1. Double-Room


    Date: 9/7/2016, Categories: Mature, Author: marlowe, Rating: 3, Source: LushStories

    placed with a comfortable ease. Behind the bar a mahogany cabinet displayed an assortment of golfing paraphernalia and photographs of men holding silver trophies. A wide staircase from the bar led up to the bedrooms on the upper floors and in a recess at the end of the bar a log burning fire crackled on an open grate, the smell of smoke mingling with burning embers adding to the character of the room. The melodic chimes from an ornate clock on the white painted wall above the bar informed him that it was twelve o’clock. Apart from the voice of a commentator discussing a game of golf on a large television screen fixed on a wall opposite the bar the place was quiet. He lit a cigarette and approached the bar. A middle-aged overweight man with a huge stomach and a newspaper spread open on the counter stared at the television screen, oblivious to anything going on around him. He cleared his throat to get the fat man’s attention. “Yes sir,” replied the landlord, never once taking his eyes from the television. “What can I get you?” he asked, his heavy lidded eyes taking a temporary detour from the screen. He forced a smile at the landlord. “Have you got a double-room for.....?” Before he had time to finish the landlord turned quickly on his heels, picked up a glass from a shelf and held it to the Lambs Navy Rum optic, allowing the contents to flow into the glass. After repeating the action he placed the large glass of dark rum on the counter. “One Double Rum,” he said, mumbling ...
    something at the television screen before punching the cash register to ring up the price of the drink. He stared at the drink. He looked at the landlord. He feigned a cough, the misunderstanding forcing him to reach for his wallet. After fumbling nervously with the contents of his wallet and handing the landlord a single one pound note he quickly drained the glass. “Just what I needed after a long drive,” he smiled, placing the empty glass on the counter. In the ensuing silence, broken occasionally by the landlord muttering at the TV, they talked briefly, mainly trivia and golf, the recent bad weather and more golf. Seeing no better opportunity he attempted the request once again, only this time he made sure he overstated his diction and gave longevity to the syllables Bed and Room. “Have…You...Got...A...Double-BED-ROOM...I...Can...Have...For...The...Next...Five-Nights?” The landlord forced a smile. “Sorry sir, you have a very strong North East accent,” he confirmed, pointing a finger at his mouth which wasn’t really necessary. “Please accept my apologies,” he added, offering his outstretched hand in the way of introduction. Charles Henderson was probably only in his mid-fifties, but he had the look of a man who carried a further ten years on his back. In short strenuous gasps, intermittent grunts and breathless sighs, they climbed the stairs to the bedrooms on the first-floor, a motioning finger pointing in the direction of a door was all Charles could manage when they finally ...
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