Las Vegas Trip part 1

The topless exotic dancer dances hypnotically to the music. Her perfect breasts sways elegantly with her torso in rhythm. Her long athletic legs glistens from the soft lights that barely lit the room, and as I sit in the plush suede chair she approaches. She places her right knee at the edge of the chair between my legs with her thigh up against my groin. She presses it against me and her fingers ran through my hair down to my ears. Her erect nipple barely but softly touches my face slid down to my lips. Suddenly, the chair begins to vibrate violently and the room echoed with a loud but familiar ding. I open my eyes and I am back in the plane and in an instant a voice fills the cabin, “This is the Captain speaking. Sorry for the turbulence, but we are approaching the Las Vegas airport, so please put on your seatbelts and your trays in their upright and locked positions.” The announcement quickly ended. Damn, it was only a dream

It’s about 10:15pm. My friends and I head towards the airport exit and as the automatic sliding door opens we are hit with a seering blast of Las Vegas summer air. It feels like standing in front of a bellowing hot furnace. “Holy shit!” my friend Aziz cries. We approach a Taxi that happens to be a Lincoln Town car. We hand the driver our bags and tell him the hotel we were staying. We hop in the backseat of the air-conditioned car with much of appreciation of cooler air. The driver threw our bags in the trunk and quickly slips into the driver seat with speed and accuracy adjusting the rear-view mirror and putting on his seatbelt at the same time. The car quickly sped out narrowly missing other taxis and pedestrians. The driver glance over his should and in a stern but informative voice he says, “One hundred and four degrees.”

As we walk inside the chilled hotel-casino the voluminous environment was filled with pings and chimes of slot machines and drops of coins falling into steel trays, which are done on purpose as a pychological effect on having you believe that these machines payout often. We checked into our rooms and plop on our queen-size beds testing for stiffness and rebound. The phone in our room mysteriously rang. “Who the hell is that?!” Yuri exclaims. I pick up the phone. “Hurry! Get dressed we’re heading to the club!” And in an instant the phone hung up with a click.

[to be continued…]

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