After several seconds I’m breathless, and I pull away. I turn slightly as I take another cigarette from my purse as well as my lighter.
A feathery light touch on my leg. It goes higher, and higher until it reaches the hem of my skirt. I glance over my shoulder. Make eye contact with Rusty when his fingers skim my ass.
I blow a plume of smoke through my mouth and nose. Then I grab my glass of champagne and drink it all, my own fingers trailing up my thigh now.
I have to stop myself from touching my pussy right here in front of Rusty. I have to remind myself that I’m not on a stage being paid to take my clothes off.
I lower myself onto Rusty, not too gracefully, considering the alcohol is now getting to my head. “I think I’m drunk,” I tell him.
“What you are is hot.”
God, the way the deep timber of his voice resonates in my ear makes my clit start to pulsate. I can quickly get used to the idea of this guys hands and mouth all over my body.
“What now?” Rusty whispers in my ear.
“A drink.” When his eyes bulge, I say, “Water. Do you mind getting me a glass?”
“Not at all.” Rusty gives me a lingering kiss before he heads for the bar. It seems like a good five minutes pass before he returns.
“I was starting to worry,” I tell him. “Thought you decided to leave me here.”
Rusty hands me the glass of water. “As if.”
I down the water in seconds.
“Thank you for taking me to Bellagio.”
“Does that mean you’re ready to leave?” Rusty asks hopefully.
I rise to a standing position, wobbling slightly. Rusty shoots to his feet and places his hands on my shoulders to steady me.
“Okay, let’s go get a cab,” Rusty says.
I cling to him as we leave Fontana and cross the casino floor. I see eyes look me up and down, something I’m used to. I’m used to scornful looks from women, lustful looks from guys.
A couple minutes later, we’re in the lobby. As we step outside I tell him, “I’m not going to fuck you.” My words slur.
Rusty doesn’t reply.
We’re silent as we get into a taxi, and I even close my eyes as we’re driven back to the Venetian. It’s a short drive, and thankfully Rusty is with me, because the alcohol has hit me hard.
He helps me out of the car, leads me into the hotel. When the elevator door opens, I stumble onto it.
“Easy, baby,” Rusty tells me.
I press the button for the thirty-fifth floor, but it doesn’t light up. It takes me a moment to remember that I need to insert my room key to access that floor.
“What about you?” I ask. “What floor are you on?”
“I’ll see you to your door,” Rusty says. “Make sure you’re okay.”
The elevator comes to a stop, and the door opens. I walk off without waiting for Rusty.
“Hey,” he says, grabbing my arm. “You messing with me? Or do you want to fuck? It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date.”
An airy laugh escapes me. “You call this a date?”
“I don’t know what it is.”
“I think—”
Rusty silences me with an urgent kiss. But it’s over quickly, and he steps backward. “I like you. Really like you. But if you’re not feeling this—”
“Maybe I ought to go to bed.”
The disappointment in Rusty’s eyes is palpable. But he says, “All right.”
“Thanks for everything,” I tell him. Then I start to walk off. I’m not really sure why I’m playing with him the way I am, except that I’m testing how far I can push him.
After I’ve taken several steps, I glance over my shoulder. Rusty is standing in front of the elevator watching me go.
I keep going. And my God, I get that weird feeling again. Like someone is watching me. Which is absolutely crazy, considering only Rusty and I are on this floor.
The pinging sound of the elevator arriving has me spinning around. And in that moment I know that it’s time to put up or shut up.
“Wait!” I yell.
I dash down the hallway to meet Rusty.
Lishelle
“I
wonder where the hell Annelise and Samera are.”
I’m with Claudia at the Tao Nightclub, and currently we’re sitting at our table, taking a break from all the dancing we’ve been doing the last hour. “I thought for sure we’d see them here.”
“Maybe they’re gambling,” Claudia suggests.
“Maybe,” I agree. “Or maybe they checked out another casino.”
Claudia leans her head on my shoulder. “At least we have each other,” she jokes in a fake-sad voice.
“Yes, darling.” I pat her hand and giggle.
Though the club is crowded, the music and chatter loud, I notice the sudden excited squeals and cheers.
“Something just happened,” I say.
Claudia glances around. “There’s a bit of a crowd over there.” She points in the direction of the entrance. “Some star must have entered the club. Ooh, I wonder if it’s Taye Diggs. Or Will Smith.”
“You think so?”
“A girl can dream, can’t she?”
Yes, a girl can dream, and now I’m curious. The crowd is moving our way—mostly women—so I know that at the center must be a guy. As it nears our table, I notice four very large black men first. Clearly, they’re bodyguards. And then I get a glimpse of the star, who’s stretching this way and that to shake hands.
“I don’t believe it,” I say to Claudia.
“Can you see who it is?”
“It’s Rugged!”
Claudia whips around. “Rugged?” Her voice is tinged with excitement. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” I knew it had to be some big star, but what are the chances it’d be Rugged, of all people? I can’t help remembering what happened with him in my office, and I feel vindicated by my assessment of him. If we’d gotten involved, I would have simply been a number to him. Considering the flock of groupies around him now, I can only imagine how many women he’s slept with.
“We should go say hi.”
I gape at Claudia. “Are you kidding?”
“Of course not. The guy’s working with us to make our fund-raiser a huge success. It only stands to reason—”
“I’m not in the least interested in fighting all those groupies to get to him.”
“Lishelle, you’re a star in your own right.”
“He probably won’t even remember me.”
“Why are you suddenly playing Miss Insecure? That’s not like you.”
“Maybe because he wanted to fuck me in my office.”
Claudia gasps.
“Exactly. Now do you understand?”
“He actually came right out and asked you that the day you met him?”
“Pretty much. Guys like him expect women to drop to their knees or spread their legs.” I snap my fingers. “Like
that.
”
“Wow.” Claudia shakes her head in disbelief. But the next instant her eyes light up. “Are you interested?”
“No!” I exclaim. “Yeah he’s cute, but, Claudia, the guy’s a baby.”
“He’s twenty-four.”
“How do you know that?”
“Duh. I read.”
“Oh. All those magazines on celebrities.”
“You’re not quite thirty-one. He’s certainly old enough.”
“That’s what he said.”
“And you know what they say about younger guys. They’re like the Energizer Bunny when it comes to sex—they keep going and going.”
I whack Claudia’s arm. “Shut up!”
Claudia stands. “I’m going to say hello.”
“Like you’ll get through his entourage.”
“Please.” Claudia rolls her eyes as if to say that won’t be a problem. And with the way she’s dressed—jewel-encrusted clutch, jewel-encrusted shoes and a form-fitting black dress with a scoop neck—she looks like an heiress. All she’s missing is the tiny pooch under her arm—the current signature of many starlets.
Claudia works her way out of the booth.
“Claudia!” I say urgently. “Claudia, wait!”
But off she goes before I can do a damn thing to stop her.
Well, I’m not going anywhere. I sip my cosmopolitan and shake my shoulders to the funky beat blaring in the club.
Now I really wish Annelise were here, as well. Because sitting alone in a crowded club, you kind of feel like a loser. Like a woman who’s been stood up or deserted.
Two songs play before Claudia finally heads back to our table, beaming. “He’s invited us to his table.”
“What?”
Claudia grabs my hand. “Come on.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Don’t be a sourpuss.”
“If I go over there, he’s going to think I’m desperate to be with him.” “I don’t think so. By the way, he’s with Baby J. And Baby J said we can also count on his support for the fund-raising effort.”
Despite that great news, I roll my eyes.
“Come on. Be a good sport. No one’s going to force you to have sex with him in a public bar.”
I suppose she’s right. It’s just that I’m not exactly thrilled about the idea of hanging with a couple young guys and dealing with all the barely legal groupies who will be vying for their attention.
“They’re waiting,” Claudia says.
Grudgingly I get to my feet. “All right. But I’m not gonna kiss his ass. And if he paws me, I’m gone.”
Rugged’s smile is as bright as a neon light when I arrive at his table with Claudia. He rises, and so does Baby J. I expected to see a throng of nearly naked women draped all over them, but it’s just Rugged, Baby J, and five bodyguards who look like linebackers.
“Hey,” I say casually.
“You stalking me?” Rugged asks.
“Funny. Ha ha.”
Rugged puts his hand on my back and guides me forward. “This is Baby J,” he explains.
“I know who he is.” I offer the rapper my hand.
“You’re right, G,” Baby J says. “She’s hot.”
I smile stupidly. I’m really not in the mood to hang out with young guys I have nothing in common with. I want desperately for Claudia to be tired of this already, but instead, she makes herself comfortable on the plush chair beside Baby J’s.
“So how is it you’re in Vegas?” I ask when we settle into our chairs. Rugged inches his chair closer to mine, and slings an arm across the back of my seat.
“Just here with my boy. Hangin’ out. Doin’ some gamblin’. You?”
“Here with my girls. Hanging out. Doing some gambling.”
We both smile at that. And here’s a shock—Rugged’s warm smile actually gets to me. Endears me to him a little. He is like his rap name implies—rough around the edges. But while he’s dressed in baggy jeans that hang below his waist and an Atlanta Falcons jersey—not at all the kind of style that would attract me—he’s very handsome. His boyish face says he’s not as rough and tough as the image he wants to portray to the world.
“So, Rugged—”
“Actually, my mama named me Roger. My close friends, that’s what they call me. So, call me Roger.”
“We’re close friends now?”
“We could be.”
I mull that over as I sip my drink.
“Cosmo, right?” Roger asks me.
“Yep.”
“Want anotha?”
I shrug. “Why not?”
“All right. Gimme a minute.”
Roger gets up from the table, and two of the linebackers do as well. Rugged starts off, and almost immediately, several young women follow his movements with their eyes. A couple even head after him.
Groupies. For them, any rich man will do. They hope to seduce with their good looks and loose pussies. And if they get pregnant, even better. Because even if the relationship doesn’t last, they’ve at least snagged a huge cash settlement for their child.
Pathetic.
Well, he’s not my man, so I don’t let myself worry about the women. Until Roger takes a seriously long time to return to the table. I’m talking ten, fifteen minutes. As I glance at my watch, I actually start to get a bit pissed.
What’s he doing—fucking some groupie in the bathroom?
About a minute after the thought pops into my mind, Roger appears. Once again he flashes a smile that he must think will get my panties wet.
He passes me my new cosmopolitan. “Sorry ’bout that. Didn’t think I’d be so long.”
“Some pretty young thing distract you?” I can’t help asking.
“
You
distract me.”
I make a concerted effort to not roll my eyes, and instead concentrate on sipping my new drink. Claudia’s loud burst of laughter causes me to look her way. She’s got a leg draped over one of the linebackers, who is also laughing, as though the two of them have known each other for years and are sharing some private joke.
Now I roll my eyes. “Looks like my friend has gone and lost her mind.”
“Why—cuz she’s havin’ a little fun?”
Before I can answer the question, I notice a woman approaching our table. She has a huge bouquet of roses. If not for the fact that she appears to be in her midfifties, I’d assume she was a groupie out to impress the rap stars at our table. Instead, I figure she’s got to be one of those people who peddles roses in clubs just like this one.
“Lishelle Jennings?” The woman looks from me to Claudia.
I’m completely shocked that the woman has mentioned my name, but recover after a couple seconds. “That’s me.”
“These are for you.” She’s beaming as she presents me with the roses. “Courtesy of the flower shop here at the Venetian.”
I accept them. “I don’t understand.”
But the woman is already walking away.
“Read the card,” Roger tells me.
I lift the card from the bouquet, open the envelope and read aloud, “I hope you find this a better way to approach a woman.”
Looking at Roger, I laugh.
“Well?” he asks.
“It’s definitely better,” I tell him. “If not a little typical.”
“Ouch.”
“Hey.” As if my hand has a mind of its own, it places itself on Roger’s leg. When he meets my gaze, I say, “I didn’t mean to sound so ungrateful. The flowers are beautiful. Thank you.”
Roger leans forward so fast I don’t have time to react. He kisses me—a soft, teasing kiss that goes on for several seconds. Never once does his tongue enter my mouth, but I can taste the passion.
“What was that for?” I ask. I’m a little breathless.
“Ever drop water into a pan of hot oil?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You see how it sizzles? Well, that’s me and you.” Roger links fingers with mine. “The passion between us is like that sizzle.”
“You think there’s passion between us? You’re jumping to a lot of—”
Damn, Roger kisses me again. He draws my bottom lip into his mouth and suckles it. The sensual movement has my body tingling.
When he pulls away from me, I lean forward to reach for my cosmopolitan. But Roger grips my arm, stopping me. “No, no. I ain’t gonna let you avoid what’s happening between us.”
“What exactly do you think is happening?” I ask him. But I know. And, honestly, I couldn’t be more surprised.
Maybe it’s the friggin’ cosmopolitans. Or maybe it’s the seductive power of Sin City.
Roger runs the tip of his finger over the top of my hand and says simply, “Sizzle.”
“Okay,” I admit. “Maybe there is some
sizzle
between us.”
“So what we gonna do about it?”
I don’t answer, not with words. Instead, I snake my hand around his head and pull him close. This kiss isn’t gentle or reserved. It’s full-blown passion, and by the time we’re done, we’re both panting.
“Do you want to fuck?” I boldly ask.
Roger takes my hand, puts it on his crotch. Through his baggy jeans, I can feel his erection. It’s as hard as a slab of granite.
“Very nice,” I tell him. “I’ll bet lots of young groupies have sampled it.”
“You keep talkin’ ’bout young. Like you’re too old for me or sumthin’. Or like you think I like ’em young.” He pauses. “Think I can’t appreciate a beautiful, mature woman like yourself?”
“Pussy’s pussy, right?”
Roger releases my hand as though he’s just been burned. “This ain’t just about pussy. I can get pussy anywhere.” He gestures to the club at large. I take a good look at the people around us. Suddenly it’s mostly women. Young women in cute little outfits.
“Max,” Roger calls out, and one of the linebackers turns. Roger beckons him over, and the man comes. What Roger says to Max, however, I don’t know, because he whispers it in his ear.
I watch as Max heads toward a very attractive girl in a short orange dress. She looks part black and part Asian.
My breath snags in my chest. Has Roger sent Max over to her to invite her to our table?
I get my answer a moment later, when a stricken look streaks across the girl’s face. I’m not sure what Max has said to her, but she juts her chin out, defiant. Almost like she’s ready to do battle. But the friend who is with her takes hold of her arm and pulls the girl away. The young beauty storms off.