Art, Stories and an Apology

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A piece by our

dear Christeen, One

which I hope I

have not posted

before.

Hi Everyone

   Heck I just realised that the other day, I posted the same Christeen art two weeks in a row, Gosh I am so sorry, sometimes I get so much on my plate that errors can be made. I will try to avoid that mistake in the future.

   Talking of errors, I was daft enough to over look the second part of our dear friend Skinnies S's super vignette in regards to the In Paris duo, published a few weeks ago. 

   Sorry S XXXX

   So today I am correcting that error and also posting a couple of classic pages from the past years Calendar.

Hope you enjoy this collection

XXX

Andy

And now that terribly overlooked conclusion of S's story

Part One is here

http://smoothslicknshiny.blogspot.com/2022/11/new-art-in-paris.html

In Paris.

Part 2    

2.     15:30am

The shift was dragging.   At least all the morning check-outs had gone smoothly.   Now it was just arrivals, check-ins and questions, and the usual parade of problems.   She got the Head Porter to handle enquiries about directions, or taxis, or girls.  She’d discreetly code a second key behind the desk for those discerning gentlemen who took the porter’s advice and knew how to tip generously.   It was all part of the service at the Hotel de Ville.

As she checked in another bored looking businessman, she looked up from her screen.  There was a small commotion at the entrance.   The doorman had swept open the double doors rather than guide the guests through the revolving door.   It was the blonde Balmain lady from the morning back from her shopping expedition, except she’d lost her young gentleman and was now holding hands with a new partner. She looked even more confident and assured than she had earlier, like a big game hunter returning with her prize.   And what a prize!  Heads turned as they walked across the lobby towards the lifts, their heels clicking in unison on the polished black marble.   While the lady had been out she’d found a girlfriend.   An exquisitely pretty girlfriend.  A young girlfriend shimmering in black vinyl pants, Chanel belt and Louboutin boots like her older partner.   A girlfriend wearing a cream latex blouse, more like a shirt than the frilly confection of the lady.  A girlfriend, delicately made-up to complement her rich reddish chestnut hair.  A girlfriend with little diamond pendant earrings, like a junior version of the lady’s.   A nervous looking girlfriend wearing black latex gloves like partner, and tightly gripping the lady’s hand.   Or was the lady gripping her?   For reassurance, or to hold the girl and stop her running away.   The girl seemed nervous and was desperately trying to avoid eye contact with guests who were now staring at the attractive couple. 

The girl held a Balmain shopping bag.   Well, she’d got her pants from there but what else might be inside.

And then the realisation struck as she distractedly handed the latest guest his room key.   The girlfriend was shorter than the lady.   Not quite as short as the boy this morning, but then she was wearing heels.  The girlfriend’s hair was chestnut like the boy’s although now it had been carefully styled in pixie, pageboy cut.  The girlfriend was skittishly nervous.   It couldn’t be?   Could it?   It had to be.   It could only be.   

She watched the lift and noted the lady select the douzième étage.   Douzième étage.  There weren’t many guests checked in on that level.   There were only luxury suites, and a couple of those were long standing residents.  She looked on the system.   There was only one possibility: Lady Fullerton-Jones and a Mr. Andrew Watson.  Mais oui!   She had to be right.

 

She called René to fetch her a bottle of Krug and to take over the desk so she could take her break.   If Lady Fullerton-Jones was going to be in one of the luxury suites for a week, it was only reasonable that the Hotel de Ville should welcome her with a complimentary bottle of champagne.   And, for such an honoured guest, it was entirely appropriate that a member of management should deliver it to check that everything was satisfactory.   

She just hoped that Mr. Andrew Watson was going to be answering the door when she called.

XXX