[interesting]

Three days in. This is the day where I finally get her.

"Hala?" I call the girl out.

She looks back, somewhat startled. Her ass cheeks bump slightly as she twirls to see me. I'm no stranger. She has seen me practically every day since they got here, and we have had a few pleasant conversations.

"Melody. Hi. Didn't hear you."

We share a common language. That is always helpful when trying to get into someone's pants - shorts, in this case.

"Sorry," I fake apologizing. "Aren't you at the pool? I saw your mother down there."
"Nah... didn't feel like sun today."

I look down at her music player.

"What are you listening to?" I inquire.

She tells me the name of the song or the group. It's only a polite question on my part.

"Can I listen?"
"Sure."

I move around the bed and sit beside her. Her tanned skin is so inviting contrasted with the bright colors of her short and tank top. I feel the bulge forming under my dress. It's a bit too soon for that, but hopefully not too much. She plays the music for a minute.

"Never heard this before," I tell her.
"It's great. I can never listen to it at home. My grandparents won't let me."
"Your father and mother are very different from the rest of your family, it seems."
"They are. They're great!"

In her home country, wherever that is, women are second-class citizens. Here, in my hotel, Hala and her mother are free to explore their sexuality and life as they see fit. I know the father/husband does the same. He has booked evenings at a local strip bar, and I know at least one instance (from a previous visit) of an affair with one of the strippers. This particular trip is more about business, but that doesn't mean he won't indulge. People who come to my hotel almost expect that normal rules of conduct don't apply. It makes me smile.

"What are you smiling about?" Hala asks me.

I realize I was lost in my thoughts.

"You," I reply.
"Me? Why?"
"Your youth. Your energy. I envy it."

She smiles, but then becomes serious.

"You're not that much older than I am," she tells me.
"True, but I work here. I have a steady job. You... can have all the fun you want. All the fun you need."

I go for the pity play, and it seems to work. She places a hand on my knee, for sympathy. I feel the arousal coming back; I'm really sensitive today. I make sure that she can't see my erection for now.

"I'm sure you have lots of fun."
"I used to," I tell her, sounding as naive as possible. "When I was your age - I know it wasn't so long ago - before I worked here, you know what I liked to do?"
"No."

I have piqued her curiosity.

"I used to do a lot of daring stuff in the hotel."
"Daring? Like what?"
"Fun stuff. Running in the halls naked. Stealing towels from the carts. Simple stuff."

I see that her interest is still sharp, so I decide to expand my make believe story (it's only partly invented, as it is based on experiences indirectly related to what I'll be telling her).

"I used to have a few girlfriends, back then. We would have parties in our underwear, braid our hair, swim naked, tell each other stories, shower together... whatever we wanted!"
"Wow!" she lets out.
"Don't you have anyone like that back home?"

She almost laughs, but it's forced.

"Nope. I don't really have any friends. Well, no one that I can do things like that with..."
"That's a shame," I tell her, and then I wait.

There's a moment of silence. I hope she picks up my cue. She doesn't. I have to force it out of her; it's always more difficult when it comes from me, but if I want to make some headway, I have to go for it.

"Well... maybe you and I can do something daring."

Her eyes light up: it's the reaction I was hoping for.

"Like what?" she asks.
"I don't know... I... made a lot of suggestions," I tell her. "Maybe one of those? Or something else? What do you want to do - no, let me rephrase. What can't you do at home that you really want to do here?"

The question lingers in the air, and I hope she's going to aim in the right direction. I'm up for anything, of course, but there are a few ideas that top my list, and most of them involve a lot less clothing than we have right now.

Her mind wanders to the possibilities. I can't say anything. It has to be her choice, otherwise she'll feel manipulated. Hopefully, I have built up enough innuendo to sway her decision.