didn’t want to
cancel the reservation and alert the man who placed the ad. Besides she needed
to be able to pick up messages. But she had no intention of waiting at the
arranged hotel like a sitting duck. She debated whether to take a key and risk
paying an exorbitant figure for a room she wasn’t going to use. A man who could
pay $120,000 for a twelve night stand wouldn’t stiff her for the hotel room,
surely. “No. I’ll sign in now.”
“Do you have a vehicle, Miss Trout?” the man asked,
undisturbed by her waffling. He lifted his pen over a room slip.
“No.”
“You’re in the Queen Anne suite on the top floor. That’s a
non-smoking suite. I hope that is all right.”
“That’s fine.” Angela dug in her wallet for her credit card.
Praying the man would stop her before he noticed the wrong name.
“No need, ma’am,” the man lowered his voice discretely.
Angela’s face flushed with relief. “The charge is taken care of. We often put
customers of TransGlobe in the Queen Anne. If you could just sign here.”
Angela tucked the company name into a corner of her memory. She
looked at the slip and wondered why she needed to sign if not to pay for the
room. Maybe the rules were different in Canada. She took the offered pen and
signed ‘Anges Trout’ without hesitation. She had practiced for such an
eventuality. The man handed her an envelope with the words ‘Queen Anne Suite’
engraved on the front. She could feel a flat credit card key inside.
“Thank you,” she smiled.
“If there’s anything I can do to make your stay more
pleasant, Miss Trout, please don’t hesitate to ask. My name is Jeremy Smythe.”
Angela was used to friendliness from strange men. Though the
Canadian was most discrete, she saw the more than polite interest in his eyes.
She knew how to handle the situation.
“Thank you, Mr. Smythe,” she said in a no nonsense business
voice. “Your hotel is lovely. I’m sure I’ll enjoy my stay in Vancouver.”
As she walked away from the desk, she rubbed the message
slip between her fingers. She could feel Smythe’s eyes on her back and didn’t
want to stop and read the note with him watching. The lobby was large and she
quickly turned a corner that hid her from view of the front desk. She stopped
next to a tall white pillar. Her fingers trembled as she opened the folded
paper.
“Hi Aggie,” the note began informally. “Meet me in the lobby
near the front desk at 10am on Monday. Danny.”
Angela shook her head at the brevity of the note, then she
drew a deep breath. It was really going to happen. She leaned back against the
pillar and drew in another deep breath. Keep breathing. She thought of her
sister and winced. How would she ever convince Aggie to go for the interview?
Maybe she should forget the whole thing. She forced herself to relive the
moments as the ‘Captain’ forced the rolled bills up her ass. More than the
bruises and cuts, more than the pain of forced sodomy, the memory of the money
in her anus turned her bowels to liquid. She firmed her resolve. Aggie would
understand when she told her. Her twin wouldn’t let her down.
“What were you doing?” Aggie’s words greeted her as she
opened the back door of the cab. Angela slid onto the seat. “Are we staying
here?”
“I didn’t like the room,” Angela lied.
“Take us to the Sylvia Hotel,” Aggie told the driver. She
explained to the startled Angela, “The guidebook says it’s one of the best buys
in downtown Vancouver. And it’s right on English Bay.”
A short drive took them to the entrance to the Sylvia.
Angela was entranced by the ivy covered walls of mellow stone. The hotel was
indeed on the waterfront. Across a narrow but busy road, a sandy beach fronted
by weathered logs stretched out toward choppy white-capped waves. She could see
the tops of pedestrians half-hidden by a low stone wall. The location was
idyllic even in the persistent rain.
Angela insisted on entering the lobby alone.
cancel the reservation and alert the man who placed the ad. Besides she needed
to be able to pick up messages. But she had no intention of waiting at the
arranged hotel like a sitting duck. She debated whether to take a key and risk
paying an exorbitant figure for a room she wasn’t going to use. A man who could
pay $120,000 for a twelve night stand wouldn’t stiff her for the hotel room,
surely. “No. I’ll sign in now.”
“Do you have a vehicle, Miss Trout?” the man asked,
undisturbed by her waffling. He lifted his pen over a room slip.
“No.”
“You’re in the Queen Anne suite on the top floor. That’s a
non-smoking suite. I hope that is all right.”
“That’s fine.” Angela dug in her wallet for her credit card.
Praying the man would stop her before he noticed the wrong name.
“No need, ma’am,” the man lowered his voice discretely.
Angela’s face flushed with relief. “The charge is taken care of. We often put
customers of TransGlobe in the Queen Anne. If you could just sign here.”
Angela tucked the company name into a corner of her memory. She
looked at the slip and wondered why she needed to sign if not to pay for the
room. Maybe the rules were different in Canada. She took the offered pen and
signed ‘Anges Trout’ without hesitation. She had practiced for such an
eventuality. The man handed her an envelope with the words ‘Queen Anne Suite’
engraved on the front. She could feel a flat credit card key inside.
“Thank you,” she smiled.
“If there’s anything I can do to make your stay more
pleasant, Miss Trout, please don’t hesitate to ask. My name is Jeremy Smythe.”
Angela was used to friendliness from strange men. Though the
Canadian was most discrete, she saw the more than polite interest in his eyes.
She knew how to handle the situation.
“Thank you, Mr. Smythe,” she said in a no nonsense business
voice. “Your hotel is lovely. I’m sure I’ll enjoy my stay in Vancouver.”
As she walked away from the desk, she rubbed the message
slip between her fingers. She could feel Smythe’s eyes on her back and didn’t
want to stop and read the note with him watching. The lobby was large and she
quickly turned a corner that hid her from view of the front desk. She stopped
next to a tall white pillar. Her fingers trembled as she opened the folded
paper.
“Hi Aggie,” the note began informally. “Meet me in the lobby
near the front desk at 10am on Monday. Danny.”
Angela shook her head at the brevity of the note, then she
drew a deep breath. It was really going to happen. She leaned back against the
pillar and drew in another deep breath. Keep breathing. She thought of her
sister and winced. How would she ever convince Aggie to go for the interview?
Maybe she should forget the whole thing. She forced herself to relive the
moments as the ‘Captain’ forced the rolled bills up her ass. More than the
bruises and cuts, more than the pain of forced sodomy, the memory of the money
in her anus turned her bowels to liquid. She firmed her resolve. Aggie would
understand when she told her. Her twin wouldn’t let her down.
“What were you doing?” Aggie’s words greeted her as she
opened the back door of the cab. Angela slid onto the seat. “Are we staying
here?”
“I didn’t like the room,” Angela lied.
“Take us to the Sylvia Hotel,” Aggie told the driver. She
explained to the startled Angela, “The guidebook says it’s one of the best buys
in downtown Vancouver. And it’s right on English Bay.”
A short drive took them to the entrance to the Sylvia.
Angela was entranced by the ivy covered walls of mellow stone. The hotel was
indeed on the waterfront. Across a narrow but busy road, a sandy beach fronted
by weathered logs stretched out toward choppy white-capped waves. She could see
the tops of pedestrians half-hidden by a low stone wall. The location was
idyllic even in the persistent rain.
Angela insisted on entering the lobby alone.
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