Guests
By Wayne Mansfield
He was tall and distinguished, though something about his expression told Eric this was a man with hidden depths. Perhaps it was the way his crystal blue eyes sparkled in the light of the hotel lobby, or the beguiling combination of silver hair and tanned skin. Or, even more intriguing, the way he sat in the chair by the reception counter as though waiting for someone, and how even those at the counter seemed not to notice him.
But he had noticed Eric.
Eric had arrived in the lobby by way of the great staircase, which occupied a generous amount of the available space. As he’d descended the carpeted stairs, he’d done a sweep of the lobby, scanning for familiar faces, of which there were none, but the young man on reception. Then, as his foot touched the floor a
