CHAPTER 9
TILLIE
After another long nap, I drug myself out of bed and ordered room service and leisurely dined on my balcony, contemplating if I should go to the show Mario had booked tickets for. It was an all-male revue show that, according to the ads I’d seen, appeared to be nothing more than a squad of half-naked men gyrating in costumes.
It wasn’t exactly my cup of tea, to put it kindly.
Not that I didn’t enjoy half-naked men, but it seemed a little cliché, a little outdated, a little…obvious. Mario was trying too hard with this one. I had tickets to other shows for later in the week, but this just happened to be the first one.
What the hell, I decided eventually. What else did I have to do tonight? I’d avoided the casino like the plague, feeling slightly guilty at the thought of just throwing money away like that. The thought of winning never really occurred to me, because I’d never won anything in my life.
So far, my luck was scarce.
Since gambling wasn’t appealing to me, I found myself in the back of a taxi as it whisked me down the street to the entrance of the MGM Grand, with its excessively green neon lights flashing wildly, and the mascot, a roaring Tiger, roaring violently every few minutes on the massive marquee.
I strolled through the casino and after getting lost twice in the never-ending sea of slot machines and poker tables, I finally found the theatre. The usher led me to one of the best tables up front and a waiter promptly arrived with a bottle of champagne, with a little card attached. I opened it and smiled when I saw it was from Mario.
“Hope you’re having the time of your life. Let your hair down and get wild!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. I don’t think I have a wild bone in my body. I sipped champagne as the curtains opened and a Matthew McConaughey look-alike, in a pair of black leather chaps and nothing else but a g-string, walked out.
No — wait a minute.
He didn’t walk out.
He strutted out.
Like a proud peacock, his chin lifted, his eyes filled with confidence and a grin that screamed cockiness.
“Alright, alright, alright,” he cried into the microphone. “Hello, Las Vegas!”
The crowd applauded and I sat there, trying not to laugh and drool at the same time. He was hot, really sexy, but still, it was like something out of a movie, corny and overdone.
He told a few racy jokes before he introduced the first act, which was a group of the biggest men I’d ever seen, dancing together in a choreographed routine of undulating and grinding. Slowly, they ripped off their pants, the velcro ripping apart down the sides, their shirts discarded in a pile on the stage while they shook their hips in a coordinated display of pure sex.
By the time they were done, my legs were tightly crossed, my thighs pressed together under the table and I realized I’d been holding my breath the entire time. Slowly, I exhaled, relaxing my body, ignoring the signals being sent from between my thighs and straight to my brain. The fact that I hadn’t had sex in at least a year was like a neon sign flashing in my brain as I watched the show.
The MC returned to introduce the next act and I sipped my champagne, grateful for the warm buzz that was beginning to wash over me.
“Who likes Dick?” he asked. The crowd went wild and I smiled as I looked around, realizing it was mostly women surrounding me for the first time.
“Well, if you like Dick, you’re going to love this next guy, folks, because he is the KING of DICK! Give it up for Richie “The Dick” King!” The MC turned and strolled off the stage as the music started and fog filled the stage. When it cleared, a man stood in the dark, his silhouette back lit by white light, a long trench coat framing his body, a hat pulled low over his face, the fog billowing out around him.
He sprang into motion, lifting his head and pulling the hat from his head as he moved forward, strutting down the center stage towards my table and freezing, before opening his coat in a quick flash before closing it again quickly, revealing a fast tease of what lay beneath. He turned his head, his eyes crashing into mine as he rolled his hips before pulling the coat from his body, throwing it behind him and twirling around, his mostly naked body coming into view, nothing but a jet black g-string covering his perfectly sculpted muscles.
He was all sinewy perfection, the kind of flawless physique that only comes from years of discipline and care. It was enough to make my stomach flip, but it was those eyes, trained firmly on me that cut right through to my core. As if suspended in time, I met his gaze, biting my lip with pure lust, a feeling I’d not felt in so long I couldn’t remember.
And just like that, he turned away, the piercing gaze pointed in another woman’s direction, and then another, until he’d managed to put us all under his spell, the collective breath of the crowd suspended in a shared moment of desire directed toward one white-hot man.
And just like that, the song was over and he was gone. He disappeared backstage and the MC returned to announce another act, but nobody else had the same effect on me, or the other women in the room. At the end, we all clapped and filed out, and I couldn’t help but eavesdrop as I made my way through the crowd.
“The King of Dick can rule me anytime!” one woman said.
“I sure wish we’d gotten a look at his crown jewels,” another woman giggled.
“I wouldn’t mind sitting on this throne,” another woman quipped, the others roaring with laughter. I smiled until I was out of the theatre and back into the belly of the massive casino, suddenly in the best mood I’d been since I’d arrived in the city. That man’s gaze woke up something deep inside of me, something that had been sleeping deeply, stirring something that had been nearly dead.
I felt revived. Like just one lust-filled glance my way, even if it was an act, had brought me back to life like a kiss from Sleeping Beauty’s prince.
Was it really that easy? I pondered.
Was my sexuality just lingering under the surface, begging for any little spark to bring it to life?
Instead of feeling pathetic that I’d let a stripper basically give me CPR, I felt delighted in the fact that my sexuality was actually still alive.
I passed by a roulette table, with chattering, happy people surrounding it and smiled, heading straight towards it. I’d never gambled before in my life, but I quickly pulled some cash from my purse and thrusted it towards the attendant. He handed me a very large handful of chips and I stood there for a minute watching the others, before I followed along, putting a group of chips on the black square. We all stood back, watching as the man spun the wheel. The little ball spun round and round finally landing on a black number fifteen. He handed me more chips back than I put down and suddenly I was hooked.
I played again, and again, and again, until I was sliding a large pile of chips around on the table, watching it grow with increasing joy. The champagne kept flowing and before long I’d tripled the money I’d started with.
An hour later, I walked away from the table with a genuine, wide smile that radiated from deep inside of me. I stepped into a bar that opened up into the casino after cashing in my chips, stuffing the big wad of cash into my purse with glee. I sat at the end of the bar and ordered a drink, sinking into the plush velvet bar stool and looking around. The bar was crowded with customers, groups of people gathered together in booths, laughter bubbling up over the music.
“Is anyone sitting here?” A man asked to my left. I turned and smiled, shaking my head.
He nodded and sat down beside me. Almost handsome, with short blonde hair, his too-dark tan made his skin look a little leathery.
“Can I buy you another drink?” he asked.
I hesitated at first, but then I nodded, smiling politely. He definitely wasn’t my type, if I even had one, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy a drink with him.
“Thank you,” I said, reaching out my hand. “I’m Tillie.”
“Hello, Tillie, I’m Daniel.”
“Daniel, hello.”
“You here alone?” he asked, looking around.
“Yes, I went to a show earlier. Having a drink on the way back to my hotel.”
“How was it?” he asked, as he gestured to the bartender and ordered.
A pair of dark eyes flashed in my head, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my belly as I remembered the dancer, and I smiled a secret smile.
“It was great,” I said, smiling.
“I’m here with my wife,” he shrugged. “She got drunk earlier. Fell asleep in the room. Thought I’d come down and have a little fun without her.”
“Oh, I see,” I said, hoping he wasn’t intended to have ‘fun’ with me. The last thing I was interested in was a married man. But maybe that’s not what he meant, I thought. After all, he’d not said a word to make me think he had such intentions.
“Yeah,” he continued. “I did a little gambling. Slots. Didn’t win a thing, dammit.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” I replied. “I actually did quite well at roulette. It was my first time.”
“First time?” he asked. “Is that so? First time in Vegas?”
“It is, actually.”
“And you’re all alone?”
“Yes,” I said. “But is anyone ever really alone here? There’s so many people.”
“That’s true,” he replied, downing his drink. “So, what do you say?”
“Say about what?”
“About that fun? Where’s your room? Might as well end the night with a bang, if you catch my drift,” he winked.
“You just said you were married.”
“So, what?” he shrugged. “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, am I right?”
“Oh, no,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m sorry. I’m not interested in that.”
“Oh, come on,” he said, leaning in so close I could smell the whiskey on his hot breath.
“No, thank you, really,” I insisted. “I don’t get involved with married men.”
“Involved?” he repeated, mockingly. “I just want to fuck. One night. Come on, Tillie, you won’t be disappointed, I can promise you that.”
“I said, no, thank you.”
He grabbed my arm, which took me completely by surprise, so much so that I just stared down at his fingers wrapped around my bicep like it was a snake.
“What are you —.”
“—I bought you a drink, bitch, you owe me!” He growled, pressing his crotch into my thigh. I attempted to pull my arm away but he was gripping it so firmly that I couldn’t.
“Let me go!” I exclaimed. He squeezed harder and my heart began pounding in my chest as I kept trying to pull away.
“Stop fighting, you know you want it,” he said, pulling me off the barstool.
“No!” I yelled, frantically trying to get the bartender’s attention, but he was turned away, completely oblivious to the fact that I was being assaulted. I was about to scream at the top of my lungs when another man, this one much larger, stepped up to us and grabbed the man’s hand on my arm and pulled it away roughly.
“Sounds to me like the lady isn’t interested, buddy,” he said, wedging himself between us. My eyes trailed up to his face and I gasped when I realized it was the dancer from earlier. The King of Dick, they’d called him.
Daniel squared off in front of him, glaring at him for a second before shaking his head and shrugging.
“Fine, you can fucking have her!” he slurred, and I quickly realized he was a lot more drunk than I’d realized. “She’s too old for me anyway, and probably a total ice queen in the sack.”
“Old!” I exclaimed, before lunging towards him. The dancer jumped between us again and winked at me, before quickly turning back to the guy.
“You shouldn’t have said that, asshole,” he said, rearing back and in a flash, he punched him, square in the face. The man dropped to the floor with a heavy thud, holding his jaw.
“Whoa!” I cried, staring at him in awe.
I shook my head as Daniel scrambled to his feet, and ran out of the bar grumbling.
“Oh, my God!” I said, turning back to the dancer. “Thank you so much.”
“My pleasure, ma’am,” he said, nodding as a sexy grin spread across his face. “Felt good to punch that fucker.”
His eyes were electric when I’d first seen them from the stage, but now they were on fire. Twinkling with mischief, he winked quickly.
“Are you okay?”
I swallowed hard, staring at his stunning beauty before realizing I was being rude.
“Yes, yes, I am. I’m Tillie,” I said, stretching a hand out to him.
“Richie,” he replied, shaking my hand. His huge hand engulfed mine hotly and a shudder of desire rocked through me.
“Good,” he nodded. “I hate dudes like that. Give the rest of us a bad name.”
“Aren’t you the guy from the show earlier? The dancer? The king of —.”
“Richie, the King of Dick at your service, ma’am,” he laughed, tipping an imaginary hat. I burst out laughing.
“Right, Richie. Got it. Great show, by the way,” I said.
“Thank you, ma’am, I appreciate that,” he replied, his eyes piercing mine, his smoldering smile making my stomach flip. “Well, be careful,” he sighed. “There’s a lot of assholes like him in this town.”
“I will, thanks again,” I said, nodding and smiling, wanting to say so much more, to offer him a drink, anything to keep him from walking away, but then — just like that — he turned away, leaving me alone in the crowd that seemed to be completely oblivious to anything having happened at all. I watched him leave and then turned away myself, grabbing my purse and slowly making my way outside to a find a taxi.
Back in my room, despite being shaken by the whole thing with Daniel, I kicked myself for letting Richie get away. A man like that was definitely someone I was interested in getting to know better. It wasn’t just his square jaw twitching with anger, or the flash of rage igniting in his midnight blue eyes, or even his disarming smile that hooked me, it was the way he’d stood up for me without a moment’s hesitation.
He’d stepped in and skillfully removed the threat, like protecting women was some kind of second nature for him, like some sexy stripper superhero.
My insides quivered as I remembered the sound of his fist slamming into Daniel’s jaw, the way his eyes wrinkled around the edges with concern when he asked if I was okay, the heat of his palm against mine when he’d shaken my hand.
It took forever to get to sleep, and it wasn’t until I reached down between my legs and found the release I so desperately craved that I could even breathe properly. Haunted by Richie’s grin, I finally fell asleep in the huge, soft bed all alone in reality, but wrapped in Richie’s python sized arms in my dreams.