Proust's Muse - A New Partnership

He reappeared, in a sense, when she checked in at her hotel in Nashville.

"Hi there! I'm checking in," she told the front desk clerk, "The reservation is under Leanne-"

A man whose nametag identified him as a manger cut in enthusiastically, "Mrs. Proust! We're so glad to have you! Your husband has already checked in, so we can skip that process! He left you this parcel. Let me get your key and you'll be on your way. Carlos will handle your bags." She turned around to find that Carlos and her two small suitcases were gone. She took the small bock from the manager's hand along with her key and made her way to the elevators. Typically a room number was scrawled on the paper sleeve that held a room key. Leanne was confused for a moment to find only letters. Then she realized what the cloak and dagger sonofabitch had done. She scanned her card and pressed the top button. The elevator lurched upward toward the Presidential Suite. Only fitting, she thought, for Mrs. Proust.

The box she'd been given contained an iPhone and a folded slip of paper. On the sheet was scrawled:

Passcode: Your Title

-P

My title? What the fu- then it hit her. MY MUSE. She typed in the corresponding numbers. Sure enough, the phone unlocked. A message was waiting for her.

I can't help a little cloak and dagger from time to time. I figured this is a good, untraceable way for two-way communication. You'll find my number as the only contact entry. You'll also find the closet stocked with a few wardrobe additions more suitable to a beautiful woman, all alone, free from the confines of home. Call me once you're settled in.

***I hope you enjoyed the introduction to the series. The second installment will be coming in the next few days. I'd love any feedback you might have, and/or suggestions on where you'd like to see the storyline go from here.***