Service with a Smile

"Sigh, do we have to?"

Kate Warmer's eternally bored husband Knight settled into his usual couch stupor. She wasn't having any of it.

"Knight, we haven't gone on vacation in ages. I'm packing my bags, you can come along with me if you like."

"Ugh, fine. Whatever."

Kate quickly flicked through her wardrobe.

"No..."

One bra, two bra, red bra, blue bra.

"Nope."

"Dear?"

The massive cups hung luridly in front of his face.

"What, my Knight?"

"You should take this stripy bra I got you on Valentine's Day."

"Ew! No thanks."

Kate resigned to leaving all her pretty, expansive collection of lingerie at home. She would go to Cape Cod commando.

"Knightie Boy?"

"...Yes?"

"Here's the lobby."

She tossed a pressed cocktail napkin at hubby.

"But there's no phone numb-"

"Ciao."

"-er."

-

Kate drove with the top down, feeling the rush of air on her open cleavage. Nothing at all good on the radio. She called out to an old buddy she knew at the village.

"Oh Hiii Tom!"

"Katelyn! It's been..."

"Far too long, baby. I'm on my way to Cordial's. Remember?"

"Like the back of your ass, you betcha I remember."

"Well, I'm spending a few bad nights there. Doing the travel thing, you know..."

"And Knight? If Cordial's is half the class I recall, he's in for a good time!"

"Oh Knight? He's busy with whatever. But you, dear Thomasu..."

"Yes, my Lady?"

"I have a few kinks in my shoulder to work out later. Beadearandbringthosemeatyhandsalong."

She hung up.

"Such a feisty bitch, that one." thought Tom.

"Julie, I'm working late tonight..."

--

Knight flipped another beer can onto the floor of their pristine apartment. Kate insisted on keeping the whole place just so... kempt. So it was with great relish that Knight set himself up a movie marathon, cookie crumbs and everything everywhere. A quickly growing pile of beer cans adjoined his recliner.

Finally the end credits rolled for Vampire Babes in Space. He popped open one more can. Knight reflected on her whirlwind vacation plans.

"Should I?"

He belched.

"Fuck it."

Knight turned over the napkin three times. No telephone number to reach that damned lobby. Standing up to fetch the remote, he tripped over the pile.

The beer seeped into the napkin.

"Fuck! Shit!"

He damned nearly threw the thing away, but then decimals began to reveal themselves.

508 666 12...

The last pair of numbers were ruined. Knight burped loudly in disgust.

"Where flying fuck is that (burp) chicken fried bitch?"

-

Three hours away, Kate smartly strutted from her crimson 1967 Corvette to a stone walled check-in counter. There in the center of a rather enormous atrium, a young and very fit looking male clerk in a dark wool suit greeted her. He seemed to have a permanent smile on his lips.

"Hello, Mrs. Warmer. My, you look lovely today."

"Is the room ready, Sir?"

He made a point of keeping his eyes well above her deep cleavage. Her nipples were obviously poking through her lavender camise.

"In a bit, Mrs. Warmer. We have a well stocked mini bar," he waved to the right.

"Over here."

"Oh, I don't drink, honey. Just smoke."

She began texting Tom.

"We are (cough) fully stocked for that as well. Would you like to see?"

"Where?"

The clerk took down his AVAILABLE sign and coaxed her along a side corridor.

"Does Madam prefer indica or sativa?"

He knocked once at a door.

"Yeah, I like all-"

A gust of temperature-controlled air fluttered her skirt. Suddenly she felt very wet.

-

Tom shaved and started for the door.

"Tommy..."

Julie pinched his butt.

"Tommy Bunny! I suddenly feel like making a porno or two with you. Hmm?"

Tom sized his wife up. She was insanely decked out in spikey fetish wear that she got online whoknowswhere. Bare nippled and crotchless. With a man-shaped bridle and a long leather whip.

"Fffuck. You know what, the team can probably manage without me tonight."

"Yeah?"

She cracked the whip.

"Good boy!"

-

Kate stood in the marijuana hydroponics dome holding her skirt down. Row after row of gorgeous plants in bloom hit her in waves of skunky goodness. The garden tender was there, kneeling. He cooly let go of a flower stem.

"Have a look."

She tapped her heels over the plastic-lined floor. Leaning in front of the man, she took her time savoring the scent.

His face was in her breasts.

"Mmm..."

She shook her breasts.

"I like this one."

"Your satisfaction is our happiness, Mrs..."

"Warmer. And your name?"

"Marcus. We can bring a cured bud and, of course, anything else you wish, up to your room to meet you."

"I can hardly wait, Marcus. I hope to see you soon."

She left him, clacked her heels out the door. The clerk followed.

Marcus caught a drop of his own sweat before it could water the soil.

"This lady doesn't give a single solitary fuck."

-

"Welcome to McDonald's, home of the Happy Meal. What can I do for you?"

"Blast it!"

Knight disconnected the call. After half a hundred tries, he was beginning to sober up. And she still wasn't answering her cell. He dialed again.

"Cordial's, Your satisfaction is our happiness."

"Thank heavens. Listen, my name is Knight Warmer, my wife-"

"Mrs. Kate Warmer? We've been taking exceptional care of your partner."

"Room number?"

"The room is still being serviced at the moment. Perhaps we could take a message for Mrs. Warmer?"

"No need."

He slapped together a suitcase and shorts. He'd have to track her down himself.

-

Knight thundered down Mills Street, shifting his crumpled, baby blue Corolla through the growing traffic bubble. He gave it a few miles, then tried Kate's cell once more.

-

"Yes!" Kate answered.

"Where are you, Kate?"

"Oh fuck yes! Oh woah woah woah..."

"Honey?"

"Yummy, Marcus!"

"Just who is? Marcus?!" demanded Knight. He almost spun out.

"Just a friend, love. A very. BIG. Friend. Ungh!"

"Marcus, you leave my wife alone, okay?"

"Marcus and I are missing you, baby. Aren't we, ruff! Woof!"

Knight heard Marcus ring out a wide SMACK on her ass.

"Just what exactly is going on in there?"

"Tell him, Marcus."

"I'm buttfucking your stoned, sweet little wife, Mr. Warmer."

"Goddammit. Which room is she, Marcus? Just tell me that."

"No, don't tell him, Markie. Oh GOD yes! Yes! Fuckshitohshitoh..."

The call dropped.

"Not again," whined Knight.