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After a tough breakup, Lexa Mae decides she needs a change. From the southern plains of South Dakota to the Big Apple, Lexa books a hotel room and spa package at the prestigious Sterling Hotel in Times Square.
Looking forward to a relaxing getaway, Lexa's fun is spoiled the moment handsome fireman Jules Sinclair knocks on her door ordering an evacuation. Wearing nothing but a towel, she slams the door in his face, unwilling to leave just yet.
Forced from the hotel as an explosion rocks the seventh floor, Lexa has managed to secure her dress but no panties as the handsome fireman rescues her from the burning flames. With no friends in the city and her belongings destroyed, she has nowhere else to go.
Jules invites Lexa to the fire station, offering her clothes, shelter, and even a hard spanking for dismissing his order to evacuate.
Will she learn to submit to Jules, or is the heat just too much?
The clouds were thick with rain, the air sticky, and it seemed to match Lexa’s mood perfectly. Clarence ended the relationship. She wasn’t even sure she could even call it that anymore. What they shared was good, the romance sizzled and faded, but it had never been enough. She wasn’t sure she even loved him, ever. She wanted a man that was dominant, that could keep her in line when she was a naughty girl. Lexa had a string of naughtiness that was begging to come out. She just needed the right man, and Clarence was far from it.
In dire need of a vacation from her small town, Lexa headed to the Sterling Hotel for a vacation from her life, with spa treatments lined up, and pampering galore.
Was she upset about the breakup? Not if she was to be honest with herself, but it wasn’t like she had eligible bachelors lining up to date her either. It was truly slim pickings in South Dakota.
The cab driver took her to the front of the Sterling Hotel and let her out. She paid far more than she thought fair as he’d driven in circles, unable to find the Sterling, the most prestigious hotel in all of New York City, or so she’d read online.
She loved to travel and had hoped Clarence and her would have been able to travel the world together, but it was unrealistic. She fell solely in love with the idea of him, having a boyfriend that would take her away from their small town. Clarence had never left South Dakota, ever.
That should have been a sign that their relationship wasn’t going to work. She pushed the signs aside, desiring a man that could make her weak at the knees and paddle her bottom when she deserved to be kept in line. Of course that hadn’t been Clarence either. What the hell had she seen in him? He wasn’t bad to look at, but that wasn’t enough.
Forcing cash into the cab driver’s hand, she dragged her luggage through the first raindrops that licked the pavement. She skirted inside before the downpour but not to the front desk before the lights flickered.
“Shit,” Lexa said under her breath. She hoped the hotel could still check her into her room. She had an appointment for a massage later that afternoon and didn’t want to miss it.
The flood lights kicked on, offering a third of the light previously as she’d stepped inside the hotel. She stood in line, waiting for the next available front desk clerk to help her.
“Next!” the gentleman standing behind the desk asked. His nametag read Stephan. “Name?” he asked.
“Lexa Mae.” She reached into her purse and pulled out her credit card.
“Identification please,” he said.
Lexa retrieved her driver’s license, handing it to Stephan.
“You’re still able to do that, even without electricity?” Lexa asked, surprised she could check into the hotel room.
“Yes, our backup generators handle all our payment and check-in services. Lucky for you.” He smiled politely. “Credit card?”
She pushed her card across the desk, her heels clicking under her feet.
Wordlessly, he checked her into the hotel and handed her back her driver’s license, credit card, and then room key.
“You’re on floor seven in room seven twenty-two.”
“Do the elevators work?” Lexa asked.
“Not until the lights go back on. There’s a stairwell that’s lit and one of our bellhops can bring up your bags after the lights come back on.”
“Thanks.” How bad could seven flights be? She left her bag with the bellhop and headed for the stairwell. The clerk was correct, a set of floodlights illuminated the stairs considerably well. She trudged up the stairs, not counting the number. Half way to her floor, she gripped the handrail and took a break. Seven flights were tedious. What was she thinking? Lexa had strong calves and a good ass, but she couldn’t jog more than three flights without needing oxygen to fill her lungs, and a lot of it.
By the time she made it out onto the seventh floor, lightening illuminated the hall through the large pane windows. The shades were drawn, allowing what little light outside to seep onto the floor. She crossed the corridor, coming toward her hotel room to feel the heat of the lights flickering back on. Slipping the key into the lock, she entered her room.
Her cheeks were red and she dropped her purse and keys on the desk, heading right for the coffee pot to put on a cup.
Another sizzle of lightening crackled the sky, spiking the tower to the skyscraper across the street. Lexa’s heart momentarily skipped a beat, the air and moment electrifying. Thunder clapped with a ferocious intensity forcing the building to tremor as if there were a slight quake.
Lexa turned on the television and sat at the edge of the bed, waiting for her bags to be brought up to her room.
A loud pop echoed through the building. What the hell was that? It didn’t sound like thunder. She poked her head out of the room and watched as a man dressed in black headed toward the opposite staircase.
“Shit!” Did someone just get murdered? No. It had to be her over-active imagination. She was a writer and damn her creativity at a time like this. Writing horror stories would be the death of her, quite literally.
She’d started her career as a journalist, writing for her local paper until she realized that her passion came from writing fiction. She couldn’t fictionalize news reports, which made journalism not nearly as interesting as she once thought it to be. Living in a small town meant there were no interesting leads or stories to report.
Lexa heard the elevator ding just outside her door. A moment later a repetitive knock paddled her door. “Who’s there?” She glanced through the peephole not expecting a murderer to admit that they were there to kill her.
“I’ve brought your bag,” the bellhop said.
Lexa opened her hotel room door and let the gentleman inside. “Sorry, I’m just a little jumpy.”
“Because of the electricity?” the bellhop asked. “I assure you, it’s nothing to worry about.”
She shook her head slowly and dug into her pocket, handing him a few dollars as a tip. “No, it wasn’t that. I swear I heard a gunshot.”
The bellhop smiled and laughed. “Don’t believe everything you hear about New York City. It’s not all bad.” He nodded toward the cash in his hand. “Thank you. Let us know if you need anything else.”
Lexa closed her door and secured the lock. Maybe she did need a good massage to help her relax and forget all the anxiety creeping up on her. Being in such a large city alone brought about a new feeling of fear she’d never felt. Anxiety crept at her and she tried to untangle herself from its ugly web as it clutched her arms, her chest, and her face, making it difficult to breathe.
The worst thing she could do, she poured herself a hot cup of coffee and she fed into her caffeine addiction. It made her feel better, at least until it caused her to be jittery.