The Guest (18+) (Michael Jackson)

I grew up in a little village outside Madrid, Spain. Both my parents were American, but had moved here to live out their dream. And a couple of years before my brother was born, and later also me, they bought a hotel and started a business that pretty soon became attractive to more than just Spanish guests. And now we had guests from all over the world staying for various amounts of time, some even weeks in a row. Some of them were regulars that came back on later occasions, and some were only staying for a couple of nights, then disappeared into the big world never to be seen again.

Throughout my childhood, I'd always spent most of my spare time helping mom and dad with the work at the hotel. But now I was done with school, and had even graduated with a major in business traveling and hotel management. And it was pretty clear that I would be the one to take over when my parents decided to retire. My brother wasn't interested anyway. Life was good, and I had everything staked out for the future. Or so I thought. Until a dark haired stranger with a mysterious, laconic manner and gorgeous brown eyes checked in on one of the hotel's finest suites. His name was Fernand Diaz, and he looked to be in his late thirties. But it was difficult to tell, because he was wearing sunglasses most of the time. Even indoors. But I met his gaze once when he signed to get the key to his room, before they got covered behind his dark shades again.

"Let me follow you to your room, sir, and I'll have your luggage transported there right away."

The man thanked me politely, but didn't say anything more. Still, I could feel his eyes on me when he thought I didn't notice. Not that that was very unusual. Many male guests did that, and I always blamed it on my uniform. Mom was a very traditional woman, and insisted that women should wear skirts and not pants, like men did. And no matter how much I argued, she never caved.

"Here you are, sir," I said after unlocking his suite, then stepped back to let him enter. I quickly showed him the bathroom, the bedroom, the balcony and the minibar, that was everything else but mini. And in addition to what was already there, there was a long list of other things we could bring if needed.

"And here's your key," I finished with a polite smile. Then I got slightly nervous because of the way he was looking at me. He seemed amused somehow, but without laughing or smirking. It was more a fascinated kind of amusement, rather than a creepy one. But he didn't say anything until I turned to leave.

"What was your name again, miss?"

I pointed at the name tag on my chest, and mr. Diaz squinted a little to see.

"Lilliana Martinez, sir."

"Beautiful name, ms. Martinez."

For some reason that made me blush, even though lots of people had complimented my name before, including men. But there was something different about mr. Diaz. And I had a feeling that I'd seen him before. I just didn't know where. But since he was here all by himself, without a full entourage of bodyguards and security staff, I didn't think he was especially famous. Still, after thanking him, I went into my dad's office to borrow his computer. Then I wrote the stranger's name in the search engine and skimmed through the results. But there was nothing there that could bring me any closer to this mysterious man. Hopefully I would get another opportunity to ask later. But only if it felt natural, because I knew well enough to not pry in someone else's private life. Especially the hotel's guests.

"Ana!" my mom called and waved me over.

"The gentleman in room 401 is asking for you."

"Mr. Diaz? What does he need?"

"New towels, he said. And he didn't want the maid to bring it to him. He specifically asked for you."

I turned away from her and stacked a couple of papers on the desk, so she wouldn't see me blush.

"Didn't he just get here? I know there should be plenty of..."

"Yes, mom. Relax. I got this."

I put on my most professional mask and headed for the elevator. And on the way to his room, I picked up several soft and fluffy towels from a trolley in one of the storage rooms. Then I knocked on the door and waited.

"Your towels, sir."

I smiled when he opened, and held out the little stack, gesturing with a short nod that I could hang them in the bathroom for him. And he stepped aside and let me in with the same look on his face as earlier, only now I could see his eyes, since he wasn't wearing his shades anymore. He was a handsome man. And he'd obviously just showered, because his long, black curls were still damp and hung freely around his shoulders. He was wearing casual black slacks and a white button up with rolled up sleeves, and the last two buttons in the neck were left open. Shortly told, he made it really, really hard not to stare. So I hurried into his bathroom and changed his old towels with the new ones I'd brought, and returned to stand awkwardly in front of him.

"I..." I started, but swallowed my words. Then I cleared my throat and forced myself to act professional. I wasn't normally like this! But I held up his wet towels and tried not to think about which parts of his body they'd just wiped dry.

"I'll take these out, and you can just tell us whenever you want them replaced with new ones. If not, we'll just change them tomorrow morning like usual."

He didn't do anything else but to stick his hands into his pockets and lick his lips. And then he ended up biting his lower one, and I realized that I was staring again. So I tore my eyes away from him and cleared my voice.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?"

"I was wondering what you do to relax."

"Oh. There are a few things. It depends on which kind of relaxation you're in need of."

The amusement in his eyes were back in such a degree that it looked like they were sparkling.

"We have a library downstairs next to the lobby. We have a pool and a relaxation department in the basement, with a bubble bath, steam shower and a spa where you can get a massage or other treatments from the menu. Other people prefer physical activity as relaxation, so we also have a gym in addition to all the hiking possibilities around the hotel."

"A massage?"

"Yes, sir. But the spa closes in about an hour, so I'm afraid it's a bit late. But I can make reservations for a massage tomorrow, if you'd like?"

He looked like he was in deep thoughts. And if I wasn't at work and needed to act like a grownup, I would've snapped my fingers impatiently in front of him. But eventually, he spoke up.

"Is there any possibility to hire the basement tonight after it closes?"

I felt my heart drop. I knew we were already short on staff both tonight and the rest of the weekend, because of a big arrangement. Basically half the hotel was occupied by politicians and people from the Spanish government. So if mr. Diaz wanted to hire the pool and the spa, it meant that my only night off this week would be spent babysitting him.

"It's possible, but we're a little short of staff tonight."

"How about tomorrow night?" he tried, but I shook my head.

"Tomorrow and Sunday will be even worse than tonight. But Monday will be free."

"I'm not here then."

I knew that. God, I'm so dumb. I was the one who booked him in.

"Okay," I said, and plastered a smile on my face.

"The basement will be yours from 8pm, sir."

"Thank you, ms. Martinez. May I ask for a bottle of your finest champagne, too?"

"Yes, sir. Are you celebrating anything? If so, we can get you some sliced fruit, and probably some flowers and decorations, too."

"No need. It's just gonna be me."

He licked his lips again, then looked down at the carpet.

"How about you? How late will you be working?"

I blushed and looked away, too. And since I looked away, I didn't see him studying my reaction.

"I need to be there too, sir. It's the rules. But don't worry. I'll keep out of your way."

"And... If I don't want that?"

"Excuse me?"

"What if I don't mind you being there?"

I didn't want to comment on that, because I didn't know how to respond. Did he have a hidden agenda? Or was he just lonely?

"Like I said; I'll be there at 8pm, sir. I'll be behind the front desk if you need me. Just use your room card when you enter."

Without waiting for an answer, I turned on my heels and walked out, feeling a bit upset about the whole thing. And I hadn't really calmed down when I took over after Andrea, that usually had the supervision of the relaxation area. And I must say that I envied her when she was allowed to go home. But I kept myself busy, checking that everything was in place and that there were fresh towels, refreshments and that the trash bins were empty. Andrea had already done most of it though, so there wasn't really much for me to do. So I made myself a cup of tea and found a magazine while I waited for mr. Diaz to arrive.

I must have dozed off for a couple of minutes, because I didn't hear the door open and close until I heard a man clear his throat behind me. And even though I seemed pretty calm on the outside, I jumped all the way to the moon in surprise on the inside.

"I'm sorry, sir. Uhm... The pool is this way," I said, and hurried to show him in the right direction. And my cheeks felt boiling warm when I heard him giggle behind me.

"Bubble bath, sauna, steam shower, changing room where the toilets are to the left and the showers are to the right. And there are towels..."

I pointed around us to make sure he knew where everything was, before I looked at him. He was already wearing his bathrobe and had a towel around his neck, plus the slippers from his room, that were a little too short for his long feet.

"You're done," I stated dumbfoundedly, feeling embarrassed that I didn't see that right away.

"Been a rough day?" he asked with a little smile, and I tiredly returned it.

"Yeah, I guess. So if you don't mind..."

I signed that I wanted to go back to where I was sitting when he came, but froze when I realized that I'd forgotten the champagne.

"I'll be right back," I said, and scurried off. I knew I wasn't allowed to leave the hotel guests alone in the spa department, but I felt pretty sure that he could swim. And if he tried anything shady, the surveillance cameras would catch him red-handed. It was only a couple of minutes anyway. And I was right. When I returned, he had already jumped into the pool and slowly swam back and forth, and I discreetly made my presence known with a little cough.

"Where do you want your champagne, sir?"

After his instructions, I put the bottle and a glass down at the little table next to his abandoned bathrobe, before I went back to the front desk. Then I poured out my cold tea and made myself another, while I tried not to stare in the direction of this strangely familiar man. But the longer I glanced in his direction, the more I picked up on his sadness. He really was lonely. And when he hoisted himself out of the water, and wrapped his bathrobe around his body and sat down, it became clearer that ever. So despite every restriction about interfering with our guests, I did what my instincts told me to. I walked over and sat down next to him. And even though the gratitude in his eyes spoke volumes, he still gave me a little smile and said:

"Thank you."