Читать книгу Follow Your Fantasy: Deeper - Nicola Jane - Страница 10
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At the hotel lobby, you scope the layout while pretending to look for something in your bag, like your room key. Sailing through as if you own the place is the only way to pass as someone with the money-built confidence to belong here. The slightest hesitation and they'll spot you for the interloper you are.
And an intruder into another world is certainly what you feel like. The high concept white and platinum décor and dim up-lighting is the kind of minimalist design that takes maximum spend. Scrabbling in your bag is not giving off the sure-of-yourself vibe you're after, so you aim straight for the lift which opens immediately.
It only just occurs to you as you press the button for 11 that Giselle has given you a floor number but no room. You'll have to work it out when you get there. Maybe she's got a Do Disturb sign on the door. You wonder what kind of room service you're about to provide.
'In a good mood?' Giselle's voice suddenly asks from above your head. It sounds as if she's in the lift with you and you glance around before you can stop yourself.
'Over he-e-re.' Her voice bounces, sing-songy and patronising, off the metal walls. A panel next to the lift buttons lights up and, for a moment, you think you're looking at yourself but then you realise it's Giselle from the waist up, sitting in front of someone's torso. She's wearing only a sheer red bra that moulds to her breasts and shades her nipples into rosebuds.
'Told you,' she says over her shoulder.
Told who what? But then, it's clear who as a man places a hand on her arm and works his way down her stomach and off camera. The background becomes clear and the wall of the man's chest defines itself with the darker indentations of chest muscles and a line of collar bone. You find yourself wondering how far down his hand has gone and what it's doing.
'How happy are you to be here?' she asks. 'Anton's dying to know.'
The arm moves up and back again and her eyes close briefly in pleasure or pain, you're not sure. As you're thinking what kind of answer to give that won’t sound like you think you're arriving for afternoon tea, the lift bumps to a stop and the panel goes red. You wait for a second, expecting the doors to open automatically but nothing happens. You forget about answering and start looking for a door open button.
There isn't one.
A surge of adrenalin hits your stomach. Whatever answer you could have come up with dies on your lips at the knowledge you're stuck in this small space. Your stomach lurches and you fight to calm the instinctive panic. Someone will call the lift from another floor eventually. Even so, you whip your head round to look for an escape panel or an emergency phone to alert the anonymous reception desk downstairs that you're stuck.
'Relax,' says Giselle, in her all-knowing tone. 'We've got you, haven't we Anton?'
Anton doesn't say anything, or nothing you can hear anyway. But his hand seems to be moving with purpose off-screen.
'You could at least wave or smile or say hello or something,' she mocks again. So they can see and not just hear you. But how?
And then a male voice adds, 'I'm waiting for the "or something".'
You raise your hand to push your hair off your clammy neck, uncertain what she wants you to say.
'Awww, nearly a wave,' says Giselle and your hand freezes in place.
You keep searching the ceiling and walls for a camera but see nothing. There aren’t even any air vents or anything where they could be hidden. You frown at Giselle's image as she arches her back, pushing her breasts out towards the camera she must be sitting in front of. Then you realise the panel itself is like a large iPad with a tiny camera above the screen. They're watching you watching them watch you.
'How much do you want to be in here with us?' Anton asks.
Much more than you want to be in here, that's for sure.
'I really-' you start.
'Show don't t-e-e-ell,' mocks Giselle.
