Carlene

As I take a shower, I school myself on enjoying the night. My time in the United States is dwindling fast, just as fast as my time with Rome.

Don’t think about it, Carlene.

Make tonight special. Live it up.

Vegas, Carlene. Sin City. Crazy Town.

These are all the things I tell myself, try to convince myself of, as I finish getting ready to head out for an adventurous night in Vegas.

Rome mentioned he had everything planned, and I believe him. One thing the man can do in spades is show a lady a good time, and tonight, I’m determined to have a very good time. I’ll just lock away those pesky feelings and stupid fairytale dreams.

It will never work, Carlene.

The little voice in my head kept saying. Then why is my annoying heart telling me otherwise?

This is obviously my modus operandi where my heart and attractive men are concerned. I’m right back at the beginning—the stupid, giddy teenage girl who threw herself at Phillip. Five minutes later and bang, I was pregnant, and the next twenty odd years slipped by as his wife and the mother of his children.

I can see myself doing it again if I’m not careful, and I should know a damned sight better. If I let my guard down and really let myself feel, I just know how wrecked I’ll be. I could so easily love him. Maybe I already do?

Don’t be stupid, Carlene!

Listen to the voices in your head, I try to convince myself again, even though my heart is stamping her foot and pouting.

I don’t need a man. I’ve survived eighteen months without one. And I’ve been as lonely as a school, during school holidays or a cattle station with the kids away at boarding school. Empty, deserted. Waiting for the laughter and the joy to return.

Then I realize something—I like being part of a unit. Part of a whole—something bigger than me. My time with Rome has felt right.

Is it wrong to need another person to feel complete?

I finish fixing my hair and push all those soul-stripping thoughts to the side. Now is not the time or the place to be sifting through them. Not when I have a night to enjoy. There’ll be time for all this reflection when I get home, back to my lonely reality.

A final glance in the mirror assures me I look about as put together as I can. I’m never going to be a beauty queen, and I’m not about to start trying to be at my age.

Rome doesn’t seem to mind.

And there it is again.

Every thought I have seems to come back to Rome. He’s fast become the center of my universe during the trip, and a pang of fear strikes my gut. How on Earth am I going to cope when I go back to just being me again?

I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

With one last calming breath, I straighten my shoulders and head out from behind the closed door of the bathroom. True to form, Rome looks spectacularly handsome.

Tonight, he’s selected a slim fitting pair of dark trousers and a royal blue shirt with just a hint of a sheen to it. Enough to make the material look rich and refined but not over the top or ostentatious. His hair is slickly styled back.

I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s more the overwhelming effect he has on me every time I see him. My stomach gets a little jumpy, and my blood seems to run faster. It’s as if every nerve in my body is alert to him being in my presence. Waiting, just waiting for him to touch me, talk to me, just be with me.

You’re just enjoying having someone pay attention to you, Carlene. Not real. You’re just desperate for someone to end the lonely.

Arhhh…why won’t the voices in my head shut up already?

Rome glances up from his phone as soon as he hears me enter the room. The phone goes back into his pocket, and he stands. His eyes meet mine, in what feels like a caress of longing. Is it true?

“You look beautiful, Oz. I thought I loved you in that scarlet dress the other night. Now I’m not so sure. The emerald green of your top is stunning and sets off your eyes. Those tight pants hug you in all my favorite places.”

I make my way across the room to him, and he immediately draws me in for a light kiss to the lips. The time his lips spend on mine may be fleeting, but the intensity is anything but.

“You’re a charmer, Rome.” My brain moves to add his last name to my statement, only to realize I don’t have the first clue as to what it is. How weird is that? How can this be? And aren’t the blank pages and glossed over words, really the theme of our whole story?

We’ve shared some of the most amazing and terrifyingly intimate moments. We’ve shared secrets and some hard to talk about times in our lives, yet I still don’t know his last name, and at this point, I figure it’s best to keep it that way.

It’s the way it’s supposed to be.

As he said, it’s all part of the rules of the game.

Then why does it leave me with an aching hole in my heart and a lingering sadness I can’t shake, even with all the good that has been coming my way?

He slips an arm around my waist and guides me to the door. I snag my clutch purse from the side table, and we pause at the door as he reaches for it.

I could swear I see a matching pain to my own flick through his eyes. Guess he’s playing by the rules as well, and a big part of me wishes he wouldn’t even though he’s doing exactly as I insisted. How messed up am I?

Pull it together, Carlene.

Tonight, is about crazy wild fun.

It’s Vegas. Fun capital of the world, supposedly.

As he guides me through the door, his words remind me of what I need to hear, our theme for the night. “Okay, let’s go and paint the town red and screw the hangover tomorrow. We’re going to have an awesome night. We can do anything we want to do.”

My mood lightens, and excited energy zings through me. The shamelessly sexy wink he throws my way certainly doesn’t hurt. Nor does the way he grabs the cheek of my butt in a way that’s delightfully possessive. At least he’s mine for the moment.

And I truly believe his words. Everything he’s promised me so far has come true.

Then why won’t I trust him with more?

It’s my pesky heart screaming again.

We head down the corridor to the lifts and are fortunate to get one straight away. As we stand there in the lift, with our hands laced together, he leans over and whispers to me, “I’m not going to mess you up now. But, I can’t make the same promise for later in the night. Ever got naughty in an elevator before?”

Heat floods to my cheeks and throat, but I do my best to keep things under control. “Can’t say I have. There’s not a lot of lifts out where I come from. Although the building I live in now, that’s a different story.” I give him a suggestive sideways glance. Now with Rome, I can see myself getting naughty in a lift. If you’d asked me two weeks ago, I would have laughed myself silly at the absurdity of the suggestion.

“You’re killing me here, Oz. You know how I mentioned I didn’t really have any unfulfilled fantasies.” I tilt my chin up to him a little and nod. “Well, I’ve suddenly got a hell of a lot of ideas about elevators threatening to morph into fantasies.”

I can only imagine what those ideas might run to. More than once, I’ve also wondered just how Rome would be with me if he wasn’t “working.” If it were real, would he be the same guy? Would he be the same in the bedroom? What does he truly like? He’s been doing this for such a long time now. Does he even remember what he likes? What makes him truly happy and content?

“I’m not sure what to say to that, Rome.”

He leans over closer to me again and breathes against my neck, “Does the idea of having sex in a public place excite you, Carlene? The chance of getting caught?”

I don’t know if it’s his voice or the sensation of his hot breath on my neck, regardless, the lift suddenly seems so small and hot. My nipples are super-sensitized and my pussy—yes, my pussy—is twitching with excitement at every one of his dangerous words.

The lift eases to a halt, and the doors peel open, and we’re engulfed in the all the sights and sounds of the casino floor. As we step from the lift, a bell starts to ring, lights flash, and a woman starts shrieking. It could only mean one thing—she’s won big.

A crowd of people are quickly forming around her, and my curiosity is running high. How much has she won?

People are jumping up and down. Their voices fill the air with shrieks and whoops of excitement. I don’t know what it is, but nobody does excitement and cheering like Americans. The women in particular, can shriek and holler with a pitch I’d never be able to achieve—it’s infectious.

Like a moth to a flame, I’m sucked in too. Before I know it, I’m crossing the distance to find out how much she’s won.

The crowd is too thick. I can’t see the payout screen. “Rome, how much has she won on the pokies?”

He stands up on tip toe and looks over the crowd, stretching to see the readout through the sea of heads.

“Sixty-eight thousand, and what did you say about poking?” He’s yelling in my ear to be heard over the din of the gathered crowd, a mischievous look in his eyes.

“I didn’t say anything about poking. I was talking about the pokies.”

“I don’t get it?” His eyes narrow in confusion, and a cute little frown creases his forehead.

“The slot machines, we call them pokies back home.”

He roars with laughter, and a few people look our way. “I knew there was a reason I loved Aussies. Always up for a good poking.”

I don’t even try to curtail my little snort of laughter. Instead, I use it to segue into an attempt at flirting. “Well, I guess it depends who’s doing the poking?”

“Definitely,” he agrees and lightly nips at my ear playfully. “But explain the pokie bit?”

This time, I don’t even try to check my laughter. “In Australia, we call them poker machines, not slot machines. And, as you know, we shorten everything because, well, we can and just do. So, pokies, it is!”

And that’s about the best explanation I can come up with.

“Love it! Only you Aussies.”

“Isn’t that the truth.”

“I can only imagine what else you shorten and change.”

“It’s a long and extensive list. A list so long, I’d have no hope of ever explaining them all.”

“I guess I’ll just have to head on down under and see for myself.”

I stiffen at his words. Is he joking or for real?

“Do you mean it, or are you just saying it? Because if you don’t mean it, don’t say it. I wouldn’t want to hope.”

The words are out of my mouth before I even realize it. I’ve been telling myself not to go there and then I go and do it not ten minutes into the night.

He looks into my eyes with gentle eyes. “I’ll get there one day. Hopefully, one day soon.”

I read honesty, and in the moment, I really think Rome means what he’s saying. I’m not going to hope or place too much certainty on his words. People have the best intentions all the time. Few follow through on them.

The crowd and the crazy have died down a little.

“Want to go see if we can win a little on the tables?”

“Sure, sounds like fun. But I need to warn you, I know nothing about playing casino games.”

“A casino virgin. Perfect, I can corrupt you to all my strategies.” His emphasis on the word virgin turns it sexual. It’s all one big tease.

“I didn’t realize there was so many things I was a virgin at until I came over here.” I catch myself flirting right back at him. I know how tonight is going to end, and I can barely wait. There’s a big part of me wanting to suggest we head straight back to the room now, but somehow, I get the feeling the wait, the crazy build up, will make it even better.

“And I’ve had so much fun popping your cherry. This won’t be any different.”

Rome

I lead her away from the impromptu celebrations and deep into the casino floor. We pause at a few different tables, and I take my time explaining the rules and strategies of the various games.

Finally, we stop at the roulette wheel. Roulette is easy. You don’t have to be majorly skilled to play, plus it’s a good game for beginners, because it doesn’t move too quickly. I pass some cash across to the dealer, and she pushes a stack of chips across the table at me with a warm smile. She’s a tall brunette with curves in all the right places and a face capable of making a man stop and take a second glance. The effect she has on men is not something she’s unaware of.

I know the look she gives me. It’s the one indicating she’ll be happy to do more than just take my cash and pass me chips. Right then, something occurs to me—I’m not the least bit interested.

The realization is major for me.

Sure, I’m working, and I would never let my focus from Carlene waiver. In the past, had I been here by myself, I might well have been tempted to take her up on the offer in her eyes. I’m a single guy, after all.

Now I’m not the least bit interested. In fact, I think Scarlett Johannsen—my ultimate crush—herself could suggest it, and I wouldn’t be interested. I’m fast beginning to fear, there’s only one woman able to hold my attention, and she just happens to be my current client.

“So, what do we do?” Carlene’s expectant look jolts me from my new-found realization.

“Now we choose what we want to bet. See the board there?” I pointed to it, and her eyes follow my finger. “It lists the last colors and numbers to have come up. You can bet on red or black, odds, evens, individual numbers or groups of numbers.”

Carlene studies the table as I quickly explain. Then I hand her a stack of chips and urge her forward. “Place it on whatever you want, Oz.”

With a “here goes nothing” kind of look, she places one chip on black. I place a couple of chips on the first twelve section and then wrap my arm around her waist and pull her back into me as we wait. With a practiced flick of her wrist, the dealer sets the ball to running around the wheel, and we wait until it hops and bounce before coming to rest in the black two position.

She spins in my arms and whispers frantically, “We won, right?” Her eyes are wide with wonder.

“Yep, we did, sweetheart.”

A stilted little squeak of excitement escapes from her lips, and she bounces on her feet before catching herself, and embarrassment begins to take hold.

“It’s okay to be excited, Oz. It’s Vegas. You can make some noise. In fact, they prefer it. Just like I do.” Her eyelids lower a little coyly, and she reaches over and gathers her winning chips from the table and I motion for her to grab mine as well.

A couple of people to our left decide to call time on roulette, and we slip closer to the table. I urge Carlene in front of me, and I place my arms around her and purposely stare over her shoulder at the dealer as she calls for players to “place their bets.”

It might be a little juvenile, but it sure feels good to look across Carlene’s shoulder at the dealer and make it very clear, I’m not interested in anything she might have to offer.

“What should we bet on next?”

“Whatever you want.”

Oz studies the board again then decides to go with black.

Once again, black comes up, and she jiggles up and down in front of me, making it exceedingly difficult to keep my cock under control as her backside gives me an impromptu massage.

“Now what?” Her voice is breathy with excitement, and I have quite a few ideas, and none of them have anything to do with the game on the table in front of us and everything to do with a bed, or any flat surface for that matter. In fact, the roulette table is enough to give me some crazy thoughts—just not a realistic option. Nothing says it can’t be a fantasy, though.

“Odds are it will be red,” I reply confidently, bringing my attention back to the game.

Carlene glances between me, the board, and then the table. She removes four chips from her stack and places them on black once again.

“The lady is gutsy. I like it,” I say with an impressed whistle.

It’s a definite risk, and for sure, I would have bet on her going with the safe play of red.

She turns slightly in my arms, so I can see her eyes. They are awash with excitement. “We said tonight was all about getting a little crazy, forty dollars in chips is a little crazy. I’ve never even bet on anything before tonight, let alone put forty dollars on where the little white ball will land on a wheel.”

And there’s another surprise. “I thought you Aussie’s would bet on anything?”

“A lot do. Just not me. I never really understood the appeal or had much opportunity. This is fun though, particularly when I’m winning.”

“You might be sorely disappointed on this one, sweetheart,” I caution. Odds are, she’s going to come up on the wrong side of the colors.

She shrugs and wriggles back against me, “I’m feeling lucky.”

I give her a wry smile. She’s definitely going to get lucky tonight. Probably not at the tables, though.

Her leg jiggles against the table as she waits for the dealer to set the ball running once again. Every moment is a pulsing beat to my cock. She has no idea what she’s doing to me, or maybe she does?

Again, the dealer sets the ball dancing over the slots, and to my utter surprise, it comes up black.

Carlene lets out a joyous whoop, spins around and kisses me full on the mouth.

“Told you I was feeling lucky.”

What can I say?

“You called it, babe.”

She collects her growing pile of chips, and I look between her pile and the board. I wonder what the hell she’s thinking now. I can see the concentration on her face tempered with what appears to look like mischief. Seeing her like this makes me so happy. Carlene is so different to the woman I picked up from the airport, and I’ve had everything to do with the transformation.

I place a couple of chips on the board. My playing is for something to do, rather than with any real strategy or intent. Watching Carlene play is far more fun for me tonight.

What she does next shocks me to the core. She places a reasonable stack of chips on the 00, then gives me the most devilish grin over her shoulder.

“You do realize the odds of double zero coming up are about...”my trader mind calculates the numbers, “Thirty-seven to one.”

She lets out a laugh that speaks of her not having a care in the world.

“I know. Isn’t it great? I’ve put one hundred dollars down, and it’s probably the most impulsively stupid thing I’ve ever done with money, and my chances of winning are probably the longest this game has to offer, but I still want to do it. How about that? Does that make me crazy and stupid?”

“No, it doesn’t, Oz. Sometimes in life, you just know things are going to turn out even when the odds or common sense tells you something different. It’s about living large, sweetheart, and not being scared to lose. Living large.”

I have to give it to her, this is definitely a new Carlene. The size of the bet really isn’t the issue. It’s about her being game enough to take the risk—to know she has far more chance of losing but doing it anyway. I’m not one to condone gambling, although many would say I built my first career on a form of gaming, but this isn’t about gambling. This is about Carlene being brave and confident enough to loosen the reins on her life a little and give things ago. Just like I wish somehow she would be crazy enough to give us a go.

The dealer sends the little ball streaking around the wheel once again, then signals for no further bets. Carlene’s eyes are glued to the wheel while the little white ball skates around the outside. As soon as it slows and begins to hop, it’s a very different story. She turns in my arms and buries her head into my chest, unable to look. It’s the same spot she’s slept on numerous times over the nights we’ve been together.

“I can’t look,” she yelps.

Her hands are wrapped around my biceps so tight, I won’t be surprised if she leaves bruises.

The ball is rapidly slowing, and the 00 is a few slots away. It’s going to be close, from what I can judge. Time seems to stand still, and the little white ball finally lurches into the one slot then somehow finds enough momentum to flop over into the 00 slot.

“WoooHoooo!” I yell and punch the air.

“What happened?” She pulls away from me and looks startled.

“You won!”

Her eyes go huge. “I did?”

“Yes.”

Those huge eyes of hers dart over to the table, unbelieving. When she comprehends what I’m telling her is correct, she launches herself at me, her legs wrapping around my waist. I can feel her heart thumping against her chest, and the smile on her face says everything.

Carlene is ecstatic.

I spin her around in a tight circle and lock my lips briefly with hers.

“Congratulations, Oz.”

The other players and people around us at the table cheer, whistle and holler in between patting us both on the back.

“I can’t believe it!”

She finally drops from my hold. “I have to get my chips.”

Carlene clears her chips from the table—for once, she isn’t trying to hide her excitement. This is what I’ve noticed more than anything…she’s becoming more candid in her expressions and communications—unguarded, real.

She moves as if to leave the table.

“Do you want to play again?”

“No way. I think my luck is about done here.”

A few of the other players let out an “oh” of disappointment as we move from the table.

“What would you like to do now?” I ask as I catch up to her. The smile is still wide on her face, and she does a little twirl.

“Dancing perhaps?”

“Yeees!” she shrieks. “But first, I need some bubbles, and maybe some food. But definitely bubbles first.”

“Bubbles it is, then.”

She grabs my hand and heads to the bar

The night couldn’t be off to a better start. The awkwardness of the last day is gone. Tonight is definitely going to be a night we’ll both remember. I’m going to make sure of it.