Pack the bellboy

You hand the valet the keys and a tip, reading Jarek off of his name tag. He gives you a paper for the car and gets in. You turn toward the bellboy as your car drives away, stuffing the paper into your pocket.

"Let me help you out," you offer, hoisting bags off of the ground and onto the cart. He looks up at you and smiles graciously.

Once that's done, you follow him into the Hightower. The hotel lobby is lushly decorated, and its patrons are equally stunning. Gorgeous men walk past you, and you can only wonder if you'll get to play with any of them.

At the front desk, you go to pick up your room key.

"Welcome to The Hightower," the front desk attendee says. "How may I help you?"

"Yes, I have a reservation."

"Your name?"

You tell him. As he works on the computer, you take a look at him. He's a bit older than the bellboy, mid-20s, you'd estimate. He's handsome, with slicked-back dark brown hair. He is cleanly shaven and his body is slim. He is wearing a cheesy bow-tie with no shirt and an closed gray jacket, revealing the line separating his pecs. A name tag on his jacket reads the name Bruce.

"I'm sorry," he finally responds, "we don't have you reserved."

You blink. This isn't good.