Flash Fiction: Working Girl

Dec. 8, 2020 | 3 min read

  • Share

The service elevator doors slid open and she eagerly scurried on. The fact that she wasn’t allowed to ride up with the other guests made no difference to her. Perhaps under different circumstances, she may have been angry, but not on this day. Because she was heading to the penthouse suite to meet him. He was strong, powerful, wealthy, and one of the most beautiful people on the planet. At Least that’s what the magazine downstairs in the lobby said about him. Any girl would be lucky to spend a few moments with him, and he was calling upon her services. This was a chance of a lifetime.  

Turning to press the button to the top floor, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She was flawless. Some would say the epitome of beauty. Yet she felt the need to fix her hair. Acting like a schoolgirl half her age she couldn’t help but laugh. She would finally meet the man that she had idolized for as long as she could remember. Sure it was a business transaction, but time spent nonetheless. Since she’d received the call, her imagination was set wild about what it would be like. 

“Maybe there might be an emotional connection”, she thought. She knew of all his work on television and the big screen. Heck, she felt like she already knew him.  Still staring in the mirror she adjusted her skirt. Her clothing would be considered formal by many, but not to the people who stayed at this luxury hotel. The doors to the elevator opened again, on the 10th floor as two ladies from the housekeeping staff entered. They stood to one side speaking in Spanish under their breath. It was obvious they were talking about her.  But even their scathing looks and venomous words couldn’t spoil this moment for her. She let out a deep sigh and went back to fixing herself in the mirror. The other ladies got off on the 12th floor.

“Did you forget anything?”, she thought to herself. Going through a mental checklist, she thought of all that she needed to impress him with the experience.  After all, the customer is the top priority in this business.

 A year ago when she decided to take some time off from school, this line of work never once crossed her mind. Yet the job market was tough, and she was a survivor. The elevator doors opened with a chime on the top floor. As she exited her carriage to Mr. Perfect, she found herself in a sterile room. It was equipped with many of the resources the service staff needed to serve the guests. It was nothing like the posh reality behind the next door. She’d been this way before many times. She felt like she offered more than just a service, she connected with people.

Collecting her composure, she steadied herself, before she opened the door to the main corridor. The hotel was always immaculate, which allowed the owners to charge exorbitant amounts each night for the privilege of sleeping there. The soft classical music played in the hallway as she walked slowly towards the penthouse suite. There was a couple walking towards her, avoiding eye contact. It was one of her favorite games to play in the hallway of this hotel. Watching the husband pretend not to see her, while the wife looked right through her. Most all the guests believed they were better than her and didn’t mind snubbing her at every opportunity. She walked even more slowly to prolong the moment. She was sure that the rattling unnerved them.  

Offering an awkward smile as she passed. She made her way to the penthouse suite. This was it. This was the moment of truth. Her heart was racing, as she knocked three times on the door.

“Room Service”

Flash Fiction

Flash Fiction: Working Girl was orignially published on shawnWeekly.com on Dec. 8, 2020, 10:24 p.m.
  • Share