by Zoe Norman
Emily looks up at me with relief in her eyes. I know she only wants what’s best for me.
I’M HAVING A HARD time falling asleep. My mind will not shut off—probably because I’m excited for Travis’s bachelor party this weekend. It’s that or the sushi that I ate for dinner. My flight to Vegas is in the morning and I’m watching the glowing green numbers on the clock tick by slowly. I toss and turn, fluffing and punching my pillow in a feeble attempt to get comfortable. After finally finding a cool, plush spot, my eyes start to get heavy and I begin to drift off to la-la land. That is, until I hear myself exhale a low hum and I start myself awake. I exhale in a huff and flip over on my side to face Olivia. She’s dead to the world. Her mouth is gaping slightly and, as twisted as it is, I start to get a little turned on by her perfect mouth. I slip my hand under the sheet and lightly stroke Olivia’s stomach. She remains still with her breathing steady. No dice. Undeterred, I take my index and middle fingers and draw a faint trail down her leg and up along her inner thigh in a less than subtle attempt to wake her. Sex with Olivia is always my preferred way of tiring myself out for some good shut-eye.
Olivia smacks her lips together twice, grabs the top sheet and rolls away from me, shorting me on the covers. I spoon in behind her and wrap my arms around her front, pulling her tighter against me as I bury my face in her neck. Once Olivia feels my growing hardness pressing into her butt, she groans and pushes me away. Through her mumbles, she complains of an early work day and needing her sleep. I grumbled that I needed her, but I’m flat out denied.
I move away lying flat on my back staring at the shadows dancing across the ceiling. I twist my head to watch Olivia sleep…at least one of us is getting some (sleep that is.). The thin bed sheet is molded to her body and accentuates all her perfect curves. Even when she sleeps, she’s hot. My joystick hasn’t gotten the hint that it’s not finding any release, so I decide to help myself out. I slide my hand down my stomach and grip the base of my cock. My legs spread wide as my hand begins to slides up and down my growing length. I stare at Olivia’s ass intently and envision myself saddling up behind her, lifting her leg and entering her. My eyes close as I fantasize about how warm and amazing she feels, until my thoughts are interrupted when Olivia snorts in her sleep. I stop my motions and instantly lose my erection. There goes that idea.
After watching another thirty minutes tick by and still not finding sleep, I get out of bed and walk the short distance to the living room. I turn on the television to ESPN, lay on the couch and cover myself with a throw blanket. With my arm curled under my head, I settle in and get comfortable watching the guys from Sportscenter.
And that’s just where Olivia finds me the next morning.
“Owen,” Olivia coos, kissing my temple and rocking my shoulder. “Owen, baby, you need to get up. The car service will be here in an hour.”
I slowly open my eyes, yawning long and loud as I stretch my arms out in front of me. I look around the still dark room, confused as to where I am and how I came to wake up on the couch. Recollection comes to me, albeit slowly, and I feel like I’ve only been sleeping for twenty minutes. Olivia grabs the remote from the coffee table and shuts off the TV before placing it back where she found it. She’s wearing those soft pink cheer shorts I love and a thin, white, sinfully tight tank top that is pure joy to my tired eyes. “What time is it?” I ask groggily and push myself up from the couch. The throw blanket slips off my body to reveal my bare chest.
“It’s six fifteen a.m., baby. If you want to make your flight, I strongly suggest you get moving.” She wraps her warm hands around my face, pulls me toward her chest and kisses the top of my head. As she turns to walk to the bedroom, I take hold of her wrist and tug her down onto my lap. Olivia lets out a surprised yelp and starts to giggle as I wrap her up in my arms. I nuzzle into her neck and rub my nose along her soft, warm skin. “I don’t need an hour to get ready which leaves at least thirty minutes for you and I to fool around before I need to leave.”
“You think so, huh?” She smiles and wraps an arm around my neck to kiss my forehead.
“Mmmhmm…”
“Not this morning, Eros. I have a breakfast meeting and I cannot be late.”
“Who’s leading the meeting?”
“I am, but—”
“Then they can wait until you get there,” I say moving my hand from her hip and over her tummy. I slip my hand under her t-shirt and move it up her torso before cupping her breast, her nipple hardening beneath my touch. “I’m going to be gone all weekend and I wanted you to leave me with a sexy memory. I need something to sustain me while I’m away.”
“Owen,” Olivia chides, “you’ll only be gone for sixty plus hours. You make it sound like you’ll be serving a prison sentence of thirty to life.”
“Because that’s what it feels like. Not being inside you, hearing you moan and begging me for more, has become an addiction. You’re my obsession, Olivia. You’ve ruined me,” I murmur against the skin on her neck. “Please?”
Olivia lets out a shuddering breath as I move my hand to her other breast that peaks under my touch. I know I have her.
“Brush your teeth, because your breath smells like ass. After...” she pauses and shrugs her shoulder. “We’ll see how much time we have left.”
Thirty minutes later, I’ve had her bent over our bed and up against the shower wall. I love to multi-task.
This weekend is Travis’s bachelor party and to say I am excited is a gross understatement. Time away with the guys is going to be awesome. Time away from my girl will be less awesome, but good for me and Olivia. We’ve been spending a lot of time together lately and, as much as I love the girl, I need a little break. I’m not proud of the fact that I think I need time away—not with her moving in soon and all. It crosses my mind if I’m actually ready for that level of commitment.
I take hold of my packed suitcase and roll it to the door. When I turn around, Olivia is there to see me out and say our goodbyes. She wraps her arms around my waist and presses her head against my chest in a tight hug. I throw my arms around her back and bend to give her a kiss on the top of her head.
“Have a good time, baby, but not such a good time that I’ll need to kick your ass when you get home.” Olivia pulls away from me and winks. I know she’s putting up a good front. She’s worried that playboy Owen will wreak havoc in the City of Sin.
“I’ll be good. I swear it.” I try to reassure her.
“Pinky swear?”
I smile and offer Olivia my pinky. She wraps her little finger around mine and I lower my head and put my forehead flush against hers. “Pinky swear. I love you, babe. You’ll be hearing from me. And I fully expect you to send me naked pictures of yourself so I can get through the night.”
She smiles and pushes herself away from me, shaking her head. “You’re delusional, but I love you. Have a good time and I’ll see you on Monday.”
Two hours later, I’m lined up in the queue to get on to my plane to Vegas. I think back to the last time I was headed out on a flight. That flight changed my life.
Me: I’m getting ready to board the plan. I can guarantee this flight will be MUCH less exciting. I need my flying partner.
I tuck my phone in my front pocket and hand the gate agent my boarding pass. As I walk down the gangway, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
Olivia: You didn’t ask your flying partner on this trip. You’ll have to make due with no hanky panky on a plane this go-around.
Text me when you land. Love you.
Hanky panky? I do love that girl. I find my row and place my newly purchased Men’s Health and FHM magazines on my seat while I stow my luggage. I have an aisle row in economy plus, but I’m instantly regretting not getting a first class seat. My 6’4” frame just isn’t cut out for these tight seats. Once I’m settled, I send Olivia a final text:
Me: Are you saying that the next time we fly we’ll have sex on a plane? I love you more. xo
I shut my phone of
f and tuck it back into my pocket to settle in for my flight.
“Welcome to Las Vegas, Nevada where the time is two eighteen and the temperature is a beautiful ninety-two degrees.”
I dig out my phone and turn it on to send Olivia a text.
Me: Just landed. Boring flight. Chick next to me was not nearly as hot as you and refused my advances. Heading to hotel soon to meet up with the guys. xo
Once I’m settled in the cab on the way to the hotel, I check my phone and find a message from Olivia.
Olivia: Glad your new flying partner didn’t work out. Means my spot is secure. Buried under paperwork and green with envy that you’re off having fun. Send me a dick pic later. xxo
I arrive at Caesars Palace, on the heart of the Vegas strip, and check in to my room.
“Mr. Maxwell, I see a note here that Mr. Greyson wanted to be notified when you checked in this afternoon.” The woman assisting with my check in gives me an inquisitive look, but I just smirk.
“He does, does he? Well, by all means, please notify Mr. Greyson that I have arrived.”
“If you’ll follow me to the Augustus VIP room, I’ll let him know.” She motions for me to follow her and I gladly do while shaking my head on the short walk to the secluded room. What is that bastard Greyson up to now?
In the time it took for me to finish my glass of scotch, Greyson arrives. “Owen Maxwell. How the fuck are you, man?” he calls to me as he enters the room. Scott Greyson is dressed to the nines in a dark blue suit, a white and blue small-patterned plaid dress shirt, a silky, solid blue tie, tied in a Windsor knot, and a crisp white pocket square. He looks like money and I’m a tad envious. Standing at 6’2” with a muscular frame, jet black hair and tanned skin, he looks the part for his job as a General Manager of Caesars Palace to a T. As I stand from my plush leather chair, Greyson makes his way toward me. He starts to undo the two buttons on his suit jacket and throws his arms open wide for a hug. I do the same and we greet each other like the old buddies we are.
Scott and I were in the same fraternity at UCLA and have kept in contact over the years. He’s the type of guy that exudes masculinity. Alpha male seeps out of his pours. He wasn’t the most popular friend of the guys in the fraternity because of his explosive temper, but he and I became friends because I refused to put up with his shit. He had always been very driven and his hard work has paid off for him nicely. Not only is he the youngest GM Caesars has on staff, he is constantly courted by rival casinos to revamp their resorts and work his magic like he has for Caesars.
“Looking mighty dapper, my friend. How have you been?” I ask as we both take a seat in the VIP lounge.
“I’m working too much and getting a shit-ton of tail. Life’s not too bad. Rumor has it that things are going pretty good for you too. How are things with you and your woman, Mr. Noncommittal?”
“Olivia will be moving in to my apartment in a month or so. So…yeah, things are good. I look forward to making you jealous the next time you’re out my way.”
“Moving in, huh? Already? No shit! Well, maybe I’ll meet her at your wedding, huh?” Scott laughs while pushing my leg with his hand.
I don’t laugh and instead look at my empty glass and rattle the ice cubes melting inside it. Why does everyone think I’m getting married?
“Listen, about the room situation, I had a high-roller fly in last minute yesterday, so I wasn’t able to secure the Penthouse for you and your friends like I had hoped. However, I was able to get you suites in the upper levels of the Octavius Towers. I’ve also arranged for your room service and mini-fridges to be comped, so go crazy. When you need transportation, the resort’s limos are at your disposal.”
“Wow, Scott. I don’t know what to say! Thank you. I know the guys are going to be pretty stoked with all of that,” I smile wide. It’s good to have friends in high places.
“I’m happy to do it. Just don’t go all ‘Hangover’ on me, all right?” Scott smirks. With that, he stands up and buttons his suit jacket. He digs into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone to silence an alert.
“I’ve got a meeting across the property in ten minutes, so I need to head out. If you find time between all the debauchery, let’s get together and catch up. You can tell me more about Olivia and I can fill you in on what you’ve been missing now that you’re off the market.”
I smile and roll my eyes. “I’ll give you a call. Thanks again for hooking me and my guys up, Scott. I really appreciate it.”
“Not a problem, Owen. It’s good to see you again. Enjoy your stay at the resort and call me if you need anything.”
“We’re still on for golf tomorrow, right?” I confirm.
“Yep. I have a thought on a little wager for our game.”
“We’re going to bet on the game? You may be too rich for my blood.”
“It’s Vegas, Owen! Everyone bets on everything!”
I nod in acknowledgment and thank him again. We say our goodbyes and moments later I’m lead to my suite that overlooks the Vegas strip.
Three hours later, me, Travis, Marc and three of Travis’s friends from Seattle, Todd, Alex and Jeremiah, have commandeered two tables at the Shadow Bar inside Caesars and the booze is already flowing. Black leather couches line the red walls and a plexiglas railing separates us from the floor below. It’s a perfect vantage for people watching. Women are dancing on poles scattered throughout the room and others are dancing seductively behind clouded glass panels with light reflected behind them. Their shadows are alluring and leave very little to the imagination. It’s a guys’ wet dream in here.
“What’s the plan for the night?” Todd asks as he wraps an arm around Travis’s neck. “We gonna get this guy fucked up or what?”
“No. No. No. I want to remember tonight and not spend all of tomorrow paying penance to the porcelain god. I’m all for having a good time, but Owen,” Travis commands, singling me out, “your job is to keep me out of jail.”
“No pressure there. Thanks buddy,” I reply.
It doesn’t take long for the bar to fill up with an abundance of beautiful women. I watch one woman meander around the bar wearing what can best be described as a shredded dress. Literally, there are mango colored bandages wrapped around her lady bits and generous gaps of tan skin showing between the strips of cloth. Super classy. Her father must be proud.
As the night progresses, we all drink, swap stories and people watch until it’s time for us to head out to our next destination. I direct the group of men to the waiting jet-black Hummer limo, courtesy of Caesars Palace. We pile into the back and immediately Marc takes out the decanter of nondescript whiskey and starts passing out shot glasses. With our glasses raised high, we toast to the end of Travis’s freedom and the start of a fucking good night.
We arrive at Encore at the Wynn Las Vegas and are ushered in the nightclub, XS, at the resort. A wall of textured gold greets you upon arrival and you can feel the beat of the music well before you get inside. The hostess leads us to our VIP booth overlooking the pool and the dance floor. Light gold colored leather couches surround two small tables that hold a bottle of Johnnie Walker Gold Label Reserve scotch, an ice bucket filled with ice chips and various mixers. Todd, Jeremiah and Alex fill one of the couches while Marc, Travis and I take the other across from them. The guys look around, observing the sights and sounds of the club. There’s a lot going on here—from the massive gold-plated molds of nude women that adorn the wall behind one of the club’s four bars, to the gold-plated, ten-foot rotating chandelier that hovers over the main dance floor, to the stripper pole behind our booth that is currently occupied by a stunning, and extremely flexible, redhead –there is a lot excess at XS to stimulate all of your senses. The vibe of the club screams opulence and sex and I love it.
No sooner have we given the place an once-over, when we see a parade of sparklers raised high in the air and weaving down the crowded aisle toward our table. The cocktail waitresses following each other and eventually break off to d
eliver bottles of adult beverages to their assigned tables. A hot blonde, wearing a tight, plunging black dress (accentuating her amazing tits) approaches our table with a huge smile. Her teeth are so white against her tanned skin, it’s almost blinding. She places a bottle of Grey Goose in the ice bucket as the sparkler attached to it slowly dies out.
“Hello, boys! My name is Whitney and I’ll be your server tonight,” she says cheerily. “I understand one of you is getting married soon. Who’s the lucky guy?” Whitney points her finger, eyeing all of us suspiciously.
Travis raises both arms over his head and smiles. “Me! I’m gettin’ married,” Travis shouts proudly. “Do I get a special prize?”
Whitney grins and bends down slowly, giving Travis (and the rest of us) an eyeful of her ample cleavage before giving Travis a peck on the corner of his mouth. “She’s a lucky girl to be marrying a handsome man like you,” she flirts.
“Me! I’m getting married too!” Alex blurts.
“Me too! I mean, I’m already married, but I think I deserve a special prize!” Jeremiah cries out.
Whitney covers her mouth, trying to stifle a laugh. “Well, my job is to make sure you have a memorable night, so you boys be sure to let me know how I can satisfy you. You all seem like a lot of fun. I’m confident we can all come out winners tonight. For now, what can I mix you to drink?”
Three hours later, we’re all lit.
Blitzed.
Schnockered.
Loaded.
Marc and Travis are talking over each other—one is rambling on about how it’s about damn time the Seattle Seahawks won the Super Bowl and the other is slurring about how the wedding is getting out of hand…something about too many people and it’s costing him a fortune. I can’t be sure, but I think Marc is the one talking about the wedding stuff. We’ve lost Alex and Todd to the dance floor and some sexy female escorts. And Jeremiah is lying on the couch. He said he was just going to rest his eyes, but I’m pretty sure he’s passed out.
