Diing-doong

The doorbell chimes loudly interrupting my thoughts from the latest project I’m working on. That’s probably the guest staying this week, I think. I quickly save my work and head to the front door to check.

As a single homeowner, I occasionally put up the second floor of my house for short-term stays. The space is not large, but it’s comfortable and includes a small living room, bedroom, and a private bathroom. I’ve had a couple of bookings in the last two months, and so far, it has worked out pretty well.

I open the door and smile warmly at the man on the other side. He’s tall – at least 6 feet, really handsome, with defined cheekbones and a cute smile. He seems to be in his early to mid-30s.

“Hey. I’m Sam.” He says this with a smile. “I booked a room for the week.”

“Hi! Nice to meet you. I’m Anya, the owner. Come on in and let’s get you set up.” I step back, but give him a discrete once-over as he shoulders his backpack and grabs his carry-on, his t-shirt stretching tightly over wide shoulders and a defined chest. He looks like he keeps himself in good shape.

I lead him through the house and up the stairs to the second floor as we chat about mundane things.

“So, how was your trip?”

“The usual. Flights were on-time at least.”

“You picked the worst week to come here. Forecast says it’s going to be really hot. Summers in the South are just brutal.”

“Didn’t really have much of a choice. I’m meeting with some new clients based here. It’s just better to talk things through in-person, you know. ”

I show him the rooms and tell him he can use the kitchen and laundry if he needs to. I also point out a binder with information about the door code, Wi-fi, public transportation, restaurants nearby, and other tidbits of information someone visiting the area may want to know.