Hellacious Hospitality Ch. 01

The girl glided and pranced from behind her desk, pointed heels clicking audibly as she moved from the carpet behind the concierge desk to the marble-tiled floor of the lobby space. She beamed proudly as she stood before him to graciously present him the prized object. She moved in entirely too close, making him acutely aware of her petite frame, as she had to look slightly upward, despite the tall heels, to regard him with those bright doe eyes of hers. His nostrils were once again filled with her intoxicating scent.

"This is your room key," she instructed, as she placed the surprisingly heavy metal object in his palm, and gently closed his fingers around it. She then deftly stepped aside him, turning to place her right hand at the small of his back, gently urging him towards the corridor space past the reception counter. "You'll find the elevators down that hall. You'll want the third floor, and then make your way right. Your room will be on your left."

Benson stumbled forward slightly as she gently nudged him onward. He was now somewhat reluctant to leave the company of this alluring beauty, but did as instructed.

He glanced back to see her waving enthusiastically at him, causing her spectacular breasts to jiggle in their scant garment. "Pleasant dreams, Ben!", bidding him a farewell with a delighted smile still perched upon her face.

Elevator doors chimed and yawned open, and then Benson Lachlan was whisked away for the night.

*****

Benson turned the ornate iron key over and over in his hands as he made the short ride to the third floor. "346" was clearly engraved on its bow in a Gothic-looking font. Another incongruity: such an old-fashioned looking piece seemed out of place with the modern opulence of the lobby area he had just seen. A riddle for a more sober time, he concluded.

Upon exiting the elevator, he saw a placard indicating "Rooms 300 to 349, <--; Rooms 350 to 399, -->" dutifully following it left towards his appointed quarters. As he sped past room after room, he wondered just how big this hotel was. It certainly didn't seem so huge from the outside, tucked innocuously into an alleyway as it had been. The room numbers alone, though, seemed to indicate that there were a hundred rooms on just this floor alone. He hadn't thought to make note of how many floors were indicated on the elevator panel.

The alcohol still must have effected his perception more than he thought, because it took no time at all to arrive outside his room. Turning to his right, a plain white door stood before him, clearly embossed with the numbers "346" that matched the key. He slid the key into the lock. Well maintained, it gave a satisfyingly heavy click as tumblers rolled into place effortlessly, with not even a hint of a squeak.

The first thing Benson did upon entering the room was to hurriedly throw his drenched trench coat wide open and toss it over the coat hook on the door. Barely a second later, his hand had reached for the top button of his collar, loosening it with haste. He took deep gasping breaths as he slowly slumped to floor, the door closing shut with his body weight against it.

Benson clapped his hands around his neck and felt the heat rising off it, as his flushed face still gaped and gawped for air.

Holy shit! What the hell is this place? More importantly, who in the hell was that stunning girl!? His brain scrambled to make any sort of sense of his encounter downstairs. As his breathing slowed and he transitioned back to using his nose, he found traces of her bewitching scent still lingering with him, causing his thought processes to become even more entranced and entangled.

I have to talk to her again; see her again, his smitten mind tried to sear into the foremost of his life's desires. Fuck, you goddamned dumb-ass! His more rational reasoning centers tried to interject. She's the most gorgeous girl on the fucking planet, and you're just a stupid, drowned and drunken rat. What do you think could possibly happen there? His addled brain suddenly conjured an image out of a cheesy romance movie, playing back the warm smiles and gentle touches he had received in a cloudy, perfumed haze. Fucking dumb-ass, you're being played. No way some chick like her isn't some rich guy's fiancee, if not wife. Heck, this whole swanky place probably belongs to her man, and showing her off like that is probably just one of their weird kinks.

For a second time in the night, Benson raged, but with a different source of frustration now replacing his standard Friday-night woes. He bolted upright suddenly, and kicked out wildly. Not having bothered to even find the light switch yet, his foot struck an invisible side table, and he howled in pain. He collapsed in shock and found himself face down on soothingly plush bed sheets.

Benson lay like that for several minutes, as the cool linens leached the aggravations from his burning body. Calmed and refreshed, he slowly found the strength to turn himself over, head emptied, just wanting to stare at the ceiling until he passed out. Heavy iron key still clutched in his hand, he carelessly reached over and slapped it down on the night-stand with an audible "clink". He lazily reached down to untie his shoelaces, and then just kicked his shoes off into some unknown corner of the room. He could find them in the morning.

His hand errantly grazed his crotch, and he found himself contemplating the one matter of his body that he had been afraid to acknowledge all night. He slackened his belt and stuck his hand inside his pants, aiming to grant himself at least some form of gratification this night. He tried for five minutes, and despite ample inspiration courtesy of the teasing vixen downstairs, his flaccid penis wasn't having any of that. Fucking booze. Benson slowly drifted asleep splayed awkwardly and disheveled atop the bed, unfulfilled.

From a dark corner of the room, hidden eyes regarded the whole awkward, chaotic scene before them with bemusement and curiosity.

*****

Benson jolted awake to a cold sweat. He panicked at the unfamiliar space he found himself in, only for the delayed recollection of the night's events so far to hit him in an instant. He pressed himself against the bed again, as he contemplated whether he should attempt to return home, now that his mind didn't seem quite so fogged. He wondered what time it was, and rolled over to check for a typical nightstand clock.

At least, that's what he tried to do. With some distress, he found his body unable to move. In the recesses of his mind, he recalled that sleep paralysis was a thing, and thus didn't completely freak out. But it was a disconcerting experience, not having been prone to such fits before. He attributed the episode to his poor mental state before winding up in this foreign room.

With nothing to do until his body returned to a proper state of sleep, he glanced furtively around the room. It took some time for his eyes to adjust to the blackness of the space, his night vision response apparently still in sleep mode as well. Eventually something kicked in. He could see the faint outline of one of his shoes, propped up next to the TV on top of the dresser at the far end of the room, and with some effort due to his limited vantage point eventually found the other upside-down on the floor near what must have been the bathroom door.

And then he spotted "it". A silvery sort of shadow hung at the far edge of his peripheral vision, in the deepest, darkest corner of the room. He initially thought it to be more mind-trickery considering his multitude of breakdowns over the course of the night. But as he focused on it, willing it to fade away, its presence seemed to intensify.

Benson's consciousness flared into alertness as it perceived the distinct sensation of being watched. Apropos of nothing, his mind jumped back to his interaction downstairs. Not once had the girl asked for any form of remuneration, he realized with uncomfortable clarity. Ah, here it was. The other half of some weird, psycho honey-trap operation.

The longer her perceived the apparition, the more the air temperature in the room seemed to drop. Though no fog formed in the air, a biting frost seemed to tear at his lips as he exhaled.

Even if he had full faculty of his body in this moment, another instinct prodded at the back of his mind to stay calm. If there had been any sort of danger, surely this "presence" would have done something by now. It was already in the room. It was probably already there while he was completely passed out. Instead, he found the strange urge to nod reassuringly, invitingly, in the direction of his phantom stranger.

It wasn't easy, his body still not yet under his full control, but his head and neck slowly jerked into action at this thought. As if to reply, the shade seemed to flare up slightly, growing almost imperceptibly brighter. Two pale blue spots flickered into visibility near the top of the unformed shape, which he regarded as "eyes".

Countless more minutes seemed to pass. Benson was unsure if he or the shade were more terrified of the other. An awkward impasse had developed between them.

And then suddenly, some movement. It was barely noticeable amidst the whole static vignette, but Benson felt his face flush red as he could feel it happen. His cock had decided to turtle its way out from the top of his undone pants, as a raging case of morning wood commanded his loins.

The sudden onrush of embarrassment that flooded his consciousness was enough to jolt his whole body back into action, and he bolted back, against the headboard. To his shock, the shade seemed to react in kind, and it suddenly shifted a few feet toward him. As it did, a shape seemed to coalesce in the once formless thing. At first just a hazy cloud, it now seemed to have a distinct head, body, and arms.

As he fumbled to make himself decent, the specter unexpectedly shot out an arm to grab at his wrist. He felt a mild chill where the apparition had grabbed at him, but he was more fascinated by the fact that it had formed long, feminine fingers.

Now at the side of his bed, he could see a length of pale ethereal hair draped down over most of the figure's mass. Long, silken strands parted to reveal two pale blue eyes that regarded him... pleadingly? He found it hard to judge the expression, other facial features not having yet formed, and the eyes were not exactly human. More like dark, empty voids, with pale blue sparks hovering purposefully within.

He held out his free arm to slow her advance, but instead it pushed straight through where her shoulder should have been. Okay, she can touch me, but not vice versa. She had almost completely closed the distance, standing beside him at the head of the bed, and now caressed his cheek with her free hand. In such close proximity, he could see all of her clearly now.

The tall and willowy woman stood aside the bed. She bore a pretty, but sorrowful, face veiled by a drape of straight long hair that hung almost to the floor. She wore what appeared to be a gauzy, flowing night-gown, so delicate and ephemeral that it did nothing to hide the gentle curves of the feminine form within. Aside from her softly luminous eyes, the entirety of her being was a shimmering, vaporous silver-white.

"Who are you?" Benson tried to ask the spectral woman, his voice escaping as barely a whisper.

The haunting beauty shook her head slowly but emphatically, and turned her gaze downwards in a bashful manner. She remained unwilling to look at him straight in the eyes, peering at him sidelong like a chastised puppy.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know," he rushed to apologize, the strength in his voice beginning to return. He hadn't known what to expect, attempting to strike up a conversation with an apparent ghost, but the woman's shrinking countenance lanced his heart like a frozen icicle.

His instinct was to reach out and give her a gentle stroke under the chin to give her encouragement, but of course, his hand missed the mark and he only felt chilled air on his fingertips. The gesture seemed to have the desired effect anyways, as she turned to face him again with renewed confidence. Some form of color appeared to bloom across her pale visage, which he interpreted as a blush.

The pale woman's rapidly brightening mood gave him a shot of relief.

He watched with curiosity as the softly luminescent motes of light that comprised her eyes seemed to shift about, as if to appraise him. The intensity of her gaze was an instant reminder of his indecent state. He shook free his left wrist, still held firm in her frigid grasp. He shuffled in his seat, attempting to pull his pants higher and re-fasten the belt, but stopped dead when the act seem to cause the phantasm to waver and bristle.

A wave of realization rushed over him as to her true, amorous intent. He felt his cheeks immediately flush.

While far from his usual style to accept advances from strange women, the fact that his libido was already on edge from the relentless teasing of the young seductress from earlier in the night shattered what remained of his inhibitions. Being that he had absolutely no idea where to begin in having relations with an intangible spirit, Benson merely relaxed his body language, giving her a nod to proceed, allowing for the mysterious visitor to set her own pace.

The specter was a sudden flurry of movement, seemingly caught off guard by his consenting actions. She became unable to look him in the eyes, her gaze darting everywhere in the room except for on his face. She recoiled away, to the point of becoming unfocused and incorporeal again. She lingered for a moment as a fog in the back corner of the room, and Benson wondered for a moment if she had lost her nerve and ran off.

But in a moment, she was back at his side. She held a hand to her mouth to suppress a silent giggle, and then gave him a cute little shrug. In any other scenario, he may have found his first ever encounter with a bona fide ghost to be disconcerting or perhaps even terrifying, but instead, the lack of self-confidence his visitor displayed was adorably endearing.

She stamped a silent foot down, steeling her nerves. She gazed deeply into his eyes now, with sharp intensity, as she crossed her arms over her chest to paw at the thin straps of her gown. Slipping them from her shoulders, the garment smoothly slid down her shimmering torso, vanishing into the ether instead of pooling at the ground. She brushed aside long strands of hair that veiled her face, tucking them behind her ears, to stand before him fully revealed.

He eagerly drank in the sight of her nude form. Her small but firm breasts stood out proudly from her chest, the small nipples at the tips stiffening in anticipation. Her slender body appeared delicate, yet undeniably beautiful. His gaze roamed lower down her body, which to his surprise remained partially unformed. While the wide flair of her hips and roundness of her buttocks were clearly visible, the cleft of her mound remained indistinct, and her legs faded into nothingness where feet would be.

Reacting to his appraising gaze, she shrank back again slightly, shyly holding her arms in front of her body, hands clasped together at her crotch. In her nudity, though, the act also crushed her small, lovely breasts together into an inviting cleavage, only enhancing her appeal. Her visage was innocent, virginal, and that feminine vulnerability was sending Benson's hormones into overdrive.

He held out his right hand invitingly, while motioning with his left for her to join him on the bed. Deepened color returned returned to her cheeks, and she hesitantly placed her hand in his. His hand closed over nothing, but as he made the motion to pull her gently over the bed, her vaporous body followed.

She held eye contact as she moved up onto the bed, straddling his lap. Cool hands gently cupped his cheeks, and for a moment, she seemed to contemplate something as their thoughts became intertwined, mingling wordlessly in the space shared by held gazes. After but a moment of hesitation, she decided to nuzzle his cheek with the side of her head. A kiss between strangers would be too intimate, too sudden, he inferred from her actions. It was lust, not love, that drove her this night.

She weightlessly pressed her hands to his chest, and teasingly traced and circled down the buttons on his shirt. Repeating the pattern once more, and with greater intensity in her eyes, he belatedly realized her meaning. He was able to "feel" her, but only in terms of varying degrees of cold that licked across and prodded at his skin. That touch didn't extend to the ability to manipulate objects, apparently. With some shame on his part for how long it to catch her meaning, he began to strip off his shirt. It was only fair that if he were to experience her nudity, that he should return the favor in kind.

The phantom gestured for him to lie flat on his back, to which he obliged, shimmying down the length of the bed so that he now had to look up at her, a slight, obliging smile on his face. A sudden shiver ripped down his spine as an icy fingertip found the tip of his cock, still peeking out atop his unfastened pants, and began to circle its tip playfully. Her form rippled happily at his reaction, now smiling broader, teasingly. The tension between the two had been breached, and she grew bolder.

Frosty hands now grabbed at his hips and slapped gently at his thighs, and this time her meaning was instantly clear. Sticking his thumbs in his waistband, he slid his pants and underwear off his legs in one single motion.

Now disrobed, it was Benson's turn to be appraised. Unlike his wandering eyes, though, the beautiful specter's response was far more intimate. She laid out her entire body length atop his, eyes still unwaveringly locked on to his own. He savored the feeling of the weightless, naked body that enveloped him. In contrast to the more hostile chill he perceived upon her arrival, the body pressed to his was milder, and invigorating, like the cool lick of air after emerging from a swimming pool on a hot summer's day.

Benson reveled in the sensations as the ghostly maiden explored his body. There was her overall pleasant coolness, but also firmer touches of cold as her fingers danced and roamed about his body. First on his shoulders, then down his biceps. A sharper, icy feeling deep under the surface, as fingers probed for muscle. As his brain slowly adapted to translating the varying sensations of coldness as her weight and forcefulness, his arousal spiked when he became aware of the two frosty points on his chest, where her firm nipples were pressed against him.

She seemed to like what she found, as she continued to regard him with a dreamy smile. Her "weight" now slipped downward, and he marveled at the wonderful sensation of her frosty twin peaks snaking their parallel trail down his abdomen. Dots of cold danced down his rib cage before biting into his love handles. He frowned slightly at that last part, as he became self-conscious of his lapse in exercise routine. There was a point in his life when he was trimmer, more athletically inclined, but the wearying rigors of work life had dampened that enthusiasm in time. A playful swirl around his nipples and a tickle at his thin chest hairs brought him back in the moment, and he flashed her a gentle, encouraging smile as reward for her deft finger play.

All the coolness was focused across his thighs now, as he watched his phantasmal lover rise up to straddle them once again. She rolled her hips gently atop him, the cool lips of her unseen labia offering him the most wonderful sensations as they glided up and down his length, coaxing out the fullness of his erection. Part of Benson could scarcely believe what was about to happen, but the desirous look upon the woman's face was all too real.