The Crown Is Mine

by Berlinda Wall

  So I had an interview with Kristoff at 10:00 AM on Monday morning, and I put on my best grey suit that I think I last wore for Christmas Eve services at Daisy Mae's church. I was as nervous as a cat on a front porch full of rocking chairs.

  Kristoff, the HR director, was all business from his black-rimmed glasses and quaffed hair to his black wing-tip shoes. He was very friendly and he made me feel welcome as we headed to his office. "So I hear you are new to Atlanta. How long have you been here?"

  "I just recently moved here from North Georgia," I let him know. "And I'm just around the corner from the hotel."

  "I've looked over your resume, and you have a lot of experience for what we are looking for," he continued, "Let me take you on a tour of the hotel.”

  We started by heading up an elevator to the sky party space. It was a large banquet room with windows on three walls offering great views of Piedmont Park and Midtown. This was followed by a tour of the gym, spa, and the pool. He let me know that the Virginia Circle condos, which are attached to the hotel, did have use of the pool.

  "I never understood why you would pay so much for one of those condos if you didn't even have your own pool. They even have to pay for their parking because it's not included in the monthly fee," Kristoff spelled out. "Excuse me for sounding bitter. I just can't afford that building and would give my left nut to live there.”

  Our final stop was the lobby, which was all tile, warm woods, reception, concierge and bar. The hotel guests were milling about, and behind the reception desk were two men and a woman. The two men were polar opposites, with one gentleman in his fifties who was already grey-headed and rail thin and the other in his thirties and very bear-like. This city seems like it is full of bears. Maybe I'm just a cub and don't know it yet. The woman was a tall red head with long, straight hair. Her feet had to be killing her because her heels were really high. Kristoff introduced me to the staff and everyone looked to be in a panic.

  "The computer is locked again," Braxton the cute teddy bear said.

  "We've tried every trick we could, but it's not working," Sheila added.

  "It's this damn system," Germaine continued. "There is a bug in here that we keep asking IT to get resolved." The first thing you noticed about Germaine was the number of rings on his fingers. There were some very big shiny rocks there.

  "What type of system are you using?” I asked.

  "It's the Front Desk T200 system that's supposed to be the top of the line, but it keeps giving us fits," Kristoff let me know.

  Braxton informed me, "It keeps locking up on the room assignments so it slows us down from getting the guests put in their rooms."

  "This is the same system that I used at the hotel I just came from," I said, "We may have been small, but our owner believed in sparing no expense when it came to the equipment. Here's the fix we used."

  I showed them a couple of key strokes that bypassed the bad part of the program, and let them do their jobs without the glitch. The company was issuing an upgrade to fix the issue, but I never saw it at the old hotel and obviously not here. "That should do it." And with that, the problem was solved.

  "You're a miracle worker!" Germaine yelled, "Water Helen! Water!"

  I didn't get the reference, but everyone else did because they laughed. I didn't want to feel left out so I laughed along.

  "Okay, young man," Kristoff interjected, "You've got the job. Let's get your paperwork started."

  And with that, I was gainfully employed.

  CHAPTER 9

  So I had a cool apartment to share with Marjorie, who was getting along well with “The Package,” and I had a job. It was great to be settling in and getting into a routine, but I was a little lonely. It was hard to see them cuddling up on the couch and watching movies all the time. I guess it made me a little moody. After all, I had been here for two months and still didn't have a single date.

  "Boo, you seem a little down," Marjorie said. "Is there something that I can do for you?

  "No. You have been so great already letting me play with your friends, but I want a boyfriend," I responded.

  "Why don't you go onto one of those apps and order some delivery?" “The Package” asked.

  "I'm not hungry, just lonely," I said again.

  "No, not a food app. Go on one of those hook up sites and order yourself a fuck buddy," he said.

  "Yeah, you should," Marjorie reinforced. "You could have some great, meaningless sex in the meantime until you find that special person."

  "What apps are you talking about? There weren't many men to choose from in the mountains so I'm not sure what you are talking about," I said.

  "You know. Grindr. Scruff. Growlr, Bear411," Marjorie listed off. "I'm sure there are more. You go on and post pictures of yourself and then message the boys you think are hot. If it works out, you end up riding their disco stick."

  "You can either host or travel. Since you're new to town I would say you might want to host for safety reasons," “The Package” said.

  "How do you know so much about these?” Marjorie asked.

  "Some limited experience. How do you know the names of all the gay ones?" “The Package” asked Marjorie.

  "I like looking at hot pictures of men, plus with being this close to the park it's great to recognize some of these men as they head into the park. It's like a game," she finished.

  "Where do I start?"

  "We need to get some sexy photos of you. You have to have a face shot. You get more traffic that way. Plus you’re cute, so the boys will eat you up," she said.

  I didn't really know what to think of the hook up apps. It would be nice to release some of this built-up tension, but at the same time, I want someone who is going to care for me and not just think of me as some hot bottom to fuck.

  I needed to remind myself of what Daisy Mae said. "Sex is sex, but love is much more intimate. Never forget the difference between the two, otherwise it will screw with your head."

  I guess I never had the opportunity to experience the difference between the two, but I do now as she's not here stalking over me.

  "Where is your phone?” Marjorie asked. "Time to get this show on the road and take some pictures."

  "Wear something sexy and low cut," “The Package” said.

  "Sexy and low cut is for a straight site," Marjorie scolded him. "You need just to be you. Now hop on the bed and make puppy eyes. I'm tired of all these photos with their phone in the picture."

  "I really appreciate this," I said honestly.

  So we took some bedroom shots with me making puppy eyes. I tried to be as serious as possible, but sometimes it struck me as funny how I'm trying to look all sexy only to find someone to take my clothes off with. Marjorie also made me do a costume change for a different look. There were some good shots to use.

  "Now if you want private naked shots to send to these boys, you will have to do those on your own," Marjorie said. "Those I won't take for you."

  "Now all you have to do is pick a name and set up your account," “The Package” said. "Since you seem to like bears, I would suggest Growlr."

  So I found the app on my phone and downloaded it. It was pretty self explanatory, and I picked the name Spankybtm. I filled in my info as honestly as possible, since I believed that was the best policy, and picked a photo that I thought was the most flattering. Once I completed it, I was online.

  In that instant, a whole new world opened up before my eyes. Here was a list of horny men all looking for the same thing, and the best part was it let me know how far away they were.

  "If you click on their profile, you get a better look at their picture," Marjorie pointed out. "So you can see them close up. For the ones you like, just click on message and type away."

  Within a minute I had a message pop up. It was from someone named Beartuff. It read "Hi." I clicked his picture to get a better look. He was five foot nine and weighed 180 with a six- pack and a great furry chest. He even had the beard. Everything I loved in a
man.

  Where do I go from here? I liked his picture so I typed back, "Hey, like your fur."

  It made my heart rush and my penis throb a little. It has been a long time since I had the pleasure of a man's company, and I really needed it.

  "What you into?" was the next message.

  It didn't take me long to type back, "I love to have my ass pounded."

  Within a second he typed back, "Your place or mine?"

  "Marjorie, would it be ok if I have some company over?" I asked.

  "Honey, this is your place too. You don't have to ask me for permission,” she said.

  "Here goes." I messaged him my cell and said send me your number. With that, I was able to text him my address. He only lived about two blocks away. At least I wouldn't be doing the walk of shame.

  “The Package” said, "We're going for ice cream. Just make sure you hide your phone in case we come home to your dead body. At least we can track the bastard down. Have fun." And with that, the front door shut, and I was alone waiting on Beartuff.

  That freaked me out a little. I'd never done anything like this, and I didn't want to end up dead just for sex.

  Within minutes, the door buzzer rang. I pushed the button and listened as the door opened and the footsteps started falling on the stair risers.

  My heart was racing as I waited for the knock on the door. Finally, the knocks hit. Knock. Knock. Knock. I grabbed the knob and opened expecting Christmas, but only finding Halloween.

  As it turns out Beartuff had put on some weight, and I don't mean just a little weight. If he had been a couple of inches taller he would have formed a perfect circle. I was at a loss for what to say.

  "Are you going to invite me in?" he asked.

  "No." And with that, I closed the door. I heard the footsteps as he headed down the stairs and out the door.

  My longing for male companionship would have to wait for another day.

  CHAPTER 10

  "What's your purpose?" Germaine asked.

  "What do you mean?" I responded.

  "It has to be more than this," he said as his hand made a grand gesture towards the hotel lobby. "What do you want out of life?"

  "I'm not sure yet," I said, which was true. I was too young to really know what I wanted to do and what my purpose was. It's like people starting in college trying to determine what they want to do for the rest of their lives. You may like something now, but what happens in a couple of years when your dream job has turned into a nightmare? If you do something because your parents want you to do it will you despise them for the rest of your life once you're stuck doing it? Or do I give Daisy Mae credit for letting me lead my own life and make my own decisions? She didn't push me, and I'm forever thankful for that. I don't think I ever did tell her how much I appreciated her for letting me make those decisions. I made a mental note to call Daisy Mae after work tonight and thank her.

  "Are you there sugar? Come back to me," Germaine said, and then he snapped his fingers.

  "Sorry, got lost in my own world for a minute. What were we talking about?"

  "Your purpose," he said again. "What drives you and how are you going to get there?"

  Both of these were good questions. "I can't think past tomorrow. I get so bogged down in the day-to-day stuff that I can't think past it.”

  "Well you made the first step by moving here, so take advantage of it. Now make a plan. I believe we all need to give back to our fellow man, so that is why I like to volunteer for different organizations. It is a great way to meet a lot of people, plus it makes you feel better by helping others out."

  "By volunteering, aren't you just making yourself feel better by volunteering?”

  "That's a little cynical," he said. "I think the people you help are a lot more appreciative for the things you do for them than you think. Something small that you do may have a greater impact on a family than you will ever realize. I collect toys for For the Kid In All of Us. I may never see the end receiver, but that family may have a Christmas because I put a box out at the Starbucks and collected toys."

  "I never thought about it that way," I said, which was true. Yes, you may feel better doing volunteer work, but the end receiver feels even more appreciative than you will ever know.

  "The younger generation needs to get that in their heads," Germaine finished. With that, he took a step to his left and bent over to pick up something.

  "What are you doing?” I asked.

  "It's time to get off of my soap box and put it away."

  "So what are some good organizations to volunteer for?" I asked.

  "Our shifts just about over and it's the weekend. I'll introduce you to Miss Gorme, a regular at the bar here. She is the queen of volunteers here in town. Just a heads up, she is a straight man who cross dresses. Sometimes it is Miss Gorme and other times it will be plain Jim, but you always must call him Miss Gorme.”

  So our shift was over just as the happy hour crowd was rolling in and filling the lobby bar. Germaine and I took off the hotel pins and sauntered across the lobby. Miss Gorme was seated at her usual corner spot. Today she was wearing a tight, leather, studded blouse and skirt with matching thigh-high boots with a spiked heel. Her hair was perfectly quaffed, and she finished off the outfit with a leather-studded collar. This was one of her evening outfits.

  "Miss Gorme, may I introduce you to a very wonderful young man who needs some guidance," Germaine said.

  "Germaine, you sweet thang, give me a hug," Miss Gorme responded. She stood up and hugged Germaine very tightly. I didn't realize she was that tall until she stood up. "Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, sweetie. Who is this young thang?”

  "May I introduce Tyler from Clayton," Germaine said.

  "Why Tyler from Clayton, you are about the cutest thang that my eyes have seen since I saw my grandbaby last week. Please just don’t tug on my curls like she did," she said, and with that, she pinched my cheeks. "Sit down and have a drink. Veronica will take care of you."

  "Thank you very much," I said. "We would be glad to join you."

  "Tyler is looking to do some volunteer work, and I wanted to see if you could match him up with an organization that would be a good fit," Germaine said.

  "What are your interests?" Miss Gorme asked. "AIDS charities, children's charities, gay youth, elderly care, homelessness, cancer, feed the hungry, or animal charities?" she rattled off.

  "I guess I relate with gay youth since I'm not that far out of that age bracket," I said.

  "Good," she said. "Because there are a couple of wonderful charities that are doing incredible things on minimal budgets and can use the help. Let me recommend Atlanta Street Rescue. It is an organization that gives homeless youth a place to stay and gets them off the street. They just bought a new building and need help getting it cleaned up. Would that work for you?" she finished.

  "Sounds like a great opportunity," I said. "Just let me know who I need to call." Miss Gorme was kind enough to give me the phone number of the director, Jerry Mikler, whom she said can sometimes be a little crotchety, but was a very nice person.

  "See your on your way to your purpose," Germaine said.

  He was right. The smallest things can give you a sense of direction, and I was just starting that journey.

  CHAPTER 11

  The weekend was here and it was time to get wild. I was going to something called an underwear paint party. Albert and Paul were letting me tag along with them when they go to The Forest, the largest dance bar in the city. I was still learning the personalities of all the different clubs, trying to figure out where I fit in. This was going to be my first experience at The Forest, and the boys assured me that I would be safe in their care.

  I wasn't sure what to wear, and I'm not sure what you actually do at an underwear paint party. As it was explained to me, it's like the scene from Miss Congeniality where there are drums of paint that you can bang on and splash the paint around, but only here you are wearing your underwear. When you get the
re, you strip down to your underwear and leave your clothes bagged up at the clothes check. Leave it to a gay bar to have a clothes check.

  With it being a little warmer out for once, there already was a line of scantily clad boys waiting to get in. I felt a little overdressed in my shirt and jeans as I tugged at my pants.

  "Don't worry," Paul said, "Everyone will be scantily clad once we get in there and the paint washes off with water."

  As I mingled in the crowd, I could feel the eyes tracing the outline of my naked flesh. My underwear and certain body parts glowed with the neon paint colors that were applied at the paint tent. I asked Albert if there was an arrow painted on my back aimed at my ass. I swore it felt like the bristles of the brush gently formed the arrow as the hungry painter colored me up. I didn't know whether to be embarrassed or go with it, so I decided just to go with it.

  "Yes, honey it's pointed right at your crack. At least it's truth in advertising," Albert said.

  I was surprised how tight Albert's body was. I had never seen either of them out of clothes, but Paul was as exactly as I had pictured. Tree-trunk thighs, hairy pumped up chest, and sculpted guns. I always pictured him with more hair than he actually had, but I was fooled by the tufts of hair that always stuck out over his shirt collars.

  We entered the main dance floor to witness the hundreds of men and their naked, painted flesh gyrating in a massive throng with reckless abandon. I was still feeling a little self-conscious so I turned to Paul. "I need a drink."

  "Whatever you need to buck yourself up," he said. "This round’s on me."

  I quickly slid to the corner bar station where the dreamy-eyed bartender asked me

  “What'll you have?" I lost myself momentarily as I was falling in the deep pools of his beautiful blue eyes. It wasn’t until Paul pushed my shoulder that I came back to reality.

  "His name is Daniel. Order your drink," he commanded.