The Romance Novelist: Las Vegas

"Dae? What the heck kind of name is that for a writer?"

Audrey and Stephen had just made love on a king size bed, careless that the occupants of the adjacent suite could hear them. They, too, had been fucking like there was no tomorrow the night before. Audrey rested her head on her boyfriend's chest.

He had a point, thought Audrey, but staring at Stephen, with his smart-alecky expression that often annoyed her, she felt he had no right in criticizing her. That would be left to the critics. Audrey sighed and gazed toward the mirror of their hotel room. It was a quaint, intimate standard room at the Bellagio. Coming to Vegas was not something Audrey had wanted to do, especially not for her birthday. But Stephen had insisted and finally convinced her it would be an adventure, knowing how she'd always welcome adventure. "Most romance novelists have names that sound very, very ordinary, and even of the suburban housefrau type," Stephen went on," You know, names like Mary Alice Christine Ellen Bower. I figure that's because housewives read these, well these very trashy books and feel that the author can relate to their dull existence."

"You may be right," Audrey said, "but that doesn't mean I can't stand out. I will dare to be different. Dae is a mysterious, exotic, pretty name. And with just that one name it's even more enticing."

"Well, far be it from me to judge. I'm a writer, too and I understand your need for self-expression. Come here, I want to go down on you some more."

"Stephen!" With his strong arms, he embraced her and began to kiss down her neck, hoping to move downward. Audrey released herself from him quickly.

"No more of that today. It's morning."

"So? There's no real concept of time in Vegas. We can do it whenever we want."

Audrey kissed him lightly on the lips and giggled. "Ohh, so tempting," she said, "but you've forgotten why I'm here. I want to finish my first novel. The manuscript is almost done. I told my agent she'd see it by Monday."

"But it's your 30th birthday! What the hell are you thinking? We're in Vegas. You don't intend to spend the whole weekend writing do you?"

"Just part of the day. Look, Steve, you knew what you were getting in me when we got together. I never interfere when you're working on your own writing."

"I always welcome opportunities for sex."

"Is that so? You mean just with me or other girls?"

"Please don't start with that again. You know I have eyes only for you."

And your eyes were on the breasts of that girl serving drinks at the casino, Audrey thought in silent anger.

"Will you let me write? You can go ahead and enjoy the casinos if you'd like. Come back when you're ready for lunch and we can eat at a nice restaurant hereabouts"

"Alright, so what are you working on? What's the novel about?"

"It's a love story set in 1950's Vegas. She's an actress, a feminist, Katherine Hepburn type and he's a gambler and a sexist bad boy. It's perfect."

"This bad boy wouldn't be based on me, would he?" "Could be. Anyways, go away. You're distracting me. I can't think with you standing there completely naked.".....................................

Las Vegas, 1958 Lola Montgomery realized that it was going to be difficult to enjoy privacy while staying at the Stardust. Unless a person had been living in the moon (which she heard people say would be possible some day), they did not know who she was. She had appeared in countless films, and won 3 Oscars. She was hoping this new film shot in Las Vegas would earn her a fourth. The movie was "Las Vegas Lover" and she had been paired with William Holden. She knew he had a reputation for being a lady's man but she knew better than to strike up an affair while at work. She had already refused the advances of Cary Grant and Clark Gable, the latter being painstakingly hard to actually do. Lola walked over to the bar and thought she'd have a margarita.

All eyes followed her. She was a vision in white. It was a short dress, the skirts reaching above her thighs, and the top was gossamer and had a low-cut collar that showed off her breasts a la Marilyn Monroe. All she needed was a blonde wig and they'd think she was Marilyn, who also enjoyed Las Vegas. Lola's legs got the attention of one particular man, dressed in a black suite and fedora, who was at the gambling tables. She noticed how he looked -

Audrey went blank and paused at the keyboard. How shall he look? Oh, every man she fantasized about was always Stephen. Wavy, dark brown hair, smooth white skin, muscular body, cute round high butt, great chest, blue-grey eyes. But she knew that he'd have to look like someone she'd never met before. If only she could memorize how certain handsome men looked like. She wondered if anyone had that ability. For the time being, he'd have to look like Steve.

"Miss Montgomery, I know you've heard this before. But you are so beautiful that I just had to buy you a drink. My name is Jon James."

"Mr. James, I thank you but it's always good to hear it again - that I'm beautiful."

The waiter, a short, bald, fat foreign man that could have been Peter Lorre, served them their cool drinks.

"And what do you do Mr. James?"

"I gamble."

He laughed. It was a strong, man's man laugh. The kind of laugh that echoed and the person at the farthest end of the room could hear.

"You gamble? How is that a profession?

"It really is work, Ms. Montgomery. I've been doing it very well for years. I made my first fortune in Monaco."

"Oh, Monte Carlo? Do you travel there often, Mr. James?"

"Monte Carlo, Paris, Brazil, Mexico. You should come away with me. I'd treat you to the best of the best."

"I'm flattered. But I do well for myself, too. Did you see my last picture? Moonlight Murders? With Orson Wells?"

"Look, honey. I don't want to talk about your movies. I've been dying to get to know the real you, not the Hollywood product."

"I am nobody's product, Mr. James. The movies I do, the roles I play, are all my personal choice. Everything I do is my choice. I'm a free woman. It's the 20th century."

"Fire, thy name is woman. And what would you say if I told you I wanted to -"

Audrey knew she could not use the f word, or even make love. Damn the little battles writers engage in. Finding the perfect, most appropriate words. O, well, let's write some more anyways.

"Mr. James, if I went to bed with you, I'd have to be in control. I'm always at the top. I am never beneath a man."

"I don't object to that."

"This is the time of women, Mr. James. We have the vote, we win Oscars, we work -"

"Alright, baby. If you and I become lovers, I'll let you take charge if it pleases you."

"That's all I ask for. And I'll end it if I want to. But maybe it doesn't have to end."

At last, the love scene. The one hot love scene that would set the romance in motion. Maybe they'll have a big fight later. Then they'll find forgiveness and love. Perfect. But for now -

Jon James swept her into his arms, lifting her up from under her legs and poured sweet, soft, lingering kisses on her face, neck and navel. Lola felt her skin beginning to burn with that building fire she always felt when a man possessed her. And Jon knew just how to work her, as if she were an instrument in his fingers, a violin reaching a higher pitch. They were alone in the hotel room.

"Before the night's over, you'll be seeing real stardust," Jon James said in a rugged, breathy low voice.

"That's a pretty good line. Sounds like you've been reading the script for my next movie."

"I doubt they'd make a movie out of what I'm going to do to you. It would be too much for the censors' code."

Like a beast, he roared and tore off her little white dress. Everything fell like pieces of confetti on the carpet, little scraps surrounding her white high heels. Lola was not wearing any underwear. She did this because Marilyn Monroe had told her she did the same thing and it always worked magic on men. It drove Jon wild.

Lola felt his big hands cup her heart-shaped bottom, like he was lifting up a bucket and he held her in place against the wall of the hotel room. The afternoon sun was hot and filled the room with golden light which allowed them to see through the semi-darkness. Jon was now nude and Lola thought she'd swoon. Forget Clark Gable. His body was that of a Greek god's. Muscular, sturdy. And his face was even better than James Dean's. Those blue eyes, that healthy glow, that strong chin. He, on the other hand, was fixated on her breasts. Lola's bosom was the greatest. But they never let anyone see them in the movies, except for a teasing small hint of them.

Holding her against the wall, he began to delve his tongue into her wet and ready pussy. She writhed and moaned, feeling the wonderful sensation of his tongue in there. It was like a suction, a deep one and she felt his tongue slide back and forth, stretching her. Harder, faster. Then slow. Then fast. She moaned and produced a scream that reverberated in the room. She felt dizzy. The heat was overwhelming. She could not see anything. All she saw was the orange-red glow of the sun setting outside. All she felt was Jon's tongue. She felt her orgasm build and it erupted, making her want to collapse.

Jon took her to the bed, understanding she wanted to lie down. But he was far from being done with her.

Not bad at all! And for a first novel. Audrey looked at her watch. It was almost noon. Stephen would be coming back. Funny how she did not feel any hunger, at least not for food. She knew Stephen would not object to making love at noon. She wondered, also, if he would not object to making love in a wonderfully creative and different place, say the desert they had crossed to get to Vegas. Had anyone actually done that? Just gotten off the interstate and traversed the desert to find a spot to make love? She'd have to tell Stephen all about her idea.

Now, back to Jon James and Lola Montgomery. Where were they?O, yes -

Jon threw her on the bed, as if she were a light rag doll. To anyone else, this could have been a rape. But this ravishment was heaven. Lola's lungs hurt from screaming and her body was already sensitive and worn of his kisses and the feel of his big hands. Now she braced herself for his cock. He was hung big. She figured he was at least nine inches. All she knew was that no mortal man could be so big. Not any man she had known at least. Jon's cock was already enlarged and ready for her. She parted her legs and figured he'd just get on top of her and begin to fuck her. But he did no such thing. Instead, he took her legs and put them over her own head. This was entirely new to her. She did not know it was possible. Her butt was raised off the bed and he then began to lean over her and began to slide his cock into her wet slit. She felt him slide all the way in, to the hilt, his balls slapping against her ass. She cried out in pure pleasure as he moved his hips and fucked her. Hard and fast, sweat pouring, eyes locked. Lola felt she would die right there. He was relentless and it went on for a long time. She reached her climax as he reached his.

They had a second time. This time did not contain the stormy intensity of his first fuck. This time was slower, as if they were in a slow-motion dream. It was in many ways far more enjoyable. They could now feel each other's body more closely and explored everything. He kissed her everywhere, his mouth exploring every crevice, every nook. His hands were everywhere. Their bodies meshed and it was hard to know where he began and where she ended. His cock slide in and out of her, making her cum over and over. She locked her legs around him and caressed his sturdy back.

"I do say, Mr. James, you are by far the best lover I've ever had. And I've had movie stars."

"O, Miss Montgomery, this is only the beginning. You will travel the world with me won't you?"

"I will." "You'll enjoy boating, dining and gambling with me. You'll - oh, but Miss Montgomery, what about your film career?"

"I still have that. It's not like we're going to marry. Even as a married woman, I'd want to be an actress."

"Any man would be proud to have you as wife."

"Oh, Mr. Montgomery, I think you make me feel.....loved."

The door to the hotel room flew open. It was Stephen.

"Busy are we? You look like writing is going to give you an orgasm"

Stephen walked toward Audrey and stood next to her as she wrote on her laptop. He quietly read what she had been writing. Audrey stared at her boyfriend like he was meat.

"Ooooooo" Stephen said, "that's some good stuff. Are you hungry?"

Audrey fell to her knees and began to push down his pants impatiently but gently.

"Whoa....I meant hungry for lunch." "Dessert first."

Steve's cock was already erect, as if by magic. She took his cock into her hands and caressed it. Then she kissed it, rubbing it on her cheeks. She began to lick and lave his organ. Stephen growled and began to breathe hard. Her tongue slide up and down the shaft and wrapped around the head of his cock. God, did she enjoy this. What woman didn't? It was actually better for women to do this than for men, she thought, because it felt so good, so utterly feminine, so utterly beautiful. Submissive. She was like this with Stephen. He was in charge in the bedroom, even if she was in charge in other ways.

Stephen's hips were bucking and he was moaning loudly. She had his cock deep in her throat. Stephen roared and his cum flowed into her lips. She swallowed..... * * * The weekend was drawing to an end. Their last night in Vegas, they saw Phantom of the Opera at the Venetian. They had dinner at the top of the Stratosphere. And they returned to their hotel room at the Bellagio, to the warmth of their bed and each other. Stephen, poised above her, straddling her, stared in awe.

"You're so hot, Audrey," he said to her. "I love your brown hair, how soft it is. I love your big brown eyes. Your smile. Your body."

He began to slide his cock inside her. She was as wet as a river. She grippe his buttocks and moaned repeatedly, like she was a broken record, her moans floating in the air like music, joined by Stephen's. Their hips met. Their eyes met. He pumped into her strongly and she felt herself become like jello. He then slowed down and his snake-like motions made her quiver in ecstasy. Outside, that damned romantic fountain show was on again.

"Steve, I love you," she said to him.

" I love you too, and I love your novel. I think it will be a hit. Tell me what happens to Jon and Lola?"

"Well, they marry of course and live happily ever after."

"Not everyone has a happily ever after, so they're quite lucky. And pray tell what will you work on next?"

"I haven't a clue. I'll worry about that later. We do have to get back to the real world. I have classes to take and my job and you do too."

"But it's been fun here in Vegas. And what a way to finish your novel."

"Oh, Stephen, did you want to make love in that vast and eerie desert we crossed on our way here from California?"

"What do you think?"

The End.