Divas Las Vegas (15 page)

"Care for a drink before we head on out to dinner?"
Chris asked. (Bingo!)

Luckily, there was a gay bar along the way to wherever it
was he was taking me. On a side note, there aren't all that
many gay bars in Vegas; most are small and a fair distance
from the Strip. There's a gay disco or two, but if you're going
to Vegas to revel in your homosexuality, don't bother. The
bars and the scene, for the most part, are fairly unremarkable. Go to gamble and see the sights. If you want queer, go
to San Francisco or New York or Atlanta or any other major
city, not Vegas. Now, the bar we stopped in, Slots, was no
exception to this rule. It was small, slightly run-down, and
tired. It appeared to be filled with mostly locals, as you can
always pick out a tourist in a crowd. I suggested we make it
a quick drink, and Chris happily agreed.

We both ordered a gin and tonic. Always a good sign
when your date orders the same drink as you. It was strong,
which is just what I needed. My nerves were frazzled. But,
at least in a gay bar, we could be openly affectionate. And
between the drink and his nuzzling my neck, I was starting
to feel much better.

(Are you waiting for another bomb to drop? Damn, you
are perceptive. Here goes...)

"Shit, there's that asshole, Brad," Chris mumbled,
looking down at his drink. "Don't look up."

Come on. Never say don't look up if you don't want
someone to look up. Naturally, I looked.

The man I wasn't supposed to be staring at appeared
vaguely familiar. Sort of like, like-

"Did you say Brad?" I asked. "As in Bradley?"

"Yeah, why? Do you know him?" he asked me.

"No, I semi-know of him, but I don't know him. Never
met him before. He's Caesar, right?" I asked, my heart racing again for the umpteenth time that day.

"God, yes. Something he never lets you forget. Around
the casinos, that's what you call a Prized Part. What a jerk.
Damn, he's coming this way," Chris cursed, and set his
drink down.

"Chrissy Chris, how good it is to see you," Bradley
gushed, fake as a rhinestone. "It's simply been ages. Where
have you been hiding?"

"You know, work and all. Keeps you busy. Not too much
extra time for the finer things in life," Chris said, his hand
motioning around the bar.

"Oh, this place, yes, rather dreary, I agree. But the spirits
pack a punch and the men can sometimes be moderately
passable. Ooh, and speaking of passable..." He turned to
me and ogled. Cree-eepy. "Who is this divine creature?"

He reminded me of someone, but I couldn't yet put my
finger on it.

"Brad, Em. Em, Brad," Chris introduced us.

He shook my hand in his mighty Roman emperor death
grip and lingered too long for my liking, looking deep into
my eyes the entire time. He obviously thought of himself
as a smooth operator. But to me, he was slimy. It was easy
to see why Chris wanted to avoid him. Mind you, he was
devastatingly handsome, so I'm sure this act of his got
him far in the bars around Vegas. I, however, could not
be charmed. After all, I had spent my whole adult life with
Justin. And compared to him, Bradley was... Bradley was...
Then it became obvious who Bradley reminded me of. He
was exactly like Justin! I could feel the heavens tearing
apart at the thought that there were two Justins out thereand they were within five miles of each other. Talk about
concentrated evil.

"Em, it's a pleasure to meet you," he oozed, then asked,
"Have we met before? I would never forget such a pretty
face."

I shuddered, then replied, "No, I don't think so. Though
I did catch your act yesterday at Caesar's."

He paused when I said that, looked me over closely one
more time, then shook his head no.

"Nope, I'd remember you."

I didn't exactly believe him. I had the feeling he did
indeed recognize me. Something about the way he paused
before he said nope. But I didn't want to push it. I knew
Justin wanted me to drop it, so I dropped it. My life was in
enough turmoil as it was.

"You obviously don't live around here, Em. I'd have
noticed you for sure. Where are you staying?"

"The Atlanti-"

"Well, Brad, it was great seeing you," Chris interjected,
downing his drink in one fell swoop, "but Em and I have
dinner reservations and we have to get going."

"Oh, okay, then, it was a delight to see you, Chris. Don't
be a stranger. And Em, always a rare pleasure to meet such
a handsome man around these parts. Perhaps we will meet
again."

"Perhaps," I echoed, and downed my drink as well. I was
anxious to leave.

We practically ran out of there and away from Bradley.

"Wow, you must really hate him," I said as we got back
into Chris's car.

"Hate? I detest that man. He is vile. He is loathsome. He
is despicable and evil and boorish. He is... He is..."

"He's Justin," I finished.

He paused, pondered it for a second, then said, "I can
see the resemblance, yes. But Justin is less, er, more, well,
Justin is...Justin. He pulls it off better, I guess. But now
that you mention it, there were times I couldn't stand him
either."

"Ditto," I agreed, then told him how I knew Brad/
Bradley.

"Whew," he whistled when I was done. "That is a
whopper of a tale. Sort of sad, really. Maybe neither one of
them ever got over their forced separation and that's why
they are the way they are. Seems a likely explanation for
their egomaniacal similarities."

"That, or their mothers were both impregnated by
Satan," I said, only half joking. Justin is a Sagittarius, after
all: half man, half beast.

We drove, giggling at that thought, for a good twenty
miles, past the hotels and casinos, just beyond the outskirts
of town and along several curved roads, before we pulled up
to a stunning pink marble, unbelievably elegant, just short
of enormous, mansion.

Chris got out of the car, ran around to open my door
for me, and grandly proclaimed, "Welcome home!" I nearly
fainted.

"Whose home?" I gasped.

"Well, technically it's my boss's boss's, but for the next
week, it's mine. I'm house-sitting. And for tonight, at least,
it's ours." Man, he looked so devilishly handsome standing
there. I could only imagine the filthy thoughts running
through his head. And, if I was lucky, I'd get to experience
them firsthand.

"And that reservation you mentioned?" I asked.

"Ah, surprise number two," he said, glowing. He ushered
me into the house. "Voila!"

Mind you, I've been in my share of luxury homes
before-San Francisco is full of them. But nothing compared
to this. Whatever the word beyond elegant is, that's what
this place was. Every stick of furniture, every piece of art,
every knickknack looked original and one of a kind. And
each was stunning in its own way. One look and you just
knew that the interior decorator had to be gay. But what
Chris was voilding to was the table set up in the middle
of the entryway, which happened to be beneath one of the largest crystal chandeliers I'd ever seen, and on this, a meal
fit for a king (or a queen or two).

I looked at him in astonishment, and he explained, "Our
host said to help myself. So I did. He'll never notice. He eats
most of his meals down at the hotel, anyway. Besides, you
only live once."

"Yes, but that meal will cut at least one year off my life,"
I joked.

"Oh, don't worry, you'll be working it off soon enough,"
he said, seductively, causing a rumble in my pants. Naturally, I was not disappointed.

You know, I rarely go into the details of my sex life, but
considering it was sex in a mansion, I'll make an exception.
Bragging rights and all, I mean. Besides, it started, well,
unusually enough.

After we ate, and I'd sufficiently stuffed myself, I asked
where the bathroom was. As it turned out, there were six
of them. Chris led me to the master bath, larger by far than
my entire apartment.

"Is that a bidet?" I asked, never having seen one in
person, so to speak, before.

Chris grinned. "Yep, wanna see how it works?"

Actually, I did. "Yep, I do. If you give me a demonstration." I winked lasciviously at him and stood back a few
inches, offering him ample room.

Slowly, he unbuttoned his shirt, dropping it to the marble
floor, where his sneakers quickly joined it. Then the button
to his jeans was popped open and his zipper slid down. I
watched, my eyes riveted to his slim waist, as he pulled the
pants down and off. He was going commando, his cock
dangling down, his balls swaying as he straddled the porcelain.

He looked up at me. "I'll let you do the honors, sir," he
said, pointing with a flourish at the button to his side.

"My pleasure," I told him, reaching in for a press.

In an instant, a fountain sprang up beneath him, spraying
his hair-lined crack and yummy hole. "Mmm," he groaned,
his cock stirring, rising, arcing up and out. Instinctively, I
bent down for a suck and a slurp, engulfing his fat rod in
one fell swoop, as I reached a finger up and between, tickling his now wet hole.

"Dirty man," he sighed.

"Good thing we're in the bathroom, then," I replied,
between licks and gulps, the finger sliding in, feeling the
smooth muscled interior of him, before it was joined by
another.

"Three's the charm," he offered, and I happily obliged,
now stroking his prick as I mashed my mouth into his, swapping some heavy-duty spit. He came in a surprising instant,
his eyes staring deep into mine, his moans and groans ricocheting across the tiled room as one load after the next
erupted forth. "Sorry," he said with a chuckle, "I couldn't
wait. The next time will last a lot longer, promise."

"The next time, huh?" I said, slipping out of my
clothes.

"And the next and the next. We've got all night, Em."

And that we did, and then the morning. With a huge
breakfast to boot. But all this did put me in an awful predicament. Now I had two men in my life who were just about
perfect. I know, I know, I can't believe I'm complaining
either, but my heart had a hard time dealing with that much
simultaneous emotion. The obvious answer would have been
to dump Chris and stick with Marvin, as at least Marvin
lived in San Francisco; but whenever I was with Chris, I
ached with desire. He was much more free-spirited, though
equally sexy. So, I followed my own advice and put it off for
another day. Why rock the boat? These things always have a
way of working themselves out, I figured. Unfortunately for
me, however, they usually didn't work out right, they just
worked out. That's probably why I was going with the flow for the time being. It was, after all, better than nothing.

All good things must come to an end, and Chris eventually drove me back to the Atlantis and my chaotic life. My
lips were still tingling from all the kissing we did the prior
evening, and my stomach was still full from both meals, but
I felt noticeably more relaxed and ready to deal with what
the day had to offer. I prayed it wasn't much.

Remembering Justin's command from the previous day, I
checked for a message at the front desk. There were two.

The first one was from Marvin. It read: Dearest Em,
would love to skip the dinner at the convention tonight and
spend the night with you. Are you free? Please leave me a
message at my hotel. Until then, hope the vase search is
going well. Yours, Marvin.

Ouch went my guilt pang. Where was this guy all these
years while I was sitting alone in my apartment, gorging
myself on Ben & Jerry's?

The second note was from you-know-who, and it read:
Fucked our way to a nicer suite. See you in room 511. Justin
doesn't amaze me anymore, so the note was no shocker.
Though I was astounded when I arrived at our new accommodations. We were now in a two-room suite, complete
with his-and-his bathrooms and a view of the mountains.
Instead of chlorine, my nostrils were greeted to a lovely
bouquet of jasmine and juniper. But that was not the biggest
surprise. That came before I entered, when I knocked on
the door and heard the familiar, "Come in." Again it was
Ahmed. This time, in a lovely pair of shimmering purple
satin undies and nothing else. (I have to stop shopping at
Macy's. They don't have enough selections, evidently.)

"No more stinky," he said to me as I entered.

"Apparently," I replied, looking around for Justin.

"He's in shower," Ahmed notified me, thankfully getting
dressed. Ripped, thin, hairless boys are not my cup of tea;
but I am human, after all, and he was rather distracting.

"Thanks," I said, plopping down on my new king-sized
bed.

"I get dressed and go now. You please tell Justin I say
goodbye, okay?" he asked, in his melodic Middle Eastern
accent. Looking and listening to him made you melt. It was
all I could do not to gawk. (Well, I gawked a little, when he
wasn't looking. I hadn't seen a waist that small since I was
twelve.)

He was out the door in no time flat. I could hear the
shower turning off in the bathroom just as he shut the door
behind him. I was simply full of questions, and eagerly
awaited Justin's entrance. I wasn't to wait for long.

"I'm done, my Arabic stallion. Are you ready for a second
helping?" he proclaimed as he shot into the room, naked
and hard. Not exactly the entrance I would've preferred.

"Do you really talk that way when I'm not around?" I
asked, causing him to cover himself up. Or at least try to.
Fortunately, I had seen it all before (been there, done that),
and was not impressed by the show.

"Yes, and where is Ahmed?" he asked.

"Gone, but obviously not forgotten," I replied, pointing
to his softening member. "Better question is," I continued,
"where's Jacques?"

"Ah, that did require my various talents yesterday. You
know, I simply could not tolerate that awful room for another
moment, so I found our friend Jacques and asked if there was
any way, and I mean any way at all, we could switch rooms.
Well, the look on his face said it all; and when he invited
me back to his suite to talk about it, I knew that it was a
fait accompli. I merely applied my masculine wiles once we
arrived there and, lookie, lookie, brand-new suite."