Desk of Desperation - Ch. 6 (August 2024 Story)

Not gonna lie, I'm getting over this story a bit and I have so much on my backlog for 2024, so I just rushed through this. I will pick it up later in the distant future but for now it will be a "to be continued" thing. 

Things did not get better, as expected.

            Grace popped three Tums in her mouth before heading downstairs. If only it worked sooner because Grace also could barely fit into her work clothes, still bloated from the night before.

            Hungover and bloated, she trudged downstairs to the front desk. At the very least she had a good night. Even though she was hungover and probably needed to run to the toilet soon, she felt unnaturally calm and quiet. Mr. Perry had scratched an itch she didn’t realize had been bothering her. She didn’t even feel like she was doing the walk of shame, as she got to shower and use all the high-quality soaps the hotel offered.

            Her only worry was figuring out how to hold it in until lunch time. That was the only possible way her absence from the front desk could be excused.

            Grace struggled with adjusting the zipper behind her skirt, when she had to stop suddenly to speak with a customer.

            When 10:30 rolled around, Grace was reaching a dire point. Her stomach would not stop gurgling and she had let out a million silent farts since she arrived at the front desk. Some of them were not so silent but thankfully she was able to hold them in until people disappeared from the foyer.

            She couldn’t even think of having lunch today because of how gurgly her stomach was. She probably would have to skip it. She hadn’t eaten so much in such a long time that her body wasn’t used to it.

            Fridays tended to be busy for hotels, obviously because of all the leisure travel on the weekend. Grace had her hands full as her stomach gurgled away like a ticking time bomb.

            At long last – she had a moment alone. It was 12PM. Technically her lunch didn’t start until thirty minutes but she couldn’t take it anymore. She slammed the “be back in” clock sign on the counter, pointing it to 1PM, and hurried demurely on her heels to the bathroom, letting of small farts with each step.

            The explosions she left in that bathroom must have traumatized anyone who came in and out. Verifiable trumpet blasts. Foghorns. Trombones. Grace couldn’t hold in one very loud moan. It was that fucking bad.

            Her sense of time typically went all over the place when she had bouts like this in the bathroom. How many minutes had passed? 5? 30? 10? Her nerves over being stuck in there for too long made it worse, but at the same time pushed everything out faster. It was a double-edged sword.

            She flushed a total of five times before finally getting up. She truly felt like she had lost 20 pounds. She was even able to zip up her skirt all the way. She looked a bit haggard in the mirror and freshened herself up.

            Standing back out in the foyer felt like seeing the sun after being in a movie theater for hours. She may have been a little light-headed.

            Mr. Muglia stood at the front desk staring at her. He tapped the sign she had put on the desk.

            “The hell is this?” he said. He tapped his watch. “Do you know what time it is now?”

            Grace, still recovering from all the shitting and farting, took a deep breath and calmed down as she went behind the counter.

            “It’s ONE-THIRTY. Please tell me you were only gone for thirty minutes.”

            Don’t get nervous, don’t get nervous… she kept telling her stomach, which may have bubbled up a bit under Mr. Muglia’s tone.

            “Sorry, sir,” she said. “Not feeling well.”

            “Not feeling well? Are you five years old? You’re an adult.”

            Grace played with a push-pen under the counter, having an intrusive thought about jabbing it through his shoulder.

            Mr. Muglia then pulled out those dreaded words. “You know what? You’re fired.”

            Grace stared at him, slow to process what he just said. When he didn’t say anything further, she said, “Are you serious?”

            “What do you think?” His features were so furrowed he looked like some kind of clay-shaped monster.

            “Mr. Muglia – I just used the bathroom.”

            “You don’t follow the rules! You’re NOT supposed to leave the desk for more than five minutes at a time.”

            Grace clenched the pen and broke it in half. She screamed, “What do you want me to do? Take a SHIT RIGHT HERE ON THE FRONT DESK?”

            The entire lobby fell silent. Grace had just realized that there were a couple guests forming a line. Worse yet – Margaret Landrum was one of them. Harry had turned around from his post as doorman and looked wide-eyed.

            Grace panted, took her handbag, and walked out the door.

            She didn’t think about where she was going. She just kept walking in a direction into the cool fresh air and let her body slow down.

            Did that just happen? Yeah, that just happened.

            She passed by the tavern she was at with Mr. Perry the other night. She stared at it for a few seconds before continuing her aimless walk. The trauma from all the yelling subsided and she started to feel elated about the fact that she was free. It was a little scary. Well. Really scary. Where else could she go now? No doubt she wouldn’t have a good recommendation from this place anymore.

            Grace window-shopped at an expensive dress store. She stared at one of the mannequins wearing a fur coat, and then slid her hand in her pocket.

            Mr. Perry’s room key was there.

            Well. I may be fired from the hotel…but I’m still a guest.

(To be continued!)