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I guess I should probably start at the beginning of this strange saga that was my summer job.

My name is Otto Schmelling, and I'm an otter from a small town in Iowa. I wouldn't say that my hometown was necessarily shitty, but it was definitely boring as hell. I grew up on a farm, so I was put to work at a young age along with all my other brothers and sisters. I was the oldest, so I always had the hardest, crappiest jobs. I don't think I was very old at all when I realized that there had to be something better in life than this.

My mother and father, though loving and caring, were not exactly the smartest people in the world. My Dad had dropped out of school when he was 15 and my mother was the first person in her family to graduate high school. Really, this wasn't a big deal in the are I grew up in, as there wasn't much opportunity to do anything but farm, work at the local grocery store or cook and wait tables at the three little restaurants in my town. I'm serious when I say that was the grand total of options at my disposal for when I grew up.

It was my determination not to end up stuck in this town that lead me to really work hard in school. I did so well in high school that I was actually given a scholastic scholarship to attend college. This was highly unusual, as almost every single scholarship that students received in my area was for playing football, so I was a bit of an anomaly. The guy who got to college by his brains and not because he could throw a football.

I purposely selected a university out of state that was in an urban area. The day I left for college was such a thrill to me, as I had hardly ever in my life been to a major metropolitan area. Yeah, I know, that makes me sound like a hick, but just as I had purposely excelled in school, I had done my utmost not to enter the city looking like a country bumpkin. I must have done a good job, because I made plenty of friends my freshman year at college. Not only that, I found city life to be my kind of life. There were more places to go and more things to do in half a city block than there was in my entire hometown.

My addiction to city life meant that I had to get a job while in college. With five other kids back home, I was not about to ask my parents to send me money so I could live it up. My scholarship took care of almost all of my tuition and textbook expenses, but I'd acquired a taste for hanging out at some of the city's more expensive coffee shops and cafes. At only eighteen years of age, there wasn't much available for me in the job market, but I did find a job that was to my liking. In the evenings, I worked as a desk clerk at a hotel that was about a dozen blocks away from my college. I didn't have a car, but the bus went by there all the time so it was no big deal getting back and forth from my dorm to work. If anything, I found the job boring, as there were often times long intervals in between checking guests in and out. This also allowed for me to study, as I wanted to maintain a high enough GPA so I wouldn't have my scholarship terminated. The thought of having to get student loans sent shivers down my spine. I didn't want to be in debt for the next two decades of my life just to pay for higher learning.

The job turned out to be a good fit, and the head manager, a moose named Mr. Moore, really took a liking to me. He was surprised that I, unlike most kids my age, actually showed up on time and did what was asked of me. To me, the work was no big deal at all. I'd worked much harder, in filthy conditions growing up on the farm, and I didn't get a paycheck from Mom and Dad either, I got to eat and have a roof over my head. There were times that I would put in over twelve hours on the weekend. Shit, I was practically getting paid to study! Mr. Moore didn't mind at all that I was reading my textbooks while on duty, as I was never so distracted that I failed to notice when guests were wanting to check in or out.

At the end of my first school year, I decided that I wasn't going home for the summer. I still remember my Dad trying to guilt me into coming home, and even worse was my Mom, who kept crying over the phone, begging me to return so she could see her oldest boy. I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss them, but I was simply caught in the trappings of city life. Because the dormitories were closed during the summer, I had to find housing, and that wasn't exactly cheap in an area like this. As I was discussing my situation with Mr. Moore, he made me an offer for full time work that summer. Because the economy was doing really well, and due to the recent cracking down on hiring illegal aliens by the Department of Labor, the hotel desperately needed workers. Mr. Moore told me that I could live in one of the smaller rooms on the first floor if I was willing to work plenty of hours. I didn't have to think about this very long at all before I told him yes. The way things would work is that the hotel would deduct the room charges from my paycheck, that way I didn't have to worry about turning around giving money right back to them.

My summer responsibilities at the hotel expanded to include, maid, janitor, laundry room attendant, cook and whatever else they wanted me to do. As I stated earlier, I grew up working hard, so it was no big deal for me to put in over forty hours during this time, and with the raise Mr. Moore gave me and overtime pay, I was doing okay financially. This might have sounded like a strange way to spend the summer to a lot of people, but for me it was just fine. I'd grown up with my parents and five siblings, then had to spend the school year with room mates, so having a room all to myself was like a dream come true. There was plenty of things to keep me entertained even within the hotel. There was a small fitness room with exercise equipment, a hot tub, and a pool that I swam in almost daily. I mean, I'm an otter, of course I'm going to want to spend time in the water! In my little room, I had cable television--and I'd grown up getting fuzzy reception from the rabbit ears on our little twenty inch tube television. I had my cell phone, lap top--and the hotel had a WiFi network. If I got bored with that, there were plenty of places I could walk to for entertainment, like all the restaurants, bookstores, and clubs that were just blocks away. There was more to do in a single city block than there was in my entire hometown!

I'm going to be completely honest and explain my other reason for staying in the city over the summer. I'd known for a long time that I was into guys, and by into guys I don't mean I also liked guys. I was gay. This wasn't something that I would share with anyone back home, as I would certainly expect to have all the usual insults of "faggot", "queer", "homo", and all other kinds of crappy names hurled at me by the idiotic populace. The city was completely different. With so many beasts living here, one could easily live in relative anonymity. I was only living at the hotel a few days when I had my first sexual experience with another guy; discovering that I indeed was gay. I could go on line in my spare time to cruise Craigslist for potential hookups with relative ease. I learned pretty early on that hotels were a common place for meetings like this. It wasn't uncommon at all for me to be working the front desk and see guys come in through the lobby and go to one of the rooms, only to leave half an hour later. The staff all knew about this and didn't care or at least didn't say anything, and I doubt they would care or say anything if they knew that I was doing it too.

I was three weeks into living at the hotel, and I was really enjoying life. I got plenty of hours in, and I still had free time to go around town or have some no strings attached fun in my room. I had been with four guys by this point, and decided I was ready for more that night. I'd just been lying in bed, watching some television, browsing around on my lap top, when I got a response from the Craigslist ad I posted. There was a picture of a naked wolverine in the message. Man, he was good looking! He said he really wanted to meet right away and asked where he could meet me. I told him the hotel I was at and the room number. He said he would be there in half an hour. I looked at the clock, it was just a few minutes passed 7:00 P.M.

It was almost right at 7:30 that I heard a knock on my door. Getting out of bed, I put my laptop on the table that was over in the corner of my room before going to the door and looking through the peephole. Sure enough, it was the wolverine. I opened the door for him to enter.

"Hey," I said. "Thanks for coming."

I closed the door and walked over to my bed, pulling off my shirt. It was right after I removed my shirt and was about ready to unbuckle my belt when I noticed that the wolverine was still standing right by the door. I took my paws off my belt, confused, thinking that maybe he was just nervous, as it might have been his first time.

"Everything okay?" I asked calmly.

He didn't say a word. He just stood there looking at me. My confusion now turned to discomfort, and when I noticed that he was glaring at me, my discomfort turned to fear. I put on a brave front, not wanting him to sense that I was genuinely scared. He was a big guy, and looked like he could do some damage to me if he set his mind to it. At this point, I decided I didn't want to go through with the sex

"Hey," I said in a firm tone. "If you don't wanna do this, okay, but if that's the case, you need to leave."

He kept standing there, staring. I was getting really scared at this point and chose to raise my voice at him. "Get out!" I snapped, pointing at the door. His eyes narrowed into even more menacing little slits. I raised my fists, ready to throw down with him if need be, but he finally turned around, opened the door and left. I breathed a sigh of relief, glad that nothing had turned physical. Still shaken, I logged into my Craigslist account and deleted my post. I wasn't in the mood for anymore company tonight. I spent the next few hours watching television, trying to calm down from such a disconcerting encounter with that wolverine. What the fuck was his issue anyway? Why come to somebody's hotel room and just stare at them? Eventually, I got drowsy and shut the television off and then the light next to my bed. I looked over at my alarm clock. It was almost eleven. I yawned, then fell asleep soon after.

It was just after one o'clock in the morning when I heard a a knock at my door that roused my from sleep. Rubbing my eyes, I moved closer to the foot of my bed to look at the door. The lights in the hall were always on, and I could see a pair of feet through the crack at the bottom of the door. I shook my head, trying to figure out why it was that housekeeping would bother me at a time like this. Everyone at the hotel knew me, and I had to get up and start cleaning rooms by seven that morning. I walked over to the door to look out the peephole, thinking it might be Maria, the Mexican squirrel who I'd become good friends with since I started working at the hotel. I put my right eye up against the peephole and almost shit myself. It was that creepy wolverine! He'd come back to my hotel room! I could feel sweat covering my body almost instantly. What the hell was I going to do? At this point, I wished I was back home in Iowa. From the time I was thirteen, I kept a loaded twelve gauge in my bedroom, and I would have felt much better if it was in my paws now, but that was just wishful thinking.

I don't know if the wolverine heard me walking up to the door, or if he knew I was still there, but I had to do something to get rid of him. I remembered that I had the cell phone number for Carl, the German Shepherd who was the hotel's night shift security guard. He did have a gun! I quickly scrolled through my contacts and hit his number, choosing to send him a text instead of a voice call, as I didn't want the wolverine to hear me.

Carl, it's Otto. Some crazy wolverine is standing outside my room! Please get him to go away!

I'd turned my phone to silent, but saw the screen flash from his response.

I'll be right over!

I waited for Carl to arrive. It felt like an eternity before I heard a knock at my door. I walked back over to the door, looking out again, but seeing only Carl standing outside. I opened the door to let him in.

"Carl," I said, almost panting. "Did you see the wolverine?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "He must have left before I got here."

"You believe that I actually saw him standing out there, right?" I said, almost paranoid.

"Of course I do, Otto," he said, trying to calm me down. "How did this start anyway?"

I took a deep breath as I sat down on my bed. I'd known Carl for awhile now. He was a decent guy who was only five or six years older than me, so he wouldn't harbor the bigotry of the older generations. "I was on Craigslist, looking for a hookup and this guy responded, so I invited him over. Half an hour goes by and he arrives. I invite him in and start to get undressed, but he's just standing by the door, not moving or doing anything! I thought at first he was just getting cold feet, but when I ask him what's wrong, he doesn't answer, and then he starts trying to stare me down! At that point, I tell him to leave and he does, but it really did scare me."

"What time did he show up here?" Carl asked, writing the information down on his notepad.

"It was right at 7:30," I replied. "I remember looking at my alarm clock when he knocked on the door."

"Okay," said Carl. "I'm going to look through our video footage. Trust me, he'll be on there if he made it this far. I'll get a photo of his face and show it to Mr. Moore when he gets here in the morning. I'm sure he'll say that the wolverine is not welcome at the hotel anymore and if he shows up again, we'll call the police and have him arrested."

"Thanks, Carl," I said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"I'll stand out in the lobby to make sure he doesn't get back in," said the German Shepherd. "In the meantime, I'd advise being a little more careful about who you invite into your room."

"Yeah," I said, feeling at the moment like I never wanted to grace Craigslist again. "I'll do that."

"Try and get some sleep, okay?" he said, giving me a smile before leaving my room.

I went back to my bed and laid down. I was so shaken up that I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep anytime soon, or possibly at all. Opening up my laptop, I decided to browse around on the internet. I hear the "ding" from my email, indicating that I just received a message. I don't know why, but I decided to open the message. My blood ran cold when I read the words.

Dead, dead, otter. That's what you're gonna be.

I closed my laptop, shivering in utter terror at the message.