He was in his thirties, was short at only about 5'6, and was athletically slim. He had very dark hair that was cut short and always immaculately style..., a nice thick mustache and a permanent five-O-clock shadow. An olive complexion along with his last name led me to believe that he was of Italian decent. His shirts were always open at the collar which allowed a copious amount of chest hair to be visible, and he always wore tight, stretchy dress slacks that made his soft package, while not huge,. I quickly sat up, clutching the sheet to my chest and looked around the room, but it was silent and lifeless.T: John? John, are you here? No reply came from the room, so I wrapped the sheet around my body and got out of the comfy bed to go check the bathroom. Unfortunately, when I opened the door, it was as empty as the suite. Panic was now setting in. Did he leave because I wasn't good enough? Did I do something wrong? I sat down on the bed and couldn't stop the tears from coming. John had. More

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