Read Proposal in Room 309 for Free Online Page A

took so long,’ Joely said. They walked to the automated doors and jumped as thunder rolled overhead. As they stepped out of the protection of the awning the sky spat rain bullets at them.
    Ben swore. ‘Dammit, no taxis.’
    ‘Never are.’ Joely looked at the sky. ‘If we hurry, we might make it back to the hotel without getting soaked.’
    ‘And I just saw a pig with fairy wings fly past,’ Ben retorted, grabbing her hand. ‘With my luck tonight we’ll get hit by lightning and end up as a pile of ash on the pavement.’
    Cheerful thought, Joely thought.
    ***
    As he thought, they were dripping wet by the time they stumbled into the lobby of The Chatsfield, earning themselves quite a few disparaging looks as they squelched across the marble floor to the lifts.
    Joely’s hair hung in rat tails down her face and she looked like a raccoon with her smeared mascara. Her wet dress now looked like it was painted on her and Ben quickly pulled his jacket off and placed it around her shoulders as he clocked the appreciative masculine gazes sent their way. Even wet and looking bedraggled, Joely turned male heads.
    He ran his hands through his hair and wiped the moisture off his face as they stepped into the lift, pulling his wet shirt from his chest. They immediately headed to the back of the lift, away from a sharply dressed couple who looked older than God.
    ‘So much for not getting soaked,’ Ben said, sending Joely an ironic look.
    ‘Even my knickers are wet,’ Joely said, sotto voice.
    The old lady turned around and raised two perfectly drawn black eyebrows. She lifted a manicured red fingernail. ‘Honey, they must be some kind of invisible because I ain’t seeing anything.’
    The dapper old man dropped his head to blatantly stare at her butt. ‘Me neither. Are you wearing one of those thongs? Marge, is she wearing a thong?’
    Joely’s mouth fell open in shock and Ben struggled to keep his laughter in check. He’d seen her in the bathroom earlier and he knew, for certain, that her thong was tiny and that a thin black satin cord was nestled between her butt cheeks. He didn’t think he’d share that information as he didn’t know if the old guy’s heart could take it. Ben looked at the couple, taking in the dapper suit and bowtie, the earring in his ear, his long grey hair pulled back by a leather tie. Marge was wearing a caftan and her perfectly dyed, black as night hair was pinned up into a messy bun on the top of her head. Gold and silver and beaded bracelets ran up her thin arm.
    If these two didn’t attend Woodstock he’d eat his hat, Ben thought as the lift stopped on another floor to let in a couple not much older than them.
    Marge nodded at them and raked her eyes over the woman who was dressed in a ball gown. ‘We’re talking about thongs and I’m thinking that I should try wearing a thong before I die…do they hurt?’
    The blonde woman blinked once, then twice. ‘Uh…no, not really.’
    Joely banged the back of her head on the lift panel and Ben snuck his hand behind her head so that she didn’t hurt herself. He bent down and placed his mouth at her ear. ‘I think it’s sexy too. Want to get naked?’
    Joely’s mouth lifted in a smile and gestured to the puddle on the floor at their feet. ‘I don’t think we have much choice.’
    Marge put her hand on her heart, her eyes fixed on them. ‘Ah, Bert…do you remember when we were young and sexy?’
    Bert patted her bottom. ‘To me you’re still young and sexy. Did I take my blue pill, Marge?’
    ‘I made sure of it, Bert.’
    Ben grinned before placing a kiss against Joely’s wet hair.
    ‘How long have you two been married?’ the blonde woman politely asked.
    ‘Geez, honey…let me think.’ Marge put her finger to her lips. ‘Nearly fifty years. We met in the bar downstairs and we ended up in a room upstairs that same night - scandalous for those times! But we just knew…so every year we come back to the same room and…well,