by Mary Potter
At that moment, I’m not thinking about what the hotel can offer everyone else. I’m thinking about what I want from the hotel. I’m not one to gaze longingly at sultry men, and experience lovemaking that’s beyond anything I know exists in this world. Ha! I read that in a tacky romance novel, some lady left in her suite after checkout. Sometimes we have some lucky finds, like nice pens or books. Sometimes we get rewards for turning in merchandise people forget to take with them. I know when I’m working in a room. I don’t take anything from guests, and I make sure they get the word about what’s left behind. The lady left the book with a sticky note to pass it along.
I read it, and it’s a great way to escape, but I’m more of a physical kind of person. Don’t get me wrong, I have a delightful collection of personal toys in my bedside drawer. But when it comes to fantasies, there is nothing sweeter than memorizing the right man at the right time. And baby, do I have the perfect view.
Now, I’m savvy about the layout of the hotel. I’ve been in every room. I’ve explored every hall, hiding place, and nooks with crannies. And I know the few sweet spots to go where you’re wondering if the area has occupants, or if you’re alone.
The fitness center has a charming little nook where the custodians park the housekeeping cart. It’s got the standard supplies, cleaning rags, disinfectant, and mop. But it’s the placement of the nook that makes it unique.
I’m not one to judge people. I think a little looking is healthy, as long as looking isn’t interfering with others, or they’re not immortalizing the view with pictures. Like the day I saw the young trainer who works at the fitness center. I saw that his hands were busy inside his shorts while he was watching the two women working out in the gym. He managed to slip his cock back into his pants before I got too close, but I knew what he did. And I saw by the look on his face that he knew I knew what he did. And I didn’t say a word.
Now I think the shoe’s on the other foot. I’m facing the tempered glass of the fitness center, hidden in the alcove, and I have a near-perfect view of the most beautiful older man I ever saw within the halls of the hotel. I love the view.
Chapter 3
JACKSON
T here’s something about having the gym all to yourself that makes the whole thing worthwhile. I know some guys think they need an audience. They like it when girls are looking, and guys are judging themselves by what you put on the weight set. For me, it’s about the quality of time, not the quantity. I enjoy a little freedom, and I’m glad a paid a little extra to get the passkey to the fitness center. It was worth the money. Since I have the gym to myself, I can take my time because I am without a limit, and no one waits in line for the elliptical machine or the stair mill. I can use the recumbent bike for as long as I want and the rowing machine for twice as long.
The music pumping in my ears makes the whole place fade away, and I am relaxed and feeling free. I know there’s a little freedom because I can feel some of that refreshing recycled air-conditioning on my thighs, and there’s a good amount of sweat that’s coating my body.
I wipe down the machines when I finish my sets. But I’m not worried about the heat index in the gym because no one is around to see my balls hanging out my shorts. It happens to the best of us. Even when we’re doing our best to keep everything pure and up top－when you’re alone, it doesn’t matter. Right?
The thing about having baggy shorts and the wrong underwear during a workout means I can feel it. I feel that freedom and the draft. I am sweaty, and I feel the burn, and I am a little turned on. I know it because I’m doing my sets, and I can’t help but think that if there was anyone outside the aquarium glass watching me work out, they might get a little more than they expected.
But the other side of the glass shows nothing but darkness where the outer doors open to the preparation room. There are lockers for men and women, and both doors are on the other side of the dark glass. I’ve been conscious about paying attention to any variety of light that happens when someone moves in and out of the outer room. I’d see the hallway light outside the swinging doors. It’s enough time to tuck my legs closed and try to tame my cock. Since I’ve thought about it, I can feel its tingling and thickness. I’m not too shy about what I have between my leg, but I’m not a guy who needs to flaunt it. I mean, in the right circumstances and context, titillation is very erotic.
I think some women who wear skirts and sometimes go without panties during the summer not only do it for their freedom but the pure entertainment value. Someone might get more than a skating glance if they happen to be looking at an excellent pair of legs. I know, I’m a man, I look.
So, lying on my back over the bench using the free weights, I have 35lbs in each hand. I’m alternating with my dumbbell triceps extensions. My feet are firm on the rubber mat, and I have my thighs open. If I had someone outside the glass, they’d see my dedication to a good workout, and perhaps a lot more.
KAYLA
I haven’t worked out in a gym for a long time. The membership prices are too steep for my budget. Sometimes I get a little self-conscious when I see the bean-pole girls in their form-fitting workout pants and sports bras. The guys pay attention to the curve of the thighs and the glimpse of a cameltoe if the women are trying to get attention. For me, it’s about the workout. There is a time and place to feel and look sexy. I know it happens at the gym. I think I’m a little envious of some women who are unafraid to let it hang out. I mean, I could give a good show if I want. I know there is enough of me to have some curves and even the fashionable toe between my thighs. I can’t afford the gym. But I get more than enough workout doing my job because we’re always on the go, we’re constantly moving. Except at that moment, I am taking my fifteen-minute break alone in the dark and enjoying the show.
Except I haven’t moved in twenty minutes, and I am sweating buckets. I’m not working out. I went through six shades of crazy watching the guy in the gym. I think I realize why I caught that young custodian handling more than his broom that day. It’s the perfect vantage point. It’s covered, and it’s dark, and I can see a lot more than I ever expected. I’m not much of a freak when it comes to sex. I mean, I like sex. I love getting freaky sometimes when I have sex. But I’m not one to go out of my way for fetishes. I mean, I guess I get it. I’ve had a few boyfriends who had some interesting ideas about sex, and they all turned me on. But I never knew voyeurism had such a draw.
I feel this deep tingling sensation between my legs because this older man wearing a loose tank top has an awesomely fit physique. He is the epitome of a male that I find resoundingly attractive. He is older, that’s the start. He’s shaped like a solid upside-down flesh and muscle triangle with a narrow waist and muscular, athletic thighs. I can see the veins in his arms and neck when he strains with the weights.
I’ve watched him move from one machine to the next and spending enough time on each to do a few reps. He’s conscientious because he’s taking time to wipe down each piece of equipment when he’s finished. I appreciate that a lot. It’s a big turn on knowing that he can’t see me, and yet, he has integrity.
I wear a comfortable uniform that is a little sexist. It’s from an age when women wear dresses or skirts, and men wear pants. The hotel’s dress code needs some 21st-century updating. But what’s nice about my uniform is how easy access I have. I mean, I could, if I chose, undo a few buttons on my top and reach inside to caress my erect nipples as I watch him panting, pushing, and pumping those weights. I know how easy it is because to prove it, I feel my hard left nipple pinched between the thumb and index finger of my right hand. I sigh in the dark and wet my lips as I press my back against the wall. I’m behind the custodian cart. If it came to it, in a pinch, I could duck down, and no one would know I’m there.
It’s just as well because he’s moved to the weight bench. I can see his sneakers flat on the floor. He’s only a meter or two from me, and his beautiful glistening thighs are open to me. And, oh my, he’s so sweaty, I want to run my t
ongue over him. I think that my legs are trembling. I know my panties are wet because I shift a little and can reach under the skirt. No one can see me behind the cart in the dark. I… oh… yes.
His legs are open on the bench, and I can see the loose-fitting shorts reveal a lot more than the defined muscles of his thighs. I see his soft, thick cock sticking out of his shorts through the leg hole. It’s so big; I imagine what that would feel like in my hands. His cock is still soft, but it’s got thickness and length. I know in my hands it would feel like a thick, malleable delicious treat that I’d have to put in my mouth.
My fingers graze against my panties. It’s too hot to wear nylons under the skirt. I have full access to touch myself through the thin cotton. I whimper slightly, breathy in the dark, because I let my fingers slip by the barrier of my panties to penetrate my pussy. I am wet, and I can feel the gliding slick yummy goodness of me. I know what it tastes like, and I love the aroma. And I want to taste myself on the end of his cock, but I have to settle for my fingers instead. Still, it’s the fantasy, and now I know what it means to feel free and alone and more than a little naughty.
He’s getting up. His slick chest heaving as he sits there. He’s pressing the towel against his face. He’s finished the workout and takes time to spray and wipe down the bench and puts away the dumbbells. I think he’s getting ready to leave, but he goes to the Jacuzzi room where there’s another set of male and female lockers.
It’s time for me to clean the gym. I’ll give him privacy in the Jacuzzi.
Chapter 4
JACKSON
I t’s a great workout, and I know it’s a routine I’ll miss when I leave the hotel. I have the place to myself, and I like it a lot. There’s a Jacuzzi center with three tubs. I get my choice. I go into the smaller locker room to rinse off and change into a different pair of shorts.
I’m surprised to see someone cleaning the gym, but I guess they have to do it late at night. I can see her through the glass wall that separates the gym from the pool and Jacuzzi. They have a sauna room, but it is locked overnight. I guess I can’t complain considering what I have with the rest of the equipment and privacy.
I see the housekeeper pull the custodian cart into the gym. She’s got headphones, and I know she can see me because the light sensors in the pool room activated and illuminated everything when I walked through the glass door. After I change, I set the timer for the maximum I can get out of the hot water jets. Once they start up, I toss my towel on the nearby bench and step down into the bubbling bliss. I lean back against the water jets and allow the pressurized water to massage my muscles.
I’m wound up from the workout. I am conscious of my semi-erect cock in my shorts. Underwater its obscured with the bubbles and current. And it feels good on my balls. I get a show with my water massage. I am leaning against the back wall, facing the rest of the gym. The housekeeper is a darling. She’s younger. She’s curvy. She has chestnut hair pulled up in the back. The ponytail bounces from the scrubbing and the dancing. I see her wiggling her hips a little because she’s enjoying the music and her solitude. It makes sense to clean at night. She doesn’t seem to mind the late hours, and I certainly love seeing those thighs climbing up into the hem of her skirt. I imagine what color panties she’s wearing. I think about her breasts.
I notice the top of her uniform has three buttons to the collar—two of the buttons undone on the front. I feel as if she’s relaxed and just enjoying her music and manual labor. Some people understand what it means to work hard and enjoy it. She is beautiful with her pink uniform skirt with the white trim on the sleeves and collar. She’s wearing sensible white shoes, and I can see, oh—yes when she bends over the treadmill to wipe it down, she’s not wearing nylons.
I get to see her backside facing me. I want to press my face against her ass with my hands gripping her cheeks. I can feel my cock waking up in the hot water. I reach down and pull it through the side of my shorts with my balls. I’m alone in the Jacuzzi, and I am enjoying the freedom. She can’t see below the water.
I know she saw me looking because I see her grinning a little. She’s a little red in the face. She’s almost close enough for me to see the color of her eyes. I can see her rosy mouth. I see how her full lips glisten under the fluorescent lighting in the fitness room. The light in the pool room is more subtle, not as stark.
I want to press my hips against her from behind. I want her to feel what she’s done to my cock. But I have to behave myself. I have to be courteous and professional. I am a guest at the hotel, and she is a woman of sustenance. Just because I want her, doesn’t mean I can have her. I don’t even know her name.
I take a deep breath and lean my head back to close my eyes. I feel my cock moving freely in the water jets. I love the sensation of the current against my loose balls. It is invigorating and freeing. I am alive, and I can feel it.
When the jets stop, I tuck away everything before I climb out. She’s halfway done with the gym. She works fast, but she’s very thorough. I love what she can do with some cleaning supplies, music, and a lot of movement.
When I get out of the locker room, I am in my clean cotton casual pants. I’m not wearing underwear because I plan to shower when I head up to my room. I might stroke my cock, but I haven’t decided yet. I know there is a prominent bulge in my pants, and at that time of night, and how I feel, my body is electric, and if she’s got a glimpse of some mass, then I can’t stop it.
KAYLA
H e’s showered, dressed in a t-shirt and gray cotton pants, and he’s coming my way. I’m looking busy because I am busy. I have a lot left to do in the night, and that gorgeous man has distracted me so much that I want to head to a bathroom stall and rub my clit until I scream with pleasure.
Instead, I stop scrubbing long enough to smile at the hotel guest. I swipe at the strands of hair that cascade over my forehead. I can see the outline of his substantial cock in his pants, and I am doing all I can to keep my eyes level with his when he steps through the door from the pool and Jacuzzi.
“Thank you, Sir,” I say. “Have a good night.”
I feel like a fool because I’m thanking him for no other reason than the fact that he gave me something I can use again and again when I masturbate. I’ll think of him lying on his back on that bench with his legs open and his cock lying against the vinyl workout bench.
He’s almost through the door leading out of the fitness center. When he stops to turn around and faces me, he grins, and I see some mischief in his lapis blue eyes.
“So, I’m curious, and you can stop me if it gets uncomfortable,” he says. “I’ve seen where sometimes guys will leave their hotel doors open for a housekeeper to come in while they’re naked. Has that ever happened to you?”
It’s a question that I sometimes get, mostly from men, sometimes from women. It happens, especially if they request extra towels. But I like that he stopped. I want him to talk to me. And if he wants to play coy, I am all for it.
“Well, I think there are two parts to that question,” I say. “The first one addresses your direct question. And the answer is, yes. It’s happened more than a few times.” I can see the intrigue in his look. “We get glimpses of guys, but usually it’s just a quick flash. I know how to deal with them when it happens. It’s when they want extra linen at night that we have to think twice.”
“Has anyone ever gotten fresh with you?” he asks. “I’m sorry, it’s forward. I’m a cop. I’m not really a guest at the hotel. I mean, I am a guest. I just don’t normally stay in hotels. At least, not here, I mean not here—here. I’m floundering. I’m sorry.” He leans toward me and extends a hand. I take his hand. It’s firm and big and warm. I swallow the dryness in my throat as he says, “Jackson. My name’s Jackson. It’s nice to meet you, Kayla.”
Before I understand that he read my nametag, he taps his chest to show where it is on me.
“It happened once, but I’m a big girl, I handled it.”
“Did he physica
lly assault you?”
“That sounds like a cop question. But, no, he couldn’t because I corrected his behavior.”
“How did you do that?”
“Let’s just say, I suspect any time he gets an erection, that pain he feels reminds him of me.”
“Wow, okay. And ouch. But a good one.” Jackson laughs and nods.
“And the second part to that question goes back to you. Where would you happen to see videos of that stuff? I mean, I know where I’d see it, but what about you?
“Well, you know—”
“Oh, don’t play coy now.” But he’s been playing coy because I see it in his eyes. His eyes are drinking me in when I am thirsty too.
“Well, I saw it on the internet before.”
“When you were looking at porn,” I finish. I am never so bold. But I’ve seen this man’s cock, and he doesn’t even know it. I feel the least I can give him is a taste of what I can offer, even if it will never happen.
“Maybe,” he says. He takes a deep breath. I see his chest expand before he exhales.
“It’s okay; it’s not a crime to look at porn on the internet, Officer Jackson.”
“Well, actually, it might be. Depends on what you’re looking at, but I don’t watch very much.”
I decide to make him think about something more interesting than worrying about his job. “Well, I watch porn sometimes.”
“You do?”
“Don’t act so surprised, you know women enjoy sex too. It’s good to have a release. It’s nice to get away from real life for a while.” I shake my head. We’re alone, two strangers, enjoying each other’s closeness and we’re openly talking about sex. I know he’s horny because I saw that cock. I see the bulge. Even though I make like I’m not looking, I am, in fact, looking. And I love what I see.
