The Hotel

“I can’t believe I’m out in this shit!” You say, as you crawl along the road in your at a snails pace, the nigh-on torrential rain making any ideas of going faster practically suicide.

You knew the weather was going to be like this, but it didn’t seem too bad when you first set off: your friend had told you of an absolutely awesome party that was happening in his town, and being the undersexed individual that your are, your dick demanded that you get in the car and over there ASAP!

On the radio you can just hear over the pounding of the rain on your roof, the DJ commenting that its not going to get any better weather wise until tomorrow, at this rate you’ll be driving for 3 hours! You console yourself by thinking of all the lovely ladies that will be there, a few drinks and a few glimpses of ample cleavage, and this will turn into just a memory quickly enough, you tell yourself.

You’re just thinking about a particularly nice round ass when suddenly your steering wheel violently twists out of your hands as the car thumps over something large, sending you on a slow motion slide into the ditch on the side of the road.

“Oh shit!” You have time to squeak, just as your car slops into the ditch, unable to do anything it comes to halt, up to the axles in mud and water. For a moment you just sit there, wanting to yell but knowing it wont help. You get out of the car and quickly run back down the road 10 metres to see that you hit a decent sized fallen branch from a tree, going back to the car you see that there is no way your going to be able to just drive out, plus from what you can see of it, your front tire looks punctured from the impact. Trying to look on the bright side, you surmise that if you had been going any faster, things could have gone a lot worse for you.

You jump back into the car, patting your pockets for your mobile phone…but can only feel your wallet.

“No!” You yell as you frantically search the car for your phone, you know if its not in your pocket then it must be back at home on the kitchen bench but you look anyway, hoping through sheer willpower maybe it will turn up. After another minutes futile searching you sit back and take a deep breath, then look at your options: You can stay here and hope that someone see’s you, although with the rain as heavy as it is you probably won’t see anyone coming until they are practically on top of you, so you’d have to stand outside the car to be ready, not such a great option, you could get comfy in the backseat and try to sleep until tomorrow, when daylight and lighter rain should makes things easier.

Neither option is sounding particularly palatable when you notice for the first time dimly in the distance off the side of the road, some lights! Wondering if your really seeing them you stare for a while, and yes, it appears there are lights, a few hundred metres away, as you stare you see that there are too many lights to be a residential place, maybe it’s a hotel or motel! A warm room with no rain in it! A phone! Happy that you seem to have been given at least a little good luck in return for your bad, you set off for the building.

20 drenched to the bone minutes later you are at the entrance way of the Housington Hotel, you try drip dry yourself a little before going in, it looks like a nice place, with bright lights and deep carpets. Feeling a little sheepish with water still dripping from you onto the carpet, you approach the reception desk.

A lovely blonde woman is seated behind it, looking slightly board and uninterestedly clicking her way through something on the computer, probably solitaire. As you approach she see’s you and rises to attention.

“Oh you poor man! Your simply drenched!” reaching under the counter she grabs a large soft towel and hands it to you before you’ve even had a chance to explain yourself.

Gratefully grabbing the towel, you dry off your face and hair before telling her about your vehicle mishap and lack of phone. She understands and tells you that your welcome to stay here for a reduced rate as they aren’t expecting to fill any more rooms tonight, or you can use the telephone to call someone, she adds, pointing you to the courtesy phone on the desk.

You’re about to open your mouth to reply when you hear a large number of people laughing from what must be a function room or something, and it sounded almost exclusively female. You raise an eyebrow quizzically to the reception lady who fills you in.

“That? Oh, we had mature singles night organised but it appears the weather has driven nearly all the males away from coming, the ladies were on a couple of coaches so they were all together, now its become more of a drink and be merry night, I’m afraid.”

This new information makes your options not quite so clear cut, do you want to get on the phone and try to get to the party still? Or stay here with busloads of single vixens (and close to your car) and see what you can see?