Hotel Whore

Copyright Oggbashan June 2020 Edited July 2020

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

I was sitting at the desk in my room in this budget hotel typing up my notes of today's meeting and agreements. Normally I would be staying at a much better class of hotel but this was the only one close to the factory I had visited today. I didn't want to drive fifty miles in the wrong direction and thought I could endure a basic hotel for two nights.

As I had come up in the elevator to this floor I had shared it with a short man and a small woman. They had walked a few doors beyond my room. As he used his pass card to enter she smiled at me but he scowled.

There was a faint knock on the door. I had just saved my document. I opened the door. It was the petite blonde woman I had seen a quarter of an hour ago. She slid past me with her finger to her lips. I was surprised because she was wearing only a satin bra and a short slip that barely covered her panties. She was barefoot and clutching a small purse. I shut the door behind her.

"Thank you," she said. "I needed somewhere safe from him."

I must have looked puzzled. But I remembered my manners.

"Like a coffee?" I suggested.

"Yes, please, and then I'll explain." She said.

She sat down on the bed. There is only one chair in the room. I made the coffee and gave a cup to her. She moved aside for me to sit on the bed too.

"I'm the hotel whore," she stated baldly. "but tonight's customer wanted me to do things I wouldn't. When he went to the toilet I rushed out of his room, I knew you were here and I didn't think I'd get to the stairs or the elevator before he caught me."

"Without your clothes?" I asked.

"I didn't have time to grab them. I only had seconds."

"So you're the damsel in distress?"

She laughed. That was the first time she hadn't looked scared stiff.

"Damsel? No. I'm the hotel whore. Distress? Maybe. Dis-dressed is more appropriate."

"And you need your clothes back?"

"Yes, that would be nice but..."

"I'll go and get them for you." I said.

"I'd like them back. The stockings don't matter. The dress is cheap, but the shoes were expensive and comfortable. But won't you be at risk?"

"From him? I don't think so. He'd be embarrassed and I'm much larger than he is."

"But you are also much older, sir," she said.

She seemed concerned for me.

"Don't worry. I won't. Stay here. I'll be back soon. What room number?"

"Number forty-eight. But..."

I left the room, walked along to number forty-eight and knocked loudly on the door. He opened it.

"What the fuck do you want?" He growled at me.

"The lady's clothes, please?" I said.

"Lady! She's a fucking whore!" he shouted.

"Whatever she is, she needs her clothes, please?" I repeated.

He went back in the room and shoved the clothes and shoes at me.

"Now fuck off!" he said.

"Thank you," I said as he slammed the door in my face.

I went back to my room and handed the clothes and shoes over.

"Just like that?" she queried.

"He did swear at me, but yes, just like that."

"Thank you. I owe you."

I turned my back as she dressed.

"You can turn around now," she said. "I'm Helen, Helen Pusey."

"Hello Helen, I'm Robert Simmonds."

"Thank you, Robert. I'm grateful for the safety and the clothes." What can I do for you in return?"

"I don't need your professional services," I said, "I'm not desperate for sex."

"Desperate? Many of my customers aren't desperate. Yes, they want sex, but they want companionship more. Their work can be lonely, away from home during the week."

"How did you become the hotel whore?" I asked.

She didn't seem an obvious professional lady.

"It's a long story, Robert. Have you got time?"

"Yes, if you have, Helen. Another coffee?"

"Yes please."

I looked. We were out of milk.

"I'll have to go down to reception and get some more milk. Can you wait?"

"Yes, while you're down there, can you tell the night manager where I am? They keep an eye out for me in case there is any trouble."

"Yes, Helen."

I told the night manager that Helen was in my room.

"Helen? She said her name was Helen?" he queried.

"Yes. Why?"

"That's her real name, not one of her working names, so she must see you as a friend, not a customer."

"I hope I am. She took refuge with me, fleeing from an awkward customer."

"Thank you, Mr Simmonds. She is one of our casual chambermaids as well as the whore on call. We see her as one of our family of staff and try to look out for her."

"When she leaves I'll go with her just in case."

The night manager looked up at me.

"With you? I'm sure she will feel safe."

I returned to my room. Helen made coffee for us before sitting down on the bed beside me.

"Thank you, Robert. Where were we? Oh yes, you had asked why I was the hotel whore."

I nodded.

"My parents weren't happy with the man I married. Although they helped me to buy my small house, they made their distrust of him plain by making sure the house was only in my name, not ours. For the first couple of years we were happy. I was working as a chambermaid here, on the basic wage, and he was a packer in a local warehouse. We struggled with money but apart from that we were OK together. But then I became pregnant. He couldn't face the responsibility of a child although we had discussed it several times beforehand. He started drinking. It didn't help that my pregnancy was awful, life-threatening. I couldn't work and our finances, always fragile, were in a mess."

Helen stopped to sip her coffee.

"The birth was terrible and I was told that another pregnancy would probably kill me so I was offered a hysterectomy which I accepted. But after our child was born my husband started taking drugs as well as the drink. I kicked him out, and with my parents' help, divorced him. My parents had to support me financially as well as emotionally. After about six months I returned to work as a chambermaid with my parents looking after my daughter while I was at work. But, even with accepting as much overtime as was offered, I couldn't keep up with the bills. One evening a hotel guest offered me fifty pounds for sex. I had had similar offers before but had rejected them, as had most of the younger chambermaids. But this one was young and attractive. I knew I couldn't get pregnant and fifty pounds would pay the most urgent bills. I said yes and enjoyed it -- and was paid."

Helen stopped talking and leant against me. I wrapped an arm around her as she rested on my shoulder.

"He was the first and I started accepting more offers, some from repeat customers. Soon I was making far more from sex than being a chambermaid but my work as a maid was suffering. The manager interviewed me and said that I couldn't continue as I was. Because of the time taken for my other activities I wasn't effective as a chambermaid. I would have to choose. I could stay as a casual chambermaid when they were short of staff and become the on-call hotel whore. The sex I had been offering had meant that the other chambermaids were propositioned less often and if they were tended to give the hotel guest my mobile number. If that was formalised, the hotel could offer sex to any guest who wanted it and the chambermaids could refuse sex without offence. Of course, he and I knew that some chambermaids would accept a proposition if the customer was attractive and they fancied him, but there would be enough for me."

Helen snuggled closer to me.

"There was. I was usually available from Sunday to Thursday nights when business men and tradesmen used the hotel. On Friday and Saturday nights the guests tend to be families but I could be available if needed. My parents looked after my daughter during the day and she sleeps at their house overnight. I was around for breakfast and the school runs -- she's now six -- and at bedtime."

"What does she think about your job?" I asked.

"She doesn't know. When I leave her I'm wearing my chambermaid uniform. I change in my house. My parents haven't told her either. They don't like me being a whore but they know it is the only way I can earn enough. I have reduced my mortgage term and should clear it completely in a couple of years. I know my work is risky and I can't go on for ever. Another five years might be my limit but if I own my own house and have some capital I could go back to being a full-time chambermaid."

"What went wrong tonight?"

"I'm not wholly sure. When I saw him earlier and arranged a time he seemed normal. When I arrived he was furiously angry, not with me, but something had upset him. He wanted me to do things that I wouldn't and worst he wanted to be bareback. I never do that. I can't get pregnant but if I catch something it could end my career immediately. I had seen you go into this room. For all I knew the others might be empty. So I knocked on your door because he might have caught me before the stairs or the elevator. You let me in and now I'm grateful and owe you."

"Grateful? I don't need your services, Helen."

"Maybe not, but you are lonely, aren't you, Robert?"

"Yes. It will seem worse tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Why?"

"I had allowed two days for my negotiations but they finished in one. I had thought, if I had time, that I would visit some of the places near here that I last visited with my wife when she was alive. But on my own it wouldn't be the same. I would be constantly reminded of what I had lost when she died."

"OK, Robert, how about this? You take me out for the day tomorrow, not as the hotel whore, but just as a friend. I would like a day off work and tomorrow is Friday. My daughter will be at school and I don't usually work on a Friday, and almost never during the day."

"That sounds great, Helen. Have you got clothes suitable for visiting a stately home?"

Helen laughed.

"Yes, this is one of my working outfits. I have normal clothes as well. Shall I meet you at reception at ten o'clock tomorrow morning?"

"Yes, Helen, that is a date. But now we need to get you home safely. Is your home far away?"

"No. It is about four hundred yards, but there is a scary tunnel under the railway line on the way."

"Then I'll walk you home. Ready?"

"Yes, Robert, that would be nice. Thank you."

We took the elevator down to reception. I told the night manager that I was walking Helen home.

"We close the outer doors at midnight, Mr Simmonds. If you are later than that, the key card will let you in."

It was about quarter past eleven. I didn't expect that I would be back after midnight.

As we approached the tunnel another hotel guest ran past us. We walked down the slope into the tunnel. There were two men on BMX bikes who looked as if they were about to do a drug deal. We walked past them but one rode his bike very close, turned around and aimed straight for me, obviously trying to intimidate me. Helen gasped as I grabbed him by the front of his jacket, lifted him off his bike which clattered into the side of the tunnel and then threw him after it. The other man came towards me shouting:

"We'll get you!"

"You won't," I said calmly.

His mate was winded and struggling to get up. I continued walking with Helen in front of me.

"Thank you," Helen said as we left the tunnel. At her front door she stood on the door step and pulled my head down into a long kiss. I hadn't been kissed like that by any woman since my wife died.

"See you tomorrow morning," Helen said as she shut the front door.

I walked back towards the tunnel. As I started down the slope I heard the squeal of several cars' brakes. I ignored them. They were on roads and I was on a footpath.

As I entered the tunnel, the other man, who had threatened me, ran towards me, flicking a small butterfly knife open.

"Now you're for it!" He shouted.

I brushed the knife in his right hand away with my left arm before punching him hard in the centre of his chest. I felt and heard his bones breaking. He fell to the ground. The other man had started moving towards me but reluctantly. He had seen what I had done to the other. He too was waving a knife but he didn't seem to know what to do with it.

"Halt! Armed police!"

That shout came from both ends of the tunnel. Policemen bearing long arms entered, pointing their guns at the two men. The first man's knife was on the ground about a foot from his hand. I flicked it away with my shoe before standing still. The other man dropped his knife and raised his hands.

"Are you OK, Mr Simmonds?" A police inspector asked.

"Yes. But he's not," I said, pointing to the man still groaning on the ground.

"We saw. Very impressive, Mr Simmonds."

The two men were arrested and cautioned for attempted armed robbery on the man who had run out of the tunnel as Helen and I had approached. The Police did a cursory search and reacted as if they had won the lottery. The two men were carrying on their persons and on their bicycles hundreds of wraps of heroin. They were obviously major drug dealers. They were rearrested for that.

I had to go to the Police station to make a statement. There I was asked for my identity. The Police had been called by the hotel's night manager who only knew me as Mr Simmonds. I produced a business card.

"JP?" the inspector queried. "You're a Justice of the Peace, Mr Simmonds?"

"Yes, but not in your county," I replied.

"Of course. I should have connected. You're the boxing judge, aren't you?"

The media had given me that title when a prisoner had attempted to escape from the magistrates' court by the judge's' door. He had pushed an elderly woman JP out of the way but I hit him hard, twice, breaking an arm and his jaw. We had just convicted him of assault causing actual bodily harm and had referred him to the crown court for sentencing since the punishment was beyond or powers. We had also denied him bail, remanding him in custody. I was famous for a few weeks.

The Police ran me back to the hotel shortly before two am. I crawled into bed and slept.

+++

At breakfast I can some curious looks from the other diners. The man from room forty-eight came across to me bearing his coffee. He sat down opposite me.

"I am sorry for last night," He said. "I was angry. My wife had just sent me a text saying that she was leaving and the house would be empty when I returned. I shouldn't have reacted as I did. Will you tell the young lady I'm sorry, please?"

He looked scared, as if he thought I would assault him.

"I'll tell her, but whether she will forgive you? I don't know." I said.

"OK, thanks."

He got up and walked away.

+++

A few minutes before ten I was standing in the reception. Helen walked in exactly at ten o'clock. She was wearing a calf length denim skirt and a skinny top and carrying an anorak.

She walked up to me and kissed me.

"What did you do last night, Robert?" she asked/

"You know?"

"Yes. Everyone knows. One of my chambermaid friends rang me to tell me. The man you hit is still in hospital."

"He shouldn't have pulled a knife on me, Helen."

"But you're an older man, Robert. Big, but older."

"And I used to be a Major in the Royal Marine Commandos, Helen."

"Commandos?"

"Yes. He wouldn't have known but I led an unarmed fighting school."

Helen laughed.

"So I was safe with you?"

"Of course -- but he wasn't, stupid idiot."

"OK. Let's forget him. Where are we going today?"

"I thought that visiting Uppark, the National Trust property, would be good. That suit you?"

"Uppark? Yes. I haven't been there. I had thought of it once but it was closed because of the fire."

"And I last visited with my wife before the fire. I'd like to see what it is like now."

I went outside to my Bentley.

"A Bentley, Robert? We don't normally have Bentleys in our hotel car park. Older family cars and white vans are more normal."

I opened the door for her. She settled down in the seat with a wriggle of pleasure. I started the car and drove off.

"This is great, Robert. It makes my old car seem like a rattletrap. How fast does it go?

"How fast? I don't know. I stay within the UK's speed limit. In Germany on an Autobahn I took it up to one hundred and twenty but it would obviously go much faster than that."

"And we are now doing sixty and I can barely hear the engine, Robert."

"You're not supposed to. Bentley says you should be able to have a normal conversation at one hundred miles an hour."

It took about twenty minutes to reach Uppark. Helen was obviously enjoying being a passenger in the Bentley. We had talked, this time more about me than last night when we had talked about Helen. I was enjoying her company.

I produced my National Trust card and paid for Helen before we went to the café for a coffee.

As we went around the house Helen got more and more excited. It was almost as if I had taken a child to its first visit to a theme park. If Helen had had a tail, I think it would have been wagging frantically.

I asked why she was enjoying it so much.

"It is such a change from my normal life, Robert. It is like entering a wonderland and I have no worries, no responsibilities. I can just enjoy everything I'm seeing. Of course, none of my family would ever have lived like this, but the thought that someone could is amazing."

"Do you know about Mary Ann Bullock?" I asked.

"No, Robert, why?"

"She was a servant here, a working girl from a poor family and the dairymaid."

"Being a servant in those days must have been hard."

"It was but..."

I had brought Helen to Mary's dairy.

"While working in here, the owner heard her singing. He was elderly, seventy-one, much older than I am now, and she was twenty. He proposed to her and she accepted. They married. He sent her to Paris to learn how to become a Lady. She kept him alive, looking after him until he was ninety. He left the whole estate to her and she ran it until her death, and then her sister after her."

"That's very romantic, Robert."

"And almost unique," I added.

Helen stood on the steps outside Mary's dairy and hugged me before kissing me.

"I can understand how she felt, Robert. I came here very luxuriously in a Bentley and have had a day away from my normal life."

"A day? We've barely started. It's time for lunch."

The lunch, like most in National Trust properties was delicious if slightly more expensive than the meals at the budget hotel. Helen really enjoyed it. I had the impression that I was giving her an experience to remember. Why? I didn't know. Even in her old car she ought to be able to drive to Uppark.

That afternoon we walked around the gardens and then I drive us down to Littlehampton. We walked, hand in hand, along the promenade before a meal in a restaurant. I drove us back to her house, arriving there about ten pm. Helen kissed me again on the doorstep. After the kiss she just stood there, looking at me. Eventually she spoke.

"Thank you for today, Robert, but this is the end, isn't it? You're going back home tomorrow and that's it."

"Is it?" I said. "Yes, I should go home, to my lonely house, but why should we end? I could come back to see you again if that's what you want."

Helen's response was to hug me fiercely and kiss me frantically.

"Yes, please, Robert. I want to see you again, soon, and often. You are the first man for years, if ever, who has treated me with respect, like a lady, even if we first met when I was barely dressed. Please?"

"OK, Helen, when I get back to the hotel I will book for another night and see you tomorrow. Would you like that?"

"Yes, but..."

"But what, Helen?"