Chapter 1: The Mysterious Meeting

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It all started one fateful afternoon in summer of 2012. I was working as a bellboy at the Trump Hotel in Hong Kong on an internship program. It was marvelous. I come from a very small farm town in Michigan, and this was my first time in a big city. I loved everything about it. It was all I could have ever dreamed of, and more. But little did I know, it was all about to change. I was stacking someone's tacky luggage when the door behind me swept opened. My loins trembled as the scent of toupee adhesive and spray tan swept through my nasal cavity. I wanted nothing more than to turn around and see the golden god behind these scents, but I couldn't move. I was frozen. There was a tap on my shoulder, "young man" the voice said. I thought to myself "oh my god, could this be him?"

There was only one way to be sure. I gathered all of my strength and turned around. Was I hallucinating? This couldn't be real. It was him. It was Donald! He stood there in front of me, like a tall stallion. With his oily orange skin glistening in the sunlight as if he were a soggy cheeto, his hair unkempt and messy, like a gorgeous rat's nest. He was beautiful. More beautiful than I could have ever dreamed. "Y-yes sir?" I said nervously. "I need you to bring these bags up to my room." He said sternly, like a grandfather upset that a news broadcast interrupted Jeopardy. His voice wrapped around my body like queso around a smothered burrito. I was unable to speak. What is this feeling I'm having? I forced myself to speak, but only the word "what" would come out. "I don't have all fucking day, you loser" he said next. "I'm so sorry, sir" I whimpered as I grabbed his bags. "I'll get these up to you immediately."

He shook his head and trotted off towards the elevator. As he got further and further, my eyes continued to be glued to his rear end. His gorgeous ass flapped behind him like a mouthwatering stack of pancakes in his pants. My hunger for pancakes had never been stronger.

And that's when it happened. He looked back. He caught me staring at his donk. He could have me immediately had me fired for this, but he didn't. Instead, he smiled and continued to hop on the elevator. What is happening? Am I losing my mind? I didn't come here to find love, but did love find me? No. It couldn't be. I ran to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. "This is insane, I must crazy" I said to myself in the mirror as the cold water dripped down my face and uniform. I stood there for minutes, just looking into my reflection. I gathered myself, dried off and went to the front desk. "I need to take a break" I demanded from Helen, the hotel manager. "That's fine, be back in 15" she growled to me. I hope 15 minutes is enough time for me to figure out what the fuck is going on. I was almost out the door before the phone rang. Helen stopped me "wait," she yelled to me as she hung up the phone. "Take those bags up to Mr. Trump's room before you go on break. He needs them now, and he asked specifically that you bring them." He did what? He asked for me specifically to bring them? Why me?

So many questions racing through my mind, like a cool teenager on heelys in a mall. I gathered Mr. Trump's luggage and headed for the elevator. His luggage said "Made in China" on it, how ironic. My heartbeat was faster than the elevator as it ticked upwards. I wonder why he asked for me? What could this be about? I wonder if he... likes me? How could he like me, he JUST met me! "DING!" the elevator rang as we reached the penthouse. I walked down the hall to his door. I've walked this hall many times, but never before has it seemed this long. It felt like an eternity. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and put my hand up to his door to knock. He answered the door wearing only a robe. The robe open just enough for me to see his beautiful saggy chest. A chest that would give Betty White a run for her money. "Finally, I've been waiting" he complained and he took his bags and slammed his door. My heart sank. I guess he just wanted his bags? As soon as I began to pick up the pieces of my shattered heart, the door whipped open again. "I almost forgot" he said as he handed me a wad of money as a tip, and a piece of paper "Don't be late" he said in a smile, as he closed the door once more. I stood there, paralyzed, holding what looked like hundreds of dollars and this note. What was this note? I pulled it from the money and held it up. The note said "Be back here at 8pm, and get yourself something nice to wear." My knees trembled as I read it. This couldn't be happening. But it was. I told Helen I wasn't feeling well, and left work early. I couldn't be there anymore, I needed to go home.

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