by Jenna Kelly
"One or two!" Marissa shouted, although blushed when she realized the two men were laughing.
"No, you were great, Marissa. Kaitlyn's going to be very pleased."
They piled back into the van and made the nighttime drive back towards Las Vegas. She checked the time, just after half eight. She had plenty of time to get home, dress, and catch her sister's show at Samson Smith's, although her body was sapped.
The blonde only had a little bit to eat, and more than a few pulls at the tequila bottle. It seemed like any time she'd begin to lose energy, Jake had been there with the liquor. Now all of that drink was catching up with her.
"Any plans tonight?" she asked the other model.
"Sleep, I think. I so need that," he responded. "You?"
"My sister's performing tonight. I was thinking of going." Then, she added hopefully, "You're welcome to join me."
Jake laughed. "I don't think so, although under normal circumstances, I'd love to." The way he looked at her with those dark eyes made her shiver once again. "I'm just too beat."
Marissa realized that she was, too, as she nodded agreement. "Maybe you should take it easy, honey. Tomorrow's not going to be any easier, I'm guessing. That right, Daryl?"
"That's right!"
"Yeah," Marissa sighed. "Maybe you're right. It's just that, when in Vegas—"
Jake cut her off. "You're not planning on leaving any time soon, are you?"
Marissa blushed, realizing the silly cliché she nearly said. "You're wise beyond your good looks, Jake," she giggled. "Rain check then?"
"Absolutely."
***
Natalie smiled to herself as she hit her last song. It was a shame Samson couldn't be there, but the Main Event called. Maybe he'd even end up on the same table as David, now that would be something!
Her final song was a risk. Her followers in England knew it as her signature song and she wanted to test it to the Vegas scene.
My daddy, he was a music lover
Sang once, then sang some more,
He sang all day,
He sang all night,
And I sang from when I was four…
He left me his old gramophone
His records by the score,
I had country music by the window
And acid house by the door…
I said hello... hello… my name's Natalie Lane
I said hello... hello… my name's Natalie Lane
I was born a while ago…
Right back in eighty four…
And when people come up and ask my name…
I tell them all, once more…
Hello... hello, my name's Natalie Lane
Hello... hello, my name's Natalie Lane
As planned, the band joined in with the chorus, "What's your name?"
My name's Natalie Lane!
"What's your name?"
My name's Natalie Lane!
My daddy, he was a music lover
My momma was one too,
He sang all day,
She sang all night,
And I sang from when I was four…
This time, Natalie pointed her mic into the audience, allowing them to join in with the band. They soon caught on. "What's your name?"
My name's Natalie Lane!
'What's your name?'
My name's Natalie Lane!
I said hello... hello, my name's Natalie Lane
I said hello... hello, my name's Natalie Lane…
***
The cards had decided to pass Jessica by. That was okay. She was in no hurry. The occasional move was enough to maintain her healthy chip stack around the same level throughout most of the session.
That wasn't the problem. It was her concentration. Or lack of it. Her vibrator had warmed her up nicely, but she was craving the real thing. David was the first man she'd fucked for some time and that was dangerous. She knew that. Open the gates and she invariably wanted—needed—more.
She couldn't afford a relationship with anyone. In her line of work, that would be disastrous. But even so, maybe her 'one time only' decree had been too hasty? He'd been watching her from the rail for some time now and she was grateful for the support. But his presence hadn't helped the buzzing between her legs. If he was still there when play was finished, maybe, just maybe—
Pulling her hair onto the top of her head, she let it flop back onto her shoulders, trying to let the thought go. For once, she was oblivious to the eight pairs of eyes that homed in on her tits. Glancing up, her eyes smiled under her shades as she realised the effect—even the dark haired woman opposite!
Hmmm… it had been some time since she'd tasted another female.
"C'mon, girl," the African American three seats to her left encouraged. The aggressive older man had been needling everyone at the table since he'd joined an hour ago. "Your turn, honey, no time for day-dreaming."
"Mm-Kaitlyn," she murmured with a sweet smile. The last thing she intended was allowing anyone to get under her skin this late in the day.
"What's your name anyway, honey," he asked, staring at her tits.
"I'm up here," she told him, glancing at her hole cards. Pocket Rockets. "And the name's Jessica."
"Smith," he said in response. "Samson Smith. Tell me honey, how'd you get that chip stack. I haven't seen you play many hands since I got here. Lucky?"
She knew who he was—after all, she'd already banked twenty grand of his money. It was his retainer that'd brought her to Vegas, the poker was just a bonus. The fact he had no idea who she was somehow tickled her. The question now was when he'd want to use her. Although her employers knew nothing of her, she knew everything about each of them. In her position, she couldn't afford not to. It's what kept her alive, ahead of the game.
"That's me," she smiled at him, giving no hint of anything other than he was another opponent across the table. "Lucky!"
Glancing at her cards again, the pocket rockets were still there! She decided only to flat call—let's see what transpires.
Samson Smith raised, as she thought he might. His aggressive style had worked well over the last hour. The Texan to his left thought a while before calling and after a series of folds back to her, Jessica pushed all-in. Over the top perhaps, but she wasn't looking to be outdrawn so late in the day.
Her employer looked at her for a while before he folded, but the Texan immediately called. "If it's my time to go, it's my time," he told the table, standing up in time-honoured fashion and turning over Big Slick.
The flop was unbelievably perfect. Ace–King–three.
The four on the turn meant he was drawing dead. The river King added insult to injury. The Texan's Kings up full house was still inferior to Jessica's.
"Guess I got lucky again," she glanced across at the aggressive Samson Smith as she raked the chips towards her.
***
Reagan cried herself to sleep. However she tried to rationalise her situation, she came back to one thing. There was no way out, at least not for a long time. Earning fifty thousand dollars was well nigh impossible.
She turned down far more tricks than she accepted, but now she'd have to take every opportunity that was presented to her. Opportunity? That was a laugh, except there was nothing to laugh about.
The answer was to give Big Jack what he wanted, when he wanted—private parties and all. She knew she couldn't trust him. She hadn't danced for fun today, but what could she do? He had her over a barrel.
Maybe she could do double dancing shifts, too? The money wasn't fantastic but the tips were okay. Throw everything into it for the next couple of months and maybe that would give her the opportunity to find her feet and start again?
God, was that what she had to look forward to?
And then there was the Englishman. The only really decent man she'd met for how long now? And even he'd been scared away after seeing her with Jack. Why the hell did he have to choose that time to visit the club? Tomorrow, she'd head to the Rio first thing. See if she
could catch him in the breakfast area. Perhaps she could even speak to him, providing his girlfriend wasn't around.
She could do with a friend.
***
Natalie's lush body glistened with perspiration as she whirled and spun about on the dance floor, her lean legs kicking and shifting to the lively salsa beat. The man she was with—one of a string of males wanting to dance with the hot brunette—really knew hot to move, his lean body leading her through complex moves like she was a pro.
RumJungle was alive with salsa. Mandalay Bay's three-tiered nightclub was filled with the live percussionists, playing off giant conga drum stages, each song transitioning into the next. Natalie hadn't had so much fun dancing in a long time. It was good of Samson Smith to take her there, but then the big man had left her to it. She'd thought he'd be spending the night with her, but clearly the African American had other plans.
Excusing herself from the floor and the latest guy who was trying to hit on her, she went to the bar. It glowed green and blue against the orangy lights of the rest of the club. "Rum and coke," she ordered. She'd been sticking with rum drinks tonight, naturally due to the name of the place.
"You move very well," a female voice commented to her right.
Natalie smiled, meeting the large, dark eyes of the Latin woman. She had long, black hair that glistened loosely about her shoulders. "Why thank you," she responded as she waited for her drink. "But I think it's more to the guy's credit than mine."
The woman shook her head, sipping at her rum on the rocks. Natalie watched her full, red lips and brilliant, white teeth. "Nonsense. You have a body that understands music. Knows how to move to it." Her exotic accent was sultry, caressing Natalie's slightly inebriated mind in a way that women normally did not. Not until Lindsay Wellson, anyway. Was this woman coming on to her?
Sensing Natalie's question, the Latina laughed, saying, "I saw you perform earlier tonight at Samson Smith's. Haven't seen a better show in a long time."
Natalie beamed inside. Someone had actually recognized her! It had happened back in London, but the person was always a friend-of-a-friend, not a total stranger like this. "Thank you!" she grinned broadly.
"It's good to see that those hips can work the Latin rhythms, too," she winked.
Natalie's parents had made sure both their girls were exposed to a broad range of the arts. From painting lessons to dance to music, they'd produced two very talented girls. "I've taken a few salsa lessons." Leaning in, she whispered, "But in all honesty, I'm just trying to keep up."
The woman leaned in closer and whispered back, "You're doing a good job." Natalie could feel her hot breath tickle her ear and shivered. The black haired Latina straightened up and said, "I'm Lysandra, by the way."
"Natalie," the singer replied.
"I know," Lysandra smiled, flashing those white teeth.
"You come here often?" Natalie asked, immediately cursing herself for accidentally using the pick-up line.
Lysandra had to cover her mouth she laughed so hard. Raising a dark brow, she shifted her weight against the bar and responded, "I normally get that line from the guys here, but yes, actually, I do come here often."
Natalie glanced along her sculpted body, taking it in like Aladdin in a room filled with gold. Her tiny, camisole top didn't cover much of her mocha brown body. Neither did the short black skirt that flounced around the top of her thighs.
"Are you a thief, here to steal my heart? Or do you need a map because you keep getting lost in my eyes?" Natalie's face was burning as brightly as the red lights that danced overhead. It sent Lysandra doubling over with laughter. Eventually, the brunette joined her, realizing the other woman was just having a bit of fun.
"Can I have your autograph?" another voice asked behind her. Still in the aftermath of the laugh session, she turned to find a couple of young looking girls standing there, looking at her wide-eyed. They couldn't have been 21. No way, but who was Natalie to judge?
"Sure," she said, taking the slip of paper and pen from the blonde on the right. The two of them giggled with delight.
When she turned back to Lysandra, her new friend gave her a crooked smile and whispered, "You're going to get a lot of that, soon enough. I can tell."
Natalie felt dizzy with the attention. Was this what the future had in store for her? "Sorry for the pick-up line. I didn't mean it that way…"
"Too bad," Lysandra smirked, shifted her weight to draw attention to her full tits that were screaming out of her low-sitting top. Again, Natalie blushed, although this time she let her eyes linger on the other woman's cleavage.
"Want any pills?" the sexy Latina asked out of the blue.
Natalie blinked as her voice caught in her throat. "What?"
"I've been saving them for my boyfriend, who's in that poker tournament, but it looks like he hasn't been knocked out yet." The way she said it made Natalie think that she didn't think he had much chance—a feeling she identified after all the years she'd lived with David. "So I have an extra. Want it, Ms. Rockstar?"
The way those luminous eyes looked up at her, her long lashes batting with mischief, Natalie knew what was expected. "Why not," she shrugged, feeling her stomach twitter and her heart skip a beat.
Reaching into her bra strap, Lysandra quickly plucked a small, white tablet and slipped it into her mouth. She stepped close enough that the soft skin of their legs intertwined, and captured the brunette's head in her long fingers. She tilted her head as her lips closed in. Natalie gasped, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. There was nothing more she could do.
The white pill sat on Lysandra's tongue like a pearl on the soft bed of an oyster. She gasped as she felt Lysandra's breath, Lysandra's first, hesitant touch of lips on lips. The other woman pushed her slippery tongue into her mouth, feeding her the first hit of Ecstasy she'd ever had.
But the kiss lingered. Natalie felt the other woman's pillowy breasts on her own. She felt the smooth friction as their thighs rubbed one another. She thought of Lindsay. She thought of how erotic it would feel to hear this woman's moans. To taste her in ways two women shouldn't share.
"Well, that was fun!" a man's voice was slowly applauding when they finally disengaged from the steamy embrace.
"Tony! You made it!" Lysandra swooned, seamlessly moving from Natalie's arms to her tall, dark and handsome boyfriend.
"I did," he sighed. "Bad beat on the river."
"Oh, you poor baby." Natalie looked on enviously as the tawny skinned female draped herself over what must have been her boyfriend. "I have an idea that'll make you feel better," she whispered, glancing at Natalie with undisguised lust.
Tony followed her gaze and Natalie shivered as she felt him glance along her scantily clad body. He looked tired, but interested. "You know the way to my heart, baby," he said quietly, "but maybe a rain check? I'm beat."
Lysandra looked at him in surprise. "You're turning down a threesome with two of the hottest girls in this club? You must be tired." He just smiled tiredly at his girlfriend. "OK then, but I need to stay with Natalie a little longer. She's going to be rolling any minute now and I don't want to leave her with this crowd."
As if on cue, Natalie felt the club… shift. Suddenly, things she'd thought were solid were not. The bar she was leaning on, the walls, even the floor, started to bounce and sway to the salsa rhythm. And the lights. Oh, the beautiful lights. She swept her eyes across fiery waterfall along one wall and gasped. The bright colours were almost tactile.
"You there, Natalie?" Lysandra asked, the other woman's hands suddenly on her shoulders. Looking up at her new friend, a smile split her face. The woman was so beautiful. So perfect. The Spanish woman returned the smile. "You are! Come on, let's dance!"
***
Carrie was panicking. How many times had she called Samson? How many messages had she left for him? Where the fuck was he?
She'd even contemplated heading over to his club, but she couldn't afford to take that
risk. If anyone from Midnight Hot saw her there, and reported it to Big Jack, she'd have a lot of explaining to do. And with the news that Kyle had imparted, she had to ensure that Jack believed she was on his side.
In fact, if anything, this gave her an opportunity to get closer to the gangster. She just had to play her cards right, put herself in the right position. Samson's decision to insinuate her in with the gangster had been a brainwave.
