Mack Zack
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Desk of Desperation - Ch. 4 (August 2024 Story)
🕑 Added 2024-12-13 21:46:40 +0000 UTCSometimes it was amazing what her stomach could do even when running on empty. Grace let loose some of the loudest, bellowing farts in the stall. Several people definitely heard her as they went in and out. Her nerves only shot up more when she wondered if people outside the bathroom heard her. This made her fart even more. It was a vicious cycle that couldn’t stop until she finally relaxed.
She sat there on the toilet for some time, idle, lost in her shame. Her job was on the line. She already began wondering what else she could do with her life should Mr. Muglia fire her. Ugh, and he had told her to just “stand there and look pretty”. Now that she was alone and confined with her thoughts, she reflected and recalled everything about the chastisement.
Well. She had better get back out there, or else Mr. Muglia would literally explode. With her luck, the Pope made a surprise visit and was left waiting there at the front desk.
Grace cautiously poked her head out of the bathroom. The only person in the lobby was Mr. Perry. He was leaning on the counter looking at his phone. She didn’t really want to talk to him at a time like this but she begrudgingly went behind the desk and cleared her throat.
“Can I help you?”
“Hm? Oh. You had mentioned yesterday about asking you out for dinner around this time.”
“It’s not exactly the same time as yesterday. I still have 45 more minutes to go.”
“Right, well. Uh. I saw that guy yelling at you and figured…well…I should say something. Diffuse the situation.”
“Ah. Well. That’s sweet of you. Thank you.”
Grace found it odd and extremely embarrassing that he was still interested in seeing her despite the fact that she had farted as loud as a horse a moment ago in front of him. Mr. Perry gave her the impression that he was amazingly unbothered by many things.
He drummed his fingers on the counter slowly. “Sooooo….”
Grace smirked. “Come back here in 45 minutes then.”
“Alright.”
#
Grace wasn’t feeling like having a particularly large or fancy dinner, so she was relieved when Mr. Perry offered that they’d go to a local casual tavern down the street. He stuck out like a sore thumb in the tavern filled with casual diners. But once he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his top button, Grace realized he was extremely easygoing. After they ordered their drinks, she practically started getting wet when he asked, “So what else do you read?”
Grace became enamored on the spot. The question was so open-ended though that she didn’t know what to say other than to gush about everything she had read in the past. But then would he judge her about certain reading choices? Oh no. She started to slip into this mindset of being a certain way around a date. What if he liked Jane Austen only because she was considered “proper literature” by today’s standards? What if he was a snobbish geek about things like Herman Melville, J.D. Salinger, and Nathaniel Hawthorne?
“It’s okay. You can take your time,” he said, smirking.
“Sorry. There’s a lot to think about.”
“I’m partial to science-fiction more than fantasy. Do you read things like that?”
“Things like that?” Grace repeated, eyebrows raised.
“Well, yeah…” He mumbled incoherently, obviously trying not to sound offensive. “I mean. You know. I didn’t want to assume or anything.”
“I get you. I have. Annihilation, The Three-Body Problem.”
“I have a thing about reading the English translations of foreign books.”
“What?”
“I saw an interview once on the Late Show with Stephen Colbert. Forgot who it was. They said that reading the translation is like kissing someone with the veil on. I can never get that out of my head and it bothers me now that I won’t ever fully understand The Three-Body Problem unless I learn Chinese.”
“Does that let you stop yourself from reading it though?”
“Sometimes. I know it shouldn’t. I should just go for it anyway even if I won’t ever experience what was really said.”
Grace was already finished with her drink. She hadn’t remembered the last time she gotten drunk, much less had a drink with a guy.
“Do you want another one?” he asked, eying her empty glass.
“Uhhh maybe.”
He nodded, slapping his card down. “This one’s on me.”
“Are you going to walk me home?”
“Of course.” He seemed to want to say something with a wry smile. He went for it anyway. “Then again, the hotel is always across the street too.”
“Hmmm. I think I’d have to get to know your reading habits more.”
“It’d be the perfect commute for work tomorrow.”
“That’s true…”
He shrugged. “Up to you.”
Grace gave him the up-down, eying his strong facial features and calm demeanor. “You know, what’s funny?”
“Hm?”
“We never formally introduced but we know each other’s names. My nametag and your booking. You don’t come off as an Alex.”
“What do I seem like? My mother thought about calling me George. Would George be better?”
“Ew, no. George is too…nuclear family vibe. Aha. I think I like you better as just – Mr. Perry. It gives this air of mystery, you know?”
“Whatever works, I suppose.”
#
Grace could no longer deny it – she was falling for this man. He was charming as fuck, and kept engaging her by keeping the conversation going back and forth, much like a tennis match. She felt something for the first time funny enough when they shared their equal hatred of when book publishers rebranded every book cover with the movie poster when the movie came out. She always used a bookmark, but he “dog eared” his pages, which set her off (not really of course). To Grace, she hated bent spines on paperbacks, but to Mr. Perry he thought it showed that you were really into the book.
“I know it’s strange to say,” he began, “but it gives this…homey feeling? I don’t know if that makes sense.”
Grace sputtered a laugh, one that was much too forceful and indicated that she was very drunk. “Yeah right. Sure. I’ll know not to lend you my books then. I’ll keep my copy and you keep yours on our shelf.”
Mr. Perry gave her a strange look and then she realized what she had just implied. She went beet-red and said, “I mean. What? Not that—our shelf. I mean.”
“I think you’ve had enough at this time,” he said chuckling.
Grace blushed and felt her cheeks go red for the remainder of their stay at the tavern. She fumbled over her words but was still able to get off the bar stool just fine. She tensed at first, then eased when he offered his arm to put hers through. The classiness of that made her feel warm.
Are we actually going to do this? she thought, as they approached the bright lights of the hotel. Her daydreaming stopped suddenly when Harry opened the door for them. She had forgotten that Harry sometimes worked as the doorman. He gave her a wry smile and she went rigid.
“Thank you,” Mr. Perry said.
Harry nodded and winked at Grace. She turned to hide her face.
Thankfully, Grace wasn’t well-acquainted with the second shift at the front desk – a zit-faced teenage boy who never really had much to say. Still, she didn’t look in that direction and upon reaching the elevators Mr. Perry said, “Maybe we should have taken the back door?”
“Next time.”
His eyes lit up. “Oh? There’s going to be a next time.”
Dammit! I have the loosest lips when drunk!
The worst thing happened when the elevator doors opened and Mr. Muglia emerged. Although he was absorbed on his phone, Grace nearly yelped aloud and hid her face. Mr. Perry knew something was up but didn’t say anything as they entered. It wasn’t until they were on his floor that he asked, “Still facing trauma from that bad customer?”
“He wasn’t my customer…he’s MY BOSS!”
Mr. Perry’s eyes alighted; he looked upset. “Your boss spoke to you like that?”
“Yeah. It’s…it’s whatever.”
“Does he do that all the time?”
“No. But he is harsh with anyone.” The fun of her drunkenness was wearing off. She started to get mixed feelings about this, as enticing as it was to sleep in with a guest at her hotel. “It’s whatever. Don’t worry about it.”
“If this is a bad idea…we could do this another time. Elsewhere.”
“No! Too late to back out now. I will most definitely be late for work if I try to go home this late now.”
Mr. Perry, for all his business ventures, stayed in a typical guest room. No fancy suites or extras.
“Big suites kind of…” he shrugged. “Weird me out.”
“Agoraphobic or something?”
“Maybe. More like I feel the need to have the place looks like it’s been lived in.”
He closed the curtains and removed his jacket. Grace placed herself on the bed. She stumbled a bit trying to give him that “glamorous” pose as she flipped her heels off. It wasn’t as graceful of a move as she had hoped and she spent a few awkward seconds trying to wriggle them off until she finally sighed and removed them with her hands.
Expecting him to get through with it quickly, she loosened her hair, but then noticed he was standing idly just staring at her, leaning back on a chair.
“What is it?” she said, feeling lost.
“Nothing.” But something was definitely on his mind. “Do you want something to eat?”
“We just ate. Sort of.”
“Well. Do you want more?”
“Of what?”
He shrugged. “Anything. Anything at all.”
Grace twiddled her thumbs. It could have been the drunk munchies but she did feel a little peckish. Then again, she had made sure not to eat too much in front of him during their date. That had been deeply ingrained into her subconscious when dating men. “Well…I guess if anything I have a random craving for sushi. But.” She shook her head. “Sorry. Did I read something wrong? We are gonna…like…?”
“Something tells me you’re not used to being treated.”
Grace stared blankly. “I mean. I got Christmas presents every year.”
“But I mean REALLY treated.”
Mr. Perry finally approached her and sat on the bed. He admired her figure and ran his fingertips gently along her arm, drawing her goosebumps. She snickered.
At long last, he kissed her shoulder. He said in a low voice. “You can have anything you want. You name it, I will pay for it.”
“Is this like…a thing for you?”
“Spa day. Massage. Food. Drink. Wine. Whatever.”
Mr. Perry may have had more romantic things on his mind with this angle, but Grace swerved for the night table and picked up the menu.
“I want room service!”
“Perfect. What would you like?”
In all her time working at the Regal Chateau, Grace had never tried their world-famous lasagna. The New York Steak Strip was also really good, but it was a whopping $80. Would Mr. Perry really give her money like that?
“You’re already thinking too much,” he said smiling. “I can tell. You don’t have to feel bad. I said you could have whatever you want and I mean it.”
Grace raised a brow. She pointed to the $80 price tag on the New York steak. He nodded firmly. She made doubly-sure with a “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“What if I want…EVERYTHING on this menu?”
“Then you will have everything on this menu.”
“Bullshit.”
But Mr. Perry did not waver. He crossed his arms with a smug look and said, “Try me.”
#
Despite all the orders, the waiter did not break any strange look when giving them the food. Grace had recognized the waiter when peeking her head around the corner – one of the immigrants from Ukraine. He brought over their largest cart and very calmly handed Mr. Perry the dishes, until they both realized it was okay for them to borrow the cart once Mr. Perry ran out of room to place the dishes.
“Bon appetite!” he said, lifting one of the trays to reveal a lasagna.
They had also ordered a bottle of wine and three beers. Grace sat at the small round table in the corner, with Mr. Perry sitting across from her, and the two began their feast. They had the TV on to whatever they felt like watching, commenting on so-and-so actor and their drama.
Grace ate noisily, often forgetting to close her mouth. When she became conscious of it, she slowed down and closed her mouth. She had already devoured the lasagna and was halfway through the steak. She never thought about class differences this way but she often hungered because of her job. Was starved too dramatic of a word to say? Mr. Perry could afford to eat out every day if he wanted to. Grace meanwhile had to ration the same leftovers for a week straight. Things were really bad when she first moved out of her parents’ house years ago. Her eating schedule was all over the place since cooking tired her out and she couldn’t always order out. Cooking drew her into an existential crisis. People had to plan and cook every single day? Three times a day? For the rest of their lives? She couldn’t keep up at the time with her three jobs. Now she thankfully only had one, but even so she barely made rent in the city.
“What do you do business in?” she asked.
Mr. Perry sighed. He clearly didn’t like talking about his job, else they would have talked already about it. This whole time and she had no idea what he actually did.
“Telecommunications,” he said dryly. “Consulting in telecommunications.”
“Ah.” Grace tried to make light of it. “So…is the 5G network really controlling our brains?”
“Yes, totally.”
He dug into his dish of sweet potato casserole – something the hotel was renown for. “What is it that you wanted to do in life?”
“Like, when I was a kid?”
“Anything really.”
“Well. I studied History.”
“Oh, really. What was your area of expertise?”
“Medieval. I wanted to write a thesis about women and their roles back then. Planned to go to grad school but…alas…money was needed. I kind of sat on that for a while. I think I let life run its course for me. I mean. I tried to work for the Met but…didn’t work out.”
She finished her steak and moved onto a chicken pot pie. She moved everything so casually and didn’t take a moment’s respite. Mr. Perry uttered, “My gosh, where do you put it all?”
“Sorry.”
“No, don’t be! Quite frankly I’m amazed.”
“I haven’t gotten to eat like this in like…ever really.”
“You poor thing.”
Grace downed a glass of wine, and before starting her next sentence she unexpectedly let out a hiccup that sounded more like a burp. She clasped her mouth and started laughing. “Oh fuck, I’m sorry!”
Mr. Perry guffawed. “Quite alright. Nothing to it.”
“You must think I’m a pig.”
“A pig who reads?”
“Hey now.”
“Pigs are actually very clean animals, very misunderstood.”
Grace’s cheeks went warm. She enjoyed flirting with him like this. Who knew it would be in a fancy hotel room gorging over room service?
“I always wanted the food here but could never afford it.”
“I’m glad I gave you the opportunity.”
“Can I have some of that sweet potato casserole?”
“Grace, like I said, it’s all yours!”
She dug into it and nearly orgasmed at the crisp, delicate taste. “Oh my GOD,” she said with her mouth full. “That is SEX.”
Mr. Perry burst into laughter.
“No, for REAL. How the fuck do they cook this? God. That is the most delicious fucking thing I have ever had! It’s like…somehow a desert but also a side dish at the same time.”
“Have the whole thing. I’m good.”
Grace may have gobbled the casserole down too fast, for she needed a moment to swallow and almost thought she was going to choke. Instead, what came out was a loud and forceful burp full of pure air that had been pushed down.
“Oh sssshhhit, I’m sorry!”
Mr. Perry chuckled again. “You have no need to apologize. Seriously.”
Grace had never felt more comfortable around another man. To think, he even witnessed her fart earlier and still went ahead with asking her out. Now here he was blithely telling her not to worry about her grotesque burps.
Still in her work clothes, Grace finally started to feel the pressure of all the food against her skirt and blouse. The alcohol that swam around her head was enough to act as a painkiller to ignore it for a while, until at one point there was a loud P-O-P that made her jump.
“What was that?” Mr. Perry asked.
Grace turned beet-red again. She reached behind her skirt to fish for the strap, only to find that the button had snapped off.
“Oh shit,” she said, half-giggling.
“What? What is it?”
“I'm so full that the button came off!”
“Well,” he clinked his wine glass with hers. “Here’s to letting it all hang out.”
Grace did feel immensely better once the pressure was off her waist. She could continue gorging on the food.
#
When all was done, the room looked like a battlefield of empty dishes, glasses, and scattered silverware. Grace was thoroughly drunk by now. She wouldn’t say wasted but definitely feeling numb and loose. She had put up her feet on the bed, officially coming to terms with the fact that Mr. Perry truly did not care if she lounged around. Her belly nearly looked pregnant. Though she ate through most of the entire hotel menu, she did have a few leftovers.
“Satisfied?” Mr. Perry said.
“Hmmm. Very.” Her head swirled. She no longer had any reservations about whatever she said in front of him. “You know it’s weird. Sometimes I wish I could eat to this point. Like. It’s uncomfortable but at the same time…not?” She shifted in her seat several times. “I feel like my clothes are going to burst open.”
She took another sip and eyed Mr. Perry, hoping he would take the hint. He clearly did, as he formed that half-smirk and said, “Are they now?”
“Maybe you can do something about that…”
Mr. Perry got up. Grace hadn’t a moment to process how swiftly and easily he picked her up and placed her on the bed. She gasped, breath escaping her. Her hair spread out against the bed. She felt warm all over, and started to get wet anticipating his next move.
He kissed her along the neck, which was the perfect start for her. She knew she would be in for a really good night.
