young girl believe that you were going to marry her?”
“Well you know how it is, she is very demanding and there are some times when you say things you don’t really mean.” Harry concluded meekly.
“I understand, but you must also understand, that most of these girls come from very humble circumstances and the prospect of finding a permanent new life away from it all is their single enduring dream. It’s none of my business of course but when you promised to marry her in one breath and then told her to take a hike in the next, you ruthlessly shattered that dream. Quite frankly, I think that you’ve been lucky that she only took one of your personal cards, which incidentally, is how I obtained your telephone number. Luckily for you, her English is limited and she almost certainly can’t read or write it, other wise it would have been Conchita having a telephone conversation you’re your wife!”
I thought for a moment that the brave Harry Grant was going to burst into tears but he managed to avoid the embarrassment and asked quietly. “Looks as though I’ve been a bit of a prick doesn’t it?”
“It’s life my friend.” I tried to reassure him.
“So what should I do?” Harry humbly asked.
“As far as I’m concerned, I could dismiss Conchita if you wanted me to but I do think that would be rather harsh don’t you?”
“On no please don’t do that.” Harry pleaded. “It’s not her fault really. Anyway I really do have a soft spot for her.” He seemed to brighten up, as I suspect, he recalled Conchita in one of their more erotic embraces.
I knew I had him on the run now. “Alright,” I then suggested “so what you should do is ensure that she realises the true nature of your friendship.”
“No problem.” Harry Grant eagerly agreed.
“Good and all I ask of you in return, is that you reinstate your company’s reservations!”
“Look, don’t worry about that, I may have told your reception but I never actually instructed our head office, so everything will be as it was.” Harry Grant confirmed with relief.
I thanked him and that was the end of the incident, at least for the moment. I was relieved that it had been resolved so easily, loosing business was something I took very seriously, especially when it was the account of a major merchant bank, for which I already had some other rather bold ideas.
Chapter 8 - Connie<
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Amongst my other and perhaps my most important duties was to supervise the housekeeping and services on the secret fourth floor. It was the incident with Conchita and the knowledge that some of the immigrant girls were quite prepared to earn a ‘little extra’ on the side, that led to us to being able to provide certain additional in house services to various anonymous men and women who regularly hired rooms on the fourth floor.
I also discovered that there were several grey haired men with an appetite for young men, preferably of Latin origin but it was Conchita who told me about “Manuel Lopez, the ‘pokito’ porter.”
She held her hand at shoulder height to indicate his diminutive height. “He know what ‘old puff’ want.” She smiled “you want me ask?”
The deal I made with Conchita was that she and the others could discreetly ‘provide extra services’ to the guests but she remained responsible for her rooms. “If the standard in your rooms is not maintained then you go. More importantly, if you ever cause a situation like the one you did with that man in 107 or be foolish enough to take anything from your guests, you will be out of that door in seconds! Is that understood?”
Conchita looked sheepish and nodded agreement.
“I hope you do because you have no work permit or accommodation and that means you’d be on the street full time.”
With tears welling up in her eyes Conchita placed a hand on my arm. “I like make much money” she winked at me “but no cause any more trouble, I promise.” She sniffed and returned cheerfully to her work.
Chapter 9 - Marcus
When we were first planning our wedding, Connie and I used to dream of taking a World Cruise for our honeymoon. The idea was to try and fulfil Connie’s dreams of seeing the world; I was of course equally inspired by the fantasy but alas in the real world, such plans for two relatively poor career hungry lovers, was simply out of the question; so we ended up with one week in the ‘Presidential Suite’ at the company’s Paris hotel, compliments of my old mentor ‘The Managing Director’ now promoted to Company Chairman.
