Vegas Virgin

by Kelli Callahan

  “Hey there, handsome.” The aroma of alcohol hit my nostrils even before I heard her voice. “My friends and I saw you come in. Do you want to come hang out with us?”

  She was clearly drunk—so drunk that her words were slurred. She had hair that was blonde and as fake as her surgically enhanced tits. Her push-up bra lifted them so much they almost popped out of her dress. She would probably be fun. She looked like the type that would suck my cock and let me fuck her in the ass, but it would matter less to her than it mattered to me. I used to go home with easy girls like her, but I no longer had the patience that. I looked at her friends and they smiled, waving towards me. They were all just like her—so much like her that it looked like someone cloned her and just started changing hair colors.

  “Sorry, I’m waiting on someone.” I held up my hand and tapped my wedding band.

  “I don’t care if you’re married.” She smiled and reached for my hand.

  “I do.” I pulled my hand away at the last second. “Sorry.”

  Have you ever heard of a man wearing a fake wedding band to keep women away? I picked up that trick after having it used on me a couple of times. It was just a tool at my disposal. I usually slipped it off and tossed it on the ground before I made my move. I had dozens of them at home in a drawer. I used to put them in my pocket, but I had one fall out right before I got my cock sucked once and learned my lesson. Occasionally, I kept it on and told the story of a tragic divorce and an inability to remove it. That wasn’t a complete lie, even if my marriage had ended nearly five years earlier.

  The blonde that tried to seduce me finally gave up and headed back to her group of fem-bots.

  “Another drink.” I stared at the crowd and sighed when I pushed my glass towards Steve.

  “Right away, Mr. Martin.” I didn’t wait to see if he broke his previous record. I really didn’t care. I had enough booze in me for one evening but I needed to be holding something besides an empty glass.

  And there she was.

  She lingered at the back of a group of twenty-somethings. She only smiled when someone was looking at her. The instant they looked away, her face retreated to the natural discomfort she was in. She had dark brown hair falling down her shoulders and around her arms. Her dress was so skin tight she constantly shifted and tugged at it. She didn’t buy that dress. She didn’t own that dress. Someone in the group had convinced her to go out with them and loaned it to her. When the waiter brought shots, everyone downed them enthusiastically except her. She took a sip and then held it down by her waist. When the moment allowed, she sat it on a nearby table and walked away.

  I had to have her.

  She was a good girl. She didn’t know what it was like to ride the cock carousel with a different partner in her bed every time she put liquor to her lips. If I had a fetish, she was exactly what turned me on. I picked up my drink and walked towards her. Her tits were so natural and perfect. They were big enough for me to squeeze, but not big enough to knock her teeth out when I made the bed quake. Her ass might as well have been drawn on her perfect form. An artist would have struggled to draw or sculpt one so perfect without having her right there to serve as the model. When I got closer, I tilted my head to avoid eye contact with her friends. I had to charm her before they tried to talk her out of it.

  “Hi, I’m Max—short for Maxwell, but please don’t call me that.” I extended my hand and she nearly jumped out of her sky-high heels when she realized I was speaking to her.

  “Uh. Oh.” She turned towards me and blinked a couple of times. “I’m Abby. Are you looking for one of my friends?”

  “No.” I flashed her the million-dollar smile—well, I guess it was a billion-dollar smile if you wanted to put a price on it. “I came over here to talk to you.”

  Chapter 2: Abby

  A few hours earlier

  “Abby, come on, it’s Saturday night!” My best friend, Mary-Katherine, was standing in my kitchen with a dress in each hand. “Are you really just going to spend another weekend at home watching movies with your cat?”

  “Sebastian likes it when we spend a quiet weekend at home.” I grabbed the orange tabby from the floor and hauled him up into my arms, speaking to him in a baby voice. “Don’t you, Sebastian?”

  Sebastian tolerated my attention for a couple of seconds before flipping over and jumping out of my arms. He scurried upstairs as Mary-Katherine extended one dress and shook it at me before doing the same with the other. I hadn’t been out in over a year but the club scene just didn’t do it for me. It was fine when I was in college and had a group of friends to go out with, but doing it as an adult was just annoying. The music was too loud, the drinks were too expensive, and none of the guys ever talked to me anyway.

  “Which one is it going to be, Abby?” She held the dresses side by side. “Choose one.”

  “You’re really going to make me do this?” I rolled my eyes and sighed.

  “Yes, because eventually Rolando is going to propose to me and then I’ll be a barefoot pregnant wife who can’t go out when I want to. There’s a group of girls from work going out tonight, so we won’t be alone. You should wear this dress.” She tossed the blue dress on the table and handed me the emerald green one. “Come on, it’ll be just like college.”

  That was what I was afraid of.

  “Fine, but only because I know it won’t be exactly like college. You won’t hook up with someone and leave me to find my own ride home.” I took the dress from her and held it up to my body.

  “That happened one time...” She wrinkled her nose and pondered what I said. “Maybe twice...”

  “What time are you picking me up?” I ignored the fact she was clearly forgetting numerous other times in her attempt to gloss over history and rewrite it in her favor.

  “Nobody drives anymore, silly.” She shook her head back and forth. “Get an Uber and meet me there at seven.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you then.” I walked to the door and opened it, giving her a rather clear indication it was time for her to go.

  It was the worst weekend to go out. I was just gaining traction with my career and we had an important meeting with one of our clients on Monday. I wanted to find some nugget of information other people might miss, memorize it, and dazzle my boss with a profound question that provoked thought. Everyone seemed to have one on the edge of their tongue at those meetings except me. While nobody really cared how a company’s business ventures were doing in a random territory in the wake of some various economic shift, the person who posed the question was always looked at like they were a genius for thinking about it. If I wasn’t going to find a way to become a genius overnight, I had to fake it.

  “Sebastian?” I called out. “Do you want dinner?”

  Sebastian appeared like a rocket and ran straight to his food bowl. He sat down and then started meowing at me because I had called him before the food was served. I poured some food into his bowl and walked towards the stairs with the dress over my arm. It was going to take a lot of pushing and prodding to get my figure into the elaborate fabric, but it was nicer than anything I had in my closet. I stripped down when I got to the bathroom and stared into the mirror. A loose curl drifted into my eye and I blew it out of the way.

  I wasn’t getting any younger. At twenty-four, I was probably the oldest virgin left in America—maybe even the world. Everyone always said I was so pretty but I just didn’t feel like I had it —whatever it was. Mary-Katherine could walk into a club, shake her ass, and have a line of guys behind her. I didn’t have enough confidence to walk out on a dance floor and shake my ass. I hardly had enough confidence to go to a club in the first place. I hoped I would meet someone nice at the office, but I seemed to have fallen into the crack where every eligible guy was either a newlywed or a man-whore. There didn’t seem to be an in-between.

  “Okay, Sebastian. I’m going to take a shower now.” I started the water and watched him scurry away when he heard it bouncing against the bottom of the
tub.

  “W OW, YOU LOOK BEAUTIFUL .” Mary-Katherine smiled when I stepped out of my Uber. I tipped the driver and turned towards her.

  “This dress is way too tight.” I tugged at the hem.

  “It fits you perfectly. See, all that yoga and salad-eating paid off. You’re a skinny bitch now.” She laughed and waved to a group of people that waved back.

  “I haven’t lost any weight, I just couldn’t fit into your skinny jeans when you made me try them on while I was on my period...” My words trailed off as we got to the group and introductions were made.

  The club was just like college, but worse because we were part of the old crowd—the same crowd Mary-Katherine used to make fun of when we were in college. We gathered around a table and ordered drinks. I ordered a martini, thinking I could just hold it and sip it all night, but by the time the waitress brought it to the table, I had lost my stool to one of Mary-Katherine’s work friends. I just stood on the outer perimeter of the circle and smiled when someone looked at me, or nodded like I agreed with whatever the group said. I started to wonder why Mary-Katherine even asked me to come to the club if she was just going to ignore me.

  “Here you are, ma’am.” The waiter handed me a shot glass that smelled like tequila. I watched everyone chug theirs and I took a light sip—yep, it was tequila.

  I had too many nights purging Quetzalcoatl from my stomach and flushing him down the ceramic to ever dance with that ancient Aztecan again. I took a step towards the table to my left when the patrons walked away, and put the shot glass in the middle of their empty beer bottles. With one quick step to my right, I was back in the perimeter of the group that had become my permanent home until I could make an excuse to leave. The dress seemed to move up my hips on its own, or rub against my ribs in a way that I was sure would leave a mark, so I had to keep adjusting it. The battle never seemed to be won. The next thing I knew, a voice broke me from the war with my attire and startled me.

  Chapter 3: Max

  “Me?” She looked at me with a bit of confusion.

  “Yes, I think you’re beautiful.” Behind my back I gave a signal to Steve and the volume of the music started to get louder.

  “You what?” My words were drowned out before she could hear the last word.

  “I said, I think you’re beautiful.” I leaned closer to her, my lips nearly against her ear so she could hear my words.

  “I’m sorry.” She blushed and stared at me, her eyes blinking. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

  “Tell me you already know it. Tell me that guys say that to you all the time.” I let my lips drag against her earlobe.

  “Guys don’t say that...” She tugged at her dress.

  “They should. That dress looks really uncomfortable.” I could see redness in her cheeks and they were already starting to glow with faint radiating blush.

  “I borrowed it from my friend.” She pointed towards the table. “She’s over there.”

  “You can return it when you pick it up off the floor tomorrow morning.” I put my hand on her arm and let my finger slide down the sensitive skin near her wrist.

  “Uh... Um...” She took a step back and tried to say something, but the music drowned her out.

  “I can’t hear you.” I mouthed and motioned for her to say it in my ear.

  “I said I’m not that kind of girl.” She spoke directly into my ear and I ran my fingers along her arm again.

  “Why don’t we just go somewhere quieter and talk then? I really do think you’re beautiful, but it is too loud to talk in here.” I reached for her hand and started walking towards the door.

  She was mine.

  The music was so loud that it was probably hard for her to even think, much less figure out what I was saying. I flashed a thumbs-up to Steve as I walked towards the door and he started lowering the volume before customers started to complain. He knew my tricks because he had seen them repeated so many times. I could feel Abby’s hand sweating as we walked through the crowd and outside the club. The evening air felt nice after being trapped in a room filled with sweating college students. The second we were outside the club, she pulled her hand away and shook her head.

  “I need to get back to my friends. That sip of tequila must have really done me in, because I don’t know you.” She moved her hand in a half-circle wave. “It was nice meeting you.”

  “Wait, don’t go.” I stepped forward and took her by the hand, preparing to ooze charisma filled with all the manners I could muster—it was a wonderful mask to wear when I met the kind of good girls I liked best. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m obviously not very good at talking to women in clubs. That’s my fault. I just wanted to get your attention.”

  “You seem nice.” Her lips twisted into nervous uncertainty and she looked down at the ground.

  Here comes the fucking but.

  “But, I’m not really interested in going home with someone I just met and I’m not sure the kind of guy that would want that sort of thing is really my type.” Her smile twisted to one of pity, like she felt sorry for me.

  “I came on too strong.” I nodded. “I get that. I’m not upset with you for being concerned. I don’t get out much. I’m just a guy that saw a beautiful girl and got a little ahead of myself. You don’t sound like much of a drinker. Would you like to get coffee instead? There’s a nice little coffee shop right over there. You can see it from here. They’re open all night and we can just talk until your friends are done.” I gave her my best I love you smile, buried behind a remorseful stare.

  “I really don’t want to go back inside.” She sighed. “Yeah, coffee sounds good.”

  “Awesome.” I extended the crook of my elbow towards her and smiled as she put her hand in it.

  “Let’s start over. My name is Abby—short for Abigail and I don’t mind if you call me that.” She looked up at me with a smile forming where I had previously seen nothing but hesitation.

  Mine. Mine. Mine. All. Fucking. Mine.

  “Hey girl. Don’t go falling in love with him. He’ll break your fucking heart.” I looked to the line of people waiting to get into the club and saw one of the women step out of line. She started walking towards us with a purpose, her high heel shoes slamming on the sidewalk with each step.

  God, what was her name. I knew her. I fucked her. Valerie? No, it was Veronica.

  “I’m sorry, she’s just a crazy person.” I tried to keep Abby’s hand in the crook of my arm, but she stopped walking and turned around.

  “This guy?” She pointed at me with her thumb. “Max?”

  “Yeah, Max.” Veronica let out a laugh. “What did he do? Offer to take you for coffee so you could have some time to talk? You may think you’re clever enough to resist his charm right now, but give him an hour. Your panties will be drowning in your pussy and begging him to come save them.”

  “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Veronica.” I gave her a death stare, but I knew it was all over with Abby. The rest of the patrons in line were paying attention as well, and Abby seemed a little nervous.

  “We call him Mr. Mistake, those of us that let him in. We fell for his charm, fell for his good looks, and of course the fact he’s filthy rich doesn’t hurt. You can follow him and join our club tomorrow morning—he won’t be there when you wake up. Or, you can go back inside with your friends where you’re safe.” Veronica pointed towards the door.

  “Abby...” I let out a sigh.

  “I’m sorry, I should go.” Abby looked down at the ground as she ran back towards the door.

  “This place really needs more bouncers.” I sighed angrily. “Are you still that pissed off at me? It’s been what, two years?”

  “That’s the problem, Mr. Mistake—you’re unforgettable. Now that she’s gone, why don’t you take me home and I can make that mistake again.” Veronica walked closer and took my hand as the crowd finally stopped staring.

  “We’ve had this talk before. It’s not happening.” I turned and motioned towards
my driver who was waiting on the other side of the street.

  He did a u-turn out of his parking space and pulled up to the curb. I climbed into the passenger door and slammed it shut, watching Veronica stomp her high heel before she walked back towards the line.

  Veronica was a bit of an anomaly. I thought she was a sweet, innocent young woman when I first met her, but she turned out to be a freak. It was a fun night but it was never going to be forever. Veronica seemed to have other ideas and she stalked me for a bit, posting shit about me on social media. She coined the term, Mr. Mistake, and even used it as a hashtag for some of her friends. Occasionally, I would run into her and she would try to get me to take her home. It was the first time she had ruined a date for me, and I was angry I had to go home alone because of her interference.

  Chapter 4: Abby

  Mr. Mistake.

  No. There was no way I would have went home with him. That wasn’t even feasible. We would have gone to the coffee shop, had a cup of coffee, and then I would have been in bed regretting my decision to end my evening with a steaming cup of caffeine. There was electricity when he touched me, fire when his lips got close to my ear, and I was lost in those dark brown eyes. He seemed like such a nice guy when we talked. The night was perfect, the moon was hanging in the sky like it was there to perfectly illuminate the moment, and then what I thought was beginning of my life’s romance novel ended with those fateful words.

  Mr. Mistake.

  I stretched out on the couch and stared at the ceiling. Sebastian curled up next to me and tried to share my grief with his gentle purring. It wasn’t the first time I had come close to tumbling head over heels in a matter of minutes. When I was in high school, a hot guy said I was the one, led me on, and seconds before his lips descended to mine he started laughing. He wasn’t the only one. Everyone joined him in the ridicule. It was a prank. I was the butt of the joke, stupid enough to believe someone like Chad Dawson wanted me. I spent months hearing those cackles behind my back from those that retold the story over and over until someone else became a better victim.