Monica's Secret

Copyright © Saskia Walker, 2010
All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Total-E-Bound.

Excerpt From: Monica's Secret

Just one touch would do it—one deliberate stroke of her fingers over the ornate brass door handle and Monica would see and feel it all, every lust-filled moment that had gone on here, every breathtaking seduction. The residual sexual energy on the door handle was electric, and when she’d first felt it, she’d pulled back. It was a risky indulgence to explore it at work, it always was. As the housekeeping manager at Cumbernauld’s of Kensington, she didn’t want any of the hotel staff to find out about her rather peculiar psychic skill with objects and their sexual history. However, there wasn’t anyone around, and it had been a long time since she had indulged herself, so she was tempted.

Tentatively, she trailed her fingers down the panelled door of the hotel suite. The lingering vitality from the night before presented her with sudden, intoxicating images of a couple who were about to make love. Sexual energy pulsed up her arm, rapidly opening up an array of erotic images in her mind.

The couple had laughed as they returned to their room, stopping every few feet for open-mouthed kisses, hands roving each other eagerly. The woman had faced the door expectantly while her lover pulled the cardkey from his pocket. Before he unlocked the door, he shoved her body against the surface of the door roughly, and the woman groaned with pleasure. He pushed his cock hard against her bottom, while he told her exactly what he was going to do to her.

Going to make you beg. He’d whispered the promise against her ear while he pulled her short skirt up around her hips, right there in the hotel corridor. She wasn’t wearing panties, and she was exposed in a public place. Unsettled, but even more aroused, the woman had glanced quickly along the corridor. A loud moan escaped her and she wriggled frantically against the door when he stroked the edge of the cardkey over her bared buttock, scratching the surface of her tender skin, readying her for what was to come.

Monica jerked back and stared at the door. Intrigued, she glanced up and down the corridor. Somewhere far beyond she heard a vacuum and Josie, the housekeeper for this floor, singing, as she often did as she worked. It was okay, she hadn’t been drawn in for too long.

Startled at the intensity of the experience and instantly aroused, she put one hand to her chest to level herself, closing her eyes for a moment in order to pull back. This was Monica’s gift, this was her burden—she saw and felt the erotic history of objects, imbued as they were with the sexual energy of the people who had handled them. Memories captured in time raced through her from the point of contact, memories that were specifically erotic. This one was powerful. She’d barely made contact with the door. But they’d been right up against it, and it was often this way if the relationship that lingered had been particularly passionate, offering a secondary experience that was both delicious—and her own private form of torture. At her fingertips, she had a personal stash of mystery erotic experiences, a gift that filled her with desire and excitement, but also left her lonely and aching.

“Hey, Monica. Thanks for coming down. I picked up some lost property for your collection.”

She glanced away to where Josie had stuck her head out of the next suite along the corridor. Josie had called her to check out the suite before it was made over for the next guests, citing low-level damage that warranted repairs, but no customer charges.

“Check these out.” Josie winked and held up a pair of handcuffs. They flashed diamante in the sunlight that came from the window at the end of the hallway.

Handcuffs. Monica clutched her electronic notepad against her side as she walked steadily along the thickly carpeted hallway towards Josie.

“I would have given them to you later,” Josie commented, as she observed the way the cuffs glinted in the light, “but these look pretty genuine to me, like…they’re worth a bit, you know?” Josie’s eyes rounded as she studied the gem-studded cuffs.

Monica nodded. “Yes, of course. You did the right thing, I’m sure the owner will realise they left them behind pretty soon. I’ll log the item right way so that reception is aware I’ve got them if they ask at the front desk.”

She opened her notepad and wrote on the screen, noting the time of collection and the suite number. It was her responsibility as housekeeping manager to secure valuable lost property until it was claimed, but an item such as this would be extremely difficult for her to handle, laden as it would be with sexual energy. It was specifically sexual energy that her psychic ability tapped into. Why, she had no clue, and she’d never been able to talk to anyone besides her sisters about it, for fear of being branded a freak. Their grandmother had been psychic, and Monica and her sisters had inherited it from her, but her grandmother’s skill had nothing to do with sex, and Monica’s was all to do with sex. She could block it out, but after she’d experienced part of the story by the door, her curiosity was up about the rest, and she didn’t trust herself not to make a slip in front of Josie.

Taking the cuffs quickly, she pushed them into her jacket pocket then focused on her electronic notebook to distract herself from the heat and energy contained in the object. Even so, she felt it through the lining of her jacket, the gem-studded cuffs resting heavily against her hipbone.

“Thank you, Josie, I’ll make some notes on the condition of the suite and you can get in there and be done for the day.” She mustered a smile, and nodded at Josie. “How’s hubby?” she added, as a distraction from the seductive call the object in her pocket had on her.

Josie rolled her eyes. “You know what men are like. Honestly, you’d think a broken leg was the end of the world.”