Hotel fantasy, p.1
Hotel Fantasy, page 1
Hotel Fantasy
Synopsis
Lexi Bradshaw is in the business of fantasies. She manages Hotel Fantasy, where guests can stay in themed rooms designed to help put the spark back into their relationship. Lexi has made it a personal rule to never indulge in the many pleasures of the resort. But when a mysterious woman checks in with an intriguing proposition, she challenges Lexi’s rule, unlocks a steamy past, and opens the gate to her desires.
Molly Taylor has a fantasy in mind that only Lexi can fulfill. However, convincing her to participate could prove challenging. But Molly has an ace up her sleeve, or in this case, a one-of-a-kind queen of hearts, whose image is none other than Lexi.
How did a stranger come to possess a card that represents such an intimate part of Lexi’s life? All the answers Lexi seeks and more will be revealed over an erotic game of cards.
So, tell me, do you want to play?
Hotel Fantasy
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By the Author
Hotel Fantasy
Writing as Toni Logan:
Share the Moon
The Marriage Masquerade
Gia’s Gems
Perfectly Matched
Hotel Fantasy
© 2023 By Piper Jordan. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-63679-207-1
This Electronic Original Is Published By
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.o. Box 249
Valley Falls, Ny 12185
First Edition: January 2023
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Barbara Ann Wright
Production Design: Bold Strokes Graphics
Cover Design by Tammy Seidick
eBook Design by Toni Whitaker
Acknowledgments
A heartfelt thank you to Rad, Sandy, Ruth, and the incredible team at Bold Strokes Books. I am honored and forever grateful to be a part of this amazing family. Thank you.
A very special shoutout to Barbara Ann Wright, editor extraordinaire, for your patience and guidance. I can’t thank you enough for all you have taught me.
For my wonderful friends who are always there for me. You guys keep me smiling. I love you.
And the biggest thank you goes to you, the reader, for taking a chance on this book. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Dedication
To Paula and Zanne.
Here’s to the memories, the laughter, and the love we share.
Lexi
“What do you mean suite five wants to change their theme from the dungeon to the Hollywood film set? They’re scheduled for an early check-in tomorrow.” I quickly did the calculations. If I brought the crew in within the hour, they could have the medieval props, faux-stone walls, and toys stripped by dinnertime and the movie soundstage, equipped with scene changes, wardrobe choices, lights, and cameras completely ready for action by sunrise.
Technically, it was doable, but all last-minute changes were a bit of a hassle and very costly. “Did they say why?” Not that it mattered, but the dungeon theme was one of the resort’s most requested rooms. I mean, what couple wouldn’t enjoy rejuvenating their sex life in a three-thousand-square-foot private dungeon filled with an assortment of personally chosen interrogation toys.
“They didn’t say, but they’re aware of the additional fee and have already given the okay to charge their card,” Amanda’s soft voice said through my car speakers.
“That’s okay, I was just curious.” If the couple booking suite five wanted to direct and star in their own fantasy movie instead of role-playing in a dungeon, so be it. As long as they were happy and enjoyed their stay, that was all that mattered.
“I told them you’d call them back to go over the details of their new fantasy and any additional requests they have for the room.”
“That’s fine. Thanks, Amanda.” Fortunately, both the Dungeon of Desires and Lights, Camera, Action themes were part of the resort’s ten, prepackaged fantasies that couples and thruples could pick from when they booked their stay. My crew could easily dismantle and swap one out in twenty-four hours. That was, after all, one of the stipulations I’d insisted on when I’d hired the Hollywood set designer. I wanted each of the resort’s themes to be constructed so they could be assembled and torn down fast and easy, yet they still maintained an authentic and realistic look. “I’m pulling in right now. I’ll call them from my office when I settle in. Anything else?”
“Nope, see you soon.” The call disconnected, and the system switched back to my playlist as the private gates opened their arms and welcomed me in. The walled-in resort was surrounded by mature, tropical and desert foliage, and from inside the grounds, no one would ever know we were only one block from the Strip. Privacy for our all-female clientele was important. It was one of the resort’s selling points. Well, that and the elaborate erotica-themed rooms we offered.
“Suite five,” I muttered through a sigh as I pulled into my reserved parking spot. “You’re going to make today a very long day.” But since this resort was my brainchild and the design of each theme my vision, pulling an all-nighter to deal with its never-ending needs wasn’t uncommon. It was my baby, and the thrill of watching it grow into “a masterpiece of design and pleasure that was worth every penny”—as our latest reviewer so eloquently stated—had been the best high of my life.
I checked myself in the visor mirror and admired the way the wind had rearranged my new pixie cut into a fashionably stylized messy look. I shrugged my messenger bag over my shoulder and gave my convertible Audi A5 Cabriolet a loving pat. Not because I was into status—well, maybe a little—but because the car had been willed to me by my beloved aunt, and driving it reminded me of her.
I nodded to a member of the crew who was planting perennials at the base of a marble slab etched with the words, Welcome to Hotel Fantasy. It looked classy and embodied the vibe of the resort. So much better than the owner’s suggestion to get something that played off the iconic, Welcome to Las Vegas, sign. “Too cheesy for our clientele,” I had told her, and I was right. And now, ten years into this venture, Hotel Fantasy had an impeccable reputation as a premiere and discreet luxury resort where guests paid top dollar to stay in one of six suites that graced the ten-acre property and accommodated every aspect of their fantasies.
“Good morning, boss.” Patty, the barista in the lobby, smiled from behind a glass counter full of pastries and finger foods. “Your usual?” She grabbed a large cup and started the familiar dance between coffee beans and machines.
“Hi, Patty. Yes, please. And how’s you morning going so far?” I asked above the whirl of the grinder.
“Very well, thank you,” she mumbled without looking up.
I took a moment to glance around the beige and brown marble lobby, admiring the huge vases of flowers flown in fresh from Hawaii daily. The room was elegantly sparse, and the 24-7 complimentary coffee, juice, and pastry bar was something all the guests seemed to appreciate and positively commented on in their reviews. If that was what made the difference between a four- and five-star rating, then it was worth every penny.
“Here you go. One large almond-milk cappuccino with a dusting of cinnamon and nutmeg.”
I wrapped my fingers around the paper cup, took a sip, and reveled in the knowledge that the tasty liquid warming my body would soon work its wonders on my sluggish brain. I mumbled a thank-you as I headed for my office. I waved to Amanda, who was on the phone behind the front desk, and motioned with a nod that if she needed me, I’d be in my office.
She acknowledged the gesture, and with a back kick, I shut my door and closed off the world, if only for a moment. I shrugged off my bag and settled into the oversized chair partially hidden by the equally oversized walnut desk.
The leather creaked as I sat, rocked back, and enjoyed another sip of coffee in the momentary quietness. Five blissful minutes later, with the fog amply lifted from my brain, I rocked forward and woke the computer so today’s itinerary filled the screen. Hotel Fantasy presently had four of the six suites occupied, with the remaining two booked starting today and tomorrow, respectively.
The thruple in suite one requested the adult bookshop theme, stocked with a list of specially requested toys, a video viewing room, and uniforms so they could role-play as customers and clerks. Our custom-designed strip poker board game, where a roll of the dice sent players around squares that illustrated which articles of clothing they should remove, was also a featured item and had become popular with guests booking this fantasy. One of my staff had suggested that the game be redesigned into a video.
Nah. I shook my head at the thought. There were some things that were meant to stay old-school.
In suite two was an anniversary couple who ha d chosen the Sweet Sensations fantasy theme. “Good choice,” I muttered, knowing the specially stocked candy, bakery, and edible lingerie store we had built in their room was providing tasty treats for some creative erotic food-play. What better way to spice up the twenty-year relationship of the couple who’d booked it than a few days of sugary fun.
Suite three was a newlywed couple in town for their honeymoon. They’d requested the pirate room, another one of our best-selling role-play themes, but one that required a little more construction. A miniature version of a ship right out of Pirates of the Caribbean was assembled in the suite. Pirate costumes and props were provided, and of course, the boat was stocked with enough toys, alcohol, and food that they could yo ho ho and a bottle of rum for days without leaving the ship. It even came with enough gold-covered chocolate coins to rival any pirate’s bounty.
Suite four was a custom request, something for those who wanted to splurge, with the stipulation that they booked no less than a week’s stay. The guests had requested their room be transformed to look like the street in Paris that housed the small café where they’d met. The establishment had closed over a decade ago, and I had to dig up online photos and send them to a local set designer to construct the look and feel. It was a sweet and romantic anniversary request.
“The best kind,” I whispered to the screen as I thought of the elderly couple, who were probably at an age where the memories of the love they shared meant more than the act of lovemaking. “I hope your Paris café brings you back to a time that held magic in your lives,” I said as I typed in a note to Amanda to comp three nights of the seven-night stay. Any lesbian couple together for that long, enduring the struggles of loving during a time of unacceptance, deserved it.
My eyes then settled on suite five. I needed to give them a call and go over their new requests before I pulled the trigger and put a full crew—who was going to charge double time—in motion. I reached for the phone and was halfway into dialing when something caught my eye.
Suite six was listed as a single occupant. Wait, was I reading that right? I leaned into the screen. Yep. “Huh.” I hung up the phone and settled back. When we’d received the online form stating that for the two-night stay, the guest didn’t want any theme for her room, “beyond just a standard suite,” I’d cringed. There was nothing standard about Hotel Fantasy. If someone wanted a room that looked like a typical hotel suite, why not stay at a typical hotel? Vegas was full of them. Why pay a premium to stay here?
But Amanda had suggested that the guest probably just wanted to stay at an all-woman resort, and the premium rate was inconsequential. But to do so as a single occupant? And then request an arsenal of toys? Something wasn’t adding up.
I clicked on the details tab and confirmed that all of the toys had been placed in the bedroom drawer, as instructed, and no amendment to have any of them removed or replaced had been added. The guest did, however, make a last-minute request to have the room’s bar stocked with a couple of bottles of cabernet sauvignon and…my breath caught as I read the next line. She wanted a bottle of Guevirin gin?
“You have got to be kidding me.” That was my all-time favorite, and I had never met anyone else who had even heard of the family-owned distillery located in a small town on the outskirts of London, much less sampled their gin.
I grabbed the phone, hit a worn button, and a second later, I heard the front desk phone jingle. “Welcome to Hotel Fantasy, how can I assist you?”
“Hey, Amanda, it’s me.”
“Oh, hey, boss, what’s up?”
“I was just reviewing the booking for suite six. Am I reading the details of the registration correctly? Single occupant, two dozen toys and apparatuses, standard…” I choked a bit on that word. “Room. Plus, two bottles of wine and a bottle of Guevirin gin? Really? Guevirin?”
I waited a moment as I heard the clinking of the keyboard. “Um…yep, that’s what I have too. Oh, and there’s an additional note that says that her flight will be arriving sometime after eight, so I have her down for a late check-in. Why, is there a problem?”
“No,” I said. “Just odd that we have a single occupant.” And even odder that she’d requested my favorite gin.
“I know.” She snorted. “I thought so too. But whatever, right?”
“Yeah, right,” I mumbled as I thanked her and hung up. I clicked back to the registration form and focused on the name of the woman piquing my interest. “Who are you, Molly Taylor, and why in the world would a single person be interested in a lesbian resort known for erotic themes?”
After a moment of thought that provided no answers, I shrugged and quoted Amanda. “Whatever.” Rule number one at Fantasy Hotel…no judgment. As long as the guests didn’t cross obvious lines with their requests, I would make sure all their needs were accommodated so all their desires could be fulfilled. It was not only our motto, it was also our reputation, and it was what women from around the world came here for. The ticket wasn’t cheap, but it bought privacy in a quarter-acre suite, a fantasy theme, and a car to drive them anywhere in Vegas that they wanted to go, day or night. Not to mention that the toys were theirs to keep as souvenirs, for obvious reasons.
That was what Hotel Fantasy was all about, and it was my fantasy being played out after years of begging and being denied funding. Were it not for a chance encounter with a newly widowed wife of a multimillionaire who was indulging in her lesbian tendencies—and who’d just happened to inherit ten acres and a run-down hotel from the sixties—I might still be pitching this idea to uninterested and uncaring bankers. But here we were, a decade later, a tenfold in profit, and with an international clientele.
“Don’t tell me fantasies don’t come true.” I chuckled as I dialed the number associated with suite five.
“Hello?” A high-pitched voice from the phone steered me back to business at hand.
“Hello, may I please speak to Ms. Michaelson?”
“This is she.”
“Hi, this is Lexi Williams. I manage Hotel Fantasy in Las Vegas, and I’m calling about your request to switch your theme.” And with those words, I began my daily task of juggling several projects at once. I had calls to make, crews to coordinate, and time was of the essence. This was my stage and my show, and everything about it not only fed my ego, but was a total and complete turn-on.
* * *
I heard the soft tap at the door, looked up, and rubbed the back of my neck. “Come in.” I glanced at the clock and was surprised that it was already eight-thirty. Damn, the day had flown by.
“Hey, boss.” Kelly, the night-shift clerk peeked in. “Can I trouble you to cover the front desk? Our late arrival has yet to check in, and I need to run out and grab something for suite four.”
“Is everything okay?” I had seen the elderly couple earlier and had asked them—in the broken French that I’d learned in a ten-minute YouTube video—how they were doing. They’d giggled and replied in perfect English that they were having the time of their life.
“Yeah, everything’s fine, but the ladies are quite the drinkers. They just finished off the last bottle of Bourgogne Pinot Noir Grand Cru, and since this is their last night, they desperately wanted one more. Although, they already sound pretty tipsy,” she said. “But they also sound like they’re having a blast. Anyway, I thought I’d run over to Terri’s and pick up a bottle.”
“Can’t someone deliver it?”
Kelly shook her head. “They’re short-staffed. At best, we’re looking at two hours before someone can run it over.”
“Well, that’s unacceptable.”
“Exactly.” Kelly smiled.
“Okay, yeah, no worries.” I stood and arched my back. “I’ll cover for you.”
“Thanks. Need anything while I’m out?”
“No, I’ll just grab a coffee.”
Kelly nodded, and we walked through the lobby. I stopped to place my order, and she continued out the doors to her car. “Hey, Gail, how’s it going tonight?” I said to our night-shift barista.
