What Really Goes on at Hotels Overnight?

The overnight staff from a Lower East Side luxury hotel talks vibrators, bodypaint, and vomit

by sarah rammos

New York City's booming tourism industry caters those seeking luxurious accommodations for business or pleasure. But sometimes that pleasure can get a little out of control. It's their job to be discreet, but we got the overnight staff at one of the Lower East Side's top boutique hotels to fill us in on all they've witnessed over the years. 

One night, probably around one or two in the morning, a guy checked into the hotel with two women. He was alright looking, but the women were fucking gorgeous, and they were all covered in body paint. They didn't have a reservation, just walked in covered in body paint and went up to the room. An hour or two later he calls room service. I answered the phone, and the entire time he's trying to place the order I was super distracted because the girls were in the background going at it. Moaning like crazy, screaming, it was ridiculous. He ordered a bottle of champagne or liquor or something. The room service guy working that night is this reserved guy, foreign, doesn't speak perfect English, but he's very put together. I told him what was going on when I gave him the order so he could mentally prepare himself. You know, here's their order, bring three glasses, but I'm warning you what's going on in there, just so you know what you're walking into, whatever you've got to do.

When he got up to the room, the guy answered in a towel and that's it. He goes to put the tray with the bottle and the glasses on a table inside, and the two girls are completely butt ass naked in the bed still going at it. They don't even acknowledge the room service guy's existence. But then one of them turns around, looks him straight in the eyes, and said, "Don't you wish you could join us?" His jaw just dropped. He didn't say anything at all. Just put the stuff down, stuttered, tripped over himself, and left the room. When he came downstairs and told the rest of us what happened he was stumbling over his words so bad we could barely understand him. We didn't see him for about an hour and a half after that. Don't want to know where he went.



One time there was a bunch of French women standing around in the lobby dressed as French maids, like with the little apron and that's it. They were completely cool with standing there practically naked in the lobby, just in these little aprons. The lobby manager at the time didn't care, he was joking with them the whole time. "Excuse me ladies, housekeeping is needed on the second floor," and stuff like that. I can't even remember what they were doing there.

Another time a dozen college girls walked through the lobby wearing these stupid fake noses and glasses and mustaches. They headed to the bar and a few guys were checking them out, thinking they were pretty cute, but about 10 minutes later they all came back out and none of them had shirts on. Just tits out for no apparent reason. They were all cheering and laughing. They just walked back through the lobby and stood in front of the hotel with no shirts on for a bit. It was one of those moments where you just want to quit and follow someone. 



A guy once came into the hotel and asked me to book him a massage. I asked if he had a preference between a male or a female masseuse, and he said, "Definitely a female." Then I asked what kind of massage he wanted. You know, shiatsu, Swedish, or whatever. You know what he said to me? "Happy ending." I looked at him and said, "I'm sorry, we don't do that here," and he looked a little disappointed but he didn't push it. In retrospect, I should've sent him to the bellmen. They would've pointed him in the right direction. Anyway, he left a day later. We have these letters in the rooms where guests can leave us a note on whether they've had a good experience or a bad one, and he drew a picture of me that said, "Your front desk lady is very lovely. She is very polite, even when asked ridiculous questions." I was pretty creeped out. It was a caricature of me, which freaked me out even more than the whole happy ending thing, because it was perfect and looked just like me. I saved the picture.



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