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The chatter in the bar grew louder as I ran the whole trip through my mind. I’d come down here with the intention of letting my hair down. Of cutting loose… and yes, of getting laid, too. Bella and I had practically made a pact:
“We’re going to be dancing and flirting and living it up,” she’d told me before we left. “Lauren, it’s been way too long. If you can’t find a cute guy or two down there to clean your pipes, you may as well join a convent.”
A cute guy, sure. I could handle a cute guy. After a year, I was looking very forward to a cute guy.
It was the ‘or two’ part that seemed oddly prophetic, all of a sudden.
Nervously I sipped my wine. What if they didn’t show? Or even worse, what if they showed and they just didn’t like me?
Impossible.
I’d spent the last hour primping myself, while wandering my beautiful suite. Thinking about all the wonderful things these two young strangers could do to me, if I were to let them. There were three separate bedrooms — now all mine. A huge living area with soft leather couches. A fully-stocked kitchen with a big granite island. And in the middle of it all, a large, sunken—
“Lauren?”
I turned… and there they were. Two beautiful, college-age friends. Just like in the flyer, only now in the flesh.
“Yes…” I managed. “Hi.”
The blond was tall and well-built. He had the most amazing close-cropped hair, with fantastic cheekbones and a gorgeous mouth. His smile was bright and wide, his eyes as blue as an Icelandic Viking warrior.
“I’m Brody,” he said, in that smooth, panty-melting voice. “And this is Corey.”
A hand came forward and I clasped it mechanically. His friend was even taller, with short dark hair and liquid brown eyes. He had two days of rich, dark stubble where a beard would be.
And he had shoulders for days.
“Would you like to join us?” asked Corey. In person his voice was just as smooth, just as velvety. “We have a little table over there, near the corner.”
Somehow they’d gotten past me. Or maybe they’d been here all along. Either way, I nodded and pushed my empty glass — and accompanying tip — in the bartender’s direction. Corey ordered another round of whatever they were having, as Brody led me across the room to a small, U-shaped booth.
“Thanks for showing up,” he smiled, holding my hand as I prepared to sit down. “We were a little worried you might bail.”
I slid into the center of the booth, smoothing my skirt beneath me. “Does that really happen?” I found myself asking.
“Oh yeah,” Brody winked, and my heart skipped through its next beat. “All the time.”
Corey joined us, setting a fresh glass of Merlot directly in front of me. The guys, I noticed, each had a beer and a glass of water.
“Staying hydrated?” I flirted, taking the first sip of my one drink.
Brody chuckled. “Always.”
“Good to know.”
The guys flanked me, sliding in on either side. The did it casually, comfortably — like we were old friends. Like we’d done this a hundred times before.
“This your first time in Vegas?” asked Corey.
“Third, actually,” I admitted. “But the first two times I was on business. Short trips, two or three days. Worked so much I barely saw anything outside of my own hotel.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a publicist. And a promoter.”
“Represent anyone we’d know?”
I smiled slyly. “Maybe.”
