Gifted Grifter Ch. 03

I still had my glasses on, so I saw her imaging me being a clod and stepping on her feet. But I could also see she loved to dance and almost never got the chance to. "None of my friends live in Las Vegas" was all she said. That was probably a good plan on her part.

I paid the cover and got us both a drink. While I was waiting in line, I noticed that every single guy around me also stared at her at least once. I realized with that outfit on, she was going to get a lot of attention. When I came back with out drinks, I slipped her a wad of bills. "A retainer," I whispered, "with the attention you're getting in that outfit, I'm afraid someone's gonna snatch you out from under my nose."

"I doubt anyone else here can afford me," she said matter-of-factly, taking a sip.

"C'mon, lets go to the second floor," I said, and she followed. The beat was driving, and I was set to dance. I grabbed put my drink down on a counter, grabbed her by the hand, and pulled her onto the dance floor.

She could DANCE. And I don't mean like a stripper dances, such that when they go out to civilian clubs everyone in the world knows they're a stripper. I mean she danced like a raver, but she was on it. I'm sure she spent a lot of her daytime hours in the gym, and as a result I could have spent hours watching her move her hips and pump her abs. I did, actually. What surprised her was that I could dance a little bit, too. I had spent a lot of time in clubs when I was in school, and while I wasn't up on this particular style of dance, I just watched her for a little bit and soon I was able to keep up.

We must have been something of a sight, I suppose. She, a hot blonde in a scandalously skimpy schoolgirl-style outfit. Me, an older guy trying to keep up with her on the dance floor, and doing an OK job of it. And as far as either of us was concerned, nobody else was in the club. Don't get me wrong, its not like either of us was falling in love or anything. But she was here because I asked her to be, I was here with her, we both liked to dance, and neither of us knew anyone else so they may as well not be there. Sometimes we danced face to face; sometimes she would turn her back to me and grind her ass into my pelvis. She could feel my hard-on, which made her grind it even more. But either way, we were both enjoying ourselves.

I kept up with her until 3AM, at which time I hit a wall. She had been so into dancing, she had almost forgotten that she was with a customer and had work to do. She latched onto my arm as we walked out of Jet, out of Mirage, and into the Vegas night. We walked across Las Vegas Boulevard, up the street and into my hotel.

It had been HOT in there. And dancing for all those hours, we were both soaked with sweat, but neither of us really noticed. Now, when she got to my room, she saw herself in the mirror and freaked. "Oh my God, I'm sorry Tom, I'm a sweaty mess. Give me ten minutes so I can clean up and look presentable..."

I put my finger over her mouth to shush her. "Stop," I said. "Yeah, you're sweaty, but I like it—its real. Besides," I said, slipping my fingers under her tied-up shirt, "I don't think I can wait that long to get a hold of these."

She gently pulled my hands out of her top. "Well, at least let me go to the bathroom first," she smiled. As she went I kicked off my shoes and socks and reclined on the bed. When she came out she still glistened with sweat, but she had combed her hair—and she had taken off the bra that had been under the white shirt. Sweaty as it was, it was almost sheer—I could easily make out the form of her nipples under the fabric. And they were already erect.

"You were right," I said, "I DO like that outfit. I've been carrying this thing around all night," I said, pulling my erection out of my pants.

"I thought you would," she said, joining me in the bed and swallowing almost my whole penis at once. While she bobbed up and down sucking me, her tits bobbed up and down, peeking out of her shirt. I shoved my hands under the fabric and held a breast in each hand while she sucked me. She was masturbating with her free hand. I fumbled for the knot in the shirt and untied it. Once her breasts were free I held them again while she kept sucking. Then I flipped her over.

Her short, pleated skirt was easily flipped up to reveal her thong. This time, I simple stretched it over to one side, out of the way, and entered her. It wasn't until I was already in that I remembered I was supposed to use a condom, but she wasn't insisting; she was letting me do her bareback. I suppose since she wasn't a legal prostitute, she didn't have to follow the rules, but I knew she must not do that very often or she wouldn't still be disease-free—even if only the richest of the rich could afford to fuck her. As if I needed additional fuel for the fire, knowing that I was getting special treatment made me ragingly hard. I fucked her hard and fast; it was all she could do to spread and hold on—and squeeze me with the walls of her vagina. I felt myself go rigid; I thrust my penis in as far as I could and held it there while I exploded in orgasm.

I pulled out and lay on my back. She lay on her side next to me, looking at me.

"You are a dynamite dancer, you know." I said.

"Thanks. I used to love to dance, but I don't get much chance to anymore," she replied.

"That's too bad," I said, "it looks like you really have fun doing it."

"I'm usually working when the dance clubs are hopping," she pointed out.

"Yeah, that's too bad too," I said, "you have so much of life ahead of you. Much as I have liked being with you, you should be enjoying your youth, not wasting it on old farts like me."

"Well, I go back home sometimes to visit my friends and stuff. In fact, I'm flying back home tomorrow for a week," she said, "so I won't be able to come back tomorrow, in case you were wanting me to."

"I'm flying out on a red eye myself," I said.

She started absently playing with my chest hair and running her fingernails lightly along my chest. "So what's your story?" she asked. "Why are you using rent-a-girl instead of bringing your own?"

"I don't stay put for long," I said. "I'm having a go at being a professional gambler."

Her response surprised me: "I knew it," she said, "You've been nice to me and treated me like a person even though I am a prostitute. The only customers I've ever had that weren't total douchebags were professional gamblers."

"Maybe I'm just naïve," I said, "but just because you will have sex for money doesn't make you any less of a person."

"That just makes you a nice guy," she said softly, then after a pause added "Nice guys don't usually pick up hookers."

"And what about you?" I asked. "You're too nice of a girl to be turning tricks. You're not a jaded man-hater or a nymphomaniac. It's none of my business, but I would guess that this line of work is very hard on you on the inside."

"Let's not talk about me," she said; I was glad, as I really didn't want to get into what I was sure was a horrendous life story. "But thanks for taking me dancing. I really did have fun."

"The pleasure was mine," I said, "I not only got to dance, but I got to watch you work that beautiful body of yours at the same time. But, if you don't stop playing with my chest hair, you're going to have to go back to work."

Her gentle attentions had reawakened my penis, which was now nearly erect again; she hadn't noticed in her thoughts. She smiled, slid her hand down to it and gently prodded it fully back to life. Then she stepped over me, took off all of her clothes, and sat on my penis. I held on to her thighs while she slid up and down on my cock. She was arching her back and seeming to actually be enjoying it. I gently slid my thumb between her legs and started rubbing her clit while she moved up and down. She started to speed up, and I could, for the first time, sense her breathing becoming shallower, signifying that she was actually having a pleasurable experience as well. When she felt me stiffen further, she crunched her pelvis down as hard as she could onto mine, forcing my penis in all the way, and held it while I came. She didn't come, of course—I was still a john, not a boyfriend, but she did get at least a little something out of our last fuck.

After I came, she bent over onto me, with my penis still inside her, and hugged me close to her. Kissing, of course, was completely out of the question.

When she finally sat up, she asked kind of sheepishly if it was all right if she didn't sleep with me tonight, as she needed to get home to pack for her flight. I looked at the clock and said "Clock says its 6AM. Guess you stayed til the morning after all."

She gave a little laugh then went off into the bathroom. She came back out wearing sneakers, shorts and a runner's top that again showed those wonderfully defined abs. "Off to the gym?" I asked.

"I was going to," she said, "but I think I need to sleep before my flight." I gave her another 3 grand to go with the one I had given her in the club. She didn't want to take the extra tip, but I insisted. Then we kissed on both cheeks, she gave a little wave, and was gone.

Fortunately, I had paid extra for late checkout, so I was able to sleep until noon. Then I went to sports book for a while and a little more poker before taking a cab to the airport at 10pm. For the trip, I made better than 40K, but after paying Heather I had about 35K left.

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Friday of the week after my Vegas trip, I got a text message.

LEAVING LV QUITTING BIZ
MADE ENUF $
GOING BACK 2 SKL
THX 4 REMINDING ME
I HAVE A RIGHT TO BE HAPPY TOO

HEATHER

A couple of minutes later I got another:

IF UR EVER IN OKLA CITY (NOT LA)
LOOK ME UP
I OWE U 1 (AGAIN)

JULIE (AKA HEATHER)

I laughed; one, I had no interest in going to Oklahoma, and two, like there was only one Julie in the whole city. Still, I was genuinely happy for Julie reclaiming her life.

I made some phone calls to check in with my family until I had used the prepaid minutes up on the phone. Then I removed the battery and put it in a plastic bag with the date written on it. In 90 days, all voicemails and records associated with that phone number would be purged; after which I could reactivate the phone. It was time for the Gifted Grifter to become someone else for a while.