His Royal Secret

by C. T. Sloan

  “Of course, Your Highness.”

  The Prince steps out and grabs a beach chair in front of the pool. The entire pool area is looking in our direction. In an area full of “A”-listers, the Prince certainly stands out above the crowd.

  The crowd reclines back. I stand behind him and just look at his wonderful body. Then I slowly take my hands and run them onto his shoulders. My body feels like I am going to melt. I can honestly say that this is the best moment I’ve ever had on the job.

  Prince Julian relaxes and watches the water and I run my hands down his strong arm. I glide my fingers back to his neck and give him the best back rub possible. Prince Julian reclines the beach chair and turns over on his stomach.

  The royal hunk’s position gives me a great view of his Princely rump. This man has it all! I start to run my fingers all around the Prince’s back. He seems to be enjoying it. As I rub down the royal hottie, more than a couple of girls around the pool look at me as though I have hit the lottery.

  “You may be able to get a better hold of me if you climb onto my back,” the Prince advises.

  Well, he doesn’t have to ask me twice.

  I straddle Prince Julian’s butt. Oh my, I think I am going to have to stay here for a while. I take my hands and just rub into the Royal man’s skin. Prince Julian looks back at me and smiles. I smile back at him. Oh my God. I think we are flirting.

  I lean in and rub the man’s shoulders. “Are you enjoying yourself, Your Highness?” I say in a slightly flirty voice.

  “You are doing an excellent job.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness.”

  “You may call me Prince Julian.”

  “Thank you, Prince Julian.”

  Wow. We are on a sort-of first name basis. I run my hands down to the small of the Prince’s back. I then carefully guide my fingertips right along the top of those swim trunks. I am so tempted to spank that Royal ass that it is driving me crazy.

  “Amy, I would like my thighs massaged,” Prince Julian demands. I swear that I must be in a dream. I slide my body down and start to squeeze and massage those healthy and strong thighs. Then I run my hands down to the Prince’s strong calves.

  As I rub down the Prince, one of those tall blonde models walks up to him. She leans in, showing off her ample cleavage. I instantly get jealous. I want to tell this blonde airhead to stay away from my Prince!

  Prince Julian is polite but obviously uninterested in the blonde. The woman doesn’t hesitate to tell the woman her room number. When the blonde leaves, the Prince sighs. “Such forward behavior is such a turn-off,” the Royal stud remarks as I work his legs.

  “Would you like some privacy, Prince Julian?” I ask.

  “Sure, why not?” the Prince says as he gets up. He walks over to his bungalow tent. While the front of the tent is open, the structure allows privacy from three sides. The Prince lies down with his head facing poolside. I get back to massaging the Prince.

  My face begins to blush because of the privacy involved to this massage session. I feel like I am being a bad girl even though I am just doing my job. Perhaps it could be the enclosure that is causing my body temperature to rise.

  “So how long have you been working at the hotel?” the Prince asks me.

  “About six months, Prince Julian.”

  “Do you enjoy it?”

  “It’s nice,” I say because I lapse into some honesty. “It can be a very scary job.”

  “How so?”

  “I can get fired for the smallest infraction.”

  “If you have kept your job, then it sounds like you are doing excellent work.”

  “I try my best, Prince Julian.”

  The royal hottie turns over and looks at me. “Well, you certainly know how to relax me. I feel completely refreshed. I believe I am going to go for a swim,” he says.

  The Prince getting that hot body all wet? I have to see this.

  “I will have the towels ready for you, Prince Julian,” I say as I grab a set of our plush Beverly Hills Hotel towels.

  The Prince hops out of the tent and jumps into the pool. The backsplash causes my entire front side to get wet. A couple of people at the pool laugh at me.

  The Prince comes up from the water and looks at me. He notices that I am soaked. Prince Julian climbs out of the pool, his sleek body dripping. “You are all wet, Amy.”

  “It is my mistake, Your Highness. I was too close to the pool.”

  The Prince grabs a towel and begins to dry himself. He looks me up and down. “Why don’t you get out of those clothes and make yourself more comfortable. I feel awkward having you around in such a boring uniform.”

  My eyes open wide. Then I giggle. “As your wish, Prince Julian. Please excuse me while I change out of these clothes,” I say as I take two steps back and disappear into the ladies’ poolside spa.

  “You have to give me something cute and appropriate to wear,” I say to one of the spa workers.

  The spa worker, a prim Asian woman in her 40s looks me up and down and denounces, “Look at you! The manager is going to fire you if he sees you all wet like that.”

  “Prince Julian would like me to wear something more casual while I serve him at the pool.”

  The spa employee looks around and offers me a white pullover shirt with a matching white skirt. It kinda looks like a country club tennis outfit. I’m not going to complain. I’ll take it.

  I rush into one of the spa suites and change my clothes in under a minute. Before I walk back outside, I check myself out in the mirror. Damn, I don’t look that bad. I would go even so far to say I look cute.

  “Now that is more like it,” the Prince says as I approach the Royal stud reclined on a beach chair. He is enjoying a mixed drink while sunning himself in the hazy Los Angeles sun.

  “May I get you anything, Prince Julian?” I ask.

  “You could tell me where I should go to dinner tonight. I have not been to Los Angeles in over a year. Are there any new places worth checking out?”

  “There is an excellent new restaurant in Malibu called The Pier. It is one of the biggest celebrity hotspots. And Your Highness will enjoy the fact that the eatery is secluded and far away from prying eyes.”

  “Excellent!” the Prince says as he motions to one of his men. “Book me a table at The Pier in Malibu at 9:00 p.m.,” the Prince orders.

  “Yes, Your Highness,” the man says as he puts his phone up to his ear.

  As the Prince takes a drink, another member of his entourage approaches him. “Your Highness, your meeting in Century City will begin in one hour.”

  “Oh yes,” the Prince says as he gets up from his chair. I quickly grab his beach robe and offer it to the hunky Royal. He turns his back on me and raises his arms. Of course, he wants me to put it on for him. Well, I don’t mind getting really close to Prince Julian. I slowly slide the terrycloth robe onto the Prince’s tan and tone body. Then I walk around to Prince Julian’s front side and tie the robe onto his perfect body. The Prince takes my hand and kisses it. “Excellent Amy. I shall see you when my affairs are done.”

  I am absolutely beaming. “If there anything you need, I am ready and waiting by the phone, Prince Julian.”

  The Prince smiles and walks off with his men. I am so turned on right now. My body is overheating with sexual urges. I swear I just want to go home and touch myself. Hell, I may not even make it back to my apartment. I need some alone time right now!

  I go to the employee area at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel with my wet uniform and exchange it for a clean one. When I get to one of the dressing rooms, I strip off my clothes, down to my underwear. I am so hot and bothered, I can’t help but rub myself.

  Oh my God! This is so crazy. I have never been this horny in my life. I sit on the little bench and spread my legs wide. I look up at the ceiling and imagine the Prince between my life. My breathing starts to increase. My face begins to sweat. “Fuck!” I moan as I push my hand into my underwear.

  I rub myse
lf until my toes curl. I cum. Then I lean back and feel my muscles relax. Damn, that was better than any fuck I’ve had in the past year. I look in the mirror and see myself in my bra and panties. Then I slowly get dressed.

  As I leave the dressing room, I almost forget that little white blouse and skirt. I walk back inside the dressing room and pick up the other uniform. When I turn to leave, I see my manager standing right outside the employee uniform area. Great. Now all my horniness has just fled my body!

  “What are you doing?!” the hotel manager says as he stares at me with the white tennis outfit.

  “Prince Julian insisted that I wear a casual uniform as I gave him a back massage.”

  “And where is our guest right now?” my boss asks sternly.

  “He is currently en route to a meeting in Century City.”

  “Make sure you stay by your phone. I don’t want you missing any phone calls from the Prince.”

  “Yes sir.”

  The hotel manager marches off. I exhale deeply and hurry back to my station.

  For the next few hours, I sit by the phone like a girl waiting for that cute boy to call. Five o’clock. Six o’clocj. Nothing. I should be happy. I just got paid two hours work for doing absolutely nothing.

  At 6:30, I see valet boys and bellhops run to the front entrance. I follow them and see the massive Royal motorcade making its way back to the hotel. I stand at attention as the line of Rolls-Royces make their way to the entrance. One of the bodyguards opens the door. The Prince exits with an attractive blonde. My heart sinks. I can feel tears ready to roll down my cheek.

  My lower lip begins to quiver as I see Prince Julian with this six-foot tall Nordic goddess on his arm. That massage. Our little conversation and sweet talk at the pool was really nothing. Dammit. I was being delusional.

  The Prince walks up and smiles at me. “Hello Amy. How are you?”

  “I’m fine, Prince Julian.”

  “Excellent. I will be dining at the Pier per your recommendation. I have heard wonderful things about that restaurant.”

  “I am sure it will be an excellent dining experience your Highness.”

  While the Prince and I talk, the blonde doesn’t bother to look or even acknowledge me. I just want to scratch her eyes out. This is supposed to be my Prince! The royal hunk - the Prince who will never be mine - continues to walk into the hotel. I slink back to my desk. No Prince for me. And soon, no job either.

  I slump over the phone. For a moment, I can feel a tear run down my cheek. I think about wiping it off. Then again, who cares? So what if the manager sees me. At this point, getting fired will only relieve me of my misery.

  Seriously, what was I thinking? Why would a Prince be interested in me when he could have any girl in the world. Here we are in LA where models, actresses and celebrities are competing for Prince Julian’s attention. I must be delusional.

  Two hours go by as I stand over the phone. No calls. Nothing to do but wait for 11:00 p.m. to roll around. At 8:00, I see the blonde walk to the concierge area. She is walking right towards me. All the blood rushes to my face. Sadness. Anger. Jealousy. All of those emotions mix throughout my belly.

  “Please cancel the Prince’s 9:00 p.m. dinner,” the blonde tells me in a European accent.

  “Yes ma’am,” I say coldly.

  Great. She’s not only gorgeous, she is probably some rich and famous European model.

  As I pick up the phone to cancel the dinner, the woman begins to text on her iPhone. Then she smirks and puts the iPhone away.

  I cancel the reservation in Malibu. The restaurant sounds clearly disappointed. The blonde looks at me and says, “I need to you to call the Santa Monica Airport and tell them that I will be arriving shortly.”

  “Yes ma’am. May I have your name.”

  The blonde looks at me as though I should know her name like it were a household word. “Of course, how would you know. I am the Romane, Duchess of Mondorra. You are the one assigned to serve my brother, the Prince. Please hurry. I do not want my plane to New York to be delayed.”

  That’s his sister! Holy fuck! I almost jump up and down. I smile wide and call the Santa Monica Municipal Airport and announce the imminent arrival of the Duchess of Mondorra.

  I hang up and the phone and smile at the Prince’s sister.

  “I have relayed the message, Your Highness,” I say.

  “You should address a Duchess as ‘Your Grace,’” the royal instructs me.

  “My apologies, Your Grace,” I say. Hell, I’ll call her anything she wants as long as she is not fucking the Prince!

  The Duchess stands around the lobby. I look at her with a sense of relief. A chauffeur arrives into the lobby and escorts the Duchess to her car. All of sudden, things are looking up. The Prince is in his Penthouse suite. However, I can’t help but wonder why he has cancelled dinner.

  No sooner than I have that thought, the phone rings.

  “How may I help, Your Highness.”

  “Did my sister leave yet?”

  “The Duchess of Mondorra has left for the Santa Monica Municipal Airport, Prince Julian.”

  I hear a deep exhale from his voice. “Finally, I thought she would never leave.”

  “Is everything okay, Your Highness.”

  “My sister has been bothering me to finance some ridiculous movie that she wishes to make. She wants to be a Hollywood starlet. I think the whole ambition is silly. At least she does not aspire to star in a reality show.”

  “If you don’t mind me saying, the Duchess is a very striking woman,” I say as I try to suck up to the Prince.

  “She is already a model. Why can’t she be happy with that?!” the Prince asks.

  “I believe LA makes people stir crazy for fame, Your Highness.”

  “Indeed. My sister has drained all the energy from me so I will be dining in the hotel this evening. I would like to have a room reserved immediately.”

  “As you wish, Your Highness.”

  Yipee! Yes, I know the chance of me hooking up with Prince Julian is on par with hitting the Mega Millions Lottery but a one in twenty million chance is better than no chance. I call our hotel and announce that the Prince will be dining on our property.

  Not ten seconds after I hang up the phone, the entire switchline explodes with various hotel employees instructed to “stay on their toes” and meet the Prince’s every need.

  I sit by the phone and relax. It’s 10:15. In forty-five minutes, my shift will be over and I’ll be free to go home, get naked and pleasure myself to that mental image of my hands all over Prince Julian.

  Time flies by. It’s ten minutes until 11:00. Robert, the night shift concierge, is already here and ready to relieve me. Technically, I can not leave my post until 11:00, so we just stand together and begin to talk about the Prince.

  “So is the guy an asshole?” Robert whispers to me.

  “The Prince is a really nice, down to Earth guy.”

  “No crazy requests?”

  “Well,” I say with a smile. “He had me give him a rubdown by the pool.”

  “Oh please. I hope he doesn’t ask me to do that!” Robert exclaims.

  “Hey, if the Prince wants a rubdown at 3:00 a.m., you can wake me up at my apartment and I will be down here in ten minutes,” I say with a laugh.

  11:00 p.m. Time to clock out. As I walk away from the desk, the phone rings. I am almost tempted to grab it just to wish the Prince a good night. As I am about to leave the lobby, Rob calls out to me, “Amy, the Prince would like to speak to you.”

  I look back at Rob. Perhaps, Prince Julian still thinks that I am on duty. Of course, why would he know my schedule. I walk back to the desk and pick up the phone. “How may I help you, Your Highness?”

  “The previous concierge just informed me that you are off-duty. Perhaps you would like to have a drink with me.”

  I don’t say anything for a moment. I am wondering if I having some sort of daydream.

  “Hello?” the Princ
e asks. “Are you there.”

  “Your Highness?! Of course, I would love to have a drink with you.”

  “Excellent. Why don’t you join me at the balcony to my suite.”

  “I shall be there as soon as possible, Your Highness,” I say as I hand the phone back to Rob.

  “What happened?” Rob asks me.

  “Um, I think the Prince just invited me up to his suite.”

  My colleague leans into me and warns, “You know it is strictly against policy to have any relations with any guest at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel.”