When Miss Vyce wrote down the name Brent Flint on the post it, I was surprised that he had requested my employ in another hotel.
Are you confused? Let’s play catch up. I have ADHD and I will lose you from time to time. Sorry, I do that.
So, I was hitting on “marshmallow tits” at the front desk where I work. Miss Vyce cock blocked me with a false accusation and dragged me into her office. She told me that I had to take some time off because a certain patron of the hotel refused to stay at the hotel because of our strict “no fraternization” policy. They would have a temp employee work in my place.
The hotel agreed because Mr. Flint had informed them that he would come to the hotel on his next stay if all parties involved were satisfied by the current arrangement.
So, yeah, “The Gunsmith” story happened a few months ago. I’m currently in the trunk of a 2017 Dodge Charger. The driver is an asshole, and she isn’t cornering well. But I’ll get to that later. Sorry. I do that.
So, after my shift a couple of months after I first met Brent and Melanie Flint-Locke, I had to report in for work at our rival hotel.
Are we on the same page now? I hope so.
I was tired and sleepy after working a full 11:00pm to 7:00am shift. Still I drove to the Sync Hotel and I entered the lobby. I approached the front desk and someone said, “Jordi!”
I looked around. Seated in the lobby lounge was Brent Flint-Locke. He was dressed smartly in a blue-black shark skin suit. He wore an orange tie which I had used to tether his wife a couple of months ago. He stood up and buttoned his suit jacket with the class of a clean bandit.
I approached him and I shook his hand. He asked me, “Are you tired?”
I lied, “No, sir…I mean Brent. My bad.”
Brent smiled and wagged his finger at me. He said, “You are tired. No ‘sirs’ …ever.” He quickly tilted his head and said, “Come to my office.”
We walked to the elevators and he pushed the up button. I was in a buzzed and dreamy state. My senses were heightened and I could hear every motion in the hotel lobby. The lights were too bright. My clothes felt as though they chafed my skin. I tasted my tongue. I needed to brush my teeth. Normally I would have been at my apartment by then with dinner and a glass of wine on my coffee table.
The elevator opened and we stepped inside. We were alone just like the first time that we met at the other hotel. Brent spoke quickly, “I have a situation. I have a puppy who you need to take care of while I attend to business.” He smiled kindly and continued, “She’ll nap until eleven o’clock or so. Let her out of the cage and feed her. But under no circumstances let her out of the room.”
I placed a piece of gum in my mouth before asking, “Do I have to walk her or take her out for a piss?”
Brent said, “No,” tersely.
I asked again, “Where does she go…?”
The elevator door opened and we walked to the room. He opened the door and we walked inside. It was as massive as the suite at the hotel where I work.
He plunked two ice cubes each into two rocks glasses. He uncorked a bottle of single malt and poured two rations. He handed me a glass which I gulped. He poured me another and took a miniscule sip of his own.
He said, “Follow me.” We walked into the master bed room. Within was a cage. Its dimensions were 2 meters high by 1.5 meters by wide by two meters long.
Inside the cage was a woman curled in the fetal position. She was nude with the exception of a headband from which protruded two canine ears fashioned from gore tex. A tail snaked out of her rectum. I assumed at the time that it was attached to a butt plug.
Brent put his index finger to his lips and whispered, “Shhhh.” He motioned for me to follow him into the living room area. I followed.
We spoke in hushed tones. I began, “That’s not Melanie.”
Brent smiled fearlessly, “Yeah. That’s obvious. Okay, I met this one on Craigslist about a year ago. She’s my side chick. I put her up in a place in San Diego where Mel and I are from. Great fuck, but completely insane.”
I was beginning to question if I could handle this situation.
Brent continued, “She does things in phases. It’s like she’s multi-polar. I never know what’s going to happen next. It never lasts more than a month and we are three weeks in to this “puppy” fetish that she’s tied to right now. It should be about over, but I don’t know when she’s going to come back to herself…or her next phase.”
I asked him, “Why did you bring her on a business trip if she’s a nut?”
Brent’s smile abandoned him. He replied, “Because last week she wandered out of the apartment that has my name on the lease butt naked on her hands and knees whimpering like a fucking bitch in heat. Damage control cost me thousands of dollars.”
I imagined the scenario and said, “Brutal.”
He nodded and said, “She needs a straight jacket, but she fucks like a pro. So,” he soberly made eye contact, “are you up for this?”
I answered with a question, “My fee?”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/6pkw67/deerplain_donna_8