Friday barring unforeseen circumstances,” Jess said, looking through her calendar on her desk.
Yes, she had one on the computer, but sometimes she needed the tactile advantage of seeing her month in front of her and letting herself sink into the dates and bookings. Her little universe in paper and pencil.
“Oh, and there was one last message,” Sara said, pausing dramatically.
“And….” Jess prompted her.
“Cynthia called,” she paused for effect, “Mr. Parks will be here this weekend arriving Saturday and staying through next Saturday and wants the Diamond suite,” she finished with a big excited grin.
Crap, Jess thought, not Maxwell Parks.
Maxwell Parks was a billionaire, not a millionaire, no, a real honest to goodness billionaire.
He ran a multi-national company that had its fingers in every pie you could think of. Fuel, transportation, infrastructure, manufacturing, the works.
He came to The Platinum around four times a year. He would gamble, sometimes losing huge amounts, but over the year, he tended to come out ahead.
He also used Vegas as a base for some of his business dealings. He liked to relax, hang out at the pool, blend in with the tourists and then he would escort some supermodel around to dinner and the newest shows.
Jess figured he staged it all for publicity to ensure his playboy status and to keep his name in the papers, and not just the business section.
Maxwell Parks was also an Adonis, a certifiable sex god and Jess had a hard time keeping her panties dry around him.
He was 6’4, according to his wiki page. He had the body of someone that worked out, a lot. Max was lean, with tight muscles that rippled under the skin when he moved. Biceps that made a girl want to wrap her arm around them and squeeze..
He had huge, strong hands that almost made her swoon when he adjusted his tie. He also had the thighs of a man that clearly liked to lift heavy things in the gym, which boded well for a girl like her.
Jess had seen him coming from the hotel’s gym late one night in shorts and a tank. A tank covered in sweat, clinging to his hard sculpted chest. She almost forgot to keep her mouth from hanging open as she walked past him giving him her business nod.
He was also an ass. This was not surprising considering Jess worked with lots of asses. Most men who were successful and wealthy did not get that way by being pussies. They were hard, expected people to jump when they said so and didn’t usually tolerate failure.
Maxwell was the King of the Assholes.
He had never in the three years she had known him, ever smiled at her. And when he thanked her for something there was no feeling behind the words. It was a reflex only.
He would stare at her with slate blue eyes, that she had seen turn grey when he was angry, and bark orders at her.
Jess didn’t take it personally; it was her job to keep him and the other whales happy.
Not only was Maxwell a gambler, she was aware through rumors that he was a silent partner of the hotel, not that anyone had ever confirmed that to her.
But she responded to his requests as professionally as she could, then would go home, shamefully masturbate to his face then fall asleep hoping she didn’t blush seeing him the next day.
And he was coming in two days. Shit, she had a number of things to get ready for his arrival.
He wanted the Diamond suite, which he always stayed in.
It was a two-story, 2400 square foot “room” that looked out over the strip on the top floor. It was breathtaking up there, it even had its own lap pool.
Plus, Mr. Parks had very specific tastes as far as stocking the drinks and food for his room.
“Shit, seriously? Two days notice? God! Why does he do this every time? Like he just plans on a whim to jet off to Vegas? No! He knows what he’s doing for the next 10 years, probably down to the minute!” she ranted, as she started shuffling through her desk papers.
Not sure what she was looking for, Sara piped in, “Calm down,
Yes, she had one on the computer, but sometimes she needed the tactile advantage of seeing her month in front of her and letting herself sink into the dates and bookings. Her little universe in paper and pencil.
“Oh, and there was one last message,” Sara said, pausing dramatically.
“And….” Jess prompted her.
“Cynthia called,” she paused for effect, “Mr. Parks will be here this weekend arriving Saturday and staying through next Saturday and wants the Diamond suite,” she finished with a big excited grin.
Crap, Jess thought, not Maxwell Parks.
Maxwell Parks was a billionaire, not a millionaire, no, a real honest to goodness billionaire.
He ran a multi-national company that had its fingers in every pie you could think of. Fuel, transportation, infrastructure, manufacturing, the works.
He came to The Platinum around four times a year. He would gamble, sometimes losing huge amounts, but over the year, he tended to come out ahead.
He also used Vegas as a base for some of his business dealings. He liked to relax, hang out at the pool, blend in with the tourists and then he would escort some supermodel around to dinner and the newest shows.
Jess figured he staged it all for publicity to ensure his playboy status and to keep his name in the papers, and not just the business section.
Maxwell Parks was also an Adonis, a certifiable sex god and Jess had a hard time keeping her panties dry around him.
He was 6’4, according to his wiki page. He had the body of someone that worked out, a lot. Max was lean, with tight muscles that rippled under the skin when he moved. Biceps that made a girl want to wrap her arm around them and squeeze..
He had huge, strong hands that almost made her swoon when he adjusted his tie. He also had the thighs of a man that clearly liked to lift heavy things in the gym, which boded well for a girl like her.
Jess had seen him coming from the hotel’s gym late one night in shorts and a tank. A tank covered in sweat, clinging to his hard sculpted chest. She almost forgot to keep her mouth from hanging open as she walked past him giving him her business nod.
He was also an ass. This was not surprising considering Jess worked with lots of asses. Most men who were successful and wealthy did not get that way by being pussies. They were hard, expected people to jump when they said so and didn’t usually tolerate failure.
Maxwell was the King of the Assholes.
He had never in the three years she had known him, ever smiled at her. And when he thanked her for something there was no feeling behind the words. It was a reflex only.
He would stare at her with slate blue eyes, that she had seen turn grey when he was angry, and bark orders at her.
Jess didn’t take it personally; it was her job to keep him and the other whales happy.
Not only was Maxwell a gambler, she was aware through rumors that he was a silent partner of the hotel, not that anyone had ever confirmed that to her.
But she responded to his requests as professionally as she could, then would go home, shamefully masturbate to his face then fall asleep hoping she didn’t blush seeing him the next day.
And he was coming in two days. Shit, she had a number of things to get ready for his arrival.
He wanted the Diamond suite, which he always stayed in.
It was a two-story, 2400 square foot “room” that looked out over the strip on the top floor. It was breathtaking up there, it even had its own lap pool.
Plus, Mr. Parks had very specific tastes as far as stocking the drinks and food for his room.
“Shit, seriously? Two days notice? God! Why does he do this every time? Like he just plans on a whim to jet off to Vegas? No! He knows what he’s doing for the next 10 years, probably down to the minute!” she ranted, as she started shuffling through her desk papers.
Not sure what she was looking for, Sara piped in, “Calm down,
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