West Tower Room 3503 Pt. 01

WEST TOWER ROOM 3503, Pt. 01

Alexis Esposito could see why they were losing business to this place. Putting her sunglasses back on to reduce the need to squint, she stared up at the massive structure in front of her. She had walked down the boardwalk (from the hotel-casino that she helped manage) on a reconnaissance trip to survey the newest competition.

In front of her was what had to be one of the most expensive properties ever built. The newspaper couldn't get the total sum out of anyone -- and the company itself was privately held, offshore, and didn't have a requirement for public financial statements. It remained a mystery. All Alexis knew was that the tower she was looking up at right now, which comprised less than a quarter of the property, had to have cost -- alone -- more than the $250,000,000 her ownership group had put into renovating their older casino down the boardwalk.

At least 50 stories tall, the entire ocean-facing tower was floor to ceiling glass. Her reflection stared back at her -- tall, for a woman at 5'8", with strawberry blonde hair achieved through rigorous salon appointments. Designer sun dress paired with designer flats and Armani sunglasses. Kate Spade purse. She looked the part of the clientele for this "Atlantisea Resorts" recon trip, but this was just her usual day. She didn't make it up the corporate ladder of a national hospitality company just to save the money -- she treated herself.

Not too many passerby gave her a second glace -- she was nearing thirty years of age, though she'd never admit it, and for the most part was pretty, but not a knockout. Her B-cup breasts were what they were; she entertained the thought of enhancement surgery after a promotion years back, but heard that caused back problems. Her ass, on the other hand, was perfectly heart-shaped and toned -- she'd never skip a day in the gym. If she wanted attention, she could've opted for jeans or yoga pants. She didn't, though -- so she went with the sun dress.

She walked up what appeared to be marble steps and approached what she considered the back entrance from the boardwalk. She pulled her sunglasses off to reveal her blue, almond shaped eyes as she entered. The back entrance opened up to two hallways leading to who knows where on her left and right, and directly in front of her were a few rows of slot machines and craps tables. Beyond that, more gambling, increasing in density as you looked along.

Her assumption that one of the hallways would quickly lead to the lobby was wrong. As she walked in what appeared to be an infinite circle, she passed numerous elevators to various towers -- South, East, and North, respectively -- each containing their own lobby bar and a few clubs/restaurants near the elevators.

This place must employ thousands of people. How on Earth can they afford all of this? I wish I had this type of budget to work with.

Eventually, she reached the lobby. She mentally reminded herself to look for staff worth poaching -- an extra dollar or so an hour could steal a few friendly front desk agents to her property, she figured. The large horseshoe-shaped front desk appeared designed to accommodate a plethora of staff but only two were working -- waste of space, in her mind. The counters, floor, and chandeliers were all pristine and sparkling clean, though that was to be expected from a newly constructed building.

Alexis noticed that there were actually three -- maybe four -- staff members present. Off to the far right side, where the horseshoe desk opened up, a tall, thin man with slicked back jet-black hair appeared to be scolding an absurdly busty, barely dressed woman. He was in a black suit with a green tie, nothing designer that she recognized. The woman was basically in a bikini which looked absurdly out of place in a high-class lobby like this, though they were right off the beach.

Staff? Impossible. No way she works at the front desk looking like that. Daughter? No, he's too young. Wife? Maybe wife. Well, marry for looks and you get what you deserve.

She was stomping her foot while pouting as the man continued to lecture, causing her enormous breasts to jiggle in their bikini top. Just as Alexis was walking up to check-in -- the girl at desk had to be 19 at most -- the man shooed the woman away and walked behind the desk.

"Hi, ma'am -- welcome to the Atlantisea Resorts!" His voice was chipper but had the tell-tale signs of someone who says this 100+ times a day, all week long, week after week. His eyes, almost impossibly green, also didn't convey the cheerful tone he was hoping to convey. She wouldn't be stealing this supervisor or whatever he was. "Carla here is going to check you in. What brought you into town?"

Alexis put her driver's license and credit card on the counter for "Carla" to scoop up. The young girl smiled pleasantly but her boss's green eyes remained fixed on Alexis, even as the girl began to enter information into the system. "Oh, I've been coming to Atlantic City for years and figured it was time for me to see the latest and greatest for myself." Alexis flashed a little smile at the supervisor, which had no effect. Carla handed back her ID.

"Well Ms. Esposito, we're glad you chose us for your stay over the other options, particularly considering you've probably stayed with them in the past."

His eyes haven't left mine once, I could swear. How did he pick my name up off the computer screen?

"It's really my pleasure -- this is a lovely place you all work in here." She gestured around her theatrically.

"Thank you -- I appreciate that. And I'm sorry about that scene earlier -- it's notoriously difficult to find good help around here, you know." His smile seemed forced and more than a little sinister. Alexis was done with this creep.

"I" appreciate that? As in you alone built this? OK. Why did he say 'you know' in such a confident way? I'm overthinking this -- let's just take some photos of the place, see where we can improve, what pieces of their operation might not be so smooth, and get moving. Plus that bimbo he was scolding actually works here -- there's one area that's probably not performing well.

"I had Carla here put you in one of our better rooms in the West Tower -- higher floor and whatnot. If you're an Atlantic City regular we've seen people prefer higher floors. Given you've been here before it goes without saying to be careful outside the casino at night; this is still a city after all." He winked without any sense of playfulness.

Kind of a strange pitch at check-in to mention that you're in a dangerous city. He's right though. My parents started bringing me here 20 years ago and it's never been really safe.

She thanked him and walked away, flipping over her room key packet -- WT, 3503. Of course, the only elevator she hadn't passed was for the tower she wound up in. She figured she could just keep walking the circle that led her to the lobby, and she was right. Not long after, she was in her room.

Opening the door revealed floor to ceiling glass at the opposite side of the bedroom, with a view that was part-ocean, part-city. Not bad. The king size bed had better sheets than anything she'd ever seen at her property, and the bathroom was appointed with a walk-in shower, in addition to having a separate room for the toilet from the sink area. All in all, well-done. She had suggested walk-in showers in each room during their renovations, but it'd been shot down due to cost and the location of their pipes.

Anyway, it was time for some R&R before she checked out the floor area. After taking a few photos of the brands they used to furnish and appoint the room (potentially cheaper suppliers), she turned on the impressive 50-ish inch flatscreen which gave her an option to sign in to her various accounts on HBO, Netflix, etc. Another nice touch. She pulled out her seltzer from her handbag -- to be used as a mixer, and went to the minifridge in the cabinet.

Now this was just plain strange. Standard sodas and other items were present as usual but where the liquor would be there were only shot-sized black hearts with a small screw cap on top. Black usually denoted licorice, which threw her lime-seltzer-and-gin plans out the window. Still, it was so unusual it was worth trying.

House liquor. Wow. Maybe not made in house persay, but unlabeled and brought in from a vendor. Very classy, mysterious. We should imitate this for sure. Maybe even do a taste contest during the summer, get all the hotels involved, make it a tourism thing.

Unscrewing the cap, she did smell licorice, and it was quite a powerful scent. She briefly wondered why they would pick such an unusual flavor -- was it Sambuca or Vodka? That was quickly overthrown by the desire to get a little buzz working before scoping out the clubs and restaurants. She intended to enjoy her recon trip and treat it as a guest on vacation would.

The shot burned. Badly. It hit like licorice initially but the aftertaste was more like rubbing alcohol. She used to have a roommate in college who mentioned a room smelling like "formaldehyde" after it'd been cleaned. She thought of that roommate now and wondered if she knew what that chemical tasted like. Alexis was pretty sure she did.

She felt another, lower burning sensation, and it was in her sex. Alexis was a conservative, corporate type -- not one to masturbate and not promiscuous by any stretch. Her last boyfriend had been two years ago, and she'd made him wait 6 months for sex to tell if he was serious. Now, all of a sudden, she desperately wanted to finger herself.

OK, this is not normal behavior. What the fuck was wrong with that thing? Is it spiked? Should I call poison control? It didn't taste right. Just calm down, it probably went down the wrong pipe or whatever they say.

She was also feeling a bit dizzy, and the edges of her vision seemed blurred just a tad. She blinked twice and it seemed to straighten out a bit. She decided to head to the floor and check out some restaurants, maybe get a non-poisonous drink to-go from somewhere.

As she made her way down the elevator, she was finding it harder to concentrate. Each step she took seemed to bring more and more arousal. Her bra felt tight, her face flushed. She snapped a picture of the lobby bar and some combination strip-club/poker room behind it on her phone, then found herself staring at it for a few minutes before snapping out of it.

Get it together, you're working yourself into an anxiety attack because you don't like licorice. Calm. Down.

She decided on the lobby bar because she didn't want herself walking further and risking more arousal. She could feel she was damp below, and was glad she didn't go with tighter clothing as she'd considered earlier.

Though that would let everyone know I'm open for business. That'd make this easier. What easier? What the fuck am I talking about? I need a drink and to get to my room before I start humping this stool and sleep this off. I've got another day here for recon.

A man in a worn button-down short sleeve shirt, who looked to be about seventy, was staring at her as she waited for the bartender. He was about 4 stools down.

"Is there something you want?" Alexis had no patience for the "can I buy you a drink" game.

"Are you her?" The man sounded absolutely obliterated. She'd have what he was having.

"I'm sorry sir -- who's her? I don't know every woman in here, you know. We're don't have a club with secret meetings downstairs." She gestured to the bartender and finally got his attention.

"The lady. There's a lady here who they say you can get for two hundred bucks. I just won eight hundred, figure I can have her four times." He laughed, revealing a missing canine tooth and nicotine stains.

"You're disgusting." She turned away from him. The bartender was finally in front of her. "I'll take a double G&T with lime juice, please." Her head swam from turning. Something still felt...off. She moved slightly on the stool. She noticed a slight damp patch where she shifted her weight.

Oh my god -- am I really that bad? Okay I'm not going to just start masturbating at 29 years old all of a sudden. I should find a man. Not that one though, he's a creep. Just somebody to scratch this itch.

She looked around -- nothing promising to her left. To her right...not much there either. She stood up, feeling the blood somehow rush to her head and pussy simultaneously, and turned around. There was a man roughly her age in a shirt & tie sitting in the back of the bar at a table. He was by himself and his drink was almost empty. Perfect.

She wandered over and put her (rapidly emptying) G&T down on the table. He looked up, startled.

"Well we're both alone and your drink looked empty. I'm going to go up and order another myself -- what're you drinking?" She tried her best to look seductive but that wasn't really her forte. She suddenly wished she'd gone for yoga pants or jeans.

The man, around thirty with a classic handsome jawline and perfect blonde hair and blue eyes, looked thoroughly startled. He'd been reading something on his phone. At last he looked up. "Uh....yeah. Sure. Uhm, nothing fancy for me -- just red label & soda."

Alexis went to the bar, another walk, more aching need downstairs. She needed to get this part over with and skip to the good stuff. She looked up. She was at the bar, the 40ish bartender looking at her with a mix of curiosity and concern.

Did I just black out there? Shit I think I'm panting. Feel so hot.

She ordered her drinks and sat back down. Tom, his name was, and he was here for an accounting conference. Tom did not have a wedding band. Alexis didn't care one way or the other. She was so distracted she actually gave her real position at the casino down the street. He didn't seem to notice. After her second double G&T she was ready to go. They had some shared TV interests and she gamely said they could watch on Netflix upstairs, neither party confused as to what that actually meant.

He was as well endowed as he was good looking. She skipped right over the kissing and cuddling, pulling him backward onto her bed with her. She had removed the sundress as soon as they entered the room. When she undid her bra to let her breasts fall free he'd began to move forward, pulling her tight and kissing the side of her neck. That's when Alexis pulled him back & down to her.

She was throbbing in need as she felt her panties being slid down her legs, his tongue working on her clit. Her heat began to rise. She moved one arm to play with the hair on the top of his head while she cupped her breast with the other.

She couldn't remember why she was here, or even how she'd found the room. Only one thought was possessing her mind as she reached her first orgasm from his tongue alone. She let out a low, long moan as she lay panting, sweat on her forehead and her juices begin to dampen the still-untouched sheets beneath her. Just as soon as the wave of pleasure finished washing over her body, she felt her arousal building again. Tom kept up work with his tongue, seemingly oblivious to her need.

"Just....fuck....me. Have your way with me..." she panted

He needed no further instruction. Lifting his head, he stood straight, wrapping his arms around her naked waste and dragging her to the foot of the bed before entering her with his full length. Alexis didn't remember being with as thick or as long a man before and the fullness in her pussy was nearly overwhelming. Each thrust she felt a little further away from herself, almost out-of-body but still experiencing the heat, the arousal, and the feel of his hand on her breast and the other still behind the small of her back as he continued to fill her.

A second wave of pleasure rolled through her and Alexis was lost to the world. She felt her mind slipping away as the bliss of his dick buried deep inside of her took over. So lost in ecstasy she was that she didn't feel as he emptied his load inside her, wiping the tip against her clit as he withdrew for the last time.

"Thank you......" mildly, under her breath almost, Alexis continued. "I....needed that. Thank you." Her eyes closed, still panting, still sweating, Tom's load slowly seeping out of her, she fell asleep.

She woke up not long after, still lying in their combined juices. Confused but content, Alexis rose from bed to look out the window. She stared at the city that she'd visited for twenty years and worked in for eight. She couldn't for the life of her identify some of the buildings below. She thought she knew them, but it just wasn't coming to her. There was Atlantic Ave, a main stretch, the names from the Monopoly game. That much she still had.

As she walked into the bathroom to shower, she saw an envelope, partially opened, with a note sticking out of it near the door to the room. She turned it over -- no writing, nothing. She opened the note.

We don't appreciate anyone researching our operations. Least of all our competition. We'll talk soon -- hope you're enjoying the new you.

She just stood there, naked, holding the note and staring at the door.

We'll talk soon.