DiscreetOfficeServices.Com Chapters 7--8 - Sex Stories

DiscreetOfficeServices.Com Chapters 7--8

... police. Taxi drivers kept logs of when and where they picked up fares and the destinations they took them to. Ms. Phillips would give the police my name and description. A name that they'd learned was fictitious. I imagined the police asking taxi drivers,'Did you pick up a tall blonde with a large bag and where did you take her?'

Taxi cabs were out. The hotel my next appointment was in was far closer than my apartment. I'd hoof it to my next appointment. But with every block I walked closer to the hotel, I took more notice of how many cameras there were. Traffic cameras. Store cameras watching the sidewalk in front of the store... Cameras were everywhere! With nowhere else to go, I kept my head down and tried to hide my face as much as possible with the bill of my cap. In this way I continued towards the hotel, my every step recorded into computer memory somewhere. It would take time for someone to follow my trail that way. I just needed someplace I could go and hide out for a few quiet hours, while sorting out what the fuck was happening.

I knew the hotel's layout from previous occasions of meeting clients there. Entering from the pool's entrance allowed me to bypass the front desk. I kept my head down and went straight to the room via the stairs. Whoever had set up this tryst had already paid for the room and had included the key card with the letter of instructions.

Once in the room, I headed straight for the mini-bar and poured the contents of the first bottle ...

... my hand touched into a glass. Tossing it past my tongue and down my throat without swallowing, I savored the burn. A second shot followed. Oh, fuck. Bourbon and vodka mixed! That's gonna bite me in the ass soon, I thought, when I looked at the bottles on the counter while feeling the two shots burning in my stomach. I shrugged and played bottle roulette again, not looking at what the third bottle contained before pouring it into the glass and tossing it back.

I wasn't stumbling around drunk, but I was definitely feeling calmer when it was time to set the stage for what was to come. I kept expecting a knock on the door by my imaginary pursuers, but as time passed, I began chiding myself for being paranoid over nothing. But then I'd imagine people looking for the tall blonde who'd been the last to see Tim. People who'd scared Tim so badly he'd committed suicide. I needed a way to throw'people' off my track. Off the track of a tall blonde carrying a large bag. I needed a way to disappear in a city filled with damned cameras before I went anywhere near my apartment.

Hollywood might have you believe that six-foot tall blondes are a dime a dozen. We're not. Especially when we're carrying around a large sports bag. I'd stand out immediately in any camera recording. I wasn't normally one who lived in a world of paranoid delusions. But I had experience being a young teen wanting to disappear from parental eyes. For several months, I'd been living a dual life. Becoming adept at ...