Member-only story
The Escort
A short story
The skinny man smiled as the elevator rose. He was excited about the night ahead and when the door beeped its opening, Peter Fielding walked out with a bounce in his step that the 55-year-old hadn’t felt in ages.
The smell of chlorine was still fresh in his nose from a swim in the pool. He loved that smell. It reminded him of being a kid back home in Canada when his parents would force him to take swimming lessons. At the time he hated it, but now, those memories are like booze for him and his mood had improved greatly this evening.
He entered his hotel room and tossed his soggy towels into the bathtub with a thump that made the shower curtain rattle on its hooks. A few seconds later, his bathing suit was added to the pile and he slipped on a blue hotel housecoat. Awful terrycloth fabric.
The skinny man frowned. “Terrycloth,” he said. “What the hell?”
Peter had become accustomed to fabrics of a finer make since he was elected a Member of Parliament three years ago. Especially, when he was on foreign affairs trips like this one. Foreign…
