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The Girl in the Lift (standard:mystery, 2928 words)
Author: EarlAdded: Mar 28 2001Views/Reads: 2177/720Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A visit to a hotel on business results in Peter meeting his ideal woman, or does it?
 



The hotel door opened effortlessly and Peter walked into the foyer.
"Hello, Mr.Dean" said the receptionist, a slim attractive brunette 
called Lara, "Just for tonight, isn't it?". 

"That's right!" he replied. She leant over the counter with a
registration slip and her blouse gaped open between two buttons, 
revealing a strip of black lace and the tanned velvet of her skin. 

"Sign here please, Mr.Dean.........Thank you... Room 105... Would you
like a hand with your luggage?". 

"No, thanks, Lara, it's only an overnight bag", he said bravely as it
weighed about a hundredweight! 

The lifts were around the corner from the reception desk, two of them
with brushed aluminium doors. He pressed the lift button. "Please be 
the lift on the right", he thought. The lift bell pinged, followed by 
the right hand door sliding open. 

There she was! The girl in the lift. 

The lift had on it's walls pictures of the hotel, but the right hand
lift had a picture that was missing from the lift on the left,  showing 
the gymnasium, and in it, on an exercise bike, was the most beautiful 
girl he had ever seen. 

She had flowing black hair and a peach like complexion and her big red
lips broke into a smile, revealing perfect teeth. Her eyes shone with a 
youthful alertness that had deserted his features years ago. Her 
figure, well displayed by a leotard, was perfect. 

She was smiling to an adonis like character on an exercise machine of
some sort. Peter had never been within 200 yards of such instruments of 
torture, spending his time in bars, drinking and smoking too much, and 
striking up conversations with anyone near. Solo business travel had 
sharpened his ability to spot other single business travellers and 
start conversations, deducting, over the years, some considerable sum 
from his wallet and added a considerable distance to his girth. 

When he looked at the girl again with her slim, wasp like waist and down
at his own spare tyre, the feeling of being remote from his ideal woman 
was overpowering. 

"To hell with it!" he said to the empty corridor as he made his way to
Room 105. 

He had not stayed in this room before, usually finding himself on one of
the upper floors. He booked his accommodation through an agency at a 
fixed rate, finding himself in whatever room is empty at the time. 
Today he had one of the most expensive suites in the place with private 
bathroom, sitting room, an enormous bedroom with a king-size bed and 
two televisions. 

Peter as he put down his bag and lay on the huge bed. The softness of
the bed enveloped him as the weariness of the journey from the north 
washed over him. He quickly stripped and slid between the cool sheets 
and fell into a light sleep. 

A knock at the door snapped Peter to full wakefullness, "OK, I'm coming"
he called and, putting on the complementary bathrobe, he made his way 
to the door. He looked at his watch, seven fifteen, "Just time for a 
quick shower and down for dinner" he thought and opened the door. As 
the door swung open he started to speak, "Yes I......",   he stopped 
dead. His heart was racing and he caught his breath. He felt weak at 
the knees. 

It was her, it was the girl in the lift. She looked more beautiful than
anyone Peter has ever seen before. She spoke with a soft Scottish 
accent. 

"I'm sorry to disturb you but I lost a bracelet last night whilst I was
staying in that room. The hotel say nothing's been found but I'm sure 
it's in there, I wonder if..?" 

"Yes, of course, please, come in,....come in!" spluttered Peter. 


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