Peyton had been working the Twenty-One A for nine months. She was one of those cute girls that you see at every front desk of every hotel worth staying at. She was attractive, with a slight edge, but no hint of any femme fatale leanings, that is until she met Courtney.
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Peyton worked at the Twenty-One A, a Boutique Hotel in Cincinnati. Centrally located near the Fountain Square district. Her last relationship was with a guy that enjoyed shopping for graphic novels rather than sexy underwear for her. She knew it was a sign that he was hardly fiancée material. She used to tell herself that he was “imaginative”. But that was before the first genuinely imaginative person she’d ever met in her life showed up.
She was finishing up a check-in on her terminal at the front desk when a voice caught me by surprise politely asking Peyton to check her in. Where had she come from? No one had ever snuck up on her like that before. She prided herself on always being aware of everything and everyone in the lobby. The woman was mature and reeked of old money. East Coast money? Maybe she was elite enough to rate something in the Hamptons?
When Peyton logged off her terminal. She turned around, and sure enough, the woman was there. She told Peyton she was going for a drink in the lobby and asked Peyton join her, of course. When the girl tried to beg off because of Hotel rules, the woman wouldn’t here of it. A minute later, the girl found herself sitting at the bar, facing Courtney, the mature woman. Over drinks Courtney laid out lucrative arrangement for Peyton to consider.
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