Although there was only one of me, I ordered tea for two.
The atmosphere of this five-star hotel, with its Art Deco gold and marble flourishes, was making me feel extravagant.
I put my finger to the old-fashioned “Buzz for Service” button. A novel feature in these online, uploaded times. One-touch service, before a mouse-click ever existed.
Moments later, the phone rings. Reclining on the panoply of pillows, I pick up the receiver.
“Tea for two, please. English Breakfast. And the High Tea cake platter.”
If they kept insisting on calling me Madame, I was going to behave like one.
I stretch, enjoying the whisper of my new black silk slip against my skin, the cloud of white hotel robe open over it. Plenty of time before my two o’clock appointment with a publisher. Admiring my freshly pedicured toes, I saunter to the mirror to apply matching lipstick in ruby red.
There’s a brisk knock at the door.
“Hello, Room Service.”
“Come in,” I assent around my lipstick, casting a sideways glance. The door opens, revealing firstly the trolley with silver teapot and a three-tiered cake tray, then a tall young man, his tumble of curly brown hair fighting the neatness of his uniform.
“Tea for Two, Madame,” he announces confidently, looking about for the other occupant.
“Set it by the bed, please.” In the mirror, I admire his broad shoulders as he manouveres the trolley. I feel his eyes on my body, as I finish with my lipstick, then walk towards him, smiling.
“There’s just me. I love tea. But whatever am I going to do with all that cake?”
“Shall I pour, Madame?”
“Yes.” I watch his long, tanned fingers handle the teapot, seating myself on the bed.
“One cup or two?” His brown eyes twinkle, sending sparks across my skin. His gaze caresses my cleavage.