Liar's Lair

"Huh? I'm your assigned bellhop. I'm glad that you like me." Grace gives me a completely disarming smile. "And this is Liar's Lair. Look all you want!"

"Uh, yeah, okay. And you can call me Dave. That's my real name."

The elevator reaches our floor and she nods with a wink and exits with my bags before I say anything more. Does she believe my real name is Dave? I don't know. Maybe not. That wink was very playful.

Grace and I take a short hike down a silent hall. She tells me that my suite key reads my fingerprints when I pinch its brass plate. As we walk a door on my left chirps and opens all by itself when it senses my key. We enter my suite. Wow! The place is palatial, more room than I would have dreamed and very expensively appointed. Grace gives me a tour of everything, starting with the lounge area and how to run the multimedia system. Next is the bedroom. The bed is beyond enormous and Grace cheerfully turns down the sheets for me.

Last stop is the bathroom. It's a cavern, twice the size of my entire room at the fleabag. Cintia downstairs wasn't exaggerating about the size of the shower area either, oh no, not at all. Grace finishes her description of the suite as we wander back into my new bedroom. She then turns to face me. "I'm your assigned bellhop, so when I'm on duty and you ask for anything I'll try to be the one showing up. Otherwise just call downstairs or ask any bellhop wearing a red scrunchie. Red team is the group that serves the special residents."

I nod dumbly. I feel overwhelmed with how nice this place is.

"Anything you like, just ask," continues Grace. "It's an honor to be on red team. We're chosen for our desire to please."

I'm staring at her tongue tied. She's so incredibly cute and sexy looking in her skimpy outfit, and this is the red-light district. I can't resist a little banter. "Anything at all?"

"Well, within reason," she says back with a cheerful smile. "Are you thinking of something?"

I feel like saying, "Hey, pretty girl, in case you haven't noticed, I'm a guy! I'm thinking of asking you to ditch the halter bra and ultra tight panties right now!" But instead I mumble something about needing a place to wash my clothes. I have two suitcases packed with dirty laundry. Actually, filthy would be a better word.

Grace's eyes go wide. "Oh, I'd love to help you there. If you'll trust me to unpack your bags, why not take a shower now and leave your clothes outside the door? I can have everything cleaned and back here in about an hour."

"Really?! That sounds fantastic!"

Grace gives me a very warm smile and turns and opens a linen closet near the bathroom door. "Here's something to wear when you're done showering." She hands me a fluffy robe and some extra-large bath towels. "I'll wait outside while you undress."

With Grace waiting on the bedroom side of the door, I quickly get out of my sweaty clothes. Damn, I am covered with oily dirt, and my clothes aren't any better. I feel embarrassed handing such crud to the beautiful young woman on the other side of the door, but that's what I do. I hand her everything but my wallet through the half-open door, even my muddy shoes. Shortly afterwards I hear a cheerful goodbye and the sounds of Grace leaving my suite.

The shower feels great, lots of hot water and I couldn't believe the wide selections of finely milled soaps and fragrant shampoos. I put myself through two complete wash cycles before deciding to call it quits. Afterwards I dry off and then put on the robe. Oh man, it feels so good to be clean again, and in the cool dry air I'm not sweating and my wrists feel fine. I feel like a different person. I look in the mirror and stare for a moment.

Well, I have to admit maybe not that different. I've just turned fifty-five and I haven't kept my body in shape. Do I want to exercise? Yeah, maybe. In spite of our vast age difference, I find myself thinking of Grace as my assigned bellhop. I want to look nice for her. Should I ask her if Liar's Lair has a gym? Yeah, maybe I will.

I walk out to my bedroom and look around. A few of my personal items are arranged neatly on the dresser, but everything else I had is gone, including the suitcases themselves. I've got my wallet and a bathrobe and that's it. Well, maybe the room key too, but I must say, I do feel a little vulnerable. I don't even have a pair of undershorts to my name and my bathrobe goes down only about halfway to my knees. If the hotel sounds the fire alarm right now...

Fortunately I hear a knock on my suite's entry door before I carry that image further. Grace is back and looking more cheerful and beautiful than ever. Everything is so clean, my clothes, my suitcases, even my muddy shoes. Amazing. The shoes are dry too. How did they do that? And then a memory causes me to blush deeply. My dirty undershorts! I am such a slob. I had a big brown oily streak in the rear of my undershorts. How embarrassing! The white boxers are immaculate now, far cleaner than they would ever get with a machine washing. I look at Grace meekly. "You didn't have to do that."

"Do what, sir? And may I call you Dave?"

"Wash my shorts by hand. Yeah, sure, Dave is fine."

"Dave, I'm your assigned bellhop. It's my job to keep you happy."

"Well... Thanks. You did a wonderful job."

Grace beams me a super happy smile over my small compliment. And then she's just standing there, waiting for me to make the next move. Should I tip her? Absolutely. I may be a cheapskate, but I'm not a dork. This woman has just washed shit out of my dirty boxers, and it was completely on her own initiative. I walk over to my wallet and pull out a few bills.

"Dave, you're not doing what I think you're doing, are you?"

"I know what my boxers were like! You deserve something extra!"

"And so do you! You're a resident at Liar's Lair now. So relax and enjoy being pampered. Seriously, I'm not supposed to take anything, and I don't want to anyway. It's my job to please you, not to take money from you. That's the job of the front desk."

"But you're a college kid, right?"

"Yep! That's me!"

"And aren't all college kids glad to get some extra money?"

"No, not this one. Seriously, I could get fired for taking your money, and I don't want to anyway. I'm a red-scrunchie bellhop, Dave. My job is to please you."

I stare at her. Her last words, "my job is to please you", they were said softer than the rest. It sounds like an invitation. Is it? It can't be, but is it? "Please me how?" I whisper.

"Any way you like," she replies sweetly with a little wiggle of her hips. "Anything within reason."

There's that strange qualifier again, "anything within reason." What does she mean? I'm standing there staring at her and my heart starts aching to hold her. I haven't felt like this in decades. She is so young, so beautiful. What does she mean? I really don't want to insult her by suggesting something coarsely sexual. Not if she's not expecting it.

So instead I bring a pair of clean undershorts to my nose and stiff. Yes, I thought so. My undershorts smell of the light fragrance of Grace's perfume. She must have done that on purpose. What other explanation is there?

"How old are you?" I whisper.

She smiles warmly back. "Twenty. I'm full grown, if that's what you're asking. See?" She takes a big breath and holds it and stands spread-eagle, legs apart and arms held horizontal out from her sides. Her eyes are full of playfulness.

I start to pant as I stare at her. Oh my gosh, she is so beautiful, so young, I never dreamed, not for decades anyway. Is she as hot for me as I am for her? Impossible! And yet, aren't her nipples just a little more visible now than they were a minute ago? And her hot pants! Oh man is she hot! I can see her vulva! The indent of her labia is clearly defined in the ultra-tight cotton fabric.

I shake my head to clear it. What am I thinking of?! Grace is a super sweet kid and I am not going to try to bed her, no matter how much my body is aching to. "Well, okay then. I really appreciate all you've done for me."

Her eyes blink as she realizes I'm ending the conversation. Her eyes glance down at my crotch and then back up to mine. "Well, okay," she says. "Just dial 6 if you want anything or have any questions." For a brief moment, an instant, there's a strange glint in her eye. I struggle to understand her emotions. Disappointment? Yes, perhaps, and perhaps something else too. But it happens so fast and Grace is too far away from me. The moment for better understanding passes. Grace gives me a final nod and a moment later she leaves my suite.

I try to wind down from my arousal. Oh man, that was tough, but I tell myself I did the right thing. And then I remember something and glance down at my crotch as Grace had done. I feel like dying in embarrassment. I have a raging hard-on pushing out straight horizontally and it's turning my bathrobe into an obscene tent. I can still feel myself throbbing for her. Grace must have seen it all and she was still sweet and playful with me. Wow.

What an extraordinary kid. My mind goes back to a bitter memory, the last time I was sexually aroused while I was still married to Maggie. I'll never forget the look of revulsion on my wife's face when I exposed myself. What an incredible contrast to now. Grace is such a sweet kid. But I did the right thing. I'm fifty-five and Grace is twenty. I did the right thing.

I sigh. Okay, I'm finally winding down from my arousal. So what now? I'm tired but not sleepy. The bed is presidential, but it just doesn't appeal to me. What's the time? Late evening I guess, midnight? I don't know, maybe not that late. This should be prime time at the single's bar. Am I up for some female companionship? Oh yeah! I laugh and shout out loud, "What the hell?! Liar's Lair, here I come!"

It only takes a few minutes to get dressed and head down to the elevator. As I make my first real study of the touch screen, I'm stunned by the enormity of the place. Back at my fleabag hotel, I heard mention the bars here were on the lower levels, and I assumed that meant the ground floor and perhaps a basement below. But no! The touch screen is indicating at least four levels below ground and perhaps a fifth. Am I reading this correctly? Five levels, is this possible? Especially so close to the lake? Very strange...

I take the elevator to the level just below the hotel lobby. It's a dance floor and I take a moment to marvel at the hotel's soundproofing. My room and even the ground floor lobby were cool and quiet. There was no hint of the raucous beat of the hot music down here. I wander around for a bit along the edges of the dance floor, trying to get my ears used to the decibels and my eyes used to the flashing lights. People look as if they're having a good time, and, pleasantly, there are a lot more women here than men. Even on the dance floor, there are a number of women couples dancing alongside the straight couples.

Is this a bar for mixed sexual orientation? I'd have no problem with that. But as I look around I notice that there's not one guy-couple to be seen. Is this a dance floor just for straight couples and lesbians then? I never heard of such a thing, but it's possible I guess. I walk around a while and begin to fret. There're are many unattached women walking around, all very attractive too, but so far I haven't seen anybody that looks within twenty years of my age. How do I approach someone for female companionship when she's young enough to be my daughter?

Not that I have a daughter. A sad memory returns: the fact that I never had children. Maggie was adamant about that, and to be fair, she was our primary breadwinner. Fucking hell on pumpernickel, that's what I say! Time to think of something else! I keep hunting and at last find someone who I'm pretty sure is on the north side of thirty. She still might be twenty years my junior, but on the plus side (and it's a very big plus side!) she's apparently alone. I watch her for a moment. Yes, she's surveying the crowd, perhaps looking to introduce herself to someone. Perfect.

She's very pleasant to the eye and wearing an alluring outfit. Above the waist she's almost bare; two small triangles of cloth are covering what are obviously A-cup breasts. It's still a cute and obviously feminine front. The triangles have a print of purple and blue swirls and are tied around her back and neck with blue cotton cords. There's a thicker blue cord of the same color low on her waist, and it's holding up a cream colored skirt that falls from very feminine hips almost to her ankles. She's wearing sandals with moderate heels, and in the swirling lights on the dance floor I catch the glint of a gold toe ring.

And then I happen to catch her side profile exactly right. The purple-blue triangle catches a bit of breeze and the side lights hit her just right and just for an instant I think I see... Oh wow, yeah, no male nipple ever looked like that! This woman definitely has a very cute feminine front! It's time to make my move while she's still available! In a burst of courage I walk up to her and shout above the music, "Hi there! My name's Dave! I'm very pleased to meet you!" How's that for a suave and debonair pick-up line?

For an instant her green eyes look cold and I fear she's going to tell me to get lost. I'm therefore very pleasantly surprised when I hear her shout back, "Hi, Dave!" I get a cheerful smile and she continues. "It's nice to meet you too! My name is Lucia! Do you dance?"

"Well, I've been accused of trying!" I shout in reply, trying to sound amiable. Keep the conversation going! "Want to give it a go?"

Lucia shouts back, "Sure, I'd love to! But would you mind if we got something to drink first? I'm a little thirsty!"

Mind?! Hell no! I nod agreeably and shout, "I'm new around here!"

"Yes, I can see that!" Lucia replies cryptically. "The refreshments are one level down! Do you know the way?"

I shake my head and guess, "Back to the elevator?" I gesture across the dance floor in case she didn't hear me.

She leans over very close to my ear so that she won't have to shout and says, "No, there's a more direct way. And it will be quiet enough for us to talk. Follow me." Lucia has lots of rich curly black hair and it feels like cool silk against my ear. I'm thrilled at how well this is turning out.

We go through several doors and then down some stairs. The music fades out almost completely. Marvelous, I can hear normally again. We enter a large dining area and I try to strike up a conversation as we walk. "Lucia. That's a pretty name. Italian, isn't it?"

"And don't I look it?" she asks with an energetic smile. "And David, that's from the Bible, isn't it?"

"Uh..." I'm at a loss for how to reply. "Yeah, I guess. Do you mean I look Biblical?" Was that her meaning? Was she trying to say I looked old? Too old? But that would be so rude, and I had done nothing to give her offense. Maybe it was just small talk, just a playful joke. And yet, she does look young enough to be my daughter.

We come to a vacant booth and Lucia directs me with her hand to sit down. As I do she sits down with me and turns a small switch on the base of our table lamp. The switch causes the lamp base to glow a dull red. Lucia looks at me and says, "It's the custom on this level for women to serve the men. The bar won't serve you directly. So what can I get you?"

"Uh, thanks. Do you want some money?"

Lucia stares at me for a moment with her lovely green eyes. "No, my treat. What would you like?"

"Gee, I don't know. How good is the bar? Can you suggest something?"

"Sure. The bar here is world class. They'll make you anything you want. Do you like rum and pineapple together?"

"Sure."

"This place makes a great Bushwhacker. It's made with rum and Bailey's Irish Cream and Crème de Cacao and coconut juice and pineapple juice and something else that I forget, but it's really good. I'll get you one of those."

"Sounds great. Thanks Lucia!" She gives me a playful grin and takes off.

The minutes go by peacefully and I have time to think of my new acquaintance. She certainly is very pretty on the outside. I start to wonder what she's like on the inside. We didn't spend much time connecting yet. But she offered to buy me an expensive drink. That was generous. And that odd comment about my name, perhaps she was just trying to make a joke that I didn't understand.

And the time drifts by. I guess the bar must be crowded. I sit and wait patiently, looking at all the other couples. It's the same as upstairs, pairs of opposite sex couples and several pairs of women and lots of single women, but never pairs of men. Maybe I'll make a comment to Lucia about it when she's gets back. She seems familiar with the place. I lean back and sigh.

And the time drifts by. Liar's Lair, hell of a name for a hotel, hell of a name. Walking over here, I thought it was just the name for the bar below, but no. My bathrobe back upstairs, when I was taking off my bathrobe after Grace left, I noticed the L.L. monogram. And the time drifts by. I think of lots of things. Lucia, it'll be interesting breaking the ice, starting to talk to her. I'm so rusty at this. Wow, this is really turning into a long wait.

I look up and there's a woman a few steps away staring at me thoughtfully. I give her a friendly smile and she walks over and makes a hand gesture that mimics me turning off the red glow at the base of my table lamp. Curious, I do as she asks.

"I couldn't help but notice, you've been sitting here for an hour with your do-not-disturb light on. Do you really want to be left alone, or is someone playing a trick on you?"

I can't help myself. I give a loud gasp as her words sink in. And then I make a small grimace and say, "Hi, I'm Mr. Dumb. Mr. Really Dumb."

"Hi, Really! Mind if I sit down?" I make a gesture with my hand. The woman sits down and offers me a friendly smile. "You must be new here, Really."

"Yep. Mr. Dumb just checked in this evening."

She nods. "My name's Caitlyn. I really hate the name Really. My father and all ten of my brothers were named Really and it really drove me nuts. Would you mind really if I pick a new name for you?"

I stare at her and raise my eyebrows a bit.

"Benjamin! Would you mind being a Benjamin for a while?"

I shrug. "No, that'll be fine. Forgive me for being moody. I've just been stood up and it still hurts a bit." I look at the woman across from me. Mid-twenties maybe? She looks really nice but after just being burned, I'm more than a little cautious. "Caitlyn's a pretty name. How long have you been a Caitlyn?"

"Yeah, I like it too." She replies to my compliment but ignores my question. Or I think maybe she has, when I consider her answer carefully. She's still smiling at me. "So Ben, what do you think? Do I look like a Caitlyn?"

I blink and with a burst of fear wonder how similar this is to my conversation with Lucia. But then I decide I'm being irrational. Caitlyn is being nice and it's just a coincidence. So I lean back and tell her of my encounter with Lucia.

Caitlyn laughs. "Oh, that was so well done! The bar not serving men! Oh, that's so funny!"

Somehow it still doesn't seem funny to me, but Caitlyn's laugh is not cruel or mocking. I suddenly realize she's trying to help me make light of the issue. And she's right. Why should I stay depressed? Lucia and I never had anything going together.

"Ben," Caitlyn says, "you have got to keep remembering where you are! Liar's Lair, get it? Liar's Lair, get it?"

"I'm beginning to! Are you saying everything here is a lie?"

"No, of course not. If it were, you could just reverse everything and get the truth. If I had to guess, I'd say 20% to 30% of everything said here is a lie. That's what makes it such a complex game!"

"A game of hurting people?"