I'd gotten into Vegas the day before, 3 weeks into a 5-week road trip inspecting credit unions in California, Nevada ant Utah. Belinda, my wife, would be getting in later today. She's a title attorney in Los Angeles. She's, usually tied to her desk, but some sort of seminar was going to bring her to Vegas for a 3-day weekend, on expense account even. We'd planned our schedules so that our two professional merry-go-rounds would bring us to this place at about the same time. It was going to be good to see her, to say the least.
David, our son, was in his first year of the doctoral program in Radiochemistry at UNLV. I'd spent the afternoon with him before heading for the craps tables at the casino that evening. We'd had lunch at some place near the campus. While he'd gotten his favorite seat, facing the door, I'd picked the one that gave me a three-quarter view of a cute little coed who apparently preferred to eat in a semi-reclining position. Her plump thighs, curiously un-tanned for late summer in Vegas, were splayed languidly under the table.
I didn't sense any artifice there; it seemed to me that she was just totally at ease, immersed in conversation with the other people at her table, and completely unaware of the effect that those open thighs might be having on anyone else. That she might be one of those rare people who could be completely un-self-consciously sensual really raised her appeal for me. I've had several pussies pointed at me by women who thought that their asses were out of this world, and none of those displays could compete with this apparently innocent display of raw sexuality.
Usually I don't have much interest in young twenty-somethings, but this one really got to me. Throughout lunch my gaze kept returning to those creamy thighs, and my mind kept putting me between them, my stiff cock pounding into her young hole. But the timing was not right; my afternoon was already devoted to checking out my son's new digs and meeting some of his friends and teachers. So, we left the restaurant with me in a state of unrequited lust and him in a state of blissful ignorance. Just as well. Belinda and I had embarrassed him enough while he was a teenager just by walking next to him at the mall. I think that, even in his early 20s, he was still having trouble getting his head around the idea of anyone as old as his parents as sexual animals, so I didn't mention my arousal by that little girl at the next table.
Later that evening David and I headed for the casino where I staked him to $100 on the craps table, which he blew, and supper, which he inhaled. Then he headed home to study, with plans to rejoin Belinda and me for a late supper the following evening.
I headed back to the craps table, where the bones were good to me all night and well into this morning. By the time I dragged myself to my room around 11 a.m., I had almost 8 grand of the casino's money in my pockets. I carefully locked myself in the room, then stashed my loot in the closet safe. Next I did a quick shave, shower and shit before plopping down on the bed.
I tried to doze off, but the memory of that little coed's open thighs kept floating back into my head. In my mind I was my pulling her pantiess slowly over hips to reveal - what? "Nah," I thought. "Surely she doesn't shave her pubes completely; just a bikini trim at most and maybe not even that since she doesn't seem to get much sun. But of course it turns out that she's a natural blonde after all." Images kept coming, my face in her crotch; her face gasping and grimacing as I licked her to orgasm; her riding me as I started gasping toward orgasm myself.
This was not going to have me in any kind of shape for when Belinda arrived this afternoon. Somehow, I had to get that kid out of my head so that I could get some sleep. After thinking about it for a couple of minutes I got up and went to the closet. I opened the safe and pulled out my bankroll. Looking at it I recalled the old joke, "Hey, you now what's about 6 inches long, has a big round head on it and drives women wild?" In mixed company, unless everyone is pretty well liquored up, this usually gets smirks from the men and maybe, if you're lucky, a blush from one or two of the women, but nobody will volunteer the answer that they're all thinking about. Then you whip out a $100 bill and show it, to relieved laughter all around.
Anyway, I counted out eleven of the Benjamins and put the rest back in the safe. I spread the bills out on the desk by the window and beside them placed a condom that I'd gotten from the helpful bellhop when I checked in the day before. Then I got a phone number from the book and made a call.
"Hello, this is John Smith in room 2115 at the Bellagio... I'd like to arrange for an, ah, a masseuse for this afternoon.... No, I need to get some sleep now; let's make it, say, 4:30... Yes, a full hour... Yes, ah, full body sounds good... No, nobody particular in mind; just as long as she's good at what she does... No, it will be cash... Very good. Thank you."
With my plans made, I was able to banish the little coed from my thoughts. I'd been up for the last 30 hours, and with all of the adrenaline that flows around a craps table even winning money can wear you out. So it didn't take me any time at all to get to sleep. This was good because it didn't seem that I'd been asleep for very long when I heard a knock at the door.
I'd been too soundly asleep to know whether I was dreaming about the little creamy-thighed coed or about what I had planned for this afternoon, but something had been working on me in my sleep, because I woke up with a pretty good woody. I quickly palmed a Benjamin from the desk, got a towel off the rack and wrapped it around my waist as best I could. My boner tenting it out in front of me sure didn't leave much to the imagination, but I wasn't expecting anyone who would be embarrassed by that. Then I opened the door.
Before me was standing the loveliest lady I had ever seen. And I mean lady; she certainly wouldn't have been pegged as a hooker or a masseuse by anyone in the hotel. She blended right in with the business convention crowd, being nicely dressed in what I call business travel. Nice blouse with an attractive scarf. A knee-length skirt somewhere between A-line and full. Sensible but clearly expensive shoes. Sheer stockings. No jewelry visible except for an elegant watch and, I noted, a simple wedding set on her left ring finger. The little rolling suitcase behind her was a quality item as well.
"I..." she started to say.
"Shhhh," I said as I put a finger to her lips. "Don't talk. Just come in."
She looked at me speculatively for a moment, arching an eyebrow. Then she gave a little shrug, grabbed hold of the handle of her wheelie bag and came into the room.
I locked the door behind her and said, "I don't want to know your name or anything about you. For the next hour you're going to be Carol. There's a thousand dollars for you over on the desk. I guarantee that I won't hurt or humiliate you, but for the next hour, if you take the money, you're going earn it by doing everything that I tell you to. If that doesn't work for you, here's a hundred for coming over and you can take it and walk right back through that door now. It's totally your call."
Again she gave me the speculative look, then her upper lip curled in sort of an Ellen Barkin smile and she walked over to the desk. She looked down at the bills and the condom on the desk, picked up the money, counted it, held a couple of the bills up to the light so she could see the watermarks, then put all ten of them in a pocket in her skirt.
"Good Carol, I'm glad you decided to stay," I said as I dropped the towel. "Now, open your blouse and show me your tits."
She undid the top three buttons and was starting on the fourth when I told her, "No, that's enough. I want you to leave your blouse on. Just unhook your bra and let those lovely tits hang loose."
