I didn’t expect to fall in lust.
He’s gorgeous, that is all I know. He wears a uniform and the guy is quite simply drop-dead, freakin’ gorgeous.
I’m leaning, back to the wall, arms folded beneath my skimpy black bra. Ahead of me, Billy sits dead as the proverbial in his seat in a lap-dance booth. In my side vision, Amy stands in the corridor a few booths down. She’s, blubbering loudly, her barely-dressed body shuddering like she’s freezing or something. Trey, the most rule-bound security guy in Las Vegas, tries to comfort her in that clumsy, inept way of his. At times he can be endearing, but tonight he comes off as just plain creepy.
The lighting is low, the air – warm and stuffy – reeks of cheap perfume, expensive aftershave and a rank undertow of stale male sweat. The other dancers a
