Don Baker - The naughty night clerk

Many people may by-pass the Barton Hotel, located just a block off posh Center Boulevard, but to me, Chris Logan, it has been home for the past three years. I have a small apartment on the second floor, furnished by the hotel, and, since I have been the night manager at the hotel for the past two years, I live a very comfortable and varied life.

At age 27, things have broken right for me. Of course, I have used ways not altogether nice to get where I am, and will use them again to further myself in the future. The Barton is only a stopping place, a place to get experience and learn the hotel business. From here, I aim for bigger and better things. But, for the time being, I am satisfied with my lot.

I was a young, but experienced, twenty-four years old when I first approached Mr. Jed Barton about a job. I had read in the paper where he was advertising for a night clerk and since I was out of a job, I decided to give it a try. I figured my chances were slight, because of my age and lack of experience, but I knew I had one thing going for me-my sex-and I knew how to use it. I kept my fingers crossed as I walked into the lobby of tile Barton that day, hoping the owner was straight and that his wife, if he was married, didn’t have much to do with his business.

At twenty-four, I was fully developed, with a thirty-seven inch bust and all the other measurements in the right dimensions. I kept my dark hair long, but not stringy, and wore clothes that, while not tight, did nothing to hide my God-given assets.

I could claim virginity only to age fourteen; from then on it had been punch and poke with many men and in many places. My last job, which I held for almost a year, came to a screeching halt when the boss’s wife caught us together in a motel room. Oh, well, on to better things.

“I would like to see the manager about your advertisement for a night clerk,” I said to the man behind the desk.

If he was the one to interview me for the job, I had it made. He couldn’t take his eyes off the cleavage in my V-neck slipover.

“That would be Mr. Barton,” he uttered, only half-looking into my eyes. "He’s the owner and the manager. Just a minute, I’ll call him.”

The clerk went to a phone situated on the counter and pushed a button.

“Mr. Barton, there’s a young lady here to see you about the night clerk’s position.” A slight pause. “Yes, sir, I’ll send her right up.”

The clerk then turned to me. “Take the elevator to the tenth floor, miss. Mr.

Barton’s office is on that floor.”

“Thank you,” I smiled, and turned toward the elevator. I knew the clerk was watching as I walked away. I smiled to myself, because I had gotten to where I could feel stares from behind. It didn’t bother me in the least; in fact, to give him something else to look at, I gave my hips a little twitch. I could just imagine the lust in his eyes when I did that.

When I stepped off the elevator on the tenth floor, a sign on the opposite wall pointed the way to the manager’s office. As I turned, I could see that the entire section of that floor was partitioned so that Mr. Barton had access to the area without having to be bothered by guests. From the size of the area, I guessed that he must have an apartment there also. My guess was to prove correct.

I pushed the buzzer and heard a voice. “Come in, it’s open.”

I opened the door and walked into an office which, while not exactly large, was ample in size and tastefully decorated. Thick carpet muffled the sound of my footsteps as I approached the desk. The man sitting there rose as I neared, and held out his hand.

“I’m Mr. Barton, manager and owner. I understand you’re inquiring about the night clerk’s job, Miss…”

“Logan. Chris Logan.” Mr. Barton was a middle-aged man, I’d say in his fifties, tall, with a slight pouch around his waist. His hair was salt-and-pepper, neatly combed, and his suit was well-tailored. His eyes were a deep blue and his skin had a ruddy complexion, revealing that he didn’t spend all his time in the hotel and behind the desk.

“Have a seat, Miss Logan.”

After a few introductory and preliminary remarks, Barton turned the conversation to the job.

“Have you had any experience in the hotel business, Miss Logan?”

“No, sir, but my previous job was in public relations, and I enjoy working with the public. I’m a fast learner, and believe I could adapt quickly to the job. I also have references from my previous place of employment.”

My old boss knew better than not to give me a good reference, or his wife would have heard some stories that would have really made her blush.

Mr. Barton scanned the letters and then laid them aside.

“You’re kind of young for a night clerk’s job, Miss Logan, although you do seem to have the qualifications.”

His last comment was not directed at my face, but a degree or two lower. Maybe.

Just maybe. I crossed my legs, giving him a quick view of flesh, then looked him straight in the eyes.

“I think I can handle it, Mr. Barton, and I do need a job. I’ll work hard and do anything you ask.” Let’s see if he takes the bait.

Barton looked at me, his eyes covering my figure from my knees to my eyes. Lust was building inside him. I would soon know if my estimation of him, and of my own assets, was correct.

Barton rose from his chair and came to the front of the desk. He sat down on the edge and looked at me.

“You really do need the job, do you?”

“Yes, sir, I really do.”

“And how anxious are you to get a job?”

There it was. I was right. Now, to play it through.

“Very anxious,” I whispered, as I leaned forward, affording him a full view of the cleavage of my breasts.

Barton rose from the desk and walked to the door. When he turned the key, I knew I had won. As he walked toward me, the look hi his eyes was familiar to me, as was the bulge now apparent in his pants. He leaned over, took my face in his hands, and kissed me full on the lips. I returned his kiss, and slipped my tongue into his mouth. Our tongues met and teased and played with each other.

Barton slipped his hand into my slipover, cupping my breasts. I leaned back in the chair as he played with the nipples. I could feel heat slowly building between my legs. He might be in his fifties, but he was far from lacking knowledge in the sex act.

While still kissing, Barton maneuvered to his knees in front of me. When we broke away, he nibbled at my ear and at my neck. I closed my eys and tilted my head back. It wouldn’t be long before I would begin panting and gyrating.

Barton was building me up fast and I bad no desire to repel him.

When he eased his hand up my skirt, I spread my legs to allow him ready access.

He cupped my crotch and I squeezed my legs, grasping his hand so he couldn’t pull away. Suddenly, I felt the zipper on my skirt open, then pulled down over my legs. I still had not opened my eyes.

Barton began kissing between my thighs, and I put my hands on his head. He was getting me so hot that I wanted to jump right on his hard cock. I could hardly wait to feel him in me, but knew that if I wanted this job, I had better let him lead the way.

When I opened my legs wider, he put his face in my crotch and bit gently into the mound of hair. I inhaled deeply, and pushed my body into his face. For the first time since he had started working on me, I opened my eyes. He was nibbling at my mound, through my panties, and driving me insane. I pulled my panties off and threw them aside.