The Hotel Pt. 1– On Discretion
What hotels know and what they choose not to say
November, the season of interiors. We retreat indoors, behind curtains, into rooms with artificial warmth and silence. Hotels, their anonymity/secrecy, their walls, and their codes represent that shift. This is a tempting look behind hospitality’s polished façade. A voyeuristic glimpse into the world of hotel life where privacy, luxury, and unspoken transactions intertwine. Where soundproof walls and well-designed (easy-to-clean) furniture determine a guest experience worth returning for.
Nothing. Only the sound of slightly too-starched bed linen you feel against your skin. The calming caress of corporate cotton. A clean slate. Yet, something lingers. A phantasy, perhaps. Or is it a memory? In moments like this small details amplify.
Entering your temporary home, you noticed this couple next door slipping into theirs. World vanishig, bodies entangled, just a touch too intimate for the carpeted corridors of your shared home. A small rupture in the corporate anonymity of a luxury hotel or any other hotel and the stillness it usually creates.
A glimpse, nothing more. Something lingers in the quiet here and now. A flash of movement, a trace of scent: elegant yet modern, like the soap of a fine hotel. Was it hers? A souvenir from the corridor? A phantasy? A memory? Or simply your own hands?
Something lingers.
I’m sitting in the lobby
As I write this, I’m sitting in the lobby. A scribbled note with a pen on a napkin, then paper: “There are secrets, and there are things spoken so softly they become their own kind of silence”. I travel lightly, but pens always find their way home with me. Small trophies. Evidence of my brief excursions into the demimonde. Your lobby? Possibly. We will never know. Eventually. Perhaps we would. Because I could, in the future.
I’m sitting in the lobby. In between a thousand in-betweens: arriving, waiting, leaving. Standby. From this anonymous armchair, I watch people like you. Arriving. Leaving. Killing time. A meeting in between. A liaison?
There are things spoken so softly they become their own kind of silence
We don’t know who these people are. A couple? A work affair? A Tinder date? A spontaneous rendezvous? Adventurous lovers? Or people like us. You and me, yesterday or next month. No-one knows. And crucially, neither does: the management.
Hotels care
The hotel’s business model is simple: to offer a place of rest and relaxation. A unique guest experience designed to make you return, again and again. To a place where time slows and you feel taken care of: Fresh towels whenever you please and your green heart allows; a second bottle of champagne at night with a club sandwich and fries on the side; an umbrella pressed into your hand before you step into the November rain and later so into mine after I’ve kissed you good night and leave into the dark wet of an even later one. Hotels care; this is what they do. Secrets are there to keep. And secrets those they keep. Quietly. Professionally. Without hesitation.
Secrets are there to keep. And secrets those they keep
A hotel’s interest lies in providing what their guests desire most. What you desire most. In a continually accelerating society the most valued luxury is time. Time without its pressure. Time to rest and relax. Time to savour. And here, people like me quietly enter the picture…
And here, people like me quietly enter the picture
I am an independent escort, a high-class escort or ‘Edelhure’ as the Germans would say, and hotels are the nucleus of my world. Secrets are there to keep. And secrets those I keep. Quietly. Professionally. Without hesitation.