The 100 One Shots

A Night Well Spent(Clexa)

The hotel at least, Lexa has to admit, is far cleaner than most she has ever been called to before.

She pulls up in her unassuming black convertible, parking after several minutes of eying the lot and deciding that no, a spot closer to the front entrance will not be opening up anytime soon, and gets out with a quiet sigh of amusement at the utterly scandalized look a harried mother shoots her as she desperately ushers her children into her own vehicle, doing her best to keep Lexa out of their sight.

'Please,' Lexa scoffs inwardly; she's not even wearing her best outfit. She's still in public, after all, and say what you like about her line of work, she still has a sense of class. She isn't Octavia, who would likely walk buck naked into the hotel lobby to pick up a fresh muffin from the free breakfast buffet if her client asked her to.

Still, as she ducks into the back seat to grab hold of her deflated overnight bag – the pay had been surprisingly good, especially in advance, but still wasn't enough for most of her toys – she casts a critical eye at the dark blue fabric currently wrapped around her body, at the heels sharp enough to cause serious damage to a man's body if necessary – she knows; she's tried – and concludes that it was the tattoo on her right arm that made the mother so upset; for all that the pay is so high, she'd still worn the closest thing to 'modest' her closet had to give.

Rolling her eyes, Lexa slaps the car door closed and absently clicks the lock, briskly walking to the door without bothering to look back.

The choice of venue is odd, so definitely not a regular; the pay had been exceptional and upfront, all cash, so someone who was clearly richer than most.

Maya hadn't been much help over the phone when she'd given her the job. "Cute blonde, kinda young, wanted a brunette and a lesbian and: bingo! You're hired, dear!"

Lexa had been fairly rude in her response, but she figured she was owed that, at least; never let it be said that the boss's daughter couldn't be an obnoxious brat when she wanted to be.

Still, she thinks as she walks through the automatic sliding glass doors that her usual haunts would never be able to afford, Maya's descriptions were hardly ever wrong, and as she scans the lobby with an air of detachment on her way to the front desk, she figures that, whatever the circumstances, a full night with a cute blonde can't be too terrible.

The man at the front desk smiles at her far too widely when she gives him the room number. "Ah, Room 237 is on the second floor," he grits out, clearly uncomfortable that, due to Lexa's extensive paperwork and legal manhandling, everything she's here to do is perfectly legal in every way.

The smile she gives him as she thanks him is almost warm enough to be termed 'frosty' as she turns away to find an elevator.

The trip up takes no time at all; by the time she reaches the second floor and finds her room, she's started tapping her bag against her thigh, not exactly a nervous habit as it is a routine; another day another dollar, or perhaps in her case, another night another thousand.

Her knuckle barely even grazes the wood before the door is practically flung open, and Lexa blinks as she's given her first view of sun-gold hair and ocean-blue eyes, her client disheveled and wide-eyed like a cornered animal about to become prey.

"Um," her client starts, licking her lips as if to psyche herself up. "Hi."

"Hello," Lexa returns mildly, feeling a faint beat of amusement as her client stares at her openly for several long seconds before realizing she's effectively trapped her outside in the hall.