Caught on Camera

Caught on Camera, Part 1

He glanced at her. "Would you mind applying sunscreen to my back? The sun is fierce this morning."

Unfazed by the intimate request, she stepped through the sliding glass doors to do his bidding. Although her shapeless silvery-grey uniform made her practically invisible to guests, rarely did she have the opportunity to get this close to a hunky male. Snagging the bottle of sunscreen he indicated, she scrutinized his even-featured, smooth-shaven face with its Keanu Reeves-like dark, lean intensity. Rachel soaked up North American entertainment media trivia like the Sahara desert absorbed water. She recognized most film and television stars. Unfortunately this handsome dude wasn't one of them.

Elsewhere in the luxury hotel that morning, staff scurried to prepare for a celebrity wedding. The groom, a Hollywood A-list actor, had booked the Sterling Inn Muskoka's fifty rooms because few paparazzi followed celebrities across the border to Canada's version of the Hamptons. Even so, the groom had hired security guards to patrol the perimeter of the five acre lakeshore property. A speedboat cruised back and forth across the bay, keeping boats with no business at the Inn out of telephoto lens range.

Members of the wedding party and guests had begun to arrive the previous day, a Thursday. Juanita Ramirez, the senior Front Desk agent, or, as the male staff nicknamed the amply endowed beauty, the "hostess with the mostest" spread the word that Ryan Gosling had checked in. Rachel shivered with delight, thrilled she'd scored a summer job as a chambermaid in the celebrity-favored resort.

Cleaning rooms occupied by the rich and famous was her ticket to fulfilling her dream to make movies in Hollywood. She needed thirty-five thousand dollars by September for Toronto Film School tuition. After paying room and board in the hotel staff quarters, as of this June wedding weekend she'd managed to save a pitiful couple of thousand, mostly thanks to tips from the affluent guests. But every grueling day of manual labor gave her unobtrusive proximity to famous clientele. She only needed to muster the courage to snap and sell candid photos of Hollywood celebrity guests to the tabloids and entertainment shows.

Rachel squirted SPF 30 lotion onto her palms while calculating how she might sneak a salable photo of this buff guest. Although she didn't recognize him, the fact that he'd been invited to the wedding implied he was a "somebody". No ring adorned the left hand holding the cell phone.

 The man presented his tanned back to her and continued his call. Her fingers trembled as they neared his body. As she spread the lotion on golden, smooth skin, her senses flooded with awareness of his intense masculinity. She forgot about taking a photo. Her slick fingertips itched to sink a little deeper into the rippled muscles across the upper back that tapered to a slim waist. No love handles marred this thirty-ish hunk, dark hair threaded with premature silver. And what a tight butt!

The guest continued to speak into the cell phone, oblivious of her very slow sweeps across his shoulders. "I'll have the contract signed before I leave." He listened for a moment, then replied in a masterful tone, "Baby, don't worry. Stall the property manager until next week. McNichol and Associates is absolutely going to lease that suite." She heard an agitated buzzing from the phone. He chuckled, unperturbed. "I've got this. You know me, how I operate. She'll be putty in my hands."

Ohhh, she had a thing for strong men who exuded confidence. She wanted to be putty in his hands. Preferably naked putty.

However, the General Manager repeatedly drilled into all employees that fraternizing with the guests was not part of the service. To reduce temptation on both sides of guest room doors, the GM made it his unofficial practice to hire plain women as room attendants. Rachel hadn't stressed about passing that test in the job interview. Teased mercilessly in high school, tall, skinny Rachel Lehmann had no illusions about her appearance. Big dark-rimmed glasses dominated an ordinary oval face framed by long mouse-brown hair. Out of uniform Rachel habitually wore baggy T-shirts, hoodies and yoga pants to conceal gangly limbs and a small bust.

Exhaling noisily, the mystery guest ended the call and tucked the cell phone into the pocket of his running shorts. With a quick movement he grabbed his wallet on a patio table and extracted a twenty which he passed to her with a nod. "Thanks, kid. I'll go for a run and get out of your way."

After he hopped over the low wall demarcating the terrace, she re-entered the room and flung a pillow into a down-filled armchair. Damn it. The first potential celebrity she'd gotten close enough to photograph, and her overactive hormones kept her hands busy stroking his muscles instead of pressing the tiny digital camera button. As Rachel stripped the bed she consoled herself with the prospect of two days of photo-ops that lay ahead. Juanita Ramirez would supply this guest's name, let her know if he'd be worth pursuing.

For a photo, that is.