True to You

Like Walking Into a Dream

The door closed behind her with a soft hush of air. Weird because as far as she could work out there probably wasn't any air in this place. Wildly coloured carpets absorbed the sound of her footsteps and the whir of the wheels on the cabin sized bag she pulled behind her as she crossed the vast space. Conversational clusters of leather and velvet upholstered chairs and sofas were scattered around beneath the soaring, coffered ceilings. The occasional animal print ottoman or bench joined the sofas or stood alone beneath huge potted palms. The effect of the furniture was that of sleek, plush animals roaming across a savannah of luxury. Oddly enough though there was no one to enjoy a conversation in the conversation groups. Clusters of mercury glass balls hanging from the ceiling illuminated the space; and directly across the vast ocean of carpet from the door that had now closed behind her was a low, polished concrete counter. Behind it, at one end, a blonde man about her own age sat typing, at the other a dusky skinned woman with tightly braided hair reminiscent of those women that you always thought were in their late thirties until someone told you they were seventy-five shuffled a pile of papers.

She had paused, unsure of which end of the counter to approach when one of the brass inlay mirror panels behind the counter popped open and the most fabulous drag queen she had ever seen appeared and strode toward the counter on towering heels and delicately sat down. A Miss America smile and a welcoming gesture cleared up the mystery of who would be responsible for checking her in.

"Checking in hon?" She blinked at the name badge pinned to the improbably impressive bosom – Clitora Von Dildhoff

"I guess I am. Elliot J. Adams," she said nervously.

A pair of thickly mascaraed lashes blinked slowly at her. Clitora rose up and peered over the counter eyes roaming from Elliot's feet to the top of her head. She sank back into her seat and began to frantically type. It was impressive how well she managed it given the extravagant length of her nails. Eventually the staccato clacking of the keys finished and Clitora gifted her with a beaming smile. "Welcome Elliot, you had me a little confused for a moment there but you are all woman."

"I am but I have to ask, does it matter?" Elliot bristled a little at the idea that a drag queen would have the cheek to be hung up on gender or gender appropriate names.

"Not in the slightest hon, but I was kind of optimistic for a moment that you'd have the name of a good plastic surgeon. Not that I'd probably remember it when I wake up anyway. Lars, Naomi and I are only interns. We're one coma miracle away from getting back to our lives or one faulty power cable away from moving upstairs to the guest floors."

"I don't know what kind of help you think a cosmetic surgeon can offer you, you're already a work of art," Elliot responded in admiration. Clitora's hair was as high as her heels and her immaculately applied make-up clung to a bone structure that was not entirely created by the smoke and mirrors of contouring.

"Why thank you hon," Clitora said with a swish of chiffon as she held up a key card between two bejewelled fingers and extended a glossy, red talon in the direction of a pair of mirrored doors. "Just tap this on the sensor and the elevator will take you to your floor. You can leave your luggage here, it'll find you."

Elliot shifted uneasily as she took the card from Clitora, her room number was embossed on the front. "This will unlock my door?"

"Mmmmhmmm. Until you get the hang of the way things work around here, then you won't need the card anymore." Clitora brushed a non-existent hair from her face before she leaned a little closer over the counter. Her glossy lips forming exaggerated shapes as she said in a stage whisper, "You do realise that there's nothing in your bag right? They give it to you so you feel a little bit less freaked out when you check in." She waggled a finger at the small roller suitcase at Elliot's side. "Whatever you need just kind of appears here. Clothes, TV channels, food, drink, it's all tuned into your mind. Which works a treat I can tell you. Otherwise it'd be hell on housekeeping." Clitora's eyes went wide and she lifted her perfectly manicured hand to her mouth. "Oops. I mean it would be just terrible for housekeeping."

Elliot blinked rapidly trying to push back what she was sure should have been a panic attack developing, instead she just felt mildly bemused. What the ... heck was going on?

Clitora reached over and gave her hand a pat. "You'll work it all out, everything's gonna be just fine."

Elliot blinked at her again. Clitora cocked her head and, rhinestones flashing, made a shooing gesture. "Off you go hon. Much as I love to roll out the welcome wagon, you've got another place to be."

"Oh, okay. Thanks. I guess I'll just go wave this at the sensor?" Unsure of why she'd just asked a question when she already knew what she had to do Elliot swallowed hard. Clitora gave her an encouraging nod and another flick wave of her hand. Clutching her key card tightly she slowly turned toward the elevator. Remembering her bag she stopped and began to turn back for it. Even though Clitora had told her it was empty and she'd have everything she needed she didn't want to just leave it behind. She froze in place when she saw that it was gone. Clitora, still behind the counter, followed her gaze to the empty spot on the floor and gave her a wry shrug. This time both hands flashed with light as she gestured Elliot on toward the elevator.

Stopping in front of the mirrored elevator doors Elliot took in her reflection. She gave her eyes a rub just to make sure that she wasn't seeing things. She knew that, however illogical it was for her to be standing in a five star hotel lobby, she was dead but the image that was reflected back at her was not the way she'd looked when she'd last been alive. Her face was a little softer, her jawline a little firmer, the arch of her brow just a little higher, her tits a little perkier and her hair, even though she'd not yet succumbed to grey, was styled with the same fabulous cut she'd had and never again achieved when she was younger. She was looking at her twenty-five year old self. This was not a bad thing. If she'd had to die at least she got to spend her afterlife in her favourite version of herself.

Taking a deep breath she tapped her key card against the sensor beside the doors. Almost immediately they opened with a ping. She stepped inside and as the doors closed behind her she wondered for a moment why this elevator was so different to all the others she'd been in over the years. Suddenly it hit her. There was no notice with the hotel bar's cocktail of the day or a menu for the restaurant or even an image of an impossibly perfect high tea tempting her to rack up the charges on her account. It made sense if you thought about it. According to Clitora everything you needed was provided, therefore there was no need to try and sell you something.

In the few seconds she'd taken to process that thought she'd apparently reached her destination because, with another ping, the doors slid open to what she'd imagined would be a silent hallway. In fact it was anything but. Music poured out of open doors and clusters of people stood puffing on cigarettes outside doorways at various intervals down the seemingly endless hall. Strangely enough despite the cloud of smoke hanging above several of groups there was no scent of it in the air. Even more strange, the smoke alarms weren't crying out in outrage at the blatant flouting of what had become a pretty standard no smoking rule for most hotels.

There was a sudden roar from inside a room a little way down the hall with the door open but without anyone standing outside. Elliot took a step backwards in alarm and found her back pressed to the elevator doors.

"Incoming!" A voice shouted as a tall, lanky guy with a crazily cut shock of black hair came tearing out of the room and ran down the hall toward her. He dove to the ground a few feet away from her and tumbled the rest of the way finishing in a prone position at her feet with his head propped on his hand.

"Hey Elli!" he chirped.

"James?" she asked stunned and although she had a feeling that it really shouldn't be possible in this place she promptly fainted.