Griffin nodded, then watched as she walked away.
He could hear her changing clothes inside the room, but he didn’t have the heart to face her again, because all of a sudden he was wondering why she looked so sad, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the truth.
WHILE MACY got herself ready for dinner, Lauren filled her in on the day she’d spent with Carson, gambling and then…not gambling. They’d apparently taken to each other pretty quickly and had spent the afternoon in Carson’s suite.
“I don’t really need any more details,” Macy called from the dresser when she sensed that Lauren was about to launch into a full-on description of Carson’s more impressive attributes. “I have to work with the man.”
“That certainly didn’t stop you from getting down and dirty with Griffin.”
Macy decided not to point out all the things that were wrong with Lauren reminding her of that. Instead, she stared at her hair in the mirror, trying to decide if she should wear it up or down.
“You can’t possibly be planning to wear that in public?” Macy said when Lauren emerged from the bathroom wearing a black dress so tiny if she’d blinked she would have missed it.
“You think it’s too much?” Lauren asked, checking herself out in the mirror, turning this way and that.
“I think it’s too little. I mean, really, I feel like I’m getting way too much personal info.”
“But this is Vegas. We’re supposed to dress like trashy girls here.”
“Only if we want to be mistaken for hookers.”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “I forgot to pack my church dress. Do you have any other recommendations?”
Macy went to the closet and checked out the assortment of outfits Lauren had brought. Lots of club attire. Nothing that left any details to the imagination. “What about this orange dress?”
“Won’t it make me look like I’m trying too hard?”
“You’re wearing that, and you’re worried about looking like you’re trying too hard? Aren’t you maybe a little worried that you’ll look like you want it too badly?”
“I do want it badly.”
“You just don’t want to look like you have to work to get it.”
“Exactly.”
Macy shook her head at Lauren’s warped logic. “That makes perfect sense.”
“I can do without the sarcasm.”
“Wear what you want. I’m officially done with the subject.”
Lauren stepped into a pair of black stiletto heels that made her legs look several feet longer. She was already tall and on the slim side, though she had the sort of stacked hips and chest that made guys stop in their tracks and stare. The dress and heels made it all too much. Too sexy, if there was such a thing.
She’d curled her long dark hair, and it hung in slight waves that would probably be gone after a night of hard dancing. Her dark red lipstick—Lauren’s signature—contrasted with her dark hair and fair skin, making her face so striking it was impossible not to look at her.
“So are you ready to deliver Griffin’s IQ its death blow tonight?”
Macy winced at the reminder of another night of sex that would end without satisfaction for at least one of them. She’d discovered a whole new facet to the problem of faking it today. All this selfless pleasure was making her like Griffin a little too much. It was impossible not to like a guy she’d spent so much time pleasuring, and who had exerted such an extraordinary amount of energy trying to pleasure her right back.
“I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Remember,” Lauren said, “the wilder the sex, the more dramatic the results.”
“How, exactly, did you measure that scientifically?”
Lauren smiled. “Various methods. We used surveys that were filled out after sexual encounters, and we also used a lot of horny college students getting off under more controlled conditions.
“They agreed to masturbate, with varying degrees of stimulation. Some of them got something really lame like a typical mail-order catalog to masturbate to, and some got mildly stimulating images, while some got really hot porn—or erotica, depending on personal preferences.
“After each test subject achieved orgasm, they had to do various cognitive tests. Invariably, the hotter the stimulus or encounter, the more dramatic the results.”
“That’s just…bizarre.”
Lauren shrugged. “It’s science.”
“No wonder you wouldn’t talk about any details of your study for the past few years. What could you have said—I’m measuring the results of masturbation in horny college students?”
“I didn’t talk about it because I didn’t want anyone else homing in on my field of study.”
“I wouldn’t have, I can guarantee you that.”
“No, but you might have accidentally told someone else.”
“Are you ever going to trust me completely?”
Lauren looked doubtful. “Sorry. Being secretive is just an old habit I can’t break, I guess.”
And it was true. Lauren was one of those people who never revealed much about herself, even to her closest friends. It made it hard to get close to her, but Macy had known her since freshman year in college and had always felt a connection to her that she couldn’t explain. It was as if they’d been friends in a past life—as if many things between them could just remain unspoken, and it would be okay. They understood each other.
But it still bothered Macy sometimes that she had to nag and prod her best friend to talk about the simplest details of her life.
She turned her thoughts back to her more immediate dilemma. “So, the wilder the sex, the harder the IQ falls…that could be the title of your study.”
Lauren laughed. “Maybe—The Wilder They Are—I like it. If I were publishing it in Cosmo. The medical journals usually run a little more conservative, sadly.”
Macy glanced at the clock on the nightstand. They had ten minutes before they were supposed to meet the guys in the lobby.
“You’re really wearing that dress, aren’t you?” Macy said, looking down at herself. She was wearing a much more conservative Marilyn Monroe-inspired frock that made her look as though she was on her way to a country jamboree when she stood next to Lauren.
“Why don’t you wear my orange dress?”
“You think it will fit?” Macy did love the orange dress. It had a disco fever vibe that appealed to her.
“I’m sure it will. It’ll be longer on you than it is on me, but it’s stretchy.”
Macy changed into the much skimpier dress, borrowed Lauren’s silver heels, and in five minutes they were out the door, ready for trouble.
But no matter how ready she might have looked, Macy had a growing sense of foreboding, as if she was getting herself into a much bigger mess with Griffin that she’d ever anticipated.
Yet, the damage was done, and some kinds of trouble were too good to back out of.
MACY HAD CONSUMED perhaps a wee bit too much wine during the show they’d caught after dinner, and now she was buzzing nicely as she sat in a comfortable leather sofa next to Griffin at the jazz lounge they’d all wandered into afterward. The lights were low, the music was subdued and the tables and chairs were set up to invite conversation. It was the ideal kind of place to chat with friends.
In fact, she found herself wishing this wasn’t just a one-time occurrence. As a group, they worked nicely. At least in Las Vegas they did. Maybe in the real world they’d all grate on each other’s nerves to no end.
“Do we dare talk shop again on vacation time?” Griffin asked, looking around the table at everyone.
Carson shrugged. “Technically, this isn’t vacation, since we’re here on the resort’s dime.”
“Don’t mind me,” Lauren said. “I’ve been around Macy long enough to know how she thinks—always looking for the angle that sells.”
Griffin’s eyebrows quirked upward. “Is that right?”
Macy sank into her seat a bit. It sounded so sl
eazy when they put it like that. But it was true. She loved figuring out what any given thing’s appeal was, and then emphasizing it.
She smiled. “I’m an ad girl, what can I say?”
“So let’s say Carson is our product? How do we sell him?” Griffin asked.
Carson made an attempt at looking offended. “I’m not for sale.”
“Hypothetical, man,” Griffin said, keeping his attention on Macy.
“That’s easy,” she said. “Charm, good looks, great sense of humor. Carson’s an easy sell. Advertising could be totally stylized, evoking a mood of sexy coolness rather than trying to point out any obvious product attributes.”
Carson beamed. “I knew there was a reason I liked you so much, Macy.”
Lauren looked unconvinced. “I don’t like those ads that don’t even say the name of the product.”
Macy nodded. “They’re a risky move, and really only for companies whose brands are already highly recognizable. They’re more about keeping products in the public consciousness, making sure a household name brand is associated with a hip image than they are about directly selling.”
“But it’s all about selling in the end,” Griffin added, then polished off the last of his martini.
“Maybe we’ve just stumbled onto the future of dating,” Lauren said. “People’s lives keep getting busier, there’s less time for dating around, less time for meeting new people. Maybe there could be a channel on TV you tune into just to see people commercials.”
“Or it could be on the Internet—an extension of dating services. Everyone has a commercial, except they’re the product,” Macy added.
“I think those already exist,” Griffin said. “Not that I’ve done the Internet dating thing. But I’ve heard of some sites having videos.”
“Okay, maybe I’m not as innovative as I thought.” Macy smiled in a self-deprecating way. “Or maybe the commercials will get more sophisticated over time.”
Lauren grinned. “More and more sophisticated, until Carson’s not even in his own commercial. You just see a stylish apartment, empty, to signify his need for a girlfriend, some hip music playing, and maybe a photo of him on a bookshelf. The camera pans across the room, not even pausing on the photo. It stops at the table, where two glasses of wine sit next to two elegant table settings. And then the word Imagine flashes on the screen. Then, fade to black. No number to call. Maybe just a Web site to log on to.”
Everyone laughed.
Griffin said, “Lauren, I think you’ve missed your calling. You should work in advertising.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sorry, but I think you’re all pimps. Product pimps.”
He smiled. “I can live with that.”
“I’ve been called worse,” Carson said. “Besides, Lauren seems pretty happy with the flight-attendant life. It’s rare I meet someone who actually likes what they do for a living.”
Macy cast Lauren a pregnant glance. What would have been the harm in telling the truth about her job? Well, okay, so maybe Macy didn’t know what it was like to have a career that turned guys off. She was better off just minding her own business, she reminded herself. Better off keeping her mouth shut.
Lauren was a smart girl. She knew what she was doing.
“So what about our real ad campaign? We ought to be focusing our thoughts by now, coming up with some preliminary ideas.”
Macy settled farther into the plush sofa, pleasantly conscious of Griffin’s nearness. When she recrossed her legs and he casually placed a hand on her thigh, her insides started buzzing. She wanted him more with each passing hour, wanted to toss aside a few IQ points and indulge in whatever came, but…she couldn’t give up now. She’d set the plan into motion, and backing out halfway through would be stupid at best.
“The campaign will be both print and television, right?” Carson asked.
“And we’ll be overseeing the Web site redesign to match the campaign,” Griffin said.
“I’m thinking of something that captures the feel of the gold coast in its first heyday. Wealth from the gold rush that brought San Francisco into its own. Glamour, a touch of the roaring twenties…”
“How do we tie that into Las Vegas and its current appeal as a place of debauchery?” Macy asked.
Griffin said, “We’ve got these disparate elements—the hotel’s elegance, the high-roller culture, the whole Las Vegas scene and then the nod to all things San Francisco. It’s a lot to mesh.”
Macy’s brain worked its way around the problem. She had a few ideas, and she’d been mulling them over long enough that she felt as if they were ready to be presented to the group.
“Let’s see…all the casinos have certain things in common, and people already know what goes on in Vegas, so we have to capture what’s unique about this resort, while also reminding the audience of why they’ll want to come here.”
“So maybe we feature a beautiful, scantily-clad woman, a young successful-looking guy and the elegant backdrop of the resort,” Carson said.
“It’s been done.” Macy said. “A lot.”
“Maybe we do a montage of images, or…” Griffin was just thinking out loud, so Macy refrained from pointing out that a montage of images was about as obvious and uncreative as they could get.
And then she realized, maybe the sex was working. Maybe he really was dumbed down enough for it to be noticeable. She tried not to smile. “Okay, so if the enviable guy and girl have been done, maybe we do a variation on it. We take the obvious and spin it in a unique way.”
“Maybe it’s a guy and a guy, or a girl and a girl—it is the Golden Gate resort, after all…”
“Girl and girl, I’m all for,” Carson said, then dodged Lauren’s elbow. She cast a sideways glare at him, but Macy knew she wasn’t offended. Lauren was about as accepting of people’s sexual proclivities as a girl could get.
“I’m thinking we’ll miss a big chunk of our target audience if we did that. I’ve got these images in my head of the Golden Gate Bridge, a view of San Francisco from the water and maybe a fade into… No, wait, here’s an idea—There’s an image of the front door of the hotel, and inside the door is the view of the bridge and the city.”
Silent nodding from Griffin and Carson. Lauren was busy trying to hail a waitress for another drink.
“It’s interesting,” Griffin finally said. “But aside from maybe luxury and a sense of escape, what does it really convey that we’re looking for?”
Macy shrugged. “Nothing.” Years of creativity by committee had taught her not to take criticism personally and never to fall in love with her own ideas.
“If we want to convey the idea that this resort is a cut above the standard Vegas fare, maybe we need to go totally different in the advertising—do something no one else is doing,” Griffin said.
“Have you studied the competition’s advertising?” Carson asked.
“I spent a few nights on the Internet checking out everything I could,” Griffin said.
Macy nodded. “Me, too.”
“Oh, right. I forgot you two are in a race for the big promotion, trying to out-creative each other.”
Macy shifted in her seat, definitely not keen on the new direction of the conversation. Then a flash of brilliance hit.
“I’ve got it,” she said. “What about something minimalist, something understated, to send the message that this resort is so nice, no manipulative images are needed.”
Carson smiled. “Which in itself is a manipulative image. I like it.”
“It’s been done before, of course. Lots of upscale brands are going minimalist,” Griffin said, always the one to find the weak spot.
“True,” Macy said. “But what about…say, opulent minimalist. Magazine ad—picture a blank metallic gold page, some kind of elegant font, and something like ‘Welcome to Luxury,’ printed center page.”
“I like it,” Griffin said.
“And maybe the page could open up. Either split down the middle like doors, or a fol
d-out page, with more about the resort inside,” Carson said.
Macy nodded. “Maybe. Or the call to action could be on the opposite page. Still an all-gold page. But the centered text on that page could just be the name of the resort, the location, Web site and phone number.”
“That definitely sounds like a possible direction for the print campaign,” Carson said. “Keep thinking about it. It just gave me an idea for the television ads. Same minimalist aesthetic. Maybe a black screen, some really sexy jazz music and the same words flashing on screen.”
“I think there needs to be some kind of visual besides the words. What if we have images of the hotel itself flashing on screen…but,” Macy paused, ideas competing for attention in her brain. “I just feel like this is a chance for us to do something really edgy and sexy for television. There aren’t many casinos doing TV ads, so we’re not in such a saturated format.”
“Maybe this is where the hot guy and girl could work,” Carson said.
Macy nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking. Maybe the camera follows them, it’s late at night, they’re wandering the casino, the hotel, maybe making out in the elevator, and then it ends when they enter their hotel room and close the door.”
“You don’t think that’s too risqué?” Griffin asked. “I mean, considering the hotel’s overall image?”
“It’s all in how it’s handled,” Carson said. “And where the ads run. We could go from PG-rated to R-rated depending on the audience.”
All this work talk was reminding Macy of her relationship with Griffin and its true nature. They’d been competitors, not lovers, before yesterday. And she could tell just by the tone of his voice that when it came to business, he wasn’t about personal connections.
He was all about business.
It wouldn’t matter to him what happened between them in bed, so it shouldn’t matter to her, either. And it didn’t, so long as he showed up at work forgetful and foggy-brained.
“I like that,” Lauren said. “I think that kind of ad would catch my interest.”
“Maybe if we continue the ‘Welcome to…’ theme, then this ad could fade to black and the words Welcome to Debauchery or something like that could flash on-screen.”
Sex, Lies and Dirty Secrets Page 9
