The first words that came out of his mouth were (I am paraphrasing now): There was a knock on the door, and who should walk into the room? The older black Daddy from the foyer. He picked up the phone and ordered pizza. But I was too tired and hungry to get in the mood. He wanted a muscle daddy, and I tried to get into the spirit of things. Anything was better than being stuck in the lobby. In any case, around 5pm, a guy came up to me and invited me to his room for play.
I would also have known that I was in the wrong hotel! Had I checked my emails before setting out from Boston, I would have found out that his car had broken down. Since I had no phone, there was no way he could call me back. I was grateful for the gesture and called the number, but it went straight to voicemail. “Would you like to call him?” he said, handing me his phone. There I noticed an older Black Daddy with a stylish walking stick and a group of slaves and boys following him around. I had been hanging about in the foyer of the host hotel all this time.
