"Yeah, the one I have at home is different, sorry. I hope I didn't break it." He chuckles, but not nervously. He got over being nervous around attractive men long ago when he realized nothing was going to happen there.

"No, it's fine now. Just a minute." The bellhop said, dialing the air conditioner back. He flashes a smile, sweet and bright and downright adorable.

"Oh, well, thank you." He briefly debates saying something like 'Maybe I'll sleep tonight after all.', but decides against it since, for one thing, he probably won't, he'll just lie there for a few hours thinking about this man and his own marriage before he gives up and has a smoke, and for another, he's used up enough of the bellhop's time. So instead he digs into his pocket for his wallet and starts sifting through the bills for a tip. He's about to pull out a few ones when he notices the pair of perfectly shined black leather shoes now just a few inches from his own feet.

Sal's almost afraid to look up, but when he does, slowly, well, there he is, so close he can smell peppermint on the bellhop's breath. His eyes are a dark shade of green-Sal has a shade like that in his pencils, though not so vibrant-and the look in them is questioning and expectant. It is in that seconds-long gaze that Sal feels the change in his evening, like tonight will grant him a first.

The lips now pressing on his are, for the first time, not Kitty's, not even a woman's. It's different, but in the best way possible. It's what he's always wanted, the desire he's always suppressed, and he can't help keeping his eyes closed after the bellhop pulls away so he doesn't have to see the horror on his face.

But there isn't any horror, just a tiny quirk of a smile, then that glorious sensation is back, and Sal is suddenly so starved for it that he doesn't object or question it in the slightest when the man pulls him right to his chest. Instead he puts his hand on the bellhop's waist like he would with Kitty. One kiss turns into three, deep and passionate and…frankly, mind-blowing.

He's grateful when this man pulls away again, hoping to catch his breath, but no, there are other plans. Nimble fingers begin to work at the buttons on his vest. He's still panting a little when he finally gets it undone and sends him an eyebrow quirk as to the ink stain on his shirt.

"Airplane." because two syllables are all he can really get out now. Again, that endearing smile before his mouth is attacked again, this time with the beauty of a skilled tongue, quick and well-maneuvered, and arms exposed after he shucks off his uniform jacket because, in this kind of heat, who needs more than their undershirt? The bellhop keeps his breath on his neck as he fumbles to undo Sal's belt, and the resulting sensory overload gives him no choices but to tilt his head back and let out a whispered "Oh, god…"

He knows he's being led to the mattress, and really, he no longer cares. As far as he's concerned, a bellhop can take him anywhere they want as long as they kiss in a way that sets off explosions behind his eyes.

When those beautiful, practiced fingers slip beneath the border, he accepts he's beyond the point of return. Not that it matters, because those fingers plus the lips at his neck are causing any kind of discernible thought to melt down. It's really all he can do to moan actual words like "Oh, Jesus…" as opposed to a lot of noise. He doesn't even know this man's name. How can he give him so much pleasure without giving him his name?

He begins to ask when the shrill sound of bells begins.

It's deafening, shrill, and most definitely a mood killer. "What is that?" the mix of adrenaline and more hormones than he's had in his system for a long, long time makes Sal's voice panicky.

"Fire alarm." The bellhop says as he leaps off of him as if nothing happened. He's not calm, but he's certainly not panicking. "Not a huge deal, we just need to leave the building. There's a ladder outside the window."

"Yeah, yeah, of course." It's as he's doing his belt up again that he sees the shocked face of his coworker. "Hey-"


"I get the feeling we're not gonna have a chance to pick this up again, but I wanted to know…what's your name?"

But the bellhop just stares at him like he's crazy and crawls out the window. "Trust me-" he mutters, later, when they're downstairs and out of earshot, "it's best you don't know. You strike me as someone who'd get obsessive and I'm not worth the trouble."

And honestly, Sal can accept that after a few hours of thinking and a smoke.