Agree To Go With the Sleazy Man

This is part of a Choose Your Own Adventure story, ‘Vacation Roulette.’ Go back to the first chapter by Linden Schneider here. Or return to the previous chapter. Here is the chapter guide.

“You’re so beautiful,” the man whispers, pressing close to your naked body. “Want to come up to my room? You must be cold.”

You stand there, body exposed for all to see in the hotel buffet. Your partner is nowhere to be found. You’re surprised that no security guards have harassed you to leave yet.

Well, why not? You’re angry after the double rejection from both Silvia and your partner. And you would appreciate some clothes and warmth.

The man probably won’t give you any clothes, but warmth? He’d be happy to provide it. Lots of it.

So you break out into a smile full of sunshine. “I’d love to.”

The man grins from ear to ear, like he’s caught a fish on a hook.

But you’re so frustrated with everyone you know that you don’t care. You would rather be debased by a stranger than to have no one. At least the stranger finds you sexy.

You hold his hand as he strides towards the elevators. It’s weird that you act like a couple, even though you aren’t.

He takes you up to the eighth floor and hurries to suite 807.

As soon as he locks the door behind you, he hurls you onto the bed and tears off all his clothes.

You grin at his desperation and he grins back.

What follows is a surprisingly blissful, and relaxing series of movements.

In the midst of your passion and throes of enjoyment, you hear a loud knock on the door. Neither of you want to stop in your pleasure, and the door bangs open.

To your dismay, it reveals your partner, who is livid and shaking. “What. The. Hell. Do. You. Think. You’re. Doing?”

You can’t bring yourself to care, and the man can’t be assed to stop what he’s doing, either. Nor do you want him to stop.

Beside your partner, a familiar face appears. It’s Sandra, her face full of judgment — and amusement. She tuts and puts a hand on your partner’s shoulder. “Come on, sweetheart. You deserve better than this. I’ll take care of you.”

Your partner’s eyes fill with tears as they continue to stare at you, at what you and the man are still doing.

You say, “I’m sorry, darling, but it looks like you want Sandra more than you want me anyway.”

Your partner grits their teeth and clenches their fists. “You asshole. We’re breaking up. I’ll file for divorce when we get home.” They wipe their tears as Sandra leads them away. Sandra quirks an eyebrow at you before disappearing with your now ex.

After the man finishes and you both get your fill of satisfaction, he lets out a full belly laugh. “A jealous spouse makes an unhappy house. You’re better off without them. It looks like Sandra is eyeing up your ex anyway so they won’t be alone.”

You groan while still lying in his arms. “It sucks. I don’t know what to do about them.” It’s hard to feign indifference. You can’t believe that your partner just divorced you, though for valid reasons.

The man soon gets dressed and smiles. “I had a lot of fun with you, but it’s time for us to part ways. I don’t do stay-overs.”

You grumble and say, “You don’t happen to have any clothes I can borrow, do you?”

The man laughs. “No, I packed light and have nothing to spare, sorry. Plus, you’re so nice to look at that I’m sure you’ll find someone else to take you home.”

With reluctance, you drag yourself out of bed. And you look down at yourself. “Can I at least borrow your shower?” You hate the imploring note in your voice.

The jerk of a man gives you a mean look, but he nods. “Fine, but hurry. My wife will come back from her trip soon.”

You curse silently. So now you cheated and helped someone else cheat. Fantastic.

After you take a quick shower and wipe yourself off, you consider stealing the towel so you at least don’t have to walk around naked.

But the man guesses your intentions. He shakes his head. “Sorry, pretty. That towel stays here.”

“The hotel staff can just get you a new one,” you snap.

The man leers. “Sure, but I don’t want my wife to get suspicious.”

“She can probably smell the evidence of your infidelity,” you hiss.

The man laughs with his hands on his hips, like he’s showing off his (admittedly big) package. “Ha! The pot calls the kettle black.”

You give him an obscene gesture, which makes him laugh again. So you toss the towel in his stupid face. With great humiliation, you dash out of his suite.

You’re still naked, but at least the sex and the warm shower afterwards, means that you’re no longer cold.

But your bag is still stolen. Your ex is furious, so you don’t want to go to your room to retrieve your luggage, either. With annoyance, you shuffle back to the elevators.

When the doors open, a lone woman inside shrieks when she sees you. You enter the elevator lift and raise your hands to show that you’re unarmed. “Sorry, this is complicated. Somebody played a prank on me and stole all my clothes while I was at the swimming pool.”

The woman looks befuddled. “There’s a swimming pool on the eighth floor?”

You shake your head. “No, no. It’s on the ground floor. I — uh — wanted to borrow clothes from a friend of mine.” You blush. “But he refused.”

“Oh.” The woman looks you up and down, like she doesn’t know what to say.

In silence, you go down to the lobby. The woman says not a word as she rushes out the elevator, no doubt eager to get away from the freak that you are.

As you march through the lobby in the nude, people start pointing and jeering at you again, but you turn a deaf ear to it all. Instead, you make your way directly towards the hotel swimming pool.

There’s a guard standing outside, and he does nothing to disguise his lust as he stares at you, his eyes gleaming with greed and hunger.

With a pleasant smile, you say, “Sir, have you by any chance seen a bag and some clothes? I left them by the deck chairs when I went swimming earlier, but when I got out of the pool, my belongings were nowhere to be found.”

A cunning smile rises on the security guard’s lips. “That’s why you should always put your stuff in a locker.” His tone implies that he would love to put his stuff into your locker.

You purse your lips. And you say, “Does that mean you have my belongings?”

The guard’s smile is unceasing. “Perhaps, perhaps not.”

You fold your arms with a frown. “Ok. What do you want me to do to get my bag and clothes back? Do you want money?”

The security guard grins. He eyes you closely, his gaze traveling along your shapely figure. “Ooh, you know what I want.” His voice is husky.

You huff. Unlike the guy you had sex with just a short while ago, the guard is very far from handsome. But you really want your stuff back. So you nod. “Fine.”

The guy looks so evil and delighted, and he calls a colleague to take over his shift.

Without even waiting for his coworker to arrive, the guard grabs your arm. “Come on to my room, honey. I’ll get you all fixed up.”

You nod with impatience. As you walk along, you ask, “Do you know where Silvia is?”

The man grunts. “That’s none of your business.”

You frown. “That’s not a nice tone to take with someone you’re about to screw.”

“I’m not interested in how you feel,” the security guard snaps.

So you swallow your anger and walk with him the rest of the way in sullen silence. He takes you to a suite on level two. 209.

You just pray you can get this over with.

You walk straight to the bed, impatient.

The security guard grins widely. “Good to see you eager.” He starts to undo his belt — and everything else.

You try not to cringe as the man climbs on top of you.

By the time he’s finally done, you want to shower to get his stench off of you.

When you exit the shower, the man is still lounging in bed, with a smug expression on his face. He looks at you like you’re his latest conquest.

“Okay, where’s my stuff?”

The guard lifts his brow. “What stuff?”

You can’t believe it. “My belongings. You promised to give them back to me after we had sex.”

The security guard chuckles. “You must have misunderstood. We came here together because you were horny and wanted to fuck. Why else would you be walking around naked?” He leered.

“I already gave you what you wanted,” you reply with a chill in your voice. “How can you be such a douchebag and not even give my bag back?”

The man doesn’t stop grinning. “You must have hearing problems. I never promised you anything but some great sex.”

This is absolutely intolerable. With a cold rage, you step up to him. “You want more of me?” You jump on top of him, and cover his mouth with yours. The pervert hums appreciatively and moves his hands down your body.

You move your hands down to his throat.

By the time the man realizes what’s you’re doing, it’s too late. You squeeze his throat with all your strength, while continuing to kiss him to muffle his cries. The gross guard struggles like a helpless fish for some moments more, until he finally goes limp.

You put a hand over his chest to make sure he’s not playing dead, and stand up with satisfaction. You search around his suite, and thankfully find your bag and clothes under his bed. It’s so nice to get dressed again.

But it’s only a matter of time before someone will find the dead body. Might as well disappear before the cops find you.

Before you leave, you send a final text to your former partner:

Goodbye forever, my love.

Vacation Roulette is over before it even begins.

You were so afraid of getting killed, but you ended up killing someone instead. Time to erase your tracks and start a brand new life with a new identity.

The End

Did you loathe this ending? Go back to the first chapter here. Or return to the previous chapter.