Snacks

I quickly put my cock away and zipped my shorts, and hurried to the door. Through the glass I could see a young woman standing behind a big trolley.

“Hello!” I said, smiling, as I opened the sliding door. The warm air contrasted with the air conditioned living room.

“Hello, Sir.” She greeted me, expressionless. “May I come in? I brought some fresh fruit and snacks.”

She was a young and stunning black woman, adorned with voluminous, curly hair that gracefully framed her captivating and exotic face. Her appearance brought to mind a friend of mine with Ethiopian heritage. Similar to Irina, she sported a tattoo on her forehead—a radiant, inverted triangle, this one had a golden glow to it, instead of Irina’s purple. I pondered whether this tattoo symbolised some form of identification for the staff, and I couldn't help but wonder if I would be required to get one as well. Surely, I reasoned, it couldn't be a permanent tattoo.

“Of course, please.” I answered and moved aside to let her in.

She pushed the trolley right to the kitchen area and started filling up a bowl with fruit. She moved slowly and with great concentration, carefully choosing the fruits. She was wearing a yellow bikini and a white sarong around her waist. She had an astonishing sexy frame and she looked super healthy. Her breasts were quite full and I found their shape mesmerising, they were large and pointy, and they had a nice jiggle as she went about her work. Just like when I met Irina earlier, I got terribly distracted and aroused. I did not want to make her uncomfortable, so I tried to clear my mind.

“My name is Peter.” I introduced myself. “It’s my first day, you know? I am quite impressed by this place.”

She glanced at me momentarily, then shifted her gaze to my crotch. Without any discernible change in expression, she continued with her tasks, neatly arranging bottles and products in the fridge. My eyes darted towards my shorts, and to my dismay, I realised that my boner was clearly visible, a big bulge spreading from my crotch to my left thigh. Feeling embarrassed, I promptly moved over to the sofa and took a seat. One undeniable observation struck me – the two women I had encountered so far were remarkably beautiful, the most sexy individuals I had ever encountered. It seemed beyond coincidence. Rather, it appeared to be a theme at this hotel.

After completing the task of stocking up, she approached me while maintaining a respectful distance. I don't fault her for keeping a measured space. I wouldn't have been surprised if she had hurriedly left the moment she laid eyes on my boner.

“Would you like me to unpack your luggage?” She asked. She was standing there, in a very polite manner, hands clasped together in front of her. I was a bit surprised by her offer, but I thought that’s what it’s like in a luxury hotel.

“Oh, yes, please, that would be terribly kind of you.” I replied.

She then walked to my suitcase, bent over and in an effortless move she lifted it before making her way into the bedroom. Mind you, my suitcase was rather large and quite heavy, but she made it look weightless. In the subsequent minutes, I could hear her opening and closing drawers and the wardrobe before returning to the living room.

“Before I go, would you like me to bring you a drink, a juice maybe?” She asked, again standing at a respectful distance.

“Well, that would be great, actually.” I replied, quite pleased with this level of attention.

She strolled over to the fridge, barefoot and moving silently, much like Irina. Retrieving a bottle containing a red liquid and a glass from the cabinet, she returned to where I was seated and knelt gracefully beside the coffee table. Assuming a posture with her buttocks resting on her heels and maintaining a straight back, she exuded a solemnity which reminded me of Japanese scenes I had seen in movies. With deliberate care, she opened the juice bottle and poured a portion into the glass. Subsequently, she extended it to me, holding it with both hands.

"Thanks," I said, taking the glass. She stood there, expressionless, almost like she expected me to drink the juice. I couldn't help but wonder how far this level of service would go. “Could you please bring me a napkin?” I asked.

She simply stood up and walked back to the kitchen, grabbed a napkin from one of the drawers and repeated the same process as before. She came over, kneeled just like before, and handed me the napkin with both her hands, which I took while thanking her. I was very turned on by this kind of attitude, and obviously by her looks. Not really knowing what got into me, I sort of decided to push the envelope, see if her level of servitude could go that far.

"Can you give me a massage?" I asked, regretting my words as soon as they left my mouth. I even fumbled with the word “massage”, which came out of my mouth funny and high-pitched. Fortunately, she didn't immediately get upset. She just sat there for a moment, processing my request.

"I'm afraid providing you with a massage is not part of my job description," she replied in her soft voice, standing up. Well, at least she didn't seem offended, I thought, although she had every right to be. What I had just done could be considered workplace harassment, to be honest. I was still thinking these thoughts when she gave me a brief bow and left, without a further word. I was left on the sofa, holding a glass of juice and a napkin, as I watched her pushing the trolley back to the bunker building.

As I sat at the sofa, gazing out of the window and nursing my juice, my mind couldn't help but wander into the next three months and what they could be like. The prospect of having an internship with this kind of colleagues was going to be hard. Being surrounded only by gorgeous women seemed like a dream for any guy, but I was concerned by the levels of horniness had experienced in the few hours since my arrival. There was an underlying sense of anticipation, tinged with a hint of trepidation, as I contemplated the forthcoming months.

I decided to get off my arse and start exploring, quite eager to meet any other colleagues, but also curious to see if there were any other men. I was not sure of what I preferred, whether being the only male surrounded by hot women, or whether I would rather meet some other guys to give a sense of normality to this place. Since the front-of-house areas were out of bounds for me, the first order of business was to check out the bunker building.