Henceforward - Assignment 3 by anonymouse
Lydia gave her reflection a final appraisal in the full-length mirror. Dress, hair, makeup, stockings, shoes - yes, she was as perfect as she could make herself. Tonight, finally, she would meet him in the flesh. Lydia checked the time of her wristwatch against the clock on her bedside table. Her watch was five minutes slow, but she didn't adjust it for fear she'd chip the freshly applied, blood red polish on her nails.
The taxi Lydia booked for 7pm arrived exactly on time. She didn't need to be at the Sheraton until eight, but it was her nature to be on time. Tonight was especially important for her so, she didn't want to be late.
A uniformed porter at the Sheraton Hotel greeted Lydia when she arrived.
"Good evening, ma'am. May I take your luggage for you?"
"Thank you," Lydia replied. She handed the porter a Louis Vuitton monogrammed duffle bag and followed him into the grand foyer.
Even though the bag was only a small, Lydia felt it was symbolic. It represented daringness on her part; that she was prepared to spend the night with a man she'd never met in real life - a man she'd never even spoken with on the phone. Their entire relationship had developed through email and online chat. Lydia had no reservations in her mind about this but still, the expectations she'd grown to have for this evening made her nervous.
"Do you have a reservation?" a receptionist asked Lydia.
"Yes," she replied. "It should be under the name, Williams."
The porter placed Lydia's bag on the floor and signaled for a junior porter to be ready. Lydia fumbled in her purse and then offered the older man a tip.
"Thank you, ma'am. Enjoy your stay," he said.
Lydia smiled politely.
"Ah, yes, here we are," said the receptionist. "Are you Leanne?"
"Yes," Lydia replied. "Leanne Williams."
Even in this modern, liberated age, Lydia retained some of her old-fashioned ways and felt guilty about the deceit. It was a pseudonym 'Alan Williams' chose for her. She couldn't, after all, sign into the hotel as 'slave L', the name by which 'Master Alan' knew her.
"Mister Williams asked me to give this to you when you arrived," said the receptionist. She passed Lydia an envelope and a small, heavy package wrapped in red tinfoil. "Room fifteen eleven."
"Thank you," Lydia smiled.
The young porter took possession of the room key from the receptionist, quickly picked up Lydia's bag, and then turned toward the elevator. "This way," he said.
Their elevator ascended swiftly to the fifteenth floor. Lydia's curiosity about the contents of her apparent gift also escalated. The package was quite heavy for its size, and the accompanying note in the envelope simply said, 'Do not open before 8pm'.
Once inside her room, Lydia tipped the young porter and bid him thanks. It appeared to be an expensive suite, luxuriously appointed. Its king-size bed seemed dwarfed by the size of the room, as did the large, flat panel television screen on the wall opposite. Lydia sat on the end of the bed and stared at the bright red package in her hands.
The package made no sound when Lydia gently shook it next to her ear. There was no discernable scent to it either. It felt like a solid case of some sort, a bit larger than twice the size of her glasses case. She glanced at her watch and noted she still had five minutes to wait.
Lydia's attention was called to the sound of a key entering the lock of the door. Panic immediately gripped her when she suddenly remembered her watch was five minutes slow. 'Oh no!' she cursed under her breath. The handle turned; no time for Lydia to open the package and see what was inside.
The door slowly opened. A man stood there and smiled a wicked smile. Lydia felt the blood rush from her face. It seemed to puddle in the pit of her stomach. Numbness gripped her so tightly, she dropped the package onto the floor.
"Lydia!" the man said.
"Bill?"
The mortifying realization that her online relationship for the past twelve months had been with a colleague from work caused Lydia to fall back in a dead faint on the bed.
"Henceforward, you are owned by me," whispered Bill to his sleeping beauty.
anonymouse
