Aaron:And you know all about that (winky emoji)
Christian is a former professional hockey player, who is a co-owner of the Vegas Vipers. Over the years, the four of us have run into each often enough on the social circuit, we just became a core group of friends. Christian’s son, Travis, is a professional hockey player. Drafted right out of college, he’s been playing for the Vegas Vipers for the last few years. As a successful attorney and recent divorcee, Christian knows all about working connections in this town.
Christian:Enough about OK. Can we address the fact that Corey is going on a fucking date?
Corey:Easy. It’s chill.
Drew:… Corey Brooks doesn’t do chill
Aaron:Never
Christian:Jealous, man, I’ve never seen a server hot enough in any casinoto tempt me
Aaron:Ever
Drew:That divorce really set you free Chris (rofl emoji)
Aaron:Chill
Corey:you havin a stroke Aaron?
Aaron:dramatic ~effect~
Christian:we’ll be at VSL later tonight, text us when you’re free
Drew:Please, Corey will be having this woman screaming and singing til dawn
Corey:VSL? You and your fucking acronyms
Christian:Velvet Sky Lounge, just opened
Aaron:unlikely but maybe
Corey:i’ll let you know
Shaking my head, I swipe out of the text. Aaron is so fucking serious with his casino, and I don’t blame him, but he never takes a night off. He’s got an incredible executive team of people working for him, keeping everything straight and perfect, and he still won’t ease up on the reins and trust control to them sometimes.
I know, without a doubt, that Christian and Drew will be sitting VIP in whatever this new club is, wherever the fuck it is. I can’t commit to meeting them; it just depends on how this date with Bex goes tonight.
Date.Fuck.
Running my hand through my hair, I try to recall the last time I went on an honest-to-god fucking date. And I can’t. It’s been so long since I’ve tried to be with anyone, much less seriously with someone, getting to know them, getting past that first fuck… well, okay, first several fucks. Still.
Focusing back on my phone, I switch to a burner social media account I have. I didn’t lie to Bex about not partaking at the club the other night; most of the night I spent on the fringes of the performance room, but my mind was on the curvy brunette I’d met earlier. After an hour or so, I made my way to the front of the club, where there was a private lounge and bar. I spent another hour at the bar by myself, sipping a bourbon and looking for traces of Bex on the internet.
I could only find a few pictures of Bex on her social media. She’s so different from the women I am used to in my life, in my industry. There’s only one picture of her; the rest are abstract, likely taken in and around the desert.
While I consider myself having a good eye for art, Bex’s photos are unexpectedly stunning. They’re almost surreal, and I find it hard to look away, but I do. Back to the photo of her, posted almost three years ago. Bex is wearing a hooded sweatshirt, her hand tucked into the collar. She’s got the collar pulled up slightly, so only half of her smirk is visible, and her eyes... Those bright green eyes sparkle so intensely, it might almost be a trick of a filter, but there’s no filter in this picture.
She’s so alluring and, from the brief time we spent together last night, she doesn’t even realize it. It’s refreshing to me, but it also presents achallenge. By the end of tonight, Bex will have zero doubts about how sexy she is.
The limo slows as we pull over in front of a white stucco apartment building a few miles off the Strip. I slip my phone into my pocket, readjust my pants, and take several deep breaths. Looking at Bex’s photo almost the entire way over here has me semi-hard; not exactly the image I want to present when I pick her up for our date.
“I’m good,” I say to the driver, indicating he doesn’t need to get out and open my door. As I step out of the limo, I’m startled to see Bex standing there on the sidewalk.
“Hey,” she says, stepping forward shyly.
I open my mouth to reply, but find myself speechless. Bex is fucking stunning. She’s wearing a shimmery dress with delicate straps, cut low enough that her breasts are enticingly displayed without being too exposed. The dress cinches in at her waist and flares out slightly over her hips, and the material stops mid-thigh. With her short heels, her creamy legs are on full display, and I can’t stop myself from staring dumbly at how gorgeous she looks.
