Sondra

I like Embassy Suites, every room has a sofa area where I conduct business, and a separate bedroom where I can still sleep on a clean, dry bed. Each hotel’s atrium employs a different theme. Glendale featured water cascading gently down stone walls into a Koi pond. North Anaheim features a 31st parallel garden, with stone paved paths, footbridges, and small water falls to provide ambience and relaxing white noise.

3100 Bistro, the hotel’s eatery, I choose a table at the edge of the atrium. I can survey the entire atrium and most of the lobby, save the front desk. Halfway through my grilled salmon, a familiar female enters the lobby. It’s pickup-girl, what was her name? Sondra, I think. Sondra disappears to the front desk. Checking in? Well, I might just have to put the moves on her and have some fun tonight.

After a few minutes, Sondra walks out the front door. OK, perhaps I’m a little paranoid, though I have been shot at several times over the past week, but seeing Sondra at this hotel is too much of a coincidence. I fish out seventy-five bucks for the meal and head for the door. I attempt to follow her but the shift manager who wants to know if I enjoyed my meal, accosts me. By the time I get outside, she is gone.

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About HybridHitman

Contract killer for hire.
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