Suite 69 is a lovely place, but it’s rather difficult to describe the décor. Maybe that’s because it keeps changing every day as we travel around the world, in more ways than one. Today we find ourselves in the Big Apple, the stomping ground of D.L. King, when she’s not off in Blackpool cavorting with other erotica writers, hosting spanking parties for visiting West Coasters or at her desk editing Erotica Revealed. I got my first delicious taste of D.L.’s New York stories in her haunting and appropriately named “A New York Story” in Best Lesbian Erotica 2008. Today D.L. takes us on a teasing tour through time and space to that prime bit of real estate, a suite in the old Plaza Hotel. There's no room service at this fading beauty, unless you bring your own picnic, but I guarantee when you feast on this juicy appetizer, you’ll be begging for more! And now, D.L. King in her own words:
Here’s the beginning of a short story I wrote about the closing of The Plaza Hotel in New York. It’s since been reopened, but it’s not the same. Now there are apartments going for between four and eight million. There are still some hotel rooms, too, but things have changed; an era has ended. Before the renovation began, they closed the old Plaza and let all the staff go. (There were waiters who had worked there for more than forty years.) This story is about saying good-bye to a piece of New York that will never return. But however sad that thought might be, this isn’t a sad story; it’s just another New York story. Hope you like it.
“I told you, I have a master key. Who’s gonna know?”
I couldn’t help being sceptical. There stood my bride of thirty-six years, right in font of me, hand on her hip, getting more and more pissed off by the second.
“It’s your last chance to be a part of New York history. Look, I worked there for thirty-eight years but I’m not old enough to retire. You know what that means? That means I get crap. What do they care? Where am I supposed to go now?
“Mira, I really want to do this. I dreamed about it forever. I want it to be with you, Papi, but if you won’t come with me, I’ll go by myself. Where’s my fucking vibrator?”
Immaculata rummaged in the drawer of her bed table, pulling out various items; a flashlight, an eye mask, a pair of handcuffs, a paperback... “Fuck, where is it?” Finally she found the blue vibrator with the pearls and the little rabbit on it. It was her favorite.
She pointed it at me like a gun. “Last chance; Mami’s still pretty hot, don’t you think?” She turned around and wiggled her ass at me, then turned back to face me again. “Don’t you want to fuck in a suite at The Plaza?”
She was so hot. I think she was even hotter than the day we got married. Standing there, in her black suit and those red stilettos, her hair in a bun at the back of her neck, she was scary-hot.
“¿A qué le temas? I can’t get fired, Baby.”
“I’m not scared of nothin’. All right, come on, I’ll go with you.”
“Good, go get your jacket, I’ll be right there.”
Sure, she couldn’t get fired, but we could probably get arrested or something. She was right, though; I’d never seen anything more than the housekeeping offices and one of the kitchens. I’d always wanted to see the upper floors and the fancy rooms and now that they were closing the hotel, this would be my only chance. Besides, Immaculata always knew what she was doing.
She came out of the bedroom with her sexy leather jacket and sunglasses on, carrying her black Coach bag, and we were out the door. We rode the train downtown to the park and got off. I followed her half-way down 58th Street, to an unmarked door which she opened with a key. We didn’t meet anyone else as we walked down the dim corridor, finally arriving at the deserted housekeeping offices.
“The supervisory staff is the last to go. The maids are long gone and now there are only three of us left. I doubt anyone’s here tonight, so relax,” Immaculata said. “The top floors haven’t been stripped yet. We’ll take the service elevator.”
We both turned around to see two men entering the offices. Emmie seemed unfazed as she greeted one of the department heads.
“Hello Mr. Williams. This is my husband, Juan. I wanted to finish the floor inventory list before I forgot. Is this your son?”
“My son? No, Mr. Malone is, ah, interested in the hotel plumbing fixtures. Nice to meet you Mr. Rivera.” They headed off toward the service elevator. “Don’t work too hard,” Mr. Williams added from down the hall.
After they’d gone up, I turned to Immaculata. “That was close Emmie, maybe we’d better—Aye, Mami!“
“What’s the matter, Baby?” she said. Her hand had found its way inside my pants after taking the zipper down. Her fingers were cold, but warming up fast. So was my cock. “Let’s go,” she said, leading me to the elevator.
“But Immaculata, Mr. Williams...”
“...Is already upstairs. I’m so sure they’re interested in plumbing; well, maybe each other’s plumbing. Anyway, he’ll probably be going up to 19; we’ll go to 15. Have I got a view of the park for you!”
okay, so where's the rest of this story at???
interested in the hotel plumbing fixtures
hahahaha - I've heard that before.
you fookine with me?
I know the story is not yet published, but I'm dying to read the rest myself. Of course, nothing's stopping us from imagining something very provocative... a writing prompt, perhaps?
Show me your fixture, baby ;)
love the tone, D.L.!
Nice evocative story, D.L. Is Eloise in there anywhere? She must be 18 by now...
Looks like a fun story!
Nothing is grand anymore, is it? That's too sad.
As stylish as always. It's certainly got me hankering after a big apple :-)
A view of the park indeed!
Ooh, what fun! I've been away from my computer most of the week, so I'm way behind on blog reading and thus just got to this now. I loved it! I especially like the description of her — her outfit, her hair, her jacket, her sunglasses, and the perception that she "always knows what she's doing." I could picture it all.
Beautiful picture, too!
(Lol @ ER's "must be 18 by now" comment!)
Thanks to both of you!
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