Jameson Hotel - The Dark Suite Series: Parts One, Two & Three

by Aven Jayce

  “Don’t laugh.” Her tone is serious. “It’s not really you, Mark. The last two guys left after they got it. I’m jinxed that way. And since they’re the only two I’ve been with, it makes sense to believe you won’t come back for seconds either.”

  “That’s fucking bullshit, Jules. Trust me, I’ll be back for seconds and thirds. I like pussy, a lot. If I could handle the pain, I’d have a pussy tattooed on my dick so I could fuck it everyday. You’ll be begging for a break... not wondering why I left.”

  “But...” She looks around with hesitation.

  “What?” I demand an answer.

  Her delicate hand covers mine and then she hides it away. “Chloe and a few of the other women have mentioned they’ve fucked you. You’ve been with a lot of your staff.”

  I start to speak but she raises her hand for a chance to continue.

  “I understand you’ve got a dick and you want to use it and it doesn’t really bother me that you’ve been with a lot of people, I mean...” she sighs. “How old are you?”

  “Late thirties.”

  “Yeah, so you have a lot of experience, that’s okay, but what I am bothered by is the fact that you didn’t stay with anyone. Why? What happened?”

  “I didn’t give a shit about them. That’s what happened.”

  She flashes her I knew it expression. “I’d rather get my mouth used and tossed away instead of my pussy, and with the answer you just gave me, I can tell that’s what would happen.”

  “Look,” I exhale and take a gulp of wine, wanting to tell her I could have some random woman bent over a chair in my suite within the hour, but because of her I’m giving up on that shit for now. One-nighters lately are beyond boring and I’m up for a new challenge. I’ve been working my ass off for Julia’s warm pussy and I can tell I’m not wasting my time.

  “Look what? You didn’t finish your sentence,” she says, setting her wine down. I watch her unfold her napkin and place it on her lap then turn toward the lake.

  “It’s not just about my dick getting inside some of the staff. What else is stopping you?”

  She looks surprised that I know her so well.

  “You’re stunning, Jules. The type of woman who walks into a room and heads turn, which means I’m not the only guy around who’s noticed you, especially if you’ve been to Kick’s Bar. I’m sure a few men were admiring your ass at that place. Right?”

  Her face turns red and she shrugs. “So?”

  “I bet those men don’t have workers they’ve fucked, but I haven’t heard about you sleeping with them, so it’s not just about me. You’re not giving it to anyone else either. Why?”

  “Maybe I’m not a slut.”

  Smirking, I lean back while our dinner arrives and wait for her to take the first bite before I begin. I’m always served the daily special for my evening meal and having that planned in advance with the kitchen staff is better than wasting time with my head in a menu. It’s also nice that Julia didn’t complain about not having a choice.

  “You find that amusing?” she asks while nursing her wine.

  “Well, you’re not a prude.”

  She halts my hand from cutting into the meat on my plate then moves the conversation away from herself. “Tell me why that guy Dayne was arguing with you earlier.”

  My face feels warm as I push her hand away and continue cutting my food, slowly at first, but then with more power and aggravation. “It’s a family issue and none of your concern.”

  “Gah. Saying one wrong thing puts you in a sour mood. So he’s family? Like, your dad or uncle or something?”

  I slam my silverware on the table and throw back my second glass of wine.

  “Sorry I asked,” she says softly.

  “You’re too young and innocent to understand, so give it a fucking rest. I already told you I didn’t want to talk about him tonight anyway.”

  “I forgot, we can only talk about sex,” she fires back. “You think I’m young and innocent, well let me tell you something, I’ve been through hell too and my trust in men disappeared when my last ‘boyfriend’ held me down and stuck a freaking hairbrush handle inside of me as punishment for not putting out on our second date.”

  “Excuse me,” I whisper.

  “That’s right, he got pissed, took the brush off my dresser and stuck it in. I let him fuck me that night so he’d stop abusing me with the brush, and when it was over he said he didn’t want to deal with my drama. I never saw him again.”

  I loosen my tie then unbutton my suit jacket, unable to breathe. She won’t look at me and when I raise her chin with my finger a tear rolls down her cheek. Shit.

  “Were you hurt?” I question. “Besides emotionally.”

  Her head’s down while my eyes look to the ceiling, away from her tight lips and shaking head.

  “No,” she whispers. “He wanted to humiliate me and nothing more.”

  I have white knuckles and a clenched jaw. “No, trust me, the fucker wanted to do more than humiliate you. Did you press charges?”

  She shakes her head again. “I wanted that night to disappear from my memory, not relive it with a detective, besides, I told him we could do it. I agreed to it.”

  My fist slams the top of the table transmitting my fury to her and the rattling dinnerware.

  “I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere,” I say, rushing away from the table, through the kitchen, past my staff, and out the back door in need of fresh air.

  “Fucking son of a bitch.”

  I pace with my head down, hands in my pockets, and listen to the fall leaves crunch under my shoes. What the fuck am I getting myself into? This isn’t the right time for this, not with Dayne here. I need to stay focused on him, and now I have this situation to deal with.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, those words were selfish.” I bite my lip in anger and frustration. “That scumwad,” I whisper. There’s nothing I hate more than a rapist. I’m a prick and I know I can be an abusive ass, but I’d never sink so low... I’d never rape a woman... unlike my father. That’s one trait he didn’t pass down to me; the other is having a man do his dirty work for him. I’m not hiring some chump to teach people a lesson. I’ll take care of business when necessary with my own two hands.

  Some people are pussies.

  I take a slow walk around the outer edge of the pool, inhaling the heady scent of the mountain pines. Slow and calm. Breathe steadily, Mark. Take a moment to think and chill out.

  The sky is clear, full of stars, and the moon’s reflection dances on top of the water; it’s beautiful, unlike life.

  My outdoor pool is heated year round and has blue lights shining upward from the bottom. Guests can enjoy a relaxing swim even in the dead of winter. The lone swimmer this evening disappears in the rising steam from the water’s surface then reappears in the shallow end by the stairs. At this time of the night people swim at their own risk, but during the day when the pool is full of bobbing heads, my pool boys keep a watchful eye out for safety.

  I need to figure this shit out. Either I step up to the plate and start a real relationship with this woman or I walk away, and I know I can’t do that. I’d be like the last piece of shit in her life that said he didn’t need the drama. Well, fuck that. Life without drama isn’t living. It’s like spending your days in a fucking coma. And it’s amusing that earlier she said someone needed to help me when she’s been wrestling with her past as well.

  “Mark?” Her soft voice glides to my ears. “I’m not all that hungry, I think I’m just gonna go, but thanks, it was nice.”

  I can tell she hasn’t calmed down. I haven’t known her for long, but from some of the shit I’ve put her through, I do know she’s not a crybaby or a weak woman. She’ll bitch me out before she cries, so the tears a few minutes ago were an eye opener.

  “I’m worried about you, Jules, stay and talk to me. I want to know more about this situation. Tell me about the guy. What’s his name?”

  She watches the guest step out of
the pool, wrap a towel around her waist then walk away, giving us some privacy.

  “It was over a year ago and I shouldn’t have brought it up, forget it. I feel like I threw it in your face to punish you...” She starts to leave and my heart sinks to the bottom of the pool. My mouth won’t open to call her back, and at this moment it’s very clear that this woman weakens my soul. I’m obsessed with her every word, movement, and breath. She can’t disappear.

  “Wait.” I walk up to her and place my hand on the curve of her hip, looking into her eyes with an apologetic expression on my face. Something inside of me wants to hold her, and another part can’t wait for her to leave so I can find this guy and rip his head off. I hide that conflicting split and try to get the information I need. “I blew up in there, as usual, you know that about me, but I’m dead serious when I say I want you to stay. I’ll keep my cool.”

  “Another time,” she says.

  I exhale and ask a final question. “Tell me where you met this guy.”

  She pulls a set of car keys from her purse and stands before me with a straight face. “He was my boss at Mountain Bread in town. I worked the morning shift with him until that crap happened. Then I quit. And if I were smart, I would’ve learned from that mistake... I shouldn’t fall in love with the man I work for.” She turns away and walks along the pool’s edge to the side gate and disappears around the building, on her way to the employee parking lot.

  I take one last leisurely walk around the pool and look up at the dark windows of my suite, then at the fully lit private suite on the opposite end of the hotel. There aren’t supposed to be any lights on and I’m bothered that my instructions are being ignored. A silhouette appears for a brief moment, then the lights go out and the figure dissolves into the darkness. It better stay that way.

  I’m a protector. Most people think I’m an uncaring, self-centered man, but the reality is I live my life as a guardian over my family and friends. I took on that role at a young age because neither one of my parents ever did.

  I was engaged when my father approached me with an extravagant offer to work for him in his porn company. I already had a decent job in my hometown of Philly and didn’t want to relocate my fiancé away from her family, but I also wanted to make the big bucks to support her, especially since I had just knocked her up. I visited my dad on and off in Vegas, learning the in’s and out’s of his business, and then he gave me an opportunity to run one of his remote locations from home. For a while it was simple and honest work, developing and managing online porn sites, but then I started attending some of his private parties and got sucked into his world. They were intense and like nothing I’d ever experienced, with an overabundance of drugs, booze, and naked women hanging on my arm. No one knew I was Paul’s son except for his bodyguards. My porn name was Marcus Wild, and after a while I fell so deeply into his company I ended up becoming one of his biggest online stars whenever I visited - sleeping with both men and women, and cheating on my wife. My childhood and teens were spent with a mother who was mentally ill and abusive, and my twenties were spent hanging around a father who taught me how to kill and expected me to stick my dick into anything and everything that moved.

  Heck, I hope the next generation of Jamesons isn’t this fucked up.

  I check on my staff in the kitchen, front desk, and my head security guard, letting all of them know about the two new guys I hired before taking off to my suite.

  Dayne’s not coming back tonight. He knows I’m on guard and he’ll want to ask more questions about his father’s suicide and my sister’s whereabouts before he takes action. He’s also the type of man who’ll punish my family without veering off path, meaning he’s not going to take anything out on my staff or Julia. He won’t complicate what he came here to do by involving random victims. It’s just not his style. He wants answers and to settle some asinine ongoing conflict with my family. And hell, for all I know he could be on his way to my sister’s home in St. Louis. Her husband owns a wine bar, the only one in the city, which makes them easy to find. But I know for a fact she’s been counting the years, months, and days of Dayne’s release. She’s prepared.

  I type my code into my keypad and enter my suite, tossing my jacket over my dining room chair and mixing myself a scotch and soda before heading into my office.

  Someone in this town is about to meet his maker.

  DEPARTURE

  It’s rare for me to leave my hotel. I have everything I want and need in there, a warm bed, liquor and food, and a woman who I believe professed her love for me last night. It’s paradise compared to jogging in the cold along one of the southern Lake Tahoe trails, watching my breath float into the early light while my cock’s a shrunken head hiding beneath my sweats.

  I pull back one of my black leather gloves to check the time. Six o’clock. No one’s out this early except for one lone soul about fifteen feet ahead. We’re just two men out for a little exercise on a frigid morning.

  “I’m a troll,” I sing softly.

  He turns his head while keeping his pace and then after sensing a threat, speeds up.

  “I’m getting... really hungry... for a nice sam-widge,” I hum with quickening steps. “I’ll roll you... and I’ll fold you... in a big... foldy roll.” My sentences break apart as I run faster to catch my prey.

  He sprints ahead but the trail ends, leaving him with a split second decision to turn around and face me, or head into the pines.

  “I’m... a troll.” I’m quicker, bigger, stronger, than this little shit.

  My switchblade juts from my hand, my heart pumps and blood rushes through my veins, extending my dick. The hunt always causes an erection... I love this feeling... the kill... fuck, I’m in. My blade slips inside his warm gut and blood coats his sweatshirt. It’s like penetrating a virgin.

  “Uh,” he huffs with wide eyes and an open mouth.

  I bring him closer and sing despondently while he takes his final breaths.

  “I’ll eat...” My knife jerks upward and twists.

  “You up...” Pulling out, he falls to the ground.

  “For supper.”

  Rot in Hell, you dumb fuck.

  MORNING

  That was a masterful morning. It’s been years since I’ve had good reason to take a man down, and from start to finish, it played out without a hitch. I truly believe ridding the world of scum is a good deed. It’s not wrong to kill a man who’s hurt others or who has the potential to harm again. I’m a vigilante for those I hold dear and it was the right thing to do. My greatest strength is to defend and protect, and Julia’s one lucky woman to have me around.

  The guy’s name was Roland Lorne, manager of Mountain Bread, avid fisherman, skier (both water and snow), only child to William and Stacy of Carson City; a Republican in his early thirties, with a love for ‘Star Trek, Big Titties, and Beer.’ That’s what I found on Facebook after scoring his name from the Mountain Bread website. The moron also posted his daily run, including a map, distance, and the time of the day he jogged, open for the entire world to view. I’ve tracked a few people this way and it’s usually the ones with low IQ’s or inflated egos who leave their profile settings public. I knew I had the right guy, plus, he never deleted the selfie of Julia and him from their first date over a year ago, along with the twenty other women since then.

  After he was dead I found a slim wallet zipped in his back pocket, put blood on it, and jogged the two miles back to town where my Tacoma was parked. The jog was the most difficult part. The sneakers I wore were a pair left behind by one of our guests and they were a size too small. I set them, the wallet, and the bloody blade on a bench in the small downtown park, close to a homeless guy who was sleeping under a blanket by a tree. I waited in my truck until he got up, watching with a grin as he found the items.

  It was like he read my mind. He opened the wallet first and got blood on his hand, wiped it clean on his shirt then placed it in his back pocket. Then he opened the blade, wiped the blood from t
hat onto his sleeve and pocketed it as well. The sneakers were too small but he wore them anyway then packed up his blanket, put his old shoes in his backpack, and walked off.

  Fucking brilliant.

  The homeless are usually the first to be questioned in this town and if he gets charged and sent to prison, he’ll have free meals and a warm bed for twenty-five years. That has to be better than eating rotting table scraps from dumpsters or ending up frozen to the sidewalk on a minus twenty-degree winter night. Others may disagree, but this slaughter seems like a win-win for all. A dickhead’s never going to hurt another woman, a homeless guy is finally going to get taxpayers to take care of him, and I get the girl.

  Goddamn, I feel amazing.

  Even without the bum, South Lake Tahoe’s traffic count is fifteen thousand cars a day with people on their way to California or headed in the opposite direction to the casinos, not to mention the daily influx of tourists who stay the night and then disappear come morning. I bet at least two killers drive through these parts on any given day.

  I mean, other than Dayne Rosen and me.

  When I got back to my suite, I burned my black leather gloves, then turned on the driveway security cameras before relaxing on the sofa for a moment with a glass of juice and a piece of dry toast.

  And now, I’ve been unable to wipe the grin from my face for hours and I’m too fucking wired to sleep. All I can do to waste some time is take a hot shower to loosen my tight muscles then try and get my ass moving for the day.

  I stand with my hands pressed against the marble tiled wall with my eyes closed and the water streaming down my face. “I’m a badass, Dad,” I whisper. “A fucking badass, just like you always wanted.”

  “You have the face of a pansy,” my father scowls while gripping the back of my neck, forcing me to stare into the bathroom mirror. “Look at yourself, a fucking blonde haired, blue-eyed, replica of your mother. I don’t even think you’re mine.”

  A tear rolls down my cheek that I quickly wipe away. “You never say these things to Sophie,” I whimper, starting to feel sickened by my appearance.