Hannah and I push open the door leading into our third-floor room. It’s in one of the larger Vegas hotels. We had to walk through the casino so we could take the elevator upstairs. It took all our self-restraint to keep us from running straight at the nearest slot machine and going crazy.

“This is lush!” Hannah gushes. She runs into the room and flops down onto one of the two double beds. She runs her hand over the linen with a grin. “It’s so luxurious!”

Hannah looks completely relaxed, even after the stress of a flight from Illinois, a cramped car ride, and lugging our cases through the casino. There’s only one sign of distress — her poufy blonde hair looks like a lion’s mane flowing around her flushed face. She’s wearing a pair of thin, loose lace-trim cotton shorts with a black-and-white geometric pattern and a tight-fitting black tank top. A ridiculous pair of sandals that tie up in a crisscross up to the ankle completes her outfit. They’re covered in black pom-poms.

She jumps up almost immediately and heads to the mini fridge built into the wall. She pulls out a tiny bottle of vodka with an excitable grin. “Look at these, Laura! Perfectly shot-sized!”

I laugh, take the bottle from her and quickly place it back in the fridge. “It’s probably fifteen dollars a sip.”

Hannah sits on the edge of the bed, pulls her bag onto her lap and fishes out a full-sized bottle of vodka. “Good thing I brought this along then, isn’t it?”

I laugh. “God, this week’s going to be a messy one.”

“That’s what bachelorette parties are all about.”

We’re away in Vegas for the week on a bachelorette party for one of our close friends. Amy. She’s getting married in a few months. This was the only chance she had to book a week away from work.

It is mid-May. Summer’s about to start cooking all the tourists. It’s already boiling in Nevada. I’m grateful for the air-conditioned room.

I go to the window and pull open the long, silver-gray drapes. Outside, all I see is Vegas. The tall skyscrapers are lit up by neon. Every building has a gimmick on its roof or hanging over its doorframe. It’s a mixture of wacky and delightfully modern design.

The room itself is plain but well-maintained. Our beds are dressed in crisp, white linens with gray velour headboards. There is a gray armchair with a footstool in one corner, and above the beds hangs an artistic black-and-white canvas showing a woman lying seductively across a chaise longue.

Hannah flicks her eyes up to it. “I’d rather see Brad Pitt on a jet ski.” She lies on her front on the bed, propping herself up on her elbows. “Matt told me to be on my best behavior. He said he knows what I’m like when I drink.”

“I guess he didn’t see you pack a bottle of vodka.”

“It’s nothing.” She waves the bottle at me. “Just a little pre-gambling tipple.”

I sit on the edge of my own bed and pull out a laptop from one of my cases. Hannah narrows her eyes at me. “What are you doing, Laura? I hope you're not working.”

“I’m quickly checking the company emails. It will only take a minute.”

Hannah bounces across to me and pushes the laptop shut. “We said no work!”

“All I want to do is see if that woman decided to place an order.”

“Nope.” Hannah takes my laptop from me, slings it under her arm and walks it away across the room. There’s a safe above the closet. She opens it, places the laptop inside, and presses a few buttons. “There we go. It’s in there, and only I know the code.”

“Hannah! I need to keep my eye on things.”

“People will survive without us for a week.”

“What if someone has a deadline for a wedding, and needs stuff right away?”

“They should have thought about it before placing a last-minute order for what’s going to be the most important day of their lives.” She comes to sit beside me and fixes me with a stern stare. “You promised me you would try and relax. This is the first break you’ve had since you started the company. You’re going to enjoy it.”

Hannah and I run an online wedding supplies company that I began straight out of college. After building it up for a few years, I invited Hannah to be my business partner. We’ve gone from strength to strength since then.

The only problem is that I find it hard to take a step back. I love what I do, and I’m utterly devoted to my brides. I’m constantly worrying a mistake on my part will be a disaster for the couple. I’m terrified of spoiling a wedding by not being on the ball.

What if invitations don’t go out on time? What if we run out of wedding-cake shaped confetti? What if I miss an email and a desperate bride doesn’t get two hundred chocolate favors for her guests?

“I don’t want to miss anything important, that’s all.”

Hannah raises an eyebrow. “How long did we spend on designing that new landing page?”

“I don’t know.”

“Really? Because I remember exactly how long it took. Three entire days. It took three days for you to decide which font you wanted to use for a single message. ‘Sorry, we’re away until the 25th.’ Honestly, Laura, the business won’t crumble if you take a break.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. No more business.”

She’s not going to take away my phone.

“We’re here to have fun.” She claps her hands together decisively. “Get dressed. We told Amy and Naomi we’d be downstairs in thirty minutes. We’ve already been here for ten. There’s money to spend and jackpots to win. Let’s go, go, go!”

I take a quick shower before getting dressed in my brand new bottle green dress with tassels on the hem. It’s fun to twirl around in it like a ceiling fan. It looks like a flapper girl dress from the twenties. I dry my hair and brush it until it shines. Auburn was a brave new color for me. I’m naturally a mousy-brown, but for Vegas, I wanted to feel a little bit feisty. Finally, I pull on my faithful pair of black stilettos that saw me through my first sip of red wine at the age of eighteen on a date with an older guy, my first night at a club, and every college party throughout my graphic design degree.

Hannah comes out the bathroom wearing a bright red playsuit, her hair pulled back into a high pony. Even in my three-inch stilettos next to her one-inch heels, I’m miles shorter than her.

“You ready?”

“Yup.”

We head to the elevators and wait for Amy and Naomi to arrive. Moments later, they both come barreling down the hall, squealing like we’re back in our first year of college.

Amy, the bride-to-be, is wearing a white dress and a bright pink sash with the word “bride” on it. There’s a little tiara perched on top of her blonde hair. Behind her, Naomi is wearing a mini skirt and matching crop-top with lace trim, her dark hair pinned back. They all tower above me.

Naomi eagerly pushes sashes into our hands. They each say “bridesmaid.”

“Here!” she grins. “Put these on!” She shoves something else into my hand. “And hold this!”

I look down and start laughing when I see she’s pushed a little wand topped with a plastic cock and some pink fluff into my hand. “What’s this supposed to be?”

“Maybe it will help you conjure up a boyfriend.”

The girls howl with laughter. I manage to smile with them — it’s all in good fun. Since graduating college, I haven’t had time for boyfriends. I’ve put all my energy into getting the business off the ground. The girls haven’t let me forget I’m the last single one.

Hannah has a fiancé, Matt. Naomi got married last year to her husband, Jamie. Amy is getting married in the summer to Harry.

I haven’t had as much as a one-night-stand in almost six years.

Amy threads her arm through mine as the elevator doors ping open, and we step inside. “Honestly, Laura, you’ve got to get yourself back out on the market. I’m almost tempted to break mine and Harry’s ‘no stripper’ agreement so I can remind you what a dick looks like.”

I laugh. “I remember. They’re kind of like naked mole rats, right?”

All the girls start giggling again.

“I think they look like sad little old men with big noses and curly beards,” Hannah says.

Amy laughs. “That’s some compliment to Matt!”

“I’m not complaining!”

“You’ve got to miss it, Laura,” Naomi says. “You can’t tell me sometimes you don’t get the craving for someone to pound you.” She curls her hands into fists and bites down on her lip.

“Jesus, girls, simmer down! It sounds like monogamy is turning you into a bunch of raging nymphos.”

“Being single is turning you into a Catholic nun,” Amy says. “I remember what you used to be like in college. You were always hooking up.” She looks over to Hannah and Naomi for confirmation. “Do you remember? We’d be giving men eyes all night, but Laura would be fighting them off. Do you remember what she used to do with her hips?”

All three girls start swinging their hips seductively.

“The wiggle!” Hannah grins.

“The wiggle,” Amy and Naomi echo.

The three of them won’t stop sashaying as the doors of the elevators open and we step out onto the casino floor. I’m immediately swept up in the excitement of the flashing lights and whirring, whooping machines. Each one seems to have its own personality. The slot machines are sassy and brash, flashing their melons to draw you in. The video slot machines try to win you over with eighties graphics and loud animations.

The most attractive of all the gaming machines is undoubtedly the roulette wheel.

It stands proudly opposite the elevator. It’s the first thing you see when you step onto the floor. Standing about eight feet tall, brightly illuminated with neon and a glaring backlight, embedded in a throne-style frame with big LED arrows pointing to the wheel. The jackpot is five thousand dollars.

Amy’s eyes widen, and she beelines toward it. “Roooooooou-lette!

“It’s ten dollars a spin!” Naomi balks. “You’d better be feeling lucky.”

“I’m the bride,” she says pointedly. “I can’t lose.”

A waitress comes by to offer us drinks. We eagerly order a round of free cocktails, and then turn back to the wheel. It has handles on it like the wheel on a ship’s helm. Amy grabs one handle with both hands and puts her full weight into spinning it.

We all start urging the wheel on like we’re cheering for a horse race.

“Jackpot! Jackpot! Jackpot!”

The needle clicks over the categories, getting slower and slower. We wait with baited breath as it hovers over “Jackpot,” then clicks past and lands on “Spin again.”

“Boo!” Amy heckles. “I’m the bride!”

I pick up my cock wand and tap the wheel, scolding it jokingly. “Bibbidy-bobbedy-bash, we want to win some cash.”

“Go on, Laura,” Amy urges me. “You spin it.”

I pull out ten dollars from my purse and feed it into the machine. I feel a rush of excitement as the machine sucks up my hard-earned money. Come on, you bastard — you’d better pay out.

The girls start cheering behind me again as I hold onto the handle of the wheel and spin it as hard as I can. I step back into line with Amy, Hannah, and Naomi and watch the roulette wheel turn.

Click—click—click.

The wheel comes to a stop, and my eyes widen. I let out a disbelieving scream. “Jackpot!”

The roulette wheel starts singing and flashing as chips pour out. We can’t believe our eyes when ten blue, five-hundred-dollar chips drop down into the base of the machine.

“Yes!” Amy screams, throwing her arms around my neck and swinging from me. She punches the air in excitement. “This vacation is going to be amazing.”

Naomi points at me. “Do the wiggle.”

I laugh. “No!”

Hannah and Amy stand beside her. They all clench their hands into fists and start bouncing up and down, cheering a mantra at me: “Wiggle! Wiggle! Wiggle!”

My cheeks flame red, but I laugh and do my signature move. I bend my knees until I’m crouching, then wiggle my way back up by swinging my hips slowly and seductively side to side. It always got attention in college.

The girls cheer and whoop, stamping their feet in crazed excitement.

“It’s is a sign we’re meant to party hard,” I say. I pass out two chips to each of the girls. “Cash these in, girls. We’re going to have a great time.” I hold up the odd two chips. “Let’s save these to get wasted and have a big fat steak dinner.”

They start cheering again, so loudly that I start to worry we’re drawing attention to ourselves. I look around slowly with flushed cheeks.

Across the room, at one of the tables, an incredibly handsome man is watching me with an admiring smile. He’s dark-haired with an immaculate crisp, tailored suit, and sculpted jaw. He catches my eye.

I know I’ve been caught dancing, so I grin.

He flashes a smile back at me and then lifts his glass to me and nods.

Hannah notices the exchange and grabs my arm with excitement. “Did you guys see that? That guy is checking out Laura.”

Amy and Naomi whip up their heads like dogs on the hunt and lock eyes on the stranger across the casino.

“He’s hot,” Naomi says. “Oh, my God, Laura. You have to find a way to check out his naked mole rat.”

“Naomi!” I exclaim.

Amy howls with laughter and takes my other arm, shaking it up and down. “Yes, yes, yes! You must go to him.”

“What? No way!” I laugh. “I’m not here to pick up men.”

“Catchphrase alert!” Naomi teases.

“I’m focusing on my career,” Amy jots in.

“I don’t have time for a relationship right now,” Hannah mimics.

“I haven’t used my vagina in so long it’s closed up!”

Hannah, Naomi, and Amy practically melt with laughter at Amy’s final comment. I sigh, raising my eyebrows like I’m a parent dealing with toddlers on a sugar high.

“Really, girls?”

“We’re just teasing,” Amy says, more softly. “Seriously, though, Laura. Why not? You’re on vacation. Have some fun.”

“I’m not on vacation. I’m at a bachelorette party. I’m not going to leave you girls so I can go jump in bed with a man.”

Amy snatches the cock wand from me and taps me on the shoulder. “Bibbidy-bobbedy-babe, the bride demands you get laid.”

I look back over my shoulder at the stranger. He’s the sexiest creature I’ve ever seen. He has a tangible charisma. He’s surrounded by players who are all cheering for him like they’re his best friends.

He rolls another pair of dice with a flourish. As he does, he looks up and catches my eye again. He says something to a cocktail waitress, and a second later, a bright pink cocktail in a martini glass materializes in his hand. He holds his own amber-colored tumbler in his other hand and lifts the martini glass invitingly in my direction.

The girls jostle me.

“He’s ordered you a drink, Laura!” Hannah says. “You’ve got to go now. He’s hitting on you.”

“Do it!” Naomi insists.

Amy gives me a little push. “You miss all of the shots you don’t take.”

I relent, turning back over my shoulders to the girls. “Fine. I’ll go have a drink with him while you girls cash in the chips. But don’t forget, we’re going to dinner together.”

“We’ll see,” Amy says. “I’ve got these two to keep me entertained. If the urge strikes you to, say, go back to Mr. Suave’s room tonight, the bride won’t be offended.”

Naomi giggles. “Are you going to refer to yourself as ‘the bride’ all vacation?”

“Absolutely.”

“There you go, Laura,” Hannah says. “The bride insists.”

“The bride insists!” Naomi echoes.

Amy lays her hand on my shoulder with a smile. “The bride insists.”