The Bellhop
Mary Not Wollstonecraft
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The Bellhop
The bride, Bonnie, is losing her virginity, but not to the groom.
A Bride, a Groom, a hung Bellhop, compliments of the house.
Mary Not Wollstonecraft
© Copyright 2020 by Mary Not Wollstonecraft
NOTE: This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen (18) or those of a delicate nature. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic sexual nature. This book is purely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously—any resemblance to actual persons, whether living, deceased, actual events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
The Bellhop
They were young; Bonnie and Lewis Hansen married a year out of high school. Virgins who’d saved themselves for marriage. After the wedding, the couple went to the Grand Place hotel. Her father had champagne and bourbon waiting for them in their room, with a note, “To oil the exploration of your first communication.”
When they entered the room, the twenty-something black bellboy showed them the special gifts, lingerie, various lubricants, a gourmet dinner, and the booze the bride’s father provided. The attendant acted as server, toaster, and servant to the nervous newlyweds.
The couple ate as the black man gave the bride champagne and the groom shots of bourbon. Giving them a different toast each time, they ate some, drank more, and fell under the bellman’s control.
The bride, a tall, pasty, pale blonde-haired, blue-eyed stunner, and her new husband, a short, smallish fellow with brown hair and green eyes, had been an item since fifth grade. Having wanted no one but her, Lewis saved himself for has as she saved herself for him.
“What’s your name?” Lewis asked in a slow-motion, slurred sentence.
“Orlando.”
“You’re all right, Orlando.” Lewis held his glass of bourbon high in the air. “To Orlando, our friend.”
“To Orlando.”
The couple stood, clicked their glasses, and repeated in unison, “To Orlando.”
Slumping into his chair, Lewis rubbed his head. “I think I’m a li-li-little inobreated.”
“Inebriated,” she corrected him.
“Yeah, that too, I rec…,” he stopped, drank his glass dry, and sat it down. “Nother one, Orlando, if you doesn’t mind.”
“Yes, sir, I don’t mind one iota.” Orlando fills a glass to within a quarter inch of the brim. Walking over, he takes the rocks glass away and gives Lewis the tumbler. “Drink up, Mr. Hansen, and I’m gonna give your bride a whirl.”
“A whirl?”
As Orlando turned on some music, “Dance, Mr. Hansen, sir. Mind if the little lady and I dance?”
“Go a-a-ahead, Orlando, and steal a k-ki-kiss while you’re dan-dan-dancing.”
“Sure ‘nuff will, sir. Might turn intimate for her and me.” Holding his hand to Bonnie, “Mrs. Bonnie, will you honor me with this dance?”
“I will,” she said, a devilish twinkle in her eyes. While she had a light buzz, Bonnie Hansen wasn’t drunk or even close to it. She put her pale hand in his, noticing the pale pink of his palm and the jet-blackish blue of the back of his hand.
At first, they danced apart, but with each step, he drew her closer to him. Soon, their bodies were touching. Standing five feet ten and a half inches in her stocking feet and sporting six inches heels, she still could not look him in the eye. A swell of relief washed over her as they danced together.
Her head fell sideways; her head rested on his chest, as if she was laying her head down to sleep. She gazed up at him, looking into his dark brown eyes like two topaz gems placed in an ebony marble statue.
Her heart burned in turmoil; pulled between two worlds. On one hand, the promises of love she had made to her husband, years of denying their unchecked attraction, pulled her one way. Yet the passion she now experienced for this mysterious man was undeniable. She had vowed to save herself for her wedding night. And yet here she was, torn between her morals and a yearning lust. What should she do? Follow her desire, or stay true to the one who had been by her side all along?
How could she be so devoted to one person, yet make love with another on her wedding night?
“Kiss her,” Lewis insisted. Lewis didn’t know it, but this invitation was a mistake.