Swiss Tease at the Hotel Bellevue

The party in Suite 69 has been a buffet of delights, and I'm sure the many talented writers who've already shared their stories will be as happy as I am to know that our tales have brought back fond memories for many of our guests and inspired new writers to step up to the "naughty chair" and share their treats with us.

It's a particular pleasure to introduce this very provocative piece by Isabel Kerr that offers us another perspective on the hotel experience--that of the management who seem to find the milieu just as sensually inspiring as the guests. Isabel herself has gotten my imagination sizzling with her hotel memories of the Swiss lakes, surely one of the loveliest and sexiest places on earth, not to mention this gorgeous photo which has my fingers inching toward my passport. I'm very much hoping to read more of this electric hot-el story soon! Please!

Our refreshments today? Cognac. Just cognac. And a Maitre d'Hotel named Olivier. Do you really need anything more?

Hotel Bellevue by Isabel Kerr

It was early evening and her day was not even close to finished. There was a full list of bookings in the restaurant to attend to and important guests called to say they would arrive later than expected. She had been there since seven in the morning. It was not unusual. The position of Director of The Hotel Bellevue, a five star hotel on Lac Leman in Switzerland, required long hours and unusual dedication. Sometimes she felt chained to the post. She walked quickly and breathed deeply and tried to take her mind off of work for a few minute’s brisk walk along the lakeside.

Sonia stepped through the door into the rich belle époque interior and looked back to see that the distant yellow lights surrounding the lake had begun to flash. It was a warning that there was very bad weather coming and all boats must return to shore. The placid lake was deceptive.

The trees and tall shrubs at the lake side were swaying wildly and the tall lights of the promenade projected the frantic shadows in the interior.

She returned to her office and sat at her broad antique desk reviewing the day’s activity when the head Maitre d’Hotel tapped at the door and entered carrying a silver tray with a bottle of cognac and two snifters. He quietly slid the tray on the desk and leaned forward so that the edge of the desk indented his perfectly creased trousers at the top of his thigh.

She looked up and smiled gently.

“I do apologize for my outbursts this evening. You know this important arrival has made me very nervous, in addition to the impending electrical storm,” she said taking a deep breath and gazing intently into his blue eyes.

“That’s all right, you know I’m up to the punishment. There is indeed electricity in the air, but I’m not sure it has anything to do with the storm,” he said.

She shifted forward so that she was leaning against the desktop. Her silk blouse was pulled taut across her breasts and he could see her nipples hardening . Olivier poured their cognac, walked around to where she was seated, handed her a glass, and half sat on the edge of the desk. He crossed his legs and Sonia could see the swelling in his trousers.

The wind was howling on the lake outside her office window and rain slammed against the building. With a great crack the first bolt of the lightening lit up the room. The lights flickered and went out.

“We should take care of that,” she said.

“Won’t Serge see to the generator?” he said with a confused look.

“No, I mean this,” she smiled as she slid her hand up his thigh.