Chapter 30

Becka

The lights of Vegas washed clean my thoughts about Oliver and Ethan and the trouble I was in with school and the law. For a moment, I imagined living in Vegas forever, moving from casino to casino, no awareness of space or time, eating when I was hungry, gambling when I was bored. I shook my head. That was not my life.

“We need clothes,” Lisa said.

“Definitely,” I said. “Let’s hit the mall, then go to the strip.” We had rented a convertible, and we took a quick hour to go shopping and pick up clothes for the weekend, then headed back to our hotel. We’d decided to stay on the strip at the Wynn. We checked in, then went to our room to change.

When I showered and put on my normal clothes, I felt a ton better. I’d gone with skinny jeans and a midriff bearing red top that accentuated my curves and my breasts. I paired it with red flats; I was tall enough I didn’t need heels.

Lisa looked similarly sexy, and we knew we’d draw some looks as we walked through the casinos. I withdrew a few hundred bucks from Oliver’s card, and we went to the first blackjack table we came to. The dealer was more than happy to have two beautiful women sit down at a table of all men.

The men were there for a business conference, and they began to hit on us immediately. After a short while, we weren’t spending our own money any longer; they were betting for us, adding to the bets we placed. Lisa was more theatrical than I was, and she was eating up all of the attention.

After a while, I turned to Lisa. “I’m starving,” I said. I had no idea how long we’d been there, but it had to be late afternoon.

“Me too.” We finished our round and then stood up, to the groans of the table of men.

“Sorry, boys, beauty’s gotta eat!” Lisa said, always the flirt. “We’ll come back, promise!”

“You better!” One of the men said. “This place already sucks without you!”

She smiled and blew him a kiss. We pocketed our chips and went to cash out.

“Forget work, we could make a living this way,” Lisa said as the cashier handed us close to a thousand dollars.

“No shit,” I said. “Let’s walk the strip a little? I want to see the Bellagio fountain.” The fountain was a landmark in Vegas, a colorful work of art that played music, the water dancing to the beat of the song. It was remarkable.

We were standing at the fountain, listening to Billie Jean by Michael Jackson, when I heard someone call my name.

“Becka? Becka Jasper? Is that you?”

I turned and saw a man who was familiar; it took me a moment to place him.

“Marcus? What the fuck!” I grinned and ran to him, throwing my arms around him. “What are you doing here?”

He flicked his name tag; he was here for a conference on biomedical engineering.

“Want to introduce me?” Lisa said, coming to my side and extending her hand. I could already feel her sizing up Marcus as a potential mate.

“This is Marcus Benson,” I said, “the high school love of my life.”

“It’s a crazy small world,” he said, winking at me.

“It is,” Lisa agreed, “but you have no idea how often I’ve run into someone I know in this town. It’s crazy.”

“What are you doing here?” he said.

“Just… having a girls’ weekend. We needed to get away for a few days.”

I was sure that the news of Neurotova would eventually go national, but hopefully the dome of Vegas would keep it out for at least the time I was here.

“It’s so good to see you!” I said warmly. I hugged him again. Marcus and I had dated for three years in high school and had broken up only because we went to different colleges and had agreed that we’d get back together if it was meant to be.

During the time we were broken up, we discovered that we loved being friends far more than we’d loved dating. We’d stayed close for a long time, but then, as people do, we’d lost touch over the last two years.

“You look amazing,” he said, holding me at arm’s distance so he could get a look at me. “Like, seriously hot.”

“Stop,” I said, blushing.

“Don’t stop,” Lisa corrected me. “Tell her she looks like a million bucks; she could use the ego boost right now.”

“Shut up, Lisa,” I warned.

“What’s going on?” Marcus asked, looking at me, concerned.

“Nothing,” I said. “I’ve just been having a rough go of it lately.”

“Well, how about if you tell me about it over dinner? We’re done for the day with the conference. There’s a dinner and cocktail hour later, but, frankly, I’d rather hang out with you than with that group of nerds.” He looked at Lisa. “Of course, you’re invited, too.”

“Aw, thanks!” she grinned. “But maybe I’ll just hit the tables while you’re at dinner. Maybe we can all get lucky tonight.” She arched her eyebrows meaningfully at me and I punched her in the shoulder.

“See you later!” she waved.

“She’s subtle,” Marcus said, laughing.

“Tell me about it.” We walked into the nearest restaurant, an Italian place, and spent two hours getting caught up on our lives. I told him only the basics of my dissertation and Neurotova, though I didn’t mention it by name. I kept everything in the present tense.

We drank two bottles of wine, and, by the time the bill came and we were ready to leave, I was unsteady on my feet.

“Where are you staying?” Marcus asked. His face was close to mine, closer than it had been in years, and I looked directly into his green eyes, they were green with grey flecks, they both matched and contrasted his light brown hair. His jaw was strong, still very cut, but it has softened over the years since we’d dated.

“Um,” I said, for the moment forgetting the name of the Wynn.

He took that opportunity to lean in and kiss me, softly at first, then, as I returned his kiss, more firmly. I felt my body respond in a completely different way to his familiar touch. It was like coming home to a home cooked meal, or your own bed after a long vacation.

“I’m staying upstairs,” he said. “Want to continue the party up there?”

I hesitated as I felt my body pulled in two directions. It was a surreal feeling; I was almost sure I could feel the angel and devil cartoons on my right and left shoulders. The devil was hissing at me to go upstairs with Marcus and let that kiss be the first of many. The angel was pleading with me to remember that I had a boyfriend and, no matter how angry I was at Oliver, cheating was never my thing.

“I…” I looked away. “I have a boyfriend,” I said quietly. “And I can’t.”

Marcus smiled and looked down to catch my eye. He lifted my chin.

“Babe, that’s cool. We’ll call it good with dinner, yeah? It’s probably better for me to get a good night’s sleep before the conference continues tomorrow anyway.”

I smiled. I should have known; Marcus had always been a classy guy, and it looked like that trait had continued.

“You’re a sweetheart, Marc,” I said. “You always have been.”

“Do you want me to walk back to the Wynn with you?” he asked.

I told him I was going to Uber it back, and he waited with me at the door until the car pulled up. I kissed him goodbye again—on the cheek this time—and we agreed that we would keep in touch.

The trip to the Wynn was fast, and I got to my room feeling a bit more sober than when I’d left. I was eminently grateful that I had listened to the angel on my shoulder and gone home. When I laid down on my bed, I looked at my phone. Wished I could text Oliver. Wished I had a normal relationship.

Then, I began to imagine how it would be if he were with me here at the Wynn. Touching me, lying beside me, pleasuring me. I imagined him crawling into bed next to me and kissing me, his warm body against mine. His mouth soft, searching, using his tongue, his teeth, and his lips to connect with me, to arouse me. I would press against him and feel his hard cock against me as he nudged it between my legs.

He would groan softly and I would smile, knowing that, though he was a billionaire, in the bedroom he needed something money could never buy: he needed me. I would be wet, and he would slide his fingers between my legs, pushing them easily into me. I would spread my legs wide, giving him space to pleasure me.

As I fantasized, I watched his movements through my imagination… his thumb lightly tracing the hood of my clit as it begins to harden, my clit growing against his touch. I smiled, imagining him pulling his fingers out of me and licking them, smiling at me, then sliding his cock in and beginning to thrust against me, slowly at first, then faster.

I closed my eyes and groaned with pleasure at the familiarity of him, the sensation of him inside of me. He knew exactly where and how to touch me, and I breathed into his scent, his warmth, even though I had no idea where on Earth he was. I opened my eyes and looked at my phone again. I knew that I needed to talk to him. Not tonight; it was late and I had been drinking far too much to call anyone. I wasn’t a drunk dialer. I texted Lisa instead.

“Where are u?” I asked

“Almost there!” she responded. “Got caught at the slots. Got bank though! $$$”

I smiled and clicked the phone to silent for the night. I knew that if she won big—which for us would be about a hundred bucks—she would come to the room with a bottle of something bubbly for us. I thought back over my evening…things had gone pretty well. I had made good decisions, and I’d gotten some clarity.

If I was willing to turn down Marcus because Oliver was my boyfriend, there had to be something in me that was still on Oliver’s side. I felt victorious; I knew how I felt about Oliver, and I’d managed to figure it out without texting, calling, or otherwise notifying him. I still had my advantage, whatever that was.

I thought about heading home and everything that would be waiting for me there; I hoped I could keep this feeling going. I sighed. Reality was about to knock on my door once again. Just then, I heard the key swipe in the lock, and Lisa came through the door with, as I had guessed, a bottle of champagne.

“Honey, I’m home!” she called into the room, grinning at me.