Chapters 4, 5 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19 and 20 are already on Pa tr eon
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Pat re on. c om(slash)wickedbunny(delete spaces)
Rewritten version.
The blaring alarm and flashing light yanked Harry Potter out of his sleep. For a moment, he lay in the massive canopy bed, disoriented and confused. It took a few seconds before his head cleared enough for him to start functioning. He grabbed the hotel phone from its charger and checked the screen. It was 2:12 in the morning. The call was from Tracey Davis in room 3C. Her profile picture showed an attractive woman in her thirties with short, dark hair.
"Concierge Harry," Harry said into the phone. "How can I assist you, Miss Davis?"
"Can you come and open these front doors?" a raspy female voice replied. "I can't get this damn card to work."
The woman was clearly drunk. He might have found it amusing, but Mrs. Longbottom's earlier encounter with a vagrant heightened his concerns. He didn't want this intoxicated guest to become a target for any riffraff lurking outside.
"Just a moment. I'll be right there, Miss Davis."
Harry dragged himself out of bed and hastily threw on some clothes. He slept naked and didn't bother putting on underwear. Taking a few extra seconds to ensure he looked presentable, he made his way to the lobby.
Through the glass of the front doors, he could see a slender woman leaning against the entrance. Just like in her picture, Tracey Davis had black hair cut in a short, almost boyish style.
Harry pressed the remote, and the doors buzzed, causing Miss Davis to stagger. She turned and stumbled through the entrance, cursing under her breath. She held her heels in her hands, and her stockings slid on the marble floor.
As Harry watched, she bumped into a wall, then straightened up and made her way towards the reception desk. Her eyes were glassy, and her mascara was smeared. The smell of alcohol wafted off her in waves.
"Jesus. I thought I left this crap behind when I left the club," Harry muttered.
Dealing with drunk women was a regular part of his duties as a bouncer. He never expected to be doing it in such an elegant place as The Star.
Tracey Davis looked Harry up and down, her eyes unfocused and confused.
"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.
"I'm Harry. I'm the new night concierge."
"What happened to Ed?"
"I'm afraid I can't answer that," Harry said. "You might want to ask the owner, Bellatrix Black."
"I've never seen you before."
"I'm the new concierge," he repeated patiently. "I just started working at The Star Hotel."
"You sure look better than Ed," she muttered. "Did Miss Bellatrix Black hire you? I can guess why. Haha. Are you screwing that stuck-up bitch? No? Not yet?"
Harry cleared his throat and maintained a neutral expression. It was the best way to handle drunk girls. They always seemed to enjoy provoking the guys who were supposed to be on duty.
Even so, Tracey Davis was a very attractive woman despite her intoxicated state. She had bright green eyes that nicely contrasted with her pale skin. Her full lips were smudged with lipstick, which also stained her perfectly white teeth. She wore a conservatively cut suit, but she had unbuttoned her blouse almost to her waist, revealing a bra that struggled to contain her ample D-cup breasts.
She leaned over the counter, giving Harry a view down her blouse.
"Won't you help me get to my room?" she asked.
Harry averted his gaze from her cleavage, focusing on a point over her shoulder. "Of course, Miss Davis. I'd be happy to help."
"Mmm, such a gentleman." She cleared her throat, then started giggling. "I bet you'd like to help me out of this suit too, wouldn't you?"
Tracey Davis swayed, almost falling to her knees. Harry grabbed her arm to steady her.
"Alright. Let's get you upstairs."
His old instincts kicked in as he held her. He shifted his stance from concierge to nightclub bouncer.
"Sure, take me upstairs, big boy. I'll make it worth your while. She clung to his neck, her breath hot and sour on his skin. "I suck cock like a fucking pro. And my pussy…"
"That's enough, Miss Davis."
"Tracey. Call me Tracey."
"Alright, Tracey. Let's be civilized, shall we?"
Harry pried her off him and half-carried her to the elevator. His face was calm, but inside he felt uneasy. Handling a drunk sorority girl was one thing. Dealing with a drunk client at a place like The Star was much riskier. His job was on the line with a woman like this.
The elevator doors opened, and Harry guided her inside. She clung tightly to him as they stepped in, humming some pop song under her breath.
"Damn, you've got big muscles, Larry."
"Harry," he corrected her.
"Is your dick as big as your muscles? Let me check."
Tracey giggled wildly at her own joke. Harry clenched his teeth and pushed her hand away as she tried to slide it down the front of his pants.
The elevator doors mercifully opened, and they spilled out into the hallway. He guided Tracey Davis to room 3C.
"Here we are," Harry said. "Do you have your key?"
"Of course, I do," she mumbled. She fumbled with the brass key, unable to get it into the lock. Suppressing an irritated sigh, Harry took the key and unlocked the door himself.
Tracey stumbled inside, nearly pulling Harry with her. He caught himself on the doorframe, supporting her with an arm around her slim waist.
"Your room is ready," he said, making sure she was steady on her feet before releasing her. "You should get some rest, Tracey."
"Don't go, big boy." She grabbed his shirt, her eyes glassy. "Stay with me tonight. I'll make it worth your while, I promise."
Harry gently pried her fingers off. "I'm afraid that wouldn't be appropriate."
"Afraid of a little fun?" She smiled at him, her painted lips curling into a grin. "Or maybe you're scared you can't handle me?"
"I'll manage. Call if you need anything."
"I need a big, hard cock, Larry."
Harry hesitated for a moment. Tracey was very attractive and very eager to drag him to bed. She was maybe ten years older than him. Every guy dreams of bedding an older woman. Especially one as hot as she was.
Unfortunately, Tracey Davis was drunk. She was also a guest at the hotel where he worked. In every way, this was crossing a line.
Harry cleared his throat, looking away. "Goodnight, Tracey."
Before she could protest, he closed the door between them. His heart pounded wildly as he leaned against the closed door, her drunken invitation replaying in his mind.
With effort, Harry Potter pushed away from the door and straightened his jacket. He couldn't afford to entertain such fantasies, no matter how tempting they were. He had a job to do, and bedding guests, especially drunk ones, was far beyond his professional duties.
Harry returned downstairs to the lobby. As he walked back to his apartment, he glanced at the monitor and noticed the view of the third-floor hallway. "Oh, hell!" he hissed.
On the monitor, he saw that the door to room 3C was open. Tracey lay halfway in her room and halfway out. She was completely naked. Next to her was Mrs. Longbottom from room 3B, crouching down and tapping on her phone. Unsurprisingly, the hotel phone buzzed in Harry's hand.
"Good evening, Mrs. Longbottom," Harry said before she could speak. "I just saw you on the monitor. I'll be right there!"
Mrs. Longbottom waved at the camera and put her phone down. Harry rushed back to the elevator and quickly pressed the button for the third floor.
"Stay calm, man. You've handled drunk women before. She's no different just because she's rich and attractive. Just do your job and stay professional," he reminded himself.
Taking a few deep breaths to steady his nerves, Harry forced a neutral expression onto his face as the elevator doors opened, and he stepped into the hallway.
"I'm afraid the young lady has had a bit too much to drink," Mrs. Longbottom greeted him.
"Harry!" Tracey called out to him. "I was just coming to find you. You won't get away that easily, big guy!"
Mrs. Longbottom rolled her eyes. Harry shared an exasperated look with her.
"Do you think you can manage?" Mrs. Longbottom asked gently.
"Yes, ma'am. I apologize for the disturbance."
"It's not your fault, Harry. But it seems the Star Hotel is no longer the quiet sanctuary for women it once was."
Mrs. Longbottom's displeased expression was a warning sign that she was seriously considering another hotel. Harry made a mental note to discuss this with Bellatrix the next time he saw her. Customer satisfaction was her top priority. She needed to know about these growing issues before they escalated.
First, though, he had to take care of Tracey. She clung to his leg, trying to steady herself. Remembering to stay professional, Harry looked away as he reached down to help her stand, focusing on assisting her to walk.
"I really messed up, didn't I?" Tracey mumbled as Harry led her to the bed.
"You're fine," he assured her. "Just a little drunk."
"Why did you leave the door open?"
"I won't be staying long."
In reality, Harry had left the door open because he knew the hallway camera was still recording. If he had to deal with a drunk guest, he wanted some record of what transpired. Just in case.
Tracey's room was dimly lit, casting shadows over the expensive furniture. The scent of her perfume hung in the air, mingling with the unmistakable odor of alcohol. Harry gently guided her toward the bed, noticing her unsteady gait and unfocused expression.
Tracey leaned against his back as he pulled back the covers and prepared the bed for her.
"Lie down here," he instructed.
For a moment, their eyes met—hers clouded with intoxication, his filled with concern.
"Stay with me, Harry," she whispered, her voice sensuous but vulnerable. "I'm so lonely."
Harry hesitated, conflicting emotions raging in his mind, but he knew what she was asking was impossible.
"Tracey, I..."
He began to protest, but she cut him off. With surprising speed, she reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him toward her.
"Kiss me," she demanded, staring at him with fierce intensity.
Harry lost himself in the moment, drawn in by the warmth of her body and the vulnerability in her gaze. Tracey took advantage of his hesitation, lunging forward to kiss him. As their lips met, he felt a surge of desire, his body responding to her touch even as his mind screamed in protest.
But then, like a snapped rubber band, Harry's conscience and professionalism kicked in.
"Tracey, I'm sorry," he murmured, gently disentangling himself from her grasp. "I can't do this."
He laid her down on the mattress. She went limp, allowing him to settle her like a child. She looked at him, her eyes glimmering with disappointment before closing as the alcohol took its toll.
As Harry stepped away from the bed, he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for what might have been if only the circumstances were different. But his duty as a concierge was clear: provide care and assistance while maintaining professional boundaries.
He searched the room for something to make Tracey more comfortable and help ease her morning hangover. On the nightstand, he spotted a bottle of sparkling water. He grabbed it, unscrewed the cap, and placed it within her reach.
"Drink this when you wake up," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "It'll help."
As Harry started to leave, she stirred slightly and called out, her words slurred and heavy with inebriation.
"You know, Harry... I'd fuck you so good. My pussy is to die for."
Harry suppressed a chuckle. The situation was absurd in its own way. And while he knew he had made the right choice, the temptation still lingered, nibbling at the edges of his resolve.
"Goodnight, Tracey," he responded gently, striving to keep his tone professional. "Sleep well."
Her only response was a soft snore as she drifted into unconsciousness.
Harry left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. As he headed toward the elevator, he was surprised to see Mrs. Longbottom standing by the doors.
"You handled that well, young man."
Harry nodded. "I tried to be helpful."
"You succeeded. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Mrs. Longbottom."
She returned to her room. Harry caught the elevator back to the lobby. When he returned to the grand canopy bed, he could still smell Tracey's perfume on his skin.
"What a night," he sighed.
He placed the hotel phone back on its charger. Staring at the ceiling, he willed his body to relax. He still had six hours left on his shift and needed to be ready.
Chapters 4, 5 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19 and 20 are already on Pa tr eon
If you would like to read the next chapters faster, see exclusive content, or support my work, please visit
Pat re on. c om(slash)wickedbunny(delete spaces)
Rewritten version.