Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)
GenderBender
Star
- Joined
- May 29, 2017
The receptionist recognised him and held out the room card as he approached. He smiled his thanks.
'Your friend,' he detected a slight pause while she chose the right word, 'is already there.'
She winked as she said it and he reciprocated.
He could have let himself in, but he knocked and waited.
The door opened and he stepped inside.
She was waiting for him, dressed in army fatigues and jacket. Figure-hugging, almost like it was tailored to fit. Which it could have been if the rank she was showing was correct.
'Am I supposed to salute?' he asked.
She stared in surprise before replying, 'Are you flirting with me?'
He just smiled and held out his hand. 'Orlando,' he said. She shook, firmly but briefly. 'Florence,' she replied, 'but just call me Flo.'
That wasn't her real name, but then he wasn't called Orlando. Names didn't matter.
She stared awkwardly at him before collecting herself. 'Sorry, I'm not used to this. Can I offer you a drink?'
He glanced at what was on offer and helped himself to a non-alcoholic lager. She followed suit.
They settled own, with her on one of the chairs, while he settled onto the sofa.
Each sipped from their bottles, slowly. Orlando watched, but said nothing. Timing was important. Vital in fact.
'This is difficult,' she began.
'Take your time, Flo.'
She smiled, perhaps at his consideration or, maybe, at the use of the unfamiliar name.
'I don't know what you've been told.'
She was fishing, but that is what he had expected.
'All I know,' he replied, 'is that you have had a rough time.'
'That's what they called it, was it?' Her tone was harsh, cynical.
'It's up to you to tell me what you want me to know. Nothing more. But obviously I need to understand enough to be able to help you.'
Her body seemed to relax, probably in response to his soft gaze. Feedback almost always mentioned his eyes. It was what the receptionist had experienced downstairs.
'Everything that happens, everything we say and do, is completely confidential. I will never repeat anything to anyone, ever.'
That soft look again.
What he had said was true. He hadn't mention that the room, like all the rooms in this seemingly innocent hotel, were wired – everything that they said was recorded, and everything they did was filmed.
'Maybe it would help if you told me a little about yourself. General background. Just to break the ice.'
'Your friend,' he detected a slight pause while she chose the right word, 'is already there.'
She winked as she said it and he reciprocated.
He could have let himself in, but he knocked and waited.
The door opened and he stepped inside.
She was waiting for him, dressed in army fatigues and jacket. Figure-hugging, almost like it was tailored to fit. Which it could have been if the rank she was showing was correct.
'Am I supposed to salute?' he asked.
She stared in surprise before replying, 'Are you flirting with me?'
He just smiled and held out his hand. 'Orlando,' he said. She shook, firmly but briefly. 'Florence,' she replied, 'but just call me Flo.'
That wasn't her real name, but then he wasn't called Orlando. Names didn't matter.
She stared awkwardly at him before collecting herself. 'Sorry, I'm not used to this. Can I offer you a drink?'
He glanced at what was on offer and helped himself to a non-alcoholic lager. She followed suit.
They settled own, with her on one of the chairs, while he settled onto the sofa.
Each sipped from their bottles, slowly. Orlando watched, but said nothing. Timing was important. Vital in fact.
'This is difficult,' she began.
'Take your time, Flo.'
She smiled, perhaps at his consideration or, maybe, at the use of the unfamiliar name.
'I don't know what you've been told.'
She was fishing, but that is what he had expected.
'All I know,' he replied, 'is that you have had a rough time.'
'That's what they called it, was it?' Her tone was harsh, cynical.
'It's up to you to tell me what you want me to know. Nothing more. But obviously I need to understand enough to be able to help you.'
Her body seemed to relax, probably in response to his soft gaze. Feedback almost always mentioned his eyes. It was what the receptionist had experienced downstairs.
'Everything that happens, everything we say and do, is completely confidential. I will never repeat anything to anyone, ever.'
That soft look again.
What he had said was true. He hadn't mention that the room, like all the rooms in this seemingly innocent hotel, were wired – everything that they said was recorded, and everything they did was filmed.
'Maybe it would help if you told me a little about yourself. General background. Just to break the ice.'