by David Horne
“Well,” George said with a small smile. “I’m glad you’re still here.”
“Are you and John still seeing each other?” he asked casually. It seemed like a strange question. But after the last month of strange behaviors at the hotel, it was timid by comparison.
“We were never officially seeing each other. I was supposed to get friendly. John’s given up on me, I think.”
Duncan frowned and asked, “Do you think that will have anything to do with the sale of the hotel?”
“Of course not,” George said and moved back into the hallway. “I’m not even a facet of the sale of this place. And if Ashley gets her way, I won’t be around by the end of the month.”
“Interesting,” Duncan said, looking at the housekeeping cart. “What are you doing right now?”
“You’re funny.”
“Actually, I wanted you to take me back up to the roof.”
“Really?” he asked. There was a spark of real excitement. It had been so long since George felt anything resembling excitement that he was eager to explore more. Too many things had gone wrong lately in George’s life. This man had intelligence and charm. Duncan was the type of man George wanted around, wanted to be around. A pause from the monotony of housekeeping was welcomed and George felt he deserved a break.
After a thunderstorm earlier in the day, the roof was a refreshing and uplifting place. George stood looking out over the city. He took several deep breaths, and the proximity of Duncan at his shoulder made him feel better.
“That’s what I wanted to see,” he heard Duncan say.
“It’s a nice night,” George agreed.
Duncan laughed. “I was talking about you, George.” He turned to face George fully. “You’re letting this business with Ashley get the best of you. You know you can’t defeat her. Why bother fighting her?”
“I’m more concerned with how it’s affecting everything else, not just me.”
“That’s what makes you a bigger person.”
Duncan did something completely spontaneous and unexpected. His hand grabbed the nape of George’s neck and pulled him close. It was a kiss like no other. First taken by surprise, the shock wore off, and George wrapped his arms around the man. Their quiet and lingering embrace made George’s head swoon. Duncan tasted of minty toothpaste. He’d anticipated the meeting and prepared for it. The hand pressed against George’s pants was more surprising than the kiss.
“Is this okay?” he asked, lips pressed against George’s ear. How could it not be okay? George felt the blood fill his cock. The immediate sensation of a probing hand and wet mouth against his ear made it impossible to resist. He reached down and undid the button and zipper of his pants.
He felt Duncan’s hand reach inside the underwear and grasp the stiffening penis. He heard Duncan’s audible remark at the handful between his legs. He wasn’t timid about holding George’s cock. Ducan kissed George’s neck. George ran his fingers over Duncan’s chest. Alone on the roof, they had each other. He wanted this beautiful sensation to go on without end. At that moment, feeling Duncan’s expert grip and long, firm strokes, he didn’t care about the hotel or the front desk. He cared about Duncan and wanted him in his arms forever.
George’s fingers found the button on Duncan’s slacks. The fingers pulled free the button, and the pants dropped from Duncan’s hips. He stepped out of the slacks. His underwear was the only barrier between George’s fingers and his erect penis. After more sweet kisses, George fingers hooked the elastic band of the shorts and pulled down. His mouth traced the length of Duncan’s chest. Duncan stepped from the underwear and George dropped them on the heap of pants.
Considering the notion of returning to work, George was more careful with his pants and underwear. The two men stood pressed against each other, cock to cock and mouth to mouth. Duncan turned, facing the city. The high wall of the roof obscured anything from below. Anyone on the street, if there were anyone around, would only see one of the two men, standing against the wall, slightly bent forward.
Duncan pulled George closer. He reached between George’s legs and guided him by the thick penis to the opening between Duncan’s thighs.
“Don’t put it in me,” he whispered.
Duncan only wanted to feel the length of George’s cock rhythmically pressing against his balls and shaft. Duncan maintained a soft grip between his legs as George continued to pump against him. He leaned forward, pressing his chest against Duncan’s back. He reached around his middle, slid his hand along the smooth surface of his pelvis, and pushed his fingers against the man’s erect penis.
Duncan pushed off the wall when his hands and turned to face George again. He opened his mouth and pressed his fingers against George’s face. Their mouths met. The lasting kiss as their bodies pressed against each other. George felt Duncan’s hand on his cock. He reached down and took hold of Duncan’s cock. The two of them faced each other, kissing and watching. It lasted as long as George could with Duncan’s firm and energetic grip on his shaft. He began to speed up his hand. The two men moaned quietly, enjoying the freedom and the pleasure of mutual masturbation.
When George felt Duncan’s cock begin to flex spontaneously, his cock responded in kind. The two men shared a connected moment of ejaculation. Duncan came against the retaining wall, while George’s semen shot out, splashing against the wall and Duncan’s leg.
“Wow,” Duncan said, holding George up with his back and hands against the wall. “That was a lot of cum.”
They dressed again. Quietly exchanging looks, they smiled at one another. Duncan was winded. Glistening sweat on his forehead sparkled in the muted ambient light. Duncan finished dressing first and helped button George’s vest. He kissed George and they shared a gentle breeze that played across the roof. George held open the door when they ventured back into the hotel. George walked Duncan back to his room.
Before he could move the cart along the hallway, Duncan slipped from the room and hugged George. He pressed his stubble against George’s cheek. Then he returned to the room and closed the door.
Chapter Twenty-Four
What had happened?
The next day George had off from work. He didn’t know if it was fate playing a twisted game or if Duncan had planned the encounter to coincide with George’s night off. George found his way to the bar and hoped Duncan would make a surprise appearance. The Thursday night crowd was lighter, empty chairs and the available billiards table.
Someone offered a game. Still waiting and watching the front door for Duncan, George took on the opponent. He paid for the game. He let the young man break. When nothing went in, George stopped looking at the front door to the Rusty Ax and concentrated on the game. The young man put down the pool cue and skulked back to the bar without another word to George.
On Friday evening, when George returned to work, Ashley called him to the office. She dropped in the worn-out desk chair and stared coldly at George.
“You need to evict Florence McAlester,” Ashley told him.
“What are you talking about?”
Raymond hadn’t arrived for work before they went to her office. And with the recent and shocking development, it was possible his tardiness was a tactful response.
“She’s got a cat.” Ashley gave George a look that made him feel cornered. If he admitted to knowing about the cat, it would mean he’d lied to Ashley for an extended length of time.
“So?” he countered. “So what? She’s a nice lady, and maybe the cat is clean.”
“Hotel policies, no pets,” Ashley told him as if he needed reminding.
“Maybe the cat’s therapeutic. It’s possible that Florence has a condition that makes it possible for her to have the cat for emotional support.”
“Is that a thing?” she asked.
“It is.” Having the upper hand never happened with Ashley. Maintaining the advantage was important. “And it’s possible since the cat helps her medically she doesn’t have to treat it like a pet. Or
let the hotel know she has it.”
Ashley began to tap out something on her keyboard. She looked at the computer screen.
“I don’t see anything here that protects the woman through the American Disabilities Act. So, you need to tell her she has three days to find a new place to live.”
“I can’t do that,” George admitted. The woman had lived at the hotel for so long—even with his and Ashley’s combined tenure, she still had more time over them. “Why not have your new night auditor do it.”
“Ray told me about Florence. He said he overheard Florence talking about the cat with Elizabeth. Ray said he went to Florence’s room later and asked her about the cat.” Ashley collected her heavy purse and slung it over her shoulder. George backed out of the office.
“Why is he even anywhere near the third floor on his shift?” George wanted to know. He felt a sharp hot poker of anger pressing at his temple. “He doesn’t clean, he spends most of the time either watching TV in the lobby or smoking out front of the hotel. He has no business going upstairs or even bothering the guests.”
“He’s doing his job,” Ashley said in Ray’s defense. “And lately, that’s more than I can say about you. She moved from the desk and out into the hallway. She locked the door, swung the large purse over her shoulder and looked at George again. “I thought it was better to come from you,” she continued.“You’ve known her the longest.”
It was impossible to argue with the woman. He followed her as far as the front desk. Quietly, Raymond sat on the couch in the lobby. He stood when Ashley wandered around the front desk. Ray had slipped into the hotel while Ashley and George were in the office.
“And you’re on front desk tonight,” she told Ray as he tried to smile at Ashley. She regarded Ray a moment. “Where’s your uniform?” As if it occurred to her at that moment George didn’t have on the attire of the night auditor. “Oh, never mind. Raymond’s not coming into work tonight. We’ve got some things to go over.”
George stood at the front desk while Raymond held open the front door for Ashley and looked over his shoulder at George. He smirked and followed the woman out of the hotel.
***
Later that night, George ascended the stairs to the third floor and knocked on a door. After a long moment, he thought the door wasn’t going to open. When it did, he sighed and said, “I have a problem.”
Duncan opened the door entirely and pulled George into the room. He closed the door behind them.
“I missed you,” he said. “I got caught up last night on a conference call. I wanted to get to the bar but it ended late.”
Duncan embraced George, but he didn’t want intimacy, just advice. He loved the feel of the strong arms around his back and breathed in the cologne. He wanted to keep holding Duncan, just let the world slip away. But he wasn’t there for his heart; he was there because Duncan had a sense of dealing with situations. And Duncan had an objective view.
“You know Florence has Lucy?” he asked Duncan.
“Of course,” he said and fixed a drink. Vodka and orange juice over crushed ice and a slice of lime. The glass went to George. Without hesitation, he drank the contents. He dropped onto the edge of the bed.
“Ashley found out about Lucy.” He swallowed and coughed. His throat burned, in part from the alcohol, part from tears. “She told me I have to evict Florence.”
George sat, crying softly. His heart felt too big and the weight of the situation made it difficult to breathe. Coming to the man was his only real option. He needed a level head in a time of confusion. Ashley created catastrophic events when only a push was needed. Maybe there was a way to save his job and stop Florence from getting evicted. At that moment, George needed Duncan to make an informed decision.
Duncan waited a long moment. He went to the dresser and grabbed the smartphone. He dialed a number and waited. Duncan making an impromptu phone call in the middle of the night didn’t register with George. He just finished the mixed drink and pressed the palm of his hand against the tears in his eyes.
“Hey Justine,” Duncan said to the phone. “I need you to push forward on that paperwork.” He looked at George and smiled reassuringly. “Of course I know what time it is,” Duncan told the person on the other end of the line. “I want that finalized as soon as the bank opens in the morning.” He waited another long moment; listening.
George watched the man pacing in front of the bed. He smiled at George, but it was hard to find any comfort in Duncan’s actions.
“I understand. It’s not a big deal. Just move some money around and make it happen.” After a moment, Duncan laughed and added, “That’s my girl.” Then he hung up the phone.
He went to sit next to George, put his arm over his shoulder, and squeezed him.
“You trust me?” he asked.
George looked at Duncan. A man who was larger than life but still a complete mystery, Duncan remained calmly smiling in return.
“I don’t know how trusting you is going to help me with Florence.”
“What if I told you I could take care of Florence so you don’t have to evict her?”
“I’m not sure how you can do that.”
“Well, while you were gone yesterday, I did a little digging. I had a conversation with your new night auditor. He’s a character.”
“Tell me about it.” George rolled his eyes and stood up. “He’s already getting involved in business that doesn’t concern him.”
“I think I might have a solution that may make things a little easier around here.”
It was a curious development, but George replied, “If you’re suggesting I forget about Florence and take another job, I think I’ll just be miserable.”
“Do you think Ashley will evict her before you get to work tomorrow night?”
“I don’t think so. She’s not confrontational with guests, only staff.”
“She doesn’t have any staff left except you and the new guy.”
“There’s still Nicole Reyes. She’s the last of the housekeepers.”
Duncan continued to surprise George. He leaned over, cupped George’s chin and held on to press his mouth against George’s mouth. Their tongues found each other. Self-consciously, George felt he tasted of orange juice and vodka. But Duncan didn’t seem to care.
“How long can you stay tonight?” he whispered.
“As long as you want me,” George replied. He wanted to feel Duncan’s mouth again and consequences be damned.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Comfort Hill Hotel was a place that had once made George happy. It was a minimal job. It was a dead-end job. But being the night auditor was something more to George. He’d made people happy. In the end, he felt it was the best of what he had to offer. The following day was the longest walk to work he’d ever taken.
Mary Swift sat in the white wicker chair on the porch next door. The queen of the street, she smiled down at her subject as he meandered by the house.
“Feels like the weather’s changing,” Mary told him.
He took a moment at the end of the sidewalk. He didn’t want to go to work. Delaying the inevitable only prolonged the pain. But in the sweeping end of his career at the hotel, it befitted him to be late for work the one time in his career.
“How are you?” she pressed.
George stepped up to the base of the porch. The steps leading up were warped and sagged from years of treading. Imposing up close, Mary sat with her knees slightly open feet pressed on the porch. Her feet pressed against the warped wood to make the chair rock.
“I’m okay.” George had a minor tremor in his voice. Mary caught it. In the white house on Scovel Lane, she saw everything.
“That’s bullshit, young man.” She leaned forward; the chair squeaked with the shift in the weight. “What’s really going on? You lost your bicycle. You leave for work earlier. You don’t have any friends.”
George was singled out, away from the hotel, haring a moment in his life with an old woman wh
o saw more of the world from her porch than George saw from the roof of the hotel.
“Feel that?” she asked. “It’s going to be cold this year.”
“I feel it.”
But he didn’t. It was still swelteringly hot. High summer heat brought fog in the morning from Lake Champlain thirty miles to the west. It burned off before the sun moved to noon. Mary felt things that didn’t exist. She wasn’t a prophet; she didn’t see the future. She stopped feeling the heat of summer and her old bones turned cold.
“You’re having troubles at work,” Mary pointed out. “You know life isn’t always about working, right?”
“It’s hard to get anything else in life if there isn’t enough money to have it.” George didn’t have much and had a meager savings account. A vicious cycle of economics and life: the fact he never bought another car after the last one broke down had a lot to do with his inability to commit to more responsibilities.
“You lead a lonely life, son.” Mary’s marred wisdom where she felt cold in the summer had some merit. “Sometimes you just need to find someone to help you along the way. When you find the right person, the rest of the problems will lessen because you’ll have someone to help bear the load.”
Mary was quiet for a considerable amount of time. The squeak of the rocking chair was the only sound emanating from the porch. George turned to leave, waving to her as he started down the broken sidewalk. He wondered if that was what he had to look forward to, alone and waiting, staring across the street and thinking it’s the whole wide world.
A car pulled up alongside George as he continued along the way. He was at the corner of Comfort Hill and Main Street when the car stopped.
“Hey George,” Elizabeth called from driver’s side. “There’s something big going on at the hotel.”
Considering the eviction of an old woman because of a small cat, it was likely someone called the local news to report the wrongdoing by the hotel staff.
He leaned over and looked in at her. “I think it has something to do with Florence. Ashley wanted me to evict her. Maybe she and Raymond decided to do it without me.”