So the basis of The Touch of Luxury was a rich lady plucking up a random nobody for a toy because rich people operate on a different moral scale than us po' folk. This eventually was retooled into what is now Preferred Treatment, half because I wanted to write something more cyberpunkish and half because I had no idea how to wrangle this towards a proper sex scene that wasn't porno-esque "I'm glad I ordered the tube steak from room service" nonsense. That being said, enjoy a near 4k word piece of abandoned writing story. The world will mourn not getting a vixen GMILF story, I'm sure.

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A young man pushes past a set of double doors to escape into an empty hallway, stepping a few feet away from the entrance before resting his back against a wall. His eyes close, and he takes in the sounds around him; the soft cacophony of more than a dozen simultaneous conversations carries through the ballroom just beyond the doors, the mellowed buzz of the guests’ chatter matching the attitude and energy of their owners. With the topic of each discussion changing at every table, combined with the sheer number of people in the room, the countless words passing through are turned into a indecipherable rumble. The tinkle of fluted glasses played an impromptu percussive accompaniment to the unoffensive jazz music meant to fill any silence the guests left available. 
Even the untrained ear could tell the party within is a high class affair. The human listening, however, was no novice at his trade. A tired smile crosses his face as he sighs in both relief and anticipation. The party was starting to lose steam, and when it finally came to and end he would be able to begin the second half of his evening. The most important part of working in service and hospitality is insuring guests are given the best treatment possible. The next priority was cleaning up after them, and making it look like they had never been there in the first place.
Opening his eyes, he peeled himself off of the wall before brushing the front of his uniform. Stray dust liked to stick to black slacks, after all. A hand brushes against the high quality plastic card pinned to the chest of his patterned red vest, and he pauses a moment to straighten it out before heading back into the ball room. If his name tag couldn’t be read by a tipsy guest from at least two feet away, he would most likely end up catching some flak from his manager. So went one of the many rumors that circulates among the staff, anyways. He gave himself one last once over before heading back into the fray. 
The volume of the party rises several levels once he pushes past the doors of the hallway and returns to the ballroom. He had only been missing for ten or fifteen seconds at most, but the moment he met the eyes with a coworker, a canine behind one of the three mini-bars, he was given a glare as if he had been hiding for an hour. The beagle quickly beckoned the him over with a two fingers so as not to draw the attention of any guests, before ducking underneath the rolling counter to retrieve something.
Hustling over to the minibar, the man gave himself the time to look over the guests. Their varying states of drunkenness is something of a stark contrast to the quality of their luxurious clothes. This isn’t some birthday party, after all, but rather some sort of gathering of the business elite. The kind with so much money that almost any one of them could buy this hotel right here on the spot, and it would only raise the eyebrow of the accountants responsible for their finances. Beyond the celebratory nature of the affair, the real purpose of the event was lost on most of the staff who were too busy working to read the many pamphlets that now littered the ballroom.
The floppy eared anthro was waiting for the him with a tall bag, stamped with the logo of the hotel on it. Whatever it was, it was pushed into the man’s hands the moment he had approached the minibar, “Table eight ordered this two minutes ago, and I can’t have the only sober server I have left disappear without warning. Get to it, Jason.” Nodding in acknowledgment, Jason hooked his fingers around the handles of the bag. Exhaling sharply, the anthro turned to rest on the bar, gazing at the crowd, “Any news from the front line?”
“Just a few updates, Rick. The cat over on table fourteen is having trouble standing, so I think what remains of our brandy supply is safe for tonight.” Jason nodded his head in the direction the table as he gave his report, “And Taylor’s break ends in three minutes, so make sure you give him shit if he still has crumbs on his face, the messy fucker.” Despite their best effort to be professional, both of hotel workers smirk at the thought of their feline coworker serving tables with the remains of stolen h’orderves speckling his muzzle. 
Rick lets off a quick, authoritative snort before straightening up his posture. “Alright, get gone. She’s an older vixen, so she might forget she’s even paid for a bottle of expensive bubbles to go if you take too long.” With a quick salute in the bartender’s direction acting as a farewell, Jason backpedaled a few steps before turning around and making his way into the shuffling mass of party goers.
As with the end of any party, most people were standing around their tables rather than sitting in preparation to leave. A quick but firm “Excuse me, pardon me,” was enough to create enough space to slip through in any instance he didn’t have enough room. Navigating a crowd is a must have skill, after all. Jason could move through the handful of guests with a tray on each arm and hardly lose his balance. With only a tall bag held close to his chest, Jason was akin to a red vested blur as he cleared the distance between the bar and table eight.
There was a mental rush of relief when he arrived at the table and there was still a bushy tailed fox standing near it. She wasn’t paying attention to him, so he had a few moments to examine her. Rick had been helpful enough to say she was older, but at some point foxes tend to just stop aging as painfully as most anyone else. Jason briefly recalled a seventy year old vulpine musician, who looked much more like an experienced fifty year old rather than the saggy skin and gray haired pile of bones his peers had become.
His best guest put the vixen somewhere in her mid-forties, but he could be off by up to twenty years if she had the fortune to age gracefully. Which most likely she was, since she was wearing one of the most risque outfits he had seen tonight. It was like the square of the material that was meant cover the center of her chest was cut away, leaving ribbons just wide enough to keep the fox decent. Below her waist, there was a slip in her dress that her leg was threatening to kick out of, but by some force the dress was doing its job and keeping her proper looking. All of this exposure gave clear view of her fur pattern; besides the white strip that carved up her chest and under her chin, her body was dominated by the common red-orange that denoted a red fox. What really made her stand out was the dashes of gray, black, and yellow that accented every extremity she had. Jason had to wonder if there was some ‘royal’ subspecies of fox he was unaware of.
Once he was a few feet away from the table, the vixen’s head flicked his direction and her eyes began roaming. First looking at the bag, then at the human holding it. Reflexively, he held the bag by the bottom before gently pushing it towards her, careful not to stir the contents, “Your purchase, ma’am.” At first the woman reached forward to take it, before drawing her hand back, curling her fingers as the golden bracelets on her wrist jingled softly. Confused, Jason kept his arms extended, even pushing the bag a little closer.
She seemed curious, tilting her head lightly before quietly clicking her tongue, “I didn’t know bottle service came with candy…” Jason blinked, only more confused by the second as she spoke up, “You work here, right…” she leaned in slightly to examine his name tag, “Jason?”
Not knowing what to do with himself, he put the bag onto the table before giving a brisk nod, “Yes ma’am. I’ve been one of the servers working tonight.” His answer caused her to hum in thought, before she looked around at the other servers wandering the area.
“Ask for the tables with women next time, dear. I think you’ll appreciate the tips they’ll leave.” She said with a chuckle, smiling at him before sighing softly, adjusting a stray bang of hair that had found its way to the front of her shoulder. “Had I known you were here, I would have ordered more than just two glasses of wine.” The vixen said with a grin as she looked at the bag on the table. After a moment, she lifted her head, golden eyes scanning the immediate area. “Jason, darling?”
He had been flirted with before, and was no stranger to compliments, but usually it was after someone had a few drinks in them. And even then, none of them ever had called him ‘darling.’ Being questioned snapped him to attention. “Do you need anything else, ma’am?” His reply was brisk and snappy; if he spent anymore time with this vixen, two things were going to happen: he was eventually going to get caught staring at this woman’s cleavage, and he was going to catch hell from his manager for wasting time talking to a guest when he should be doing his job.
She pushed the bag back towards him, “Can you take this to my room for me, darling? I don’t feel like carrying this around just yet, and I still have to say my good byes before I turn in for the night.” She said with a smile, as if she had asked him to do something as casual as opening the door for her. “It’s room six-zero-three. I would most appreciate it, dear.”
The human had several questions and concerns, but he went with the most pressing one. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. I can arrange room service to have it delivered, if you give me a few minutes.” Jason explained as professionally as he could manage. It might not have been enough, as the vixen tilted her head and stared inquisitively as if he had something growing out of his forehead.
A huff of irritation came from her nose before she spoke up, “Excuse me? I don’t want room service. I want you to do it.” There was a hint of annoyance in her voice, as if she couldn’t believe she had to repeat such a simple instruction.
Jason was beginning to get anxious, his fingers wiggling nervously as he tried to reason with her. “I’m still needed on the floor, and my shift doesn’t end for another two hours. I would have to get my manager’s permission before I could do that.” He wasn’t sure if this woman was dropping hints or simply under the delusion that what she said goes regardless of the rules and restrictions in place.
Upon hearing this, the fox’s eyes widened in understanding for a moment, before the same reassured and confident look returned to her face. She smiled, flashing her teeth slightly before she answered, “Oh, I understand the issue now, darling. Still,” she plucked the bag from the table and pushed it back into his chest, “Hold onto this for me for a couple minutes. I need to go have a word with your manager. Where is he?”
It took him a few seconds to process what she was saying, but he wordlessly grabbed the bag at her insistence. “Um…” He had to look away from her to find out where his manager had gone, gaze searching the crowds for the person. Spotting his manager, he pointed in the direction, “She’s the human with short blonde hair, over by the DJ.” Jason stated hesitantly.
The vixen followed his finger, turning to look in the given direction. “Thank you darling. I’ll see you again within the hour, I hope. Remember, room six-zero-three.” She practically cooed as she waved him off, before gliding away in her slinky dress. Jason stood there dumbstruck as she walked away, partially mesmerized by her hips and swaying tail, and how the straps on her dress threatened to fall away at any moment.
Shaking his head, he tightened his grip on the bag. Not knowing what to do with himself, he made his way back to the minibar Rick was manning. Rick spotted him the second he broke from the crowd, and the canine stopped cleaning wiping off the bar top the moment Jason was close enough to whisper to. “Where the fuck have you been? And why do you still have that?” His finger stopped just short of actually jabbing into the bag as he hissed.
“Fuck man, I don’t know. She wants me to take it to her room, but I told her to ask Jennifer if I could do that.” Jason whispered back, gingerly holding the bag like it was a bomb waiting to be set off.
His answer didn’t clear things up in the slightest for Rick. “Her? Who the fu- that old vixen? She wants you to take it to her room? Does she think you double as room service?” The beagle’s brow furrowed as he leaned in, now invested in the human’s situation. “Jennifer would rather you kill somebody than run off right before we start breaking things down. The hell does she lady think she is?”
Jason gave a panicked shrug at his questions, “I don’t know who she is. And this sounds kind of crazy, but I think she wants to bang. I swear, the first thing she did was hit on me, and she wants me to stay in her room until she gets there.” Immediately Rick straightened up, staring at the human like he was looking at a circus clown that had shown up uninvited. Jason only shrugged again, not knowing what to tell him.
The canine leaned in again, “This ain’t a porno. This chick is rich, old, and crazy, but there is no way she’s into skin. She just wants someone to blame if that bottle was already opened or some shit. You know foxes always got a dozen back up plans, especially the ones with something to lose.” By now both of them were shaking their heads at each other, neither of them knowing what to make of things.
Any further discussion was stifled by the appearance of Jennifer, who’s barely restrained run caught the attention of the whispering men. They only stared in apprehension as she approached, and Rick did his best to make distance as she stepped right up to Jason.
“Jason, I don’t know what the hell you did, but here’s what’s going to happen.” Jennifer used the same hissed whisper as they had, doing her best to keep from being overheard, “You’re going do to everything Miss Jadling wants you to without a second thought. If she tells you to jump out the window, you better do a goddamn flip on the way down. If I get even the whisper of a complaint from her, you. Will. Know.” Her finger was stabbed into his chest as she stared up at Jason, “Do you understand me?”
Jason was silent, before swallowing and nodding. This party did have some pretty high society guests, but he didn’t know that vixen, a Miss Jadling it seems, had the pull to make Jennifer go full drill instructor. “I got it. I’ll, uh, go get a copy of her room key.”
Jennifer only looked sideways at him, upset he even spoke, “Don’t goddamn stare at me. Go!” She spat out, pointing towards the door that lead to the main desk. Jason didn’t need more instruction than that. Turning to give Rick one last confused shrug, he left the ballroom and made his way to the desk.
The man’s footsteps tapped at a hurried pace as he towards the bored looking clerks staffing the front of the hotel. Jason surprised the rabbit there, who five seconds before hand had been heavily invested in whatever was on her phone, as he called out from across the lobby. “I need a key card to room six hundred and three. Code Gold.”
‘Code Gold’ is not a phrase in any of the staff handbooks or training, but more along the lines of a slang-cum-code word among the employees. There were an assortment of these off the book phrases, but this one carried more weight than the usual ‘tell the cleaning crew to expect the worst.’ A VIP has made an unorthodox request, and whoever was responsible for the request had carte blanche to get things done, even if it meant sending someone hauling ass across town to pick up Chinese take out twenty minutes before the lights went out.
Such clarification was needed, as servers had next to no business being anywhere other than the first floor with the ballrooms and restaurant. The moment Jason uttered the phrase, the rabbit tossed her phone onto her desk as she slide over to her keyboard. “That’s the third Code Gold tonight.” She said under her breath as the clatter of muscle memory keystrokes was matched by precise clicks of the mouse. Her hand only left the keyboard to snatch am ornate plastic card from underneath the computer, pulling it out before bringing it up to a waiting card slot in one smooth motion.
By the time Jason made it to the desk, the card machine gave an affirmative chirp to inform its user of a job well done. Plucking the card out from the reader, the rabbit slide it up onto the counter where he could reach. “Anything else?” She asked, nose wiggling as she braced herself for further requests.
Jason shook his head as he grabbed the card and slipped it into his pocket, turning on his heel to head to the elevator. “Not right now, but be ready,” he called back as he tapped the call button in between the door elevators, “I’m not sure just what exactly this one wants.” He had an idea, of course, but this was definitely outside of the norm. Even their most brazen of guests with their craziest requests didn’t view the staff as a harem to pick and choose company from.
The rabbit nodded, and tried not to stare at the human as he anxiously waited for an elevator to arrive. Both of them let out a a sigh of relief as a soft chime played out, the silver doors of the elevator opening up only partially before Jason slipped in and started mashing the button for the sixth floor. By the seventh or eighth press the machine got the message, and the doors closed as smoothly as they had opened.
With every floor he ascended the elevator played a tone, each one higher pitched than the last until he reached the sixth floor. During the entirety of the ride, Jason was only partially aware that he had a white knuckle grip on the ribboned handle of the bottle bag. There was only one floor higher than this, and that one was a single suite that took up the whole of that level of the building. Floor six, on the other hand, was divided in between four suites. It was impossible to get the wrong room, but Jason was still walking at a measured pace as he made his way down the straight hallway that divided this floor in half. This was not his domain, and he had been up this far only once when room service needed extra hands to deliver a particularly large order.
It was apparent that more effort went into this floor than the ones below it. Even the carpet felt nicer underneath his shoes, the red material decorated by a intertwining set of brown and yellow vines. Even the metal doors to each suite pulled off their double duty of providing security and an air of luxury with the floral pattern embossed around the edge of the frame.
After a few seconds of shuffling, Jason fished out the key card and held it in front of the security panel next to the door. There was a beat, and then the door unlocked itself with a click the same moment a small green light flashed twice against the card. The last thing he needed was for his card to have been registered to the wrong door and have to take another exceedingly long elevator ride down to the lobby to fix it. Pinching the card between his fingers he used the same hand to push the door wide, all the while mentally preparing himself for some ludicrous request the aged vixen had for him.
The sheer size of the suites always startled him. All this for what seemed to be just one person, and it had anywhere from two to three times the square footage of his apartment. A whistle followed by a beep caused him to look over his shoulder just in time to see the metal security door of the room close itself behind him. Sure it was likely that way for safety reasons, but it wasn’t doing much to help his nerves. With a grumble Jason just played with the card in his hands for a moment as he considered his next move. He had to do something, or else his curiosity was going to get the better of him.
Jason had heard about how these suites worked; with the price tag they came with, the hotel didn’t bother squeezing the pennies out of its most elite guests over the little things. The drinks in the fridge were complimentary, along with a dozen other niceties that the guest was free to take if it pleased them. Miss Jadling could walk off with every pillow and bottle in the suite, and she would thanked as she left the building with them under her arms. 
He needed to be professional, he reminded himself. Miss Jadling was obviously someone of importance, and the last thing that needed to happen was her walking into her suite to find him helping himself to whatever was in the pre-stocked fridge.