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Utah was too hot,and too dry in all kinds of ways, so I kept moving after one night. Wine was becoming a serious habit for me. My evenings were television, usually a comedy that I stared at like a zombie, and a bottle of high-end red. When the truth of my sad little life came crashing down, I opened another bottle.
After a fairly short drive, I was in Las Vegas. A twisty idea percolated through my brain as I got closer: I could hire a party of escorts, men and women, for a fun night out on the town. They’d love it, and I might like one of them—just for a little fun. Squirming a little, I reached down and pressed between my legs. I pulled over and let my fingers slide under my skirt until they were circling and massaging beneath myunderwear. Then I climbed into the back seat and rubbed one out, wishing it was Hank’s cock inside me as I pressed myself against the seat and squeezed my breasts.
I was lying on the back seat, relaxed and a little sleepy, when Hank called. We’d mostly texted up until then…
“Hey,” I said. “I was just thinking about you.” And I had been, although not exclusively.
“Hey, sweetheart. Are you in Vegas yet?”
I sat up and glanced out the windows. “I pulled over for a breather. I’m close. Nice view of tumbleweed and brown dirt here.”
He sighed. “I wish we’d had more time.”
“Me too.”
“Be good in Vegas. You think of yourself as invincible, but a beautiful young woman is the favorite target of most predators out there. I know because I see the aftermath every day. Please, be careful.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. The worst is not the normal. But I hear you. Your words are burning into my brain as we speak.”
“Please, Sally.”
“Fine.”
“I’d be really pissed if you woke up married. Again.”
“Come on now, everybody makes mistakes.”
“Uh huh. I’m gonna let you go so you can drive to your hotel instead of screwing around on the side of the highway.”
“How did you know I was screwing around?”
“You’re going to kill me.”
“Not if you kill me first.”
I got myself back in the driver’s seat and drummed my fingers against the steering wheel. With a huff, I pulled back out onto the road. Hank had managed to rein in my wild thoughts.
Here’s the thing that got me—paying a bunch of escortswas a Josh kind of idea. Or more likely one of his shitty friends, actually. I never would have thought of something like that if I hadn’t been living around rich pricks for the last three years.
In the end, the crowds and my exhaustion from driving numbed away any desire for an exciting night out. And Hank too. The whole town reminded me of Josh, and I decided to push on early the next day.
Lake Tahoe was my next destination, an upscale lodge resort on the south side of the water. That was a long drive. But I was closing in on my end goal, western Oregon, and more eager to get there every day.
There were a handful of potential renters I’d heard from that I was interested in meeting. My house was relatively modest compared to what the really wealthy lived in. My plan was to stay low-key and not advertise to the world my potential bank account, currently mostly tied up in the courts. Besides that, I was a middle-class girl at heart. The super wealthy lifestyle wasn’t for me anymore.
Still, it was a million-dollar home, and I wasn’t going to squeeze in with a bunch of students. The house was a bit of a hodgepodge of custom-built spaces, about fifteen years old with that maple-wood nineties feel. What I loved about it was the pool, obviously, and the layout of the bedrooms. The upper main floor had the largest bedroom, a suite, and that was it as far as sleeping quarters on the upper level. The daylight basement, an airy large space, had three big bedrooms, with exterior doors that led to the backyard, and two full baths. My renters would sleep down there.
I decided to charge on the upper end of the spectrum. One thing about the well-off is they don’t generally ask a lot of prying questions, not bluntly anyway. Critically, my renters would all have to sign nondisclosure agreements specifying that they wouldn’t talk about me, or sharepictures, especially on social media. My lawyer had already drafted it.
Everything was coming together beautifully, and I even had a man in my life who really cared about me. So, of course, I had to screw it up.
I broke down at the Lake Tahoe Resort. Not my shiny Highlander Platinum hybrid rental, which could have crisscrossed the country without a hitch. I was sore, and grumpy, after the long drive. I hadn’t heard from Hank much because he’d been working an intense four-day stretch. The bellhop took off up to my room with my bags. On a whim I turned around and walked back outside to see the lake and inspect the swimming pool. A little cottage, nestled between the trees advertised massage.
Do I like massage? No, I love it. The real therapy stuff with someone that understands how all those little tendons and muscles wrap around our bodies. I walked in there with every good intention you could imagine.
Two impressively attractive people sat behind a long counter in the main room surrounded by shelving displaying lotion. I paused, not sure which one I wanted to speak to, the man or the woman.
A massage with a woman is comfortable, generally, and relaxing. Men tend to dig in and work you over. Josh had been jealous, and men had been off-limits for a long time.
