Targeted

 

 The mystery deepened when Ben complained to the manager. They didn't have a room laundry service, who might have taken his clothes, he said, but he would investigate what the CCTV had picked up. Meanwhile, Ben would have to vacate his room since it was already booked by someone else that night. However, he could stay in the resident's lounge for as long as it took, free of charge. That was just as well, since Ben didn't have money to pay his bill or even a phone to call anyone any more. The hotel had a phone, of course, but who remembers other people's numbers these days? Ben didn't. He just had to wait and see what the Manager came up with. The idea that this might take days rather than hours disturbed him.

It wasn't as though they were comfortable panties either, the lace felt very rough on Ben's nether regions. If he didn't keep still, it rubbed his balls mercilessly. The narrow string up the back did the same thing to his crack, because it was stretched tight by his efforts to keep his junk contained in the tiny pouch at the front. It didn't feel much more comfortable if he stood up and walked around either, and then he knew everyone was looking at him and probably thinking things about him, which he'd rather they didn't. 

 

The Resident's Lounge was surprisingly busy considering it was a bright, sunny day outside. The hotel seemed to have a disproportionate number of ageing gentlemen as residents, many of whom thought slapping his bottom playfully as he passed would cheer him up. When he was out of his seat, he had to keep a vigilant lookout to see if anyone was creeping up behind him.

He hovered around the Manager's Office for a while, hoping for a development. There seemed to be much jollity going on inside, but no news about his missing belongings. He couldn't even go for a walk to pass the time, and no-one offered to lend him clothes to wear, except one old man who offered an unappealing, dirty raincoat. There wasn't any shortage of people wanting to talk to him, of course, he constantly had to shoo away loiterers, but all the attention made him feel worse. He returned to his seat to find it occupied. None of the others were vacant either, although several gentlemen kindly offered him their knee to sit on. He thought it best to decline these offers and found a newspaper to read, leaning with his back to the wall.

As the day wore on, the prospect of spending the night in the lounge loomed larger and larger, and he became increasingly agitated and sought out the manager again, demanding he do something. Eventually the Police were called and one arrived an hour later - in plain clothes, surprisingly. Naturally, they had other priorities on a Friday night, he said. He advised him not to go out after dark. Folks round here don't go in for that sort of thing, he said, nodding at Ben's lacy bulge. Ben flushed with embarrassment. 

 

Ben had no choice but to reconcile himself to spending the night on a settee in the Guest Lounge. The room was still quite crowded with old men, but he found a safe seat and watched TV until 'News at Ten', hoping that when it finished, they would all disappear to bed. But they didn't, there was some sort of discussion going on, quite heated. Eventually, one of them approached him and offered him the chance to take a shower in his room. Ben accepted gratefully, taking the chance to wash out his G-string in the warm, refreshing spray. 

 

When he emerged, the gentleman was already in his double bed, asleep. Ben stole to the door, but to his horror found it was locked. "I wouldn't go back down there" his host advised sagely from the bed, "it's not safe for you". Something in his tone suggested he wasn't just talking about tactile sleepwalkers. "You'll be much safer staying here with me" he said, most emphatically, and his words struck Ben quite forcefully. "Just take my word for it" the man said gravely as he peeled open the cover on the unoccupied side of the bed.

 

Ben stared at him and the bed. But his courage failed him. He looked round for the door key but couldn't see it. He tried the door again, hoping it had changed its mind about being locked. Finally, thinking about the cold, dark lounge downstairs, he looked back at the inviting bed. 

"Come on lad, you must be feeling tired, get into bed", the gentleman said kindly, "I won't eat you".

 

But he did, and that wasn't all he did, but he did it so nicely, it didn't seem to matter to Ben.

The night sped by in the strangest manner. 

 

~

 

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