Henceforward - Assignment 3 by anonymouse

[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

[Rhabbi]

:

"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

Congratulations, you took my breath away, and I mean that literally. I gasped when I got to this part. I will leave any and all nitpicking to Muse and simply say, fantastic.

[Dragon's muse]

A plot twist and a cliffhanger.

i love you, i really do. Apparently you did not have to write your way out of a corner with this one. This is magnificent, and you truly have the first rule of show business down cold. (First rule of show business ~ Always leave them wanting more.)


What was in the package?
Did Bill know who his online relationship was with?
And best of all what wicked, wonderful things does he have in store for her when she wakes up?

The way the her watch being slow came back to bite her was wonderful. Good use of continuity.

And even with Desk clerk/customer interaction, your dialogue sparkles.

You are being kicked upstairs. I will send the email to get you access to Level II. congratulations.

Nitpickig follows.

The taxi Lydia booked for 7pm (need a space here) 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.


Even though the bag was only a (delete) small, Lydia felt it was symbolic. It represented daringness on her part; that (delete) 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.




"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 (just a shade awkward here, could it be called "shiny red paper" instead?. "Room fifteen eleven."


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.

Maybe simplify this just a bit Suggested rewrite

The young porter took the room key and Lydia's bag and turned to the elevator. "This way, Miss," 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 (need a space here)'.

Once inside her room, Lydia tipped the young (delete, you have laready established that the porter is young.) porter and bid him thanks. It appeared to be an expensive suite, luxuriously appointed. (let's take this into more of an active voice. Suggestive rewrite:
"The suite was expansive and 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 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. (Just a little awkward here: suggested rewrite~~

The mortifying realization that her year long online "Master" was actually a colleague from work caused Lydia to fall back in a dead faint.)

"Henceforward, you are owned by me," whispered Bill to his sleeping beauty.

anonymouse

[anonymouse]

:


Congratulations, you took my breath away, and I mean that literally. I gasped when I got to this part. I will leave any and all nitpicking to Muse and simply say, fantastic.

My dear Rhabbi, I wish I could claim the closer as my own -- but I think (faulty memory and all) that it's Shakespeare (Juliet's line)

[anonymouse]

Alan Ayckbourn had a play as well...

[anonymouse]

Thank you Muse (for this - A plot twist and a cliffhanger. )
There's a bunch of 'red pen' but, it makes me think about things -- 'how could I make this better?'

[Dragon's muse]

i have been a professional writer for close to a decade and i still get "red-penned" or "blue-penciled". Writing is rewriting. and rewriting and rewriting. Someone once said that stories are never finished, only abandoned. Your imagination soars and that is the main thing. The redpen stuff is just details.

[Dragon's muse]

You now have access to level II. Don't forget to come back to visit and rake new students over the coals, oops, i mean give them constructive criticism.

smooches

[Rhabbi]

You now have access to level II. Don't forget to come back to visit and rake new students over the coals, oops, i mean give them constructive criticism.

smooches

No you don't, my problem is that mouse is so good she leaves me speechless.

[anonymouse]

Thank you again muse, and Rhabbi, you really do flatter me with your kind words

[anonymouse]

i have been a professional writer for close to a decade and i still get "red-penned" or "blue-penciled". Writing is rewriting. and rewriting and rewriting. Someone once said that stories are never finished, only abandoned. Your imagination soars and that is the main thing. The redpen stuff is just details.

Thank you again, Muse. I have corrected the minor things and followed most of your suggestions for the minor rewrites.

I'm not sure what else to call the 'tinfoil'. It's a particular type of gift wrapping, made of the same thin foil as Xmas tinsel. Perhaps there's a proper name for this? I just can't think of it if there is.

I decided against simplifying this:

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.

The reason is purely esthetic and relates to the overall 'pace' of the story. To simplify that passage would be to hasten the action earlier than I wanted. Your simplification of the closing paragraph was adopted for the same reason as this one was rejected.

I looked long and hard at the suggestion:

"The suite was expansive and luxuriously appointed."

But I see your point. Aside from the more active voice, to describe the room that way makes the descriptor 'expensive' redundant. 'Of course it's expensive!' is implicit.

So, thank you again, Muse

Incidentally, I feel certain that 7pm and 7 pm are both correct (regional editorial variance). I used 7pm (no space) following the same style as 1960s. I'm sure it's an FAQ somewhere in the Chicago Manual of Style, but I couldn't find it when I searched for it. Whatever the case, I changed it as per your correction

anonymouse

PS: "Henceforward, you are forever owned by me" is paraphrased from Romeo and Juliet.

[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 7 pm 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 small, Lydia felt it was symbolic. It represented daringness on her part; 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 metalic paper. "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 8 pm'.

Once inside her room, Lydia tipped the porter and bid him thanks. The suite was expansive and 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 and numbness gripped her so tightly, she dropped the package onto the floor.

"Lydia!" the man said.

"Bill?"

The mortifying realization that her year long online 'Master' was actually a colleague from work caused Lydia to fall back in a dead faint on the bed.

"Henceforward, you are forever owned by me," whispered Bill to his sleeping beauty.

[H Dean]

This was very well crafted. I've few complaints about your descriptions or presentation. Muse, as she is well known for, nailed most of the technical gaffes, so I won't redundantly mention them. Only two things struck me as wrong or odd and should have been changed.

First, no taxi ever arrives on time. What ever were you thinking? The other was "tinfoil". They don't make tinfoil for such uses these days. Instead they use aluminium foil. Heh. Yeah, I am really digging deep for something to bitch about. Unlike Muse, I would have suggested using "red metalic wrapping paper".

Feel proud of this little tale. I had to dig so deeply to find a problem that my "complaints" are mostly in jest. I especially liked the ending. It was frightening and funny all at once.

Show me more.

[anonymouse]

Thank you Dean. I guess I'm showing my age with 'tinfoil' -- hehe. 'Red metalic wrapping paper' works for me.

anonymouse

[anonymouse]

Only two things struck me as wrong or odd and should have been changed.

First, no taxi ever arrives on time. What ever were you thinking?

lol! Suspend disbelief...

Feel proud of this little tale. I had to dig so deeply to find a problem that my "complaints" are mostly in jest. I especially liked the ending. It was frightening and funny all at once.

[H Dean]

Hint: tin cans are out, too.

[anonymouse]

Hint: tin cans are out, too.

They are? How then am I supposed to listen in on conversations of my neighbors through the adjoining wall???