Security Call and James' Escape Plan

Ring ring.

The ancient rotary phone tried its best to get someone, anyone’s attention. But it could only barely keep from drowning in a blend of thick snores and loud sitcoms

Ring ring.

“Uuugh,” A woman in a disheveled security uniform moaned, “Art.” She raised her head from the stack of papers on her desk, glaring small, but ever-growing daggers at the man leaned back in his chair across from her. His back faced her, remaining reclined in his swivel chair as the old television illuminated the shoulder-length hair under his uniform cap.

Ring ring.

“Art, answer it.”

There was a grumble, but little movement.

“ART!” she leaned forward and yanked him by the hair. The startled man jerked about, shaking his chair enough make the whole thing slide over, taking him to the floor along with it. “Art, answer the damn phone!”

“Alright, alright,” Art muttered with a vaguely European accent. Using a nearby bookshelf for support he hoisted himself up and grabbed the telephone. “Hullo, you’ve reached security.”

“Arthur, we have a bit of a problem,” the receptionist on the other end said.

"Is it the old lady again?"

The receptionist continued, “No, there's a naked man running around the first floor.”

“Uh huh. Uh huh.”

As Art continued talking to the receptionist, the woman finally got up from her chair, stretching before going to readjust her pants. “Huh,” she mumbled to herself, “I could’ve sworn I remembered underwear today…. Oh well.” Her attention then started to drift, gravitating back towards the television.

Art soon hung up, looking over to the woman, "Lany, check the security cameras."

"Hold on," she said, flapping her hands a bit, "it's getting to the funny part."

The dissembodied voices of two woman bickered while only a table appeared on the screen.

"I can't beleive you lost our clothes!" one quietly seethed.

"You're the one who suggested we take them off," the other whined. Suddenly two woman popped up from behind the table, creatively censored. Each carried a pair of fruit to line up with their breasts in the most comically scandalous way. At the same time, two full wine glasses on the table barely disguised their womanhoods.

One looked over at the other, "I can't beleive they're actually real."

"They're cantaloupes," the other answered, "of course they're real. You need to get out more."

"Sorry, fruit isn't my forte. It's not like I've had that many other oppurtunities to compare melons."

An unseen audience roared with laughter, along with Lany. Art grew impatient, taking the remote from Lany and switching the screen over to the security feed. James fit form streaked past the camera, but still gave a good shot of his ass.

"Hubba hubba," Lany said as she got out of her chair.

Art stopped her, "I'll get him. You keep on the cameras and tell me where he's going."

"Aw, no fair," she wimpered.

"I'll tell you what," Art compromised, putting in his earpiece, "I'll let you know when I catch him, and we can throw him out together, eh?"

"Fine."

***

It was safe to assume, that things weren't going all that well for James at the moment. He didn't need to read the signs to know that this wasn't his floor, let alone anywhere near his room. Yeah that was technically his fault, but but he didn't have enough bloodflow to think about it much. His body's primary concern was everything below the belt. He needed to run. And apparently to mate as well...

He seemed to have made it far enough to finally slow down and take stock of the situation.

To start, he's still naked. Hard as well. But unlike before, he's now been seen. Getting to his room is now no longer a want. It's now a very pressing need.

The sound of the women's voices echoed in his ears. He wasn't entirely sure if they were close behind or strutting through his mind. The embarrasment, the fear... the arousal... all of it lit him like kindling. The hotel was starting to feel bit warmer than he was comfortable with. At the end of the hall was an open balcony, which he made a beeline for.

The night was cool, but not cold. It was actually quite refreshing. James finally took a moment to breath. The balcony had a rather pretty view. He could see a good chunk of the hotel from where he was standing. It was then that noticed the outer walls. Kudos to the designer, the brickwork looked good. It gave an old castle vibe to it. The various bricks sticking out was a nice touch. It probably wasn't intended, but combined with the metal bars and railings, it would be a climbers dream.

Wait...

James wasn't an expert by any means, but he often liked to challenge himself on the rock wall at his local gym. He could climb his way up to his floor, without being seen. But assuming he'd reach his room, he'd need...

His tongue moved around in his mouth, indavertantly grazing a thin object protruding from his mouth.

His keycard!

It'll get him into his room. Or, if something goes wrong and he ends up outside, it should get him back in... maybe... well, if it works for room doors, why not the outside ones too?

The point is, James now had a plan.

A rousing heroic theme played in his head as he psyched himself up to hopefully end this naked nightmare.

He raised a leg and prepared to hop the railing. Then-

There was a pause.

Something flashed the corner of his eye. He looked over to his left. There was a long stretch of hallway that was open to the outside.

The was another flash. Something pale. He tried to squint and look closer. Between the pillars a figure came in and out of view as they walked.

As the figure passed another pillar, he was treated to a brief view of divinely shaped rear.

And upon the next pillar, he was met with the hair, glowing red in the-

Wait...

"Mackenzie?" he muttered. His cock bobbed at the revelation, hitting the decorative metal rail.

Much like the voices, it was not enterily known as to wether she was real or his mind playing tricks to deal with the pressure. But it's undeniable that she had remained on his mind throughout his ordeal. Every inch of her. Every curve. The bounce of that...

James shook his head. He needed to focus. He needed a direction.