Hotel Paradiso
written by: A.L. Paradiso
@ALP25182398
Beautiful and busty brunette Beatrice and her beau brunched on bountiful charcuterie morsels in their expensive hotel suite as they reviewed the detailed hotel layout and their finalized plans for their grand heist. Good timing prevented the hotel from processing their stolen Gold card.
“Why so gloomy, Beatrice? We will be diamond rich in just two days. After a year of planning, setting up our escape, and waiting for the hotel’s Grand opening, I’m sure we’re ready to pull off this caper right under their noses. We need to cover the cost of this expensive Hotel Paradiso suite, your elaborate gown, and feathered mask. Just one of the visiting Princess’ diamonds will handle all that. I have a buyer waiting to buy the full necklace in Columbia.”
“Faking backstopped Id’s and an invite to the Grande Masquerade Ball at Hotel Paradiso in Rose City was easy compared to my making this bulky, layered gown into a break away outfit. I’d rather go naked under it than wear that skin hugging, lycra cover which doesn’t breathe. What do I say to people who will ask why I sweat so much? It’s suspicious and police will collar both of us.”
“Don’t panic. I’ll love you either way. Maybe you’re right. Forget the lycra, but remember you will have to slither thru a filthy sewer to escape. That gown will slow you and get you caught. Are you sure you want to do that naked? Remember, no loose ends.”
“But you said it hasn’t been used in years, love. It should at least be dry. I’ll get a full size bikini bottom to keep my bottom sanitary. I already bent the latch above the dress’ zipper so all I need do is flex and it will unzip. When my boobs fall out, I’ll scream and yank the Velcroed bottom apart to let the dress fall off. Show me the photograph of the secret exit from the security office again.”
“Here it is. Behind the file cabinet is the release latch. The eyes of the woman in the photo on the cabinet mark the level of the small latch. Repeat the plan to me.”
“What again? OK. One minute after the Waltz music rhythm speeds up, I will be near the princess and arrange to lose my gown leaving me naked except for my bikini bottoms. That will focus people on my body, not my face, though I’ll keep my face covered with the feather mask. Furthering the distraction, I’ll ‘fall’ on the princess, rip her dress top down to add to the confusion and swap her million-dollar necklace with this paste version by dropping the copy by her feet. You will kill the lights and block the security office door open when the guard rushes out, then dump a quart of lighter fluid into a big trash can.”
“Yes. And you’ll pass me the necklace so I can hide it in my narrow, secret, jacket pocket. Don’t forget to take your gown with you and drop it into the burning trash can. Before I follow you out, I’ll make sure to trip the smoke alarms to add more confusion. You slip out the secret exit. I’ll be close behind you after I lock the doors. Drop into the sewer, go right 500 feet to the third ladder, then up and out to the alley.”
Breathless Beatrice gulped, “Yes. There’s a new trash can in the alley hiding street clothes for me. We’ll casually walk to the car and slowly drive off to the private airport and our secure future. I’m still scared.”
***
Two days later, the plan ran like clockwork. The Waltz played, Beatrice ‘tripped’ into a security guard, guided him to rip her dress off, ‘stumbled’ into the Princess, ripped her top down to her waist, swapped out the diamond necklace, and ran screaming in ’embarrassment’ out the doors.
The two pronged, four breasted distraction worked well. Her beau killed the lights. As he set a trash can on fire, she ran past, wearing flats and bikini bottoms only. She passed him the ornate necklace and dumped the dress and mask into the flaming trash can — no loose ends. He set off the fire alarms and sprinklers. The release latch was mechanical and popped the hidden door open. Like clockwork so far. Nervous yet smiling, Beatrice rushed and reached the third sewer ladder when her beau stopped her.
“Wait Beatrice. There’s some bad news.” He pushed a knife deep under her bare ribs and saw the life fade from her eyes. “Thanks, babe. No loose ends.” He watched her fall into the dried muck and left.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
I couldn’t tell you her beau’s name — that would be a loose end. You know how he feels about that.
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