Page 3 of Rowan's Renewal
“Please,” I insist, offering him what I hope is a charming smile. “I, uh, originally booked this trip with my boyfriend and…” I trail off, not thinking it necessary to explainwhywe had wanted a second bedroom on hand. “Well, we broke up and plans changed. I was going to see if I could downgrade to a single or a studio, but I’m guessing that’s not an option.”
“We’re booked solid, I’m afraid,” the concierge nods. Then they turn back to the stranger I’ve just invited to share my room. “We will refund your booking immediately. And, should you take Mister…?”
“Park,” I supply helpfully, “Aaron Park.”
They type away on their keyboard again, smiling softly. “If you should take Mister Park up on his offer, I will make sure the booking is upgraded to include complimentary hire of all motorized and non-motorized watersports equipment and daily breakfast for you both.”
The stranger chews his bottom lip and squirms for a moment. There’s a flash of something undefinable over his face before he swallows and nods. “If you’re sure it won’t be a problem…”
“I can’t see why it would be. I wasn’t going to use the second room, so I’m glad it isn’t going to waste.”
He shuffles on his feet, a blush dusting his cheeks as he averts his gaze. “Thank you. I…” he clears his throat. “Thanks. I, um, I’m staying the six nights, too. Then flying back home after that.”
I smile. “Home as in America, or…?”
“Oh, yeah. America.” He grimaces. “I’m not looking forward to that return flight. The one to get here was bad enough.” To punctuate the sentiment, he reaches for his large, black, hard-shelled rolling suitcase, his fingers flexing over the handle.
“Anyway,” the concierge interrupts, “I’ve got you both checked in to room four-oh-seven.” They lean forward and hand us each a room key before running through the layout of the resort, detailing the pool and jacuzzi hours, where to hire kayaks, jetskis and snorkeling gear, and what time the on-site restaurant serves its buffet breakfast.
My roommate for the week seems to become increasingly fidgety the longer the concierge speaks. He all but heaves a sigh of relief when we’re finally directed towards the elevator, seemingly in a rush to get to the room.
Away from the desk, it feels a little more awkward to be heading towards a hotel room I will be sharing with a complete stranger, but I don’t regret my offer. Even though the second bedroom won’t be used as the playroom-slash-nursery away from home Jerry and I had planned on, I am glad someone is going to make use of it. Especially when the sweet stranger seemed almost on the verge of tears with the booking snafu.
I’ve always been a sucker for a sweet Boy in need of a rescue, I guess. That’s the Daddy in me, and it’s been too long since I last let him out to play.
Maybe when I get back home, I’ll visit the local kink club I’ve heard about. I’ve hooked up a couple of times on this holiday, and it has been great, but my need to nurture and connect on a deeper level clearly needs to be satisfied just as badly.
“So, roomie,” I joke to ease some of the awkwardness as we wait for the elevator, “I’m Aaron.”
His shoulders are tense, but the sheepish smile on his face is adorable. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t think to introduce myself. I’m Rowan. Rowan Stratton.” He extends the hand not gripping his suitcase like a lifeline and I shake it. He shifts uncomfortably and cringes a little. “Thanks again for the rescue.”
“Seriously,” I laugh just as the elevator doors swing open and a gaggle of cute, giggly twinks spill out, brushing past us as they talk loudly in broad Australian accents about finding the bar, “you don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you didn’t think I’m some weirdo freak for offering.”
“I’ll be honest,” he leans against the mirrored wall of the elevator, full lips drawing into a tiny smirk, “I’m half expecting you to harvest my organs or something. Hot young guys aren’t usually lining up at my door, you know?”
“I’m thirty-two, hardly a spring chicken,” I chuckle. “But Iama doctor, so the organ harvestingisa plausible side-hustle…”
“Thirty-two seems forever ago for me,” his tone is wistful, and his smile is soft. Then his lips quirk into something a little rueful and wry. “I just turned forty-one. So, yeah, you’re young.”
The elevator lets us off on the fourth floor and we make our way to room seven. Rowan swipes his key and pushes the door open, throwing a hasty apology over his shoulder as he bustles forward and starts glancing into doorways.
With an exhaled “Oh, thank God,” he pushes into one of the rooms, dragging his suitcase with him, shutting and locking the door behind him with an audible click.
After my own quick perusal of the apartment, I realize he must be in the bathroom.
I guess that’s what all the fidgeting was about.
I want to smack myself upside the head. I’ve seen enough potty dances in my time, after all. Both as a doctorandas an age play Daddy.
I guess I wasn’t completely projecting after all.
Chapter Three
Aaron Park has got to be a figment of my imagination. Some fantasy creation from the deep, dark recesses of my brain. Because there’s no way a man like him is real. Maybe I finally had some kind of breakdown when the nice concierge told me about the system double booking my room, and everything since that moment has been a hallucination.
Except, no. If I was fantasizing, I definitely wouldn’t be changing a sodden pair of incontinence pants while my super hot young rescuer lurks somewhere in the apartment beyond the closed bathroom door.
If I were fantasizing, fantasy-me wouldn’t have been diagnosed with a rare case of prostate cancer in my late teens, and fantasy-mecertainlywouldn’t have endured complications from the surgery which left me without a prostate and with permanent incontinence.
