Railway

My job requires a certain level of discretion and I take that discretion very seriously.

The pay is well worth the sacrifice working long grueling hours for just a few days out of the month.

Every employee for this job is required to not only pass an extensive amount of background checks but also take mandatory security training.

Each month, our employer sends out a schedule for the employess to choose which jobs they’d prefer to pick up.

My position is that of a personal concierge for a private luxury train. Our railway is used by many important and influential people.

These guests prefer to travel across the continents without having to worry about navigating chaotic airports filled with paparazzi.

Yes, air travel they may be slightly faster, but there's a certain level of luxury and freedom involved when a customer utilizes our trains. 

This company has catered to a wide variety of customers that require luxury transportation. From celebrity's, politicians, world leaders, professional athletes, to royalty and even billionaires.

At the start of each job, we're required to sign a new stack of forms provided by the clients.

Some of these are the typical NDA agreements in regard to our guests privacy. While others, are instructions or specific requests made by our guests. Things such as dietary requirements, times that the guests may not to be disturbed, and so on.

It's my job as concierge to be at their beck and call like their own personal assistant.

Some of our guests, or clients as we prefer to call them, are easier to assist than others.

Typically it’s our older guests who tend to be a bit more relaxed.

Many of the younger athletes and celebrity's who travel with us have slightly wilder requests that play into their lavish lifestyles.

As a concierge, we're paid a flat rate per trip by the train company. But at the end of most trips, the majority of our guests do tip us rather generously.

Going against my better judgement, this week, I chose to take a job for a younger guest. But thats only because there were no other jobs offed this month and I have rent due.

Apparently, the gentleman who booked this trip is an international celebrity, a musician.

I typically try to steer clear of the younger guests. Especially the musician types. The job tends to get pretty wild with these types and I spend the majority of my time cleaning up their vomit or whatever other destruction they’ve left in their wake.

As much as I gripe about it, they can be quite entertaining as well which makes the job go by a lot quicker. 

At least I’m not catering to some elderly politician who spends his days reading boring files and shitting their pants all day.

Our trains also offer private boarding via underground tunnels. This allows our clients the luxury of coming and going without being bothered by the paparazzi.

For this particular job, it was requested that the client board the train privately then be left alone until 8:00pm, which isn't unusual.

Most of our guests have been traveling nonstop so they enjoy getting settled in, or even napping, upon arrival.

For privacy reasons, this client boarded without the welcoming tour and just went straight to his quarters.

So, I go about my business for the first few hours tending to busywork such as stocking linens and tidying up the main car.

Sometimes while our guests are laying low, the silence of this job can be almost deafening. Which gives me time to play a game in my head trying to figure out if the’re anyone I’d recognize from the clues that I know about them. But this one’s got me stumped.

After tidying up as much as I can, I make my way back to my own quarters, which are directly across the hall from my clients. Then I get settled in with a novel, to pass the remaining time.

After a while, my alarm dings on my phone to let me know that I can now go over and check in on our client.

Through the door’s frosted glass window, I notice that the light is on in the main living quarters.

(There's nothing more embarrassing than waking a sleeping guest.)

So, I proceed to tap on the door. "Concierge" I announce making my presence known before entering.

"Come in." He replies. His voice sounds youthful and smooth. At least he seems to speak fluent English, but with a bit of an accent.

I proceed to open the door and enter his quarters. Unlike regular train quarters, ours are fit for a king. Think luxury penthouse hotel suites on wheels. We also offer a gym, sauna, jacuzzi, and a movie room in the entertainment cars.

Some guests prefer to travel privately, while others, have security or family riding along. This guest arrived with only a few security guards in tow from what I’ve heard so far. But that doesn’t mean much, we had late party arrivals many times.

"Welcome aboard! I'm Concierge 143. I'll be assisting you in any way that I can during your stay with us these next 24 hours." I remark as I step further into his quarters.

Across the room, the client sits at a desk with his back facing the door. He's wearing jeans, a black T-shirt, and a black baseball cap. Looking comfy and casual like a regular Joe.

Peering over his shoulder, I notice that he's working on a laptop. Headphones and a pile of papers lay next to it, along with a cellphone.

The room is dimly lit, per his request, and there's a blazing fire already burning in the fireplace.

"Hello." He says acknowledging my presence, but he doesn't turn around. It's obvious that he's concentrating on something so I do my best not to interrupt.

"Can I get you anything? Another pineapple juice perhaps?" Noticing the empty bottle resting next to his phone.

"Yes please." He causally answers, but still doesn't turn around. He remains focused on his work.

I walk across the room, remove a fresh bottle of pineapple juice from the refrigerator, then open it.

Stepping a bit closer this time, I notice a tuft of dark fluffy hair poking out from underneath his baseball cap looking like a little duck tail. A small smile tugs at my lips admiring how cute it is.

I stop just behind him asking, "would you like me to set it on the desk or elsewhere?"

The empty bottle is next to him, but I don't dare set a full drink down without warning. The risk of him accidentally knocking it onto his computer is way too high.

My eyes then drop admiring the broadness of his shoulders as he stretches and cracks his neck. His muscles flex and he lets out a moan of satisfaction after. The move is natural and relaxed but so freaking hot that I force myself to look away before I forget how to breathe.

"I'll take it." He holds up his hand not even bothering with a glance over his shoulder.

A thick silver chain bracelet slides down his wrist enhancing the muscular form of his forearm.

I let my eyes follow the chunk of jewelry as I hand him his drink. His forearm is sleek and muscular with long ropey veins wrapping around it. Now, I actually do forget how to breathe.

As the outside world crushes my chest, I pass him his drink with a shaky hand. His lanky fingers graze mine when he takes it and the size of his hand engulfs the entire bottle. Big hands, big heart, I guess. Isn't that the saying?

I dig my nails into my palms while trying to keep my composure. I must remain professional. This is what I was trained to do, right? Be cool under pressure. This man is truly making that impossible as he just effortlessly exists.

"Thank you." He says nodding his head still hyper focused on the computer screen.

"Will there be anything else, sir?" I ask taking a step back.

Suddenly, theres a shift in the energy of the room. His body language changes and he adjusts his seated position. He straightens his back from a slumped position, then clears his throat.

"Sir?" He asks inquisitively.

"Yes, it's in my job description to address our guests respectfully, sir.

He lets out an amused chuckle under his breath, then his arms fall to his sides.

He frustratedly sighs. Then his head tips back, he rubs his forehead, then quickly lifts his hat, pushing back his dark hair, before replacing it on his head again.

His body slowly twist halfway around and he offers me a quick glimpse over his shoulder. Then his head twists again doing a double take.

"You? What's your name?" He asks acting like he recognizes me.

"Concierge 143." I answer.

He laughs sounding amused with my answer. The top half of his face is half covered by his baseball cap, but at least I can still see his infectious smile beaming from ear to ear.

"Naur, that’s not a real answer." He replies with a thick Australian accent.

"It's the answer that I'm required to give by my employer, sir. Just as your privacy is protected by District 9 Railways, ours is as well. It's for our own safety."

"Mmm...interesting." He nods with contemplation.

"But you can call me whatever you'd like, sir. I'll answer to whatever you choose."

"Saur, what you're saying is...I can pick your name?" He laughs.

"If that's what you wish."

"If I call youuuu...let's say something like...baby girl, you'd answer?" He asks chuckling flirtatiously.

"If that's what you desire." I nod feeling butterflies dancing in my stomach as heat rushes across my cheeks.

"Hmm...my desire you say?" He laughs shyly.

"Yes?" I answer offering a slight smirk.

"I like it. Well, baby girl, I've got a lot of work to do. Would ya mind checking back in a few hours?" He asks.

"It would be my pleasure, sir." I nod giving my lip a bite to contain my grin.

I'm pleasently surprised at how flirty he is. This is a first for me. Sure, old men offer to be my sugar daddy a few times a year but I don’t usually get hit on by the younger clients.

But this guy has a boyish charm kind of thing going for him and he knows it. Not that I’m complaining, he is very handsome.

"It would be your pleasure?" He muses under his breath as he turns back around.

I spin on my heels swiftly, exiting the room. Then I set my alarm to check back on him a few hours later, per his request.

Engulfed in my book, I jump at the sound of my alarm ringing. Even though it feels like only a few minutes have passed, it’s already been two whole hours.

"Sir? It's concierge 143 again." I announce tapping at his door.

"Who?" He calls out.

"Concierge 143."

"Hmm." He replies sounding puzzled. I freeze hovering my hand over the door handle.

"Naur, I don't know anyone by that name." He states.

"It's..." I start to say but then recall our conversation from earlier.

"It's um...it's baby girl." I giggle utterly embarrassed.

His boisterous laugh radiates through the door.

"Come in." He shouts back.

So, I turn the handle and enter his quarters.

The lights in his room are now brighter making everything easier to see, including him. Immediately, I spot his breathtakingly muscular physique sprawled across the floor.

My body freezes as I watch him, face down near the end of the king sized bed. He’s doing one handed pushups with his free hand is tucked behind his back. He flexes his free fingers each time his body dips towards the ground and it’s so damn hot.

"Grah, uhhh..." he grunts finishing his final pushup.

Then he rolls over sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him, staring up at me.

I try my damndest not to stare back but his tight black tank top, baggy gray sweatpants, and backwards baseball cap, make it a real struggle.

Sweat glistens across his flushed skin as muscles bulge out in every direction.

My gaze finally meets his and I’m still in awe. His dark, heavy lidded, and elegantly almond shaped eyes make my heart flutter. I then take in the rest of his face letting my gaze land on his lips.

They're so full and pillowy soft looking that it makes my mind wander. I can’t help but think how they might feel like pressed up against mine.

A salacious grin spreads across those luscious lips and two adorable dimples appear. God, his smile is everything. Heat fills my cheeks again as he stares at me like he’s waiting for me to speak.

"I um...do you, er...uh...need anything, sir?" I stutter.

He licks his lips still while grinning at me. I'm starting to think that might have been a loaded question.

"A water please." He answers.

It’s a struggle to lift my feet and walk away, because it feels like I'm dragging them out of quicksand. Eventually, I will both feet to move enough to retrieve a bottle from the refrigerator.

After opening said bottle, I hand it to him.

"You don't have to open my drinks for me. In fact, it's silly that you're even waiting on me in the first place. It's not like my arms and legs don't work." He laughs shaking his head.

"I'm just doing my job, sir."

As he takes a long drink I suddenly realize that my eyes have been glued to his neck staring at the way his throat bobs when he swallows.

"Just doing your job, ya say?" He giggles, catching me staring.

"Ya...I mean, um, yes sir."

"What happens if I fire you? That way you don't have to wait on me hand and foot anymore?" He asks.

"I'd be fired by District 9 Railways, sir. I implore you, please don't do that. I'm really trying my best and I need this job."

"I'm just joking but please relax a bit, will ya? There's really no need to do every little thing for me. I'm more than capable but I do appreciate your efforts." He smiles before making his way up to his feet.

"Thank you, sir."

"I'll tell you what, I'm gonna grab a quick shower. While I'm gone, would you mind fetching the wine that I ordered from the kitchen?" He asks realizing that I'm serious about my job.

"Right away, sir."

"Take your time 143." Then he pauses before adding, "or not" giving me a flirty smirk.

I try and bite back my smile as I reply with an understanding nod.

"You're allowed to smile, ya knaur? I won't fire you for that, I promise." He says giving me a wink. Then he turns and makes his way towards the bathroom.

Just before I turn to leave, he calls out "and one more thing..." halting his footsteps.

He slowly tugs his black tank top over his head and tosses it onto the bed. I swear my chest collapses in on itself and I start gasping for air.

"Please grab two wine glasses as well on your way back." He adds.

My jaw hits the floor as he turns the rest of the way around to face me. His eyes burn into me as he flatly drags his hand over his impeccably chiseled chest. Every nerve in my body stands on end.

"Okay..." I breathlessly reply.

"Yeah, um...sorry. Yes sir, I'm on it." I say correcting myself.

Completely flustered, I turn on my heels then make a mad dash for the door.

Two glasses? Is he expecting company? A ping of sadness blossoms in my chest.

But honestly, why would I expect anything less? My god, he's gorgeous! Of course a man like that wouldn't be traveling all alone.