Michaelishious - Vol. 2019

Dec. 21st: The guest (pt. 3)

Since I chose not to sleep, and instead cleaned the pool almost the entire night, we didn't have to close it. But I still felt horrible in more ways than one. The obvious reason was that I was extremely tired. But I also felt really bad about how I had neglected my job and interfered with one of our guests, like if I was a call girl and he was my client. Normally I considered myself to be a woman of good standards and high morals. But after last night, I started doubting myself. I didn't regret spending time with Michael or even having sex with him. I just wished it was under other circumstances. And I wished I could chase away the short flashbacks of how he touched and kissed me, that constantly occupied my mind. And the memory of how his thick manhood had made me dissolve in his arms, made me walk around with constant burning cheeks and a flustered expression. I didn't want to admit it, but I was smitten.

"A penny for your thoughts, sugarbun."

Dad's comforting voice and his bear-paw sized hand on my shoulder, was almost enough to make me cry out my frustration. But I gave him a reassuring smile and hoped he didn't see through it. Alexandro had promised me that he'd deleted everything from the surveillance cameras in the basement after 8pm yesterday. And I knew I could trust him, because I helped him in a similar situation a couple of years ago, where he and two of the maids had fun in the gym. Therefore, I was pretty sure nobody knew.

"I'm just tired, dad," I said, feeling pretty sure that he was oblivious to how outrageous his daughter was behaving behind his back.

"You can have a couple of hours off before the dinner starts," he suggested, but I shook my head.

"No, thank you. If I take a nap now, I'll only end up more tired than I already am."

"Are you sure?"

"I'll be fine, dad. Don't worry."

He rubbed his beard and nodded slowly, and for a brief moment I felt transparent. It was like he knew about Michael, and that we'd been together last night. But that had to be my paranoid and slightly panicking imagination. Right?

"Ana! The group from the police department is here!"

Both of us turned to my mom, and I sent a quiet prayer in gratitude for the convenient interference.

"Uh-uh. Gotta run, dad."

I grinned sheepishly, and hurried towards my mom, who was busy showing new guests to their rooms. And I smilingly greeted the head leader of Guardia Urbana, the Spanish police.

"De esta manera, caballeros," I said, passing my mom on our way to the reception to make sure their reservations were correct. (This way, gentlemen.) But she grabbed my arm and pulled me discreetly to the side, searching me with her eyes.

"The gentleman on 401 keeps asking for you, Ana."

I clenched my jaw and tried to keep myself from blushing in front of her, but failed tragically.

"Send Sophia or Pedro. I'm busy!"

"But I did, and they both said he sent them away. He only wanted to see you for some reason. Who is he?"

"Just someone, mom. I'll talk to him later."

She gave me a sharp glare that made me gulp, then I distracted myself with work until it was time for dinner. And there was plenty to do, since we had over three hundred guests checking in almost at the same time. And the phone was chiming constantly.

"St. Martinez hotel and resort, you're speaking to Lilliana Martinez. How can I help you?"

A squeaky female voice was heard from the other end.