I travel a lot, and although I share plenty of stories about the subs I have scattered around different ports, the truth is I spend a lot of nights alone in hotel rooms too. Sometimes that’s actually what I want. No boy demanding attention, no plans, no obligations after work. Just Autumn, a comfortable bed, and a good book.

I recently had one of those trips planned. My workload was unusually light, so I’d actually have my evenings to myself. I was looking forward to it. On my first night I put on my robe, settled in, and ordered room service. Nothing exciting. Burger, fries, something to drink, then I intended to curl up and read.

Except my food was late. Really fucking late. Eventually there was a knock, and when I opened the door, it wasn’t somebody from room service. It was the hotel manager himself, carrying my dinner and apologizing profusely. Apparently they were badly understaffed that evening, things had gotten backed up, and he was personally helping cover wherever he could. He was cute, too. That changed things.

He brought everything inside, apologized again, and asked if there was anything else he could do for me. That’s a dangerous question to ask Autumn. I looked at him, dropped my robe, and told him he could take off his clothes. He gave me this nervous little laugh like he wasn’t quite sure whether I was serious. I was. And then, to my amusement, he obeyed.

So much for my fucking book.

It turned out he was working nights as part of building his career in hospitality. Ambitious, smart, attentive, and very eager to make sure his guest was satisfied. I have no doubt he’ll be running some massive hotel company someday. That night, however, he served me, and he did a damn good job of it.

Apparently he also decided my original room wasn’t sufficient anymore, because afterward he asked if I’d be okay with moving rooms. Fuck yes. He upgraded me to a full suite, which was considerably more appropriate. Huge bed, beautiful bathroom, plenty of space, and a bathtub that immediately caught my attention. My new favorite hotel manager carried my things upstairs, got everything settled, and then actually ran a wonderful bath for me.

Remember, this hotel was supposedly understaffed. There were presumably other guests somewhere wondering where the fuck everyone had gone while the night manager was upstairs in my suite making sure my bath was perfect. Sorry, people. Management was busy taking care of a more demanding guest.

I never did get much reading done that night. But I got my burger and fries, a major room upgrade, a beautiful bath, and the hotel manager’s undivided attention. I’d say they handled my room-service complaint appropriately.