Transit, 20
Added 2024-05-09 21:09:17 +0000 UTCLori stood in the elevator, her reflection mirroring back at her from the polished metal doors. She straightened her spine and drew a deep breath, her eyes locking with her own in the reflection. "Time to get back on track," she whispered to herself, trying to inject a dose of confidence into her wavering spirit. Despite the skimpy, leopard-print top and the snug black shorts that screamed 'provocative,' she needed to own her look with poise and assurance.
As the elevator dinged, signaling her arrival at the lobby level, Lori squared her shoulders. The doors slid open with a soft whoosh, revealing the opulent expanse of the hotel’s main corridor, the marble floors gleaming under the ornate lighting. It was showtime. With one last reassuring glance at her reflection, she stepped out of the elevator.
The lobby was bustling, a mix of business travelers and tourists milling about, some pausing to stare openly at her unusual attire. Lori felt a twinge of self-consciousness but quashed it quickly. She had to remember who she was—no, who she needed to be at this moment.
She began to walk towards the reception desk, each step measured and deliberate. It was less of a walk and more of a runway strut. Lori channeled every ounce of confidence she could muster, her hips swaying slightly, her chin tilted up. The high heels clicked authoritatively on the stone floor, a steady beat that drowned out the whispers and the subdued chuckles from the onlookers.
The receptionists, noticing her approach, initially looked puzzled but quickly masked their surprise with professional smiles. Lori didn’t miss the quick exchanges of glances, the slight raise of eyebrows—they were judging, but she wouldn’t let it show that she cared.
