Vegas Secrets

by Jenna Kelly

  ***

  Jessica brushed off the third guy who tried to chat her up. Standing so long in one place didn't help, but her position adjacent to the pathway outside the twenty-four hour All-American Bar & Grille, allowed a perfect view of David and the redhead. Not that she was spying. But she wanted to wish her new crinkly haired friend best of luck in the tournament today.

  She'd wait until she was free, but he was pushing his luck. It was long past the time he should have been making his way to the table. This redhead must be special! She'd have to check her out—

  "Don't bother," she told the fourth guy to approach her. Now wasn't the time to be engaged in conversation. With David and the woman standing up, the guy's timing couldn't have been worse Besides, he'd walked back and forth past her three times now and had only just plucked up the courage to speak.

  Maybe she'd have to change her top? Her intention to find an afternoon cash game in the Bellagio had seen her dress in her customary black. And while the tight cotton top didn't display any cleavage, it could have been sprayed onto her body. Her full tits, with her erect nipples standing so proud, looked like they could have been sculpted.

  When the poker player and the redhead reached the exit to the Grille, David planted a soft kiss on her lips before they hurried in opposite directions. The crinkly haired youngster was so preoccupied, he walked directly past Jessica, his thoughts encased in whatever world he was in.

  She fell into step behind him, walking a few yards before tugging his arm. "New girlfriend?" she asked.

  "Geez, you startled me," his bright smile telling her it wasn't a complaint. "I'm running late and was just wondering if I'd make the start. How're you doing?"

  "Not as good as you," she grinned back. "New girlfriend?" she repeated.

  He felt himself colouring. Clearly, Jessica had seen him with Reagan—why did that embarrass him? "No… not exactly. I mean… she…"

  "Fast worker," she teased, admitting to herself that there was a pang of regret in her tone. In other circumstances, she would have taken her chances with the crinkly haired youngster. They'd make quite a pair.

  "No…" he hurriedly interrupted, "it's not what you think…"

  Her loud guffaw told him she was teasing him. "Hey, I'm on your side," she smiled. "Just because you took me to bed doesn't mean I think you own me!"

  David's head jerked around to see if they'd been overhead. "Jessica—"

  Her laughter increased, trailing behind them as they hurried along the corridor. "Okay, okay, it must be serious if you can't recognise me pulling your leg. I'll change tack—you can tell me all about her later. How are you feeling about today? Calm?"

  "Yeah," he smiled. "I haven't though too much about it over the last forty-eight hours, which is kinda strange as this is why I came to Vegas. But so much seems to have happened since I arrived."

  "Lost your girlfriend," Jessica responded, her brown eyes dancing with mischievousness. "Nearly won a bracelet. Taken advantage of an unsuspecting blonde, then dumped her for a redhead."

  This time, David laughed. "You can be a real wind up merchant when you want, Willoughby," he told her, turning into the registration room. "Oh, shit! Look at that line!"

  "Bad news," she agreed, jokingly adding, "Maybe you should have got here earlier?"

  His face creased in disappointment as he joined the back of the long line. "You're not wrong. Gonna wait with me?"

  Jessica laughed. "No, I'm going to head down to the Bellagio. See if I can win my fortune down there."

  "Glutton for punishment," he told her, running a hand through his hair as he tried to calculate how long he'd be queuing. "By the way, congratulations on yesterday. I checked and saw how well you'd done. Brilliant!"

  "Thanks," she grinned, "I just wanted to give you something to aim at." Leaning close, she made a point of pressing her breasts into him as she lightly kissed his lips. Give him something to think about. "Gotta go!"

  The flash from the camera surprised them both. "What on earth—" David began, raising a hand to his eyes.

  "Could we have another?" the young photographer asked, shoving a card in the poker player's hand. "Las Vegas News," he explained, "Nevada's largest newspaper. We only just found out about the two of you."

  "Found out what," Jessica asked, pushing the camera away. A photograph in any newspaper was the last thing she wanted.

  "The two lovers from England," he beamed at them. "Reaching the final table together. Hey, that's a hell of a story. We're going to cover your progression all the way through the Main Event! Maybe you can give us an exclusive?"

  "We're not lovers," David blurted, wondering how they could know about him and Jessica. Had they been followed to his room yesterday morning? "Who the hell told you that?"

  The red haired young photographer grinned knowingly. "Common knowledge," he told them, attempting to take another snap. Jessica's hand on his arm stopped him before he could take the photo.

  "Where did this story come from?" she insisted.

  "I don't know where it started. But your performance together in that tourney has attracted a lot of interest. Particularly with Doyle being so lucky. We've got a great headline—The lovers from across the pond! Like it or not, folks, you're quite a story!"

  "Fuck!" David and Jessica's curse was simultaneous. Each had a different reason to believe this wasn't good news.

  ***

  For the second time that morning, a hand on his arm stopped David in his tracks. The older man who interrupted his rush to the table wore a friendly smile. But it was his loud Hawaiian shirt, combined with the pair of oversized shorts that made the poker player do a double take.

  The man extended a chubby arm to shake David's hand. "Watched you at Binion's," he said, in a voice oozing friendliness and comfort. "That was a hell of a bad beat you and the woman took. But you played great."

  "Thanks," David politely replied, his eyes glancing over the man's shoulder. Where was his table—he was late enough as it was.

  "It'll make it harder for you to do well in this event," the smiling man told him, adding by way of explanation, "more of a target."

  "Oh," David less than enthusiastically retorted. That thought hadn't occurred to him, though it hadn't prevented Jessica from racing out of the blocks yesterday. "You'll be looking to take advantage then?" he asked.

  "No, not me," the man said, his smile never leaving his worn face. "Hell, I don't play. But I'm out here every year to observe. Just love the atmosphere and the stories." His large body shook as he laughed, "Mostly bad beat stories, of course."

  David smiled back and nodded. "Good to meet you, but—"

  "Tell you what," the man said, ignoring David's urgency. "I brought you this." He held out a small crystal. "The last person I gave one of these was Chris Moneymaker." He winked at David. "That was just before the final table. And he didn't do too badly, did he?"

  "Well thank you." David responded with a warm smile. "I really appreciate that."

  "Some people rest them on their cards, others stroke them when they need some luck," the man explained. "This particular one," he added, nodding at the crystal, "Needs stroking. It'll bring you strength, perseverance and luck."

  "Thanks so much," David repeated. "It's good of you to take the trouble to seek me out." He ran his fingers along the surface; only half listening as the man talked about the strength the crystal's positive energy would bring.

  "Been waiting a while," the man confessed, "but I'm pleased to catch up with you at last. Sorry to hold you up," he apologised, reaching out his chubby hand and warmly shaking David's. "I'll be watching your progress. Good luck."

  The crinkly haired young man stood for a moment before swinging around and quickly finding his table. He'd cut it fine, but the delay had been worth it. That single gesture had somehow infused him with a feeling of well-being.

  It didn't last long.

  "Well, if it isn't the man himself," a grizzled customer seated to his left remarked. "Just b
ecause you did okay in that small tournament the other day, you think it's fashionable to turn up late?"

  "I'm not late, my friend," David good-naturedly responded, picking up the newly dealt cards and mucking the first hand of the day. "I'm just in time."

  "By a few seconds," Grizz responded. "And you're not my friend. You think you're another Helmut who can just turn up when they want? I saw your interview after the tourney, never liked the English anyway."

  "I'm certainly no Helmut," smiled David, wondering what which mirror he'd broken to end up at this seat.

  "You saying you're better than him?" Grizz asked, continuing the verbal assault.

  David turned in his seat to look his interrogator in the eyes. The aggressive face above the crumpled black shirt told him this wasn't a discussion he could turn around. "Tell you what," he quietly said, holding Grizz's gaze. "I'm just going to concentrate on my poker now. I'll leave the trash talk to you."

  Grizz gave a sneer and looked around the table. "Seems Mr. Big Shot doesn't want to talk to us," he told anyone who would listen.

  "Give the guy a break," broke in a young, fair-haired kid at the opposite end of the table.

  "Mind your manners, kid," Grizz snapped. "When I was your age—"

  ***

  "How was the journey?" Kaitlyn Kristen laughed as Marissa alighted from the helicopter. The lack of colour in the model's face already told her the answer.

  "Fine," Marissa lied, as she took the Agency Head's hand. The first leg of the journey had been bad enough. Small bumpy airplanes, she'd decided halfway through her flight, were not her thing! But the helicopter journey had been something else.

  "Leaves your stomach behind when that helicopter edges over the rim, doesn't it?" Kaitlyn continued. "I always find it exhilarating, but most other people want to crap themselves!"

  It was the first time Marissa had heard any sort of crudity from the sophisticated mouth and she burst out laughing. "I'm in that category," she told her, following the brunette along the thin path towards the Colorado River.

  Kaitlyn looked like she'd just stepped out of her front room, immaculate in those tailored blue shorts and white blouse. That was quite an ass, small, pert and with a sexy but unobtrusive way of swaying from side to side! Whereas Marissa felt the effect of her journey—her hair was dishevelled, her canary yellow tee shirt was ruffled, not to mention the creases beginning to appear in her blue jeans. And that dryness in her mouth definitely needed some attention.

  "Here," Kaitlyn said, swinging back to the blonde as if it was an afterthought and pulling a bottle of lightly coloured liquid from the straw bag over her shoulder. "Keep sipping at this and it'll calm your stomach."

  "Thanks," the blonde gratefully smiled, stopping beside the Agency Head to unclip the top and take a long sip.

  "Not too much, too quickly," Kaitlyn warned, those piercing dark eyes containing a hint of amusement. "How was yesterday by the way?"

  "I just loved it," Marissa enthused, wiping a drop of the liquid from her chin with her index finger. "It was more tiring than I expected, but it was so exciting!"

  "Yes, we work our models hard," Kaitlyn laughed, with a soft flick of her dark hair, "but you'll soon get used to that. And that Jake is really something, don't you think?" She sexily raised her eyebrows and nudged Marissa's arm as she spoke. "Fucks like a God, too," she added.

  Marissa almost coughed out the second sip she was taking. Fucked like a God?

  "It's good to have some sexy eye candy when you're shooting, don't you think?" Kaitlyn asked, reaching out to push a loose bang of wavy, blonde hair back behind Marissa's ear. "You're shooting with his girlfriend today, maybe you should ask her permission to sample the goods!"

  Permission? Sample the goods? Marissa felt little goosebumps tease across her body at the thought. But then Kaitlyn had turned and was leading them along the tiny path through the brushwood again.

  "I've seen some of the early prints from yesterday," she said over her shoulder. "They're hot, darling. Just make sure today is more of the same, okay?"

  "It's not quite the same with a woman," Marissa laughed, the words spilling out even before she could think about what she was saying.

  Kaitlyn stopped in her tracks and slowly swung around. Her dark, piercing eyes fixed on the model. "You must have led a sheltered life, darling," she slowly said. "If Rach doesn't turn you on, nothing will!"

  "Turn me on?"

  The brunette gave a soft chuckle. There was that combination of that combination of innocence and sexiness that would make this girl such a star. And make Kaitlyn a lot of money. "Oh yes," she answered, "Rachel likes nothing better than corrupting naïve young model's. You better watch yourself, darling."

  With that, she'd turned on her heels again, her perky ass attracting Marissa's eyes again as she led her way into a small clearing. "What do you think of our set?" she asked, pausing to allow Marissa to draw level.

  The young model rewarded her with a gasp. It was like a scene from a movie set, a miniature Red Indian village, with its recently erected tepee's, a couple of dogs, horses and both male and female extras in traditional costume.

  "How—" Marissa began, raising her hand to her mouth, her saucer-like Coral blue eyes taking in the scene.

  "How did we manage to produce this at the foot of the Grand Canyon?" Kaitlyn smiled, completing the sentence. "Well," she said, slipping an arm around the blonde's Slade waist as they surveyed the scene. "That's why I have technical team, darling. I only have the best working for me."

  The best? She'd show the brunette that she could be the best, too!

  "Come on," Kaitlyn smiled, taking the young model's hand. "Let's do the introductions, shall we? We have a long day ahead!"

  ***

  The early morning call from Carrie surprised the redhead. Quite why the spiky haired brunette wanted a mid afternoon coffee with Reagan was unclear. She'd hardly spoken to the girl at the club—how could she when their shifts hadn't collided? But here in Starbucks, the dancer greeted her like a long lost friend.

  "I wanted to get to know you a little better," Carrie told her, hugging her then pushing one of the cappuccino's she'd already purchased across to Reagan. "A little fattening, but one won't do any harm," she grinned.

  Her smile made her face appear softer. Reagan's initial impression was that the new dancer was a pretty driven individual who didn't stand any nonsense from anyone around her. But with those pearly white teeth and soft hazel eyes gleaming at her, she thought that maybe she'd been somewhat harsh with her initial judgement. "Thanks," she smiled, taking a sip of coffee. "But why me?"

  "Two reasons," the brunette answered, her smile widening as she spoke. "First, you're the second best dancer in the club, and the crème de la crème should stick together."

  Carrie didn't believe in getting too close to anyone, of course, not unless she could use them in some way. When she discovered that it was Reagan that Big Jack was waiting for when Kyle had intercepted her, she knew she had to find out more. If this girl was close to the gangster, she might have information that would be useful to Samson.

  Particularly in view of Kyle's plans for tonight.

  Reagan gave a soft chuckle. "Crème de la crème, are we?" she asked. "Well, I must admit, Carrie, I thought I was good at my job, but you're red hot up on that stage."

  "Hey, thanks, girl," the brunette replied, widening her sugar sweet smile. "That's quite a compliment. I have to tell you I'm quite an exhibitionist, so that helps, don't you think?"

  "Absolutely. Whereas I'm a little shy—"

  This time it was Carrie's chuckle that bounced around the small café. "You? Shy? Right girl -- I don't think so!"

  "Mmmm, good cappuccino," Reagan smiled, wiping a layer of the frothy coffee from the top of her lip. "Okay, that's one reason for meeting me, but you said there were two?"

  "Yeah," the brunette grinned, leaning closer across the table and raising her eyebrows. "You and I were hot together on stage, I won
dered whether you were into other women?"

  Reagan's cough was meant to disguise her gasp, but didn't quite make it. "Geez, Carrie, you don't beat around the bush!"

  "Can't afford, too," the spiky haired woman responded, her grin widening further so that her pearly white teeth flashed at Reagan. There was real meaning behind those hazel eyes. "I believe in being open, don't you?"

  "It's a good trait," the redhead slowly answered. How could she rebuff the suggestion without upsetting her new friend? "But actually, I'm strictly men only. I mean… I'm flattered… and if I ever was… well… you're pretty sexy… but…"

  The brunette let out a guffaw. "What? Did you think…? No, girl, I wasn't asking you to have sex with me!"