It didn't start in Vegas, but those two nights were stellar. I had flown in around ten-thirty that morning. I'd gotten this trip as a gift at Christmas and well, mid-February in the Northeast can get pretty ugly. I checked into my hotel, settled my stuff in the room and went exploring. Through the afternoon, I wandered the shops, the attractions, and the buffets, people-watching at its best. When I noticed the type of people changing, from the families to the more wild and crazy evening crowd, I returned to my room.
All alone in Vegas, I thought to myself, gazing vaguely out the window, seeing the insane coaster whip around the building, feeling a little queasy watching it. I don't know what brought him to mind. I felt myself get warm, get wet, remembering our last meeting, and then firmly pushed him out of my mind. Wishful thinking wasn't going to win me anything in the casino until I got there. I showered, dressed, fiddled with eye make-up, fiddled with my hair, glared at my reflection, knowing if I fiddled anymore I'd be looking like a clown.
The casino was hopping when I strolled in. Bells clanging, lights flashing, one-armed bandits clickety clicking. Dealers, looking both suave and kinda bored, flipped cards with precision and flair. After collecting a drink from the bar, I wandered over to a blackjack table. The dealer was young, cute in a Brad Pitt fashion, and he was smiling with his players, making their experience memorable. So I joined in. A few hands increased my meager pile of chips considerably, but I had more fun than anything. The other players at my table ranged from a newlywed couple to an aging granny who sipped her gin and tonics with a shake straw.
I think there was more cross table conversations than card playing sometimes. We'd commiserate when one lost; celebrate loudly when one won big. They were cheering for me at the moment, as I was on a streak of blackjacks. Four in a row, five. Loud, wild cheers drew more people to watch. Lucky number seven, I doubled my bet, drew another blackjack, raked in my chips. I looked across the table as the newlyweds bid us good night, tossed them a hundred dollar chip, saw him take their seat, saw him see me.
Our dealer, Seamus, dealt out another round. My first card down, an ace showing, I peeked, flipped over the queen. Eight in a row. I grinned at Seamus, "Y'know, if I keep going with this streak management's going to come over and take me to a quiet little room and start asking me questions."
"I don't think you'll have anything to worry about, Miss Dari. If they were concerned, they'd already be here." He grinned back. I saw him, across the table; smilingly order a drink, collect his chips, saw his eyes travel down my throat, linger on my bust, saw him lick his lips. I shivered watching. Seamus dealt again. My streak was broken, but I still held a twenty. Seamus was stuck at nineteen. Another win, another stack of chips. The gin and tonic granny touched my arm before I bet, then whispered in my ear, "Run this table child, take every last dime you can. And most of all get a hold of that big cowboy across the table. He's a prize if I ever saw one."
"I'll do my best Stella. Enjoy the rest of your vacation and have a fantastic time with your greats tomorrow." I answered, giving her a hug good-bye. My hand this round was like pulling teeth to get to twenty, which still topped Seamus's eighteen. Two rounds more and I felt a presence at my right shoulder. I glanced over to see an impeccably dressed man, mid-forties, salt and pepper hair, deep brown eyes and a Hollywood smile. I flipped over another blackjack waiting for him to speak. Thinking it must be management, I collected my chips to sit out this round.
"Good evening, miss. You seem to be pretty lucky tonight." He began, motioning to a passing waitress for more drinks.
"Seems like it, but I'm thinking I might quit while I'm ahead. Maybe catch a show."
"I apologize, I'm John Bartley, senior vice president for this hotel casino and I'd like to offer you the hotel's priority upgrade. Which is having your room comped, your meals..."
"You can comp her room, as she'll be with me. Give her a discount in the jewelers." I heard him say from behind me. John Bartley nodded, going on with a spiel I didn't even hear. He was right behind me. I could feel his body heat near my back, felt my hair brush against his shirt when I turned my head.
I think I remembered to thank John for the hotel's generosity. I felt his hand slide up my back, letting his fingers trail over my bare shoulder, sending shivers down my spine. I turned, looked up to his face, saw his warm brown eyes, deep with wanting, saw his mouth smile, barely caught the twinkle in his eyes as he took my hand, leading me away from the table. "How much are you up?"
"Oh, about eighty-five hundred."
"Nicely done. Dance with me." He said, pulling me close to spin with me. My body was thrumming being held against his. I couldn't help myself and threw my arms around his shoulders, pressing myself tighter against him, feeling his arousal against my belly, feeling like someone left the cage door open and my animal self was slithering out.
Someone passed us, mumbled "go get a room" as we danced toward the lobby and the cashiers. My skin felt branded everywhere his huge hands slid. Anticipation, excitement, flowed through me as he dipped me in front of the cashier window. The girls behind the counters clapped enthusiastically when he brought me to my feet. I handed over my piles of chips, which they turned into cash, which I stuffed in my purse without bothering to count it, and he whirled me away again.
"This is only an excuse to get my hands on you, you know." He whisper growled in my ear, holding me tightly in front of the elevators.
"I know. And they're sky-blue." I watched his eyes go fuzzy, knowing he was picturing me in the sky-blue Perla set he'd bought and sent to me, along with almost every other color imaginable.
The elevator doors opened behind us, we moved aside to let the elderly couple alight from the box, and took their place inside. Once the doors closed I knew he'd be all over me and I'd be all over him. The doors slid shut, he pulled me hard against him as his mouth took mine, devouring me, nipping, biting. His hands kneaded my ass cheeks as he ground his hard on into me. I wrapped one leg around his waist, grinding just as hard against him.
I had a fistful of his hair in one hand, and a fistful of shirt in the other, trying my damnedest to climb into him as he pressed me against the wall.
