I get out the shower and I’m deciding to dwell on the fact that I’m $1,000 richer and not think about the confusing thoughts I have about my stepson, David. I need that drink, and I need to not worry about anything for a while.

I pull out a small mirror, re-apply my classic red lipstick, adjust my green evening gown over my breasts, and walk down the carpeted hallway to the elevator. I hear someone approach me from behind, and decide to turn around.

"Damn, you're a whole lot of woman," slurs a man in his mid-30s. He is visibly drunk and spilling the drink in his right hand. It runs down his knuckles in small rivulets. "Do you work at Subway?" He reaches out as if he plans to grab my ass.

Annoyed, I walk on and say, "I have no idea what you're talking about. I think you've got the wrong person."

The man ignores my words and continues with his, "'Cause you just gave me a foot long, honey." He rubs his cock for emphasis.

Not amused, I scrunch up my nose and reply, "There have to be a thousand better pick-up lines than that one."

Seeing his window of opportunity slipping away, the man grows serious and sobers up his words and his actions. "Hey, my friend pointed you out. Said he had bagged you a while ago," he says, trying to control his stumbling. “You might know him, Rick? We came to Vegas together. How much for an hour?" His shirt is unbuttoned halfway down his chest and is pulled out in a haphazard way, semi-tucked into his pants. He looks as if he has already had a long night.

I don’t know how to respond. How much did he hear from Rick? Has he been stalking me– waiting outside my room? Still, I decide to play along, and out of curiosity asked, "$750?"

The man replies, "That's a little much."

"Well, I'm the best in the business," I say confidently and with a fake sense of pride. "I'm not cheap."

The man gives me a long look—first at my perfect tits, then at my curvy ass, and my long, slender legs, and then back up to my face and blonde hair. He undresses me in his mind, and I know he’s trying to decide if my body is worth paying for.

Maybe I should be alarmed or offended, but I’m enjoying the opportunity, getting a thrill from it. He desires me and I want to make sure I keep the upper hand.

With a final nod of approval he says, "Okay, deal. Let's go back to my room."

He answers so quickly, I know I need to counter. "Not so fast, high roller. I can't go with you right now. I'm booked solid for the rest of the night.” The truth is that I don’t want my sore pussy getting touched by him tonight, anyway. I want to make sure that I keep this guy wanting…and maybe more than a little bit I want to think about the things David and I said to each other tonight.

The man leans against the wall, deflated and disappointed, but he eyes me up and down again and doesn’t want to miss this opportunity. He wants me. So he thinks for a moment, and then says, "Alright, meet me in my room tomorrow at 10 p.m."

I smile at him. "This is a big hotel. Write your room number down." I dig through my purse for a scrap of paper and a pen. I find a drink napkin from the Marquee nightclub, where Jenna and I were just drinking a few hours earlier.

The man scribbles his number.

I walk away without giving him another word, knowing that he’s watching me go.

I decide to head back to my hotel room for a moment to think. My pulse is racing and my breathing goes shallow. I want to be along for a moment to be able to think because the rush of everything that’s just happened honestly shocking me. I pace the room, walking back and forth until I think I might have worn the carpet thin. On one hand, I feel powerful and desired, fucking men on my own terms for easy money. Who wouldn't enjoy that? But on the other hand, it feels reckless and dangerous. What am I doing? I am dipping my toe in a dangerously deep pool. I am taking a huge risk and engaging in decisions that could shatter the life I’m trying to build for myself. But all I can think, really, is that I’ve certainly started building something better.

"I've already fucked one guy for money," I say aloud. “But he wore a condom. It was quick. No big deal.” I pace more and keep talking to myself, "And now I've agreed to fuck a second guy! What am I thinking? I can't go through with this. I can't show up at his room tomorrow night." I conclude that fucking one guy is really already too far and I need to do something else…and forget this whole mess.

I pull out my cell phone and call Jenna.

Jenna answers on the second ring.

"Are you still at the Marquee?" I ask.

"Where the hell are you?" Jenna shrieks over the background music. "The Australians and I were looking all over for you! Of course I'm still here!"

I remember the throng of Australians celebrating a bachelor party. "Sorry, I had to go back to my room and schedule a doctor’s appointment for when I get back…I’ve been having back pain.” I don't know where the lie comes from, or why I actually enjoy how easily it comes from my lips.

"Boring!" Jenna shrieks again. "Get your ass back down here! Serena and Taylor are here now. It's one big party."

Serena and Taylor both work with me at my new job at the Copley Hotel. We all came to Vegas together for a hospitality convention. Jenna, Serena, and Taylor are all in their early 20s, single, and desperate for men, so of course they were still trolling the club.

“Sure, I’ll meet you back at the Marquee,” I say and hang up.

What could it hurt? I think a few drinks with friends will probably help me relax.