Double Booking

With that Pam ejects the disk from her computer and places it carefully inside the locked compartment of her desk. "In the meantime, we'll have a think about how you can make up for what you've done..."

* * * *

And so Neil begins his new weekly routine, journeying every Saturday morning to work the hotel gardens, leaving late on Sunday. It's not unpleasant work in the fine spring weather, though he's not looking forward to winter. The rest of the staff are pleasant enough. More than that, in fact: Neil has begun to get quite friendly with one of the kitchen girls, Jasmine. It's not clear where things are headed, but he's deliberately playing it cautiously - he doesn't want Pam to know anything, not since she still holds all the aces. Neil still hasn't fathomed her real motives for keeping him on her staff; he can't shake the feeling that there's a major revelation just around the corner.

A few weeks later, spring bank holiday weekend arrives, always a busy time for the hotel trade. Pam insists that Neil works the Monday in addition to his normal hours, helping inside the hotel to cover for absent staff.

He is slightly annoyed, and to rub it in, there's not much he can help with around the hotel anyway. His first worthwhile task comes halfway through the afternoon, when Pam sends him to rearrange the furniture in the 'conference room', one of the old building's luxuriously furnished halls. The room is currently rather surplus to the hotel's needs; in fact, this is the first time it's been used since Neil began work here. But apparently some big event is taking place.

As Neil approaches the wing where the hall is situated, chattering fills the air; it sounds like the event has begun already. Sure enough, as he rounds a corner, Neil is surprised to find the room packed out with a gathering of nearly fifty women. There are bespectacled executive types in natty trouser suits, top-heavy tarts in over-tight blouses, hefty mommas crammed into respectable twinsets, a jumble of social types whose only common trait seems to be that they're all women of a certain age. Upon Neil's arrival, the noise dies down. Everybody in the room is looking expectantly at him; he sensed an air of anticipation.

Without warning, someone slaps his butt hard from behind.

"Don't be fooled by appearances, girls, he's got enough in the tank for all of us!" Neil whirls round at the sound of Brenda's voice; Ros is there too, both of them grinning wickedly. And their eagerness is reflected in the expressions of the strangers.

Suddenly Neil understands. Pamela has scrupulously mapped out his future career; his main responsibility at the hotel was always going to be servicing every middle-aged minge that walked through those doors, guaranteeing Pam's business a passionately loyal customer base. She plans to flog his talents to absolutely anyone as part of the standard room price; but first she needs to cement his reputation as an inexhaustible stud. Ros & co must have spread word of his bedroom prowess all over town, and now every horny housewife and frustrated forty-something from miles around has come to find out if the rumours about this delectable young man are true. Ros, in her usual scurrilous manner, happily stokes the mood:

"No need to rush, ladies," she announces, "We've got 'im all night, just take your time!"

Among the crowd, Neil spots several familiar faces: a local library assistant, the town traffic warden, a teller from the high street bank. Even the secretary of the district Women's Institute, somebody he immediately recognises from regular features in the local paper, is there, seated on a large sofa. She must be well into her fifties; Neil had never imagined bedding a woman that age but little does he suspect that in just a few hours' time, this pillar of the local community will have him pinned down on that same sofa, riding him like a demon while her fellow members cheer her on. And she's far from being the oldest in attendance. In truth, young Jasmine might as well forget about any prospects with Neil: after tonight, he'll be a confirmed mature addict!

Already Neil can detect nipples hardening beneath crisply-ironed tops, tweed skirts being discretely unbuttoned, smart shoes being kicked off, clothing discarded all around to expose endless acres of luscious skin ready to engulf him. And then the signal these hot-faced hussies have been waiting for: the door slamming shut behind him. While the nearest lady grabs him for an impromptu bout of tonsil-tennis, the rest close in for the kill. Dozens of groping, stroking hands reach out; Neil realises he's just been served up as the main course at a sex banquet, and he won't be leaving until every woman in the room has left their sharp nail-marks on his bare buttocks and their frantic gasps ringing in his ears. And after that there'll be more customers, and then more, an endless procession of needy housewives taking advantage of this bargain-price stud. Neil is beginning to realise the awful truth: that evening of passion at the brothel was merely a warm-up. Tonight will be the real test of his staying power. He feels dizzy as he contemplates the endless, steamy night stretching out ahead of him. His talents are required by the sex-starved womenfolk of his parish, and no power on earth can possibly deny them...

THE END