Holtel Reservation for Steele
by Suejue
Asp...PIR..in...I said, aspirin, Mr. Steele” Laura said shaking her head while tossing a jumble of socks and undergarments into an overnight bag. “A few aspirin, a.s.p.i.r.i.n,“ she spelled it for him, “is all I was asking for.”
 
“Aspirin..... Aspen. You have to admit, Laura they sound awfully similar especially through a closed door.” He stood in the open doorway, one hand on his hip, the other on the latch waiting expectedly for Laura to finish.
 
“Could you have possibly given me more than twenty minutes to pack?”
 
“Where is your sense of adventure? Of spontaneity? How else can I try to coax that wildly impulsive Laura, to come out and play when, given enough time, that stick-in-the-mud Laura would have found a dozen excuses not to go?”
 
“I have 1040 excuses, not to go. Need I remind you that it’s tax time?”
 
“And we happen to have a former IRS fraud agent working for us who could do our returns in her sleep.”
 
Laura zipped her cases and deposited them at the feet of Remington, more specifically ON the feet of Remington. She deployed her routine of locking windows, unplugging things and returned to him asking, “Will you get my bags, Mr. Steele?” but in a tone as if he were some servant.
 
He took one bag in each hand. The larger of the two took him by surprise. Remington set it down briefly before hoisting it a second time with a better grip. What on earth did she pack for a weekend that would weigh this much, he wondered. Laura flounced past him and when she reminded him to lock the door in the same condescending tone, he paused. There had always been such a fine line between good-natured pranks and spiteful warring that went on between the two of them. He stood contemplating for a moment. If he did this, would it simply be something they would laugh about later? Would it give her cause to playfully attack him in such a manner that could involve rolling around on a bed? Or would this escalate their little getaway into the extended weekend from hell? Remington decided that she had packed one bag too many. He liked living on the edge. He missed the edge. He returned the smaller bag to the foot of her bed to make it appear as if Laura was the one who left it there, and followed her down the stairs. He lagged sufficiently behind so she would already be in the cab and unable to see that she was minus one bag, when he got to the trunk.
 
He settled into the seat next to her. Laura unexpectedly placed her hand on his thigh and leaned back. She let out a relaxing sigh , “Maybe you’re right. Just the thought of Aspen has made my headache go away already.” The change in her demeanor made the bed-tumbling retribution scenario infinitely more likely in his mind.
 
She stood waiting by the trunk of the car when they got to the terminal. Instead of allowing her to see his intentional ‘oversight’, Remington sent her on a mission for chewing gum, while he checked the bags. That was the final hurdle to clear to just get her on that plane.
 
While it is true that Laura had the means and the temper to turn around and stomp home the instant she found out, Remington had convinced himself the entire flight that she wouldn’t . Still, he felt that the best bet would be to get her as close to that bed as possible … hopefully, put the two of them together … before she put two and two together. One certainly can’t tussle about on the high traffic carpet of the airport , not a whole lot of romance in that and even less chance of nudity. He had to get her to the hotel room before she discovered she was missing a bag, before she assumed that he left the bag, before she accused him of doing it on purpose. Once he got her into the hotel room, he might even confess and graciously accept his punishment. Yes, he was looking forward to that.
 
“Baggage claim is that way,” Laura pointed at the indicating sign.
 
Sending his purposeful partner on another assignment might give him just enough time. “Laura, could you hunt down a copy of the LA Trib for me? I left mine on the plane and there was an interview with Veronica in the entertainment section I wanted to read.”
 
He thought for a moment that he had flubbed it when she said “Sssssure” in that familiar, suspicious, tone and expression that he had come to expect over the years. But she also amiably offered to call the hotel courtesy shuttle for them which made him mentally slap himself for not thinking of that in the first place.
 
Remington made a beeline for an idle skycap. He approached the attendant with a folded hundred dollar bill and his baggage claim check between his index and middle finger.
 
“I was wondering if you would be available to do me and my friend, Mr. Franklin here a small favor.”
 
“Ben is one of my best friends,” he said tipping his hat.
 
“Two bags. One a sleek, Andiamo shoulder garment...five suit, forty-four inch... black tuxedo hand-stitched Napa leather....gold embossed RS initials. The second....” he paused and turned up his nose almost embarrassed, “tan...common as cold, indescript...” he made a mental note to add luggage to Laura’s Christmas list, then remembered, “Oh and just a bit of caution, it’s inexplicably heavy.”
 
“I have a feeling Ben doesn’t simply want me to take them to his car.”
 
“Ahhh, I can tell I chose the right man. No. Set them aside. Wait an hour and have them delivered to the Hotel Jerome. Then show my friends, Ben and Ulysses a good time.” Remington added a fifty, confident that this was all going to work out.
 
He found Laura waiting by the courtesy phones for him. “Where are the bags?”
 
“Some malfunction with the equipment,” He announced with empty hands. Recent cases come in so handy some times he thought. “They are going to send them over to the hotel in an hour or so. Shall we go?”
 
Mildred delivered as promised the ‘swankiest joint’ she could find. The Hotel Jerome was truly a beautiful and elegant place. The posh setting of a first rate hotel catering to nothing but leisurely comfort could make anyone easily forget the picturesque mountains and any thoughts of actually skiing there.
 
Remington finally had Laura at the hotel. He followed her into the lobby, almost grinning in triumph. Once at the counter, he stepped in very, very close behind Laura. With his chin almost on her shoulder, he addressed the clerk , “Reservation for Steele,”
 
The clerk pecked at her computer and handed him the registration card. In the most possibly seductive fashion, he brushed against Laura whispering, “Pardon me,” and proceeded to fill out the information.
 
The clerk checked her screen, “That’s the Grand Deluxe Suite for three nights?”
 
“Yes, three nights,” he winked at Laura when she didn’t protest having one room for both of them. Out of habit, the clerk rang for the bellman. He was confused when he saw no obvious luggage to carry. Remington explained away the confusion, “Our bags are coming from the airport in an hour or so, please deliver them straight away when they come, will you?” Another obscene tip passed from his fingertips.
 
The bellman showed them to the room, even though that word hardly did justice to the spacious surroundings. The plush furnishings were impressive indeed. The bellman turned on several lights, demonstrated that the handsomely hand-carved armoire housed the television. He was about to give phone and room service instructions, when Remington saw that Laura already relieved herself of her coat and made herself at home atop the comforter. Hastily, Mr. Steele cut him off, “Very well, very well, I think we can figure it out.” and ushered him toward the door.
 
“I’ll bring your bags up as soon as they arrive, sir,” the young man barely got out before Remington closed the door and turned his attention to Laura.
 
By now Laura had removed her shoes and was resting contentedly. With her eyes closed, she dreamily commented, “This down comforter alone is worth whatever ungodly amount of money this place cost.”
 
Remington stretched out perpendicular to her at the foot of bed. Reaching out he began to massage her feet. “Mhhhmmmm.” He agreed. Having her there was well worth the expense.
He saw a possible opening to come clean about her suitcase but she spoke before he had the chance, “You know I’m glad the airline is taking care of the luggage. I was starting to feel a little guilty.”
 
“Guilty? About what?” He crept up her body, intrigued by her impending confession.
 
“I put everything I really needed in the smaller bag. Then I loaded the large one with a whole bunch of stuff from my apartment just to make it really heavy for you to lug around.”
 
“What!” Remington pulled away slightly
 
“Yeah, I know it was childish, but I took those leftover bricks, phone books, a broken bike chain, a bag of potting soil....” She laughed at the silliness of her actions, “ I would have thrown in Wilson‘s old clothes and those white belts if I still had them.”
 
“What!” he repeated, only really hearing the part that EVERYTHING she needed was in the one bag he left behind.
 
“I wanted to teach you a lesson about springing these little surprises on me and....”
 
“No, no why did you put everything you need in the smaller bag?”
 
She snuggled in and ran a finger seductively down the center of his shirt, “I thought I wouldn’t need very many things on this trip.” She leaned in and kissed him on the neck and whispered near his ear, “Just a few...” she nibbled on his lobe, “... lacey things”. She sensed that that little bit of news didn’t have the predicted effect on Mr. Steele and pulled back. “What is it?”
 
“I only carried one bag out of your apartment.”
 
“One bag? Why only one bag? What are you up to this time?” That suspicious tone returned.
 
Decision time. Tell her the truth or make it sound like she left it behind? All his life, he was rescued by brilliant ideas and just when he needed it most, something sprang to mind. It wasn‘t exactly the truth, but it made his motive for leaving the bag not seem so spiteful. “I have a confession to make too. I left the smaller bag in your flat.”
 
“Why?” This time she pulled back.
 
“I saw you packing and I had images of that scary smock-nightgown-thing you wear to bed and I thought leaving it might give you an opportunity to...” this time he snuggled in close to her, “I mean <US>...” Just as she had done earlier, he ran a finger seductively around her collar, “an opportunity to...,” he leaned in and kissed her on the neck and whispered in her ear, “buy a few....” he nibbled on her lobe, “... lacey things”.
 
With an amused grin she wondered out loud, “Some things will never change, will they?”
 
“Oh I don’t know about that,” Remington smoothed as his lips moved down her neck and up around to the other ear to whisper, “There is one thing in particular that has changed quite a bit in the last few weeks.”
 
Laura blushed, “I suppose you could say that.”
 
“In fact...” Remington started to finger the first button on her blouse just as the bellman interrupted with bags in hand.
 
“That must be your luggage . . . and my ballast.” Laura wryly commented as Remington sprang from the bed to reclaim the bags and shoo him away.
 
Remington returned to his previous position near Laura, “I think you may have injured that poor chap.”
 
“I’m sure your tip more than compensated.”
 
“I hauled that thing too? Will I be compensated?” He hinted, moving closer.
 
“Just tell me where it hurts, I’ll see what I can do.”
 
That was the last thing said for a while, other than an occasional gasp and suppressed moan. Pairs of hands worked; unbuttoning, and removing clothes in brisk efficiency toward a common goal. Then entire two bodies worked; pressing, rising and falling with increasing intensity toward another mutual purpose.
 
Spent, content and now nestled under the down comforter, Remington murmured, “Ahhh, such teamwork, Miss Holt”.
 
“Like I said before, some things will never change, Mr. Steele.”
 
The end. For now. Nothing about this show ever ends, does it?
 
My assigned elements were:
aspirin
white belt
an interview at the LA Tribune
Aspen
bike chain
chewing gum
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