Step Mom: A Family Reunion Gone Wrong by Forsyth Jeremy

Author:Forsyth, Jeremy [Forsyth, Jeremy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Smashwords
Published: 2019-04-27T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

The knock on the door was heard just as I’d come out of the shower, the rasping like an iron ball against my skull. My female guests were gathering up their things as I strode to the door wearing nothing but a towel.

What do I find on the other side of the door? Some hotel attendant seeming ecstatic to see me, the grin that was pulled up by the corners of his mouth, practically reached his ears. He clasped his hands together in a gesture of excitement, said,

“Ah, Mr ——”

“What do you want?”

“We’re just checking into to see if you’re enjoying your stay at the Broken Rose?”

“Yes, yes, very much so. Thank you.”

I was motioning to close the door, expecting the interaction to have had reached its end, when very regrettably, the attendant requested a further word.

“I do apologize if this is bad timing, but the hotel’s manager requests an audience with you, Sir… in the control room…”

“Control room?”

“Yes, Sir.”

I frowned. “What is this about?” I demanded.

“… Last night… you seemed to be having a good time by the bar. Perhaps… too much of a good time.”

I tried to recall last night’s shenanigans, sent a probe to my brain in order to recollect any memory that was of an incriminating nature; nothing.

“Well does your manager expect me to attend him in my bath towel?”

“Certainly not, Sir,” he said with a pleasant smile. “I am happy to wait for you. When you’re ready, I shall escort you.”

The control room hosted an atmosphere so thick I could cut it with a knife. It was so uncomfortable that I immediately decided when entering, that whatever it was I had done last night, I was not going to enjoy hearing about it.

The hotel’s manager proceeded to show me some surveillance footage of what he called, ‘my performance,’ at the bar and while I watched it play out, aware of the staff standing behind me, I could not shake the discomfort of knowing that soon, I was about to witness a ‘performance’ that would not go down well with my pride, my ego, and self-preservation.

I would be right.

“Here it is,” the manager pointed out.

I watched myself pull down my pants before a large plant stationed at a corner between the bar and the hotel’s lounge area. I then whipped out my Johnson and proceeded to give the plant a golden shower. That wasn’t the worst part, at least not in my mind; the quality of the camera and its Zoom-in functions were off the charts.

I shifted in my stance, uncomfortable, embarrassed. I could feel sudden heat rising to my cheeks.

“I will have you know,” I began, after clearing my throat. “I’m a grower, not a shower.”

“Well,” responded the manager. “Based on this footage, we’re going to have to take your word for it.”

Behind us, one of the staff members failed at suppressing his snigger. I acted like I hadn’t noticed.

The manager turned the screen off. He then turned to me and with practiced etiquette, begun saying,

“Now.

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