Condom packet in the fridge

In The Heat of The Night

The elevator is a 360-degree mirror which makes me wonder if I’ve entered into a Bond villain’s lair. It is also very small and this feeling is actually exacerbated by the mirrors for some strange reason. My reflection looks back at me as I wait and nods its agreement at my thoughts.

I pull my luggage along the corridor covered in a very thick and plush carpet. I wonder why hoteliers choose to make life more difficult for their clients instead of simpler as I navigate my way towards my room.

In front of my door, I extract the room key from the heap of cards, brochures and maps that the receptionist insisted on giving me. The door whirrs as the mechanism unlocks. I push my belongings in.

The room is small but comfortable. I start to unpack and investigate. There is a desk with conveniently located power sockets for a laptop and phone chargers. There is a room safe. There is a small minibar which I open to see what there is. Apart from a few bottles of soft drinks and beer, I note this packet on the top shelf:

Condom packet in the fridge

Because in the heat of the moment, nothing beats a chilled condom.





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