Traffic Girl Ch. 22

Author's Note: Thank you all for reading. I hope you're having as much fun as I am with this. There's a lot more dirty fun to come!

* * *

"He's going to Mexico for four nights," Kat said. "Isn't that long for a bachelor party?"

"Honestly, I don't care," I said, "and I don't really need to hear about it."

"Sorry," she said, "the stress of planning is just getting to me. I've got the planner and his mom and my mom all jumping down my throat."

"The only person who should be shoving stuff down your throat is me," I said.

She laughed, shaking off the stress. "You're right, though," she said. "My perspective is off. Can we do a getaway while he's gone?"

"I'm three steps ahead of you, Kitty Kat," I said.

* * *

Time was going by in a blur. We were just a few months away from Kat's wedding. Invitations to 500 people had gone out. The menu was set. The cake had been ordered. Her dress was nearing the final fittings. We would be almost two years into our affair by the time she walked down the aisle.

As Kat planned her wedding, I had two schemes of my own going. First, and for my own amusement, I began a campaign to get invited to the blessed event, knowing there would be second and third rounds of invitations after the initial wave. And I wanted her fiance to be the one to suggest I get the invitation. Second, I knew his bachelor party would be an opportunity to put together an over-the-top trip for Kat and me. I loved our increasingly dominant-oriented relationship, but I wanted to cement it even further with a grand gesture, one that would underscore the depth of our connection.

It was easy getting to know James a little bit. Bankers liked to run together, so overlapping at events was a breeze. I used our past meetings as a hook to talk to him. It led to a couple happy hours, always in a group setting. Then a couple boys' nights, also in group settings. I didn't need to make him a confidante. That would have been a disaster. And I wasn't doing this because I had something against him. I wasn't going to out the fact that I was fucking his soon-to-be wife. It was a game. I liked secrets. I wanted to befriend him -- not too much, just casually enough -- so I could get the rush of using his woman as a fuck toy. I wanted him to see me and think of me as a friend, or at least someone who was a cool dude. I wouldn't mind if he thought of me that way while my dick was still wet with her pussy juice.

* * *

So I fanned the low flames of friendship with James, all while still fucking Kat three or four times a week. And I thought about the best possible destination for Kat and me during his bachelor party. That decision also was easy. It had to be Las Vegas. Kat and I, it became abundantly clear as our relationship developed, shared a special affinity for Sin City. We had both created a lot of memories there. We both felt a license to do whatever we wanted there. With only a few days together and the relatively short flight from Houston, it was an ideal place to get away and live it up without any remorse. But it couldn't simply be a redux of our first trip together. It had to be something over the top, even for Vegas.

I prepared for it methodically. To make Vegas really special? You needed access to things that ordinary people couldn't reach. Every experience needed to be something that wasn't even VIP -- it was beyond. Something off the books you could only enjoy if invited. Kat made no secret of her love for the Bellagio. It was where she and Kelly had usually stayed. So I did something I hadn't ever done before. I consolidated my gambling at a single casino for the six months leading up to our trip. I only played at the Bellagio, which didn't make my Wynn host very happy, but I had a goal. I spent thirty days in Vegas over a period of six months and gambled like a junkie. All told, I was down $75,000 and had ridden the highs and lows of a degenerate. It all served the singular purpose of pushing my theoretical loss as high as possible, maximizing my comps.

Even then, I needed a little help to get what I wanted. And what I wanted was a villa for Kat and me. That's where my Bellagio host, Nicole, came into play. Before I moved my play to the casino, I asked some of my truly Vegas degenerate friends who the host was that a bachelor and hard partier should ask for. Nicole was the universal recommendation. She was in her late 20s and had been a host at Bellagio since her graduation from UNLV. She was a Vegas girl through and through, even spending her off hours hanging out on the Strip. Someone who embraced the Vegas lifestyle like that was precisely on my level.

But one of my good Vegas buddies gave me the real tip about Nicole. She had a habit of partying with her players. As he put it to me, being a host was her way of accessing a lifestyle she wouldn't otherwise be able to afford. His only warning, however, was that he believed she was looking to make the transition to trophy wife at some point sooner than later.

I set up a $250,000 credit line through Nicole, and made a couple trips to test out just how accommodating she could be. It quickly became apparent the answer was "very." She was an attentive, thoughtful host and came off as professional. On my third trip, I decided to push the boundaries. As she checked in on me at the blackjack table one evening, I asked her if we could privately discuss some weekend plans for me. Alone, I said that I planned on staying at the tables most of the weekend but needed some help staying up to play as long as I needed.

She didn't even bat an eye. "You know, they don't call me Nicoke for nothing," she said in her sultry voice.

The dam broke from there. She hand delivered an eight ball to my room, and I admired the pure disregard for normal host etiquette. Nicole did what she wanted. She put a sample of the coke on her fingernail and offered it to me. I snorted it and smiled. The numbness hit me almost immediately.

"That's good shit," I smiled and licked her finger lightly. I gave her cash for the coke.

"I aim to please," she said, sensuality dripping off her lips. She crossed her tan legs, her plain black business skirt riding up her hips slightly. The white button-down shirt she wore gaped at her fake breasts, showing the underside of a lacy white bra.

"Would you like some, Nicoke?" I said and laughed.

"I don't usually when I'm on the clock, but I'll make an exception," she said. I was Vegas savvy enough to know the lie when I heard it. I handed her my room card key and watched her cut four lines with practiced ease. I rolled up a $100 bill and passed it to her.

"Hold my hair back?" she asked.

I gathered her thick, brunette hair and pulled it to one side, exposing her delicate neck. She put the bill in one nostril of her button nose and sniffed hard. The other line followed just as quickly. She got up and stood very close, holding her chin up.

"That was very generous of you," she said, her full lips shimmering. She put a hand on my chest.

I cupped her chin gently. "You'll find I'm pretty generous," and met her lips lightly.

"I have to be careful at the hotel," she whispered.

"I understand," I said and slipped my tongue in her mouth. She met mine with hers. Her breath was sweet, contrasting to the bitter note the coke imparted on her saliva. Her breasts strained against her shirt as she pushed them into my chest.

"Outside these walls," she said, "there are no limits." Nicole was a complete slut. I had not anticipated that.

"Well, it's a shame I have to kick you out then," I said. "But maybe we can meet up later. I don't have dinner plans."

Nicole gave me her number, and we agreed to meet next door at the Aria for drinks that evening. I felt comfortable enlisting her help for my Kat agenda.

I grabbed a booth and margarita at Javier's and texted Nicole where to find me. She arrived looking refreshed and stunning. She wore a tight black cocktail dress with a plunging neckline that allowed her cleavage and the underside of her breasts to show. She slid into the booth next to me. Her hair was freshly blown out. Her olive skin had a light touch of makeup. Her neck was delicate and attractive. She had inviting curves.

"Well, this is more civilized than a quick chat at a craps table," I said. "Thanks for taking such good care of me this weekend."

"It's my job," she said. "But I'm not on the clock now. So what I do? Is about me."

We chatted, and she was charming. I found myself getting lost in her green eyes. She was a master of the casual touch. My buddy had been right. She was on the hunt for a trophy wife position. Her personal skills were masterful. No wonder she was a successful host. It helped her hone her craft for what she really wanted.

She ordered a second margarita and, after the waitress walked away, gently guided my hand off the table and up her thigh. She spread her legs slightly, and escorted my fingers into her pussy. It was soaking wet. My eyes popped open widely.

"I got off three times after work thinking about what you started but didn't finish in your room," she said, "and I'm still this wet."

"Well, it looks like my evening may take a turn away from the tables," I said. "Is that good or bad for you?"

"You're down $45,000," she said, "I think this is a win-win for me."

She kept my hand pressed to her pussy.

"I love getting finger fucked in public," she said seductively. "It's up to you how long we do this. Because I'm ready for you to treat me like a whore whenever you are."

"That's awfully direct," I said.

She cocked her head. "When I find something I want, I go for it," she said. "I don't make time for niceties or games."

She leaned back and spread her legs wide, showing off the wet spot she crassly left all over the booth.

"Isn't it dangerous to go back to the Bellagio together?" I asked. I was toying with her. She was the avenue to something I wanted. This was happening, one way or another.

"I'll meet you there," she said. "I can go in the employee entrance and find my way up the freight elevator."

"Done this before, huh?" I teased.

"Like I said, when I find something I want, I take it," she said.

"That isn't what you said," I corrected her, "but let's get out of here. No point in wasting time that could be better spent."

Nicole was, simply put, an incredible fuck and possibly the biggest nymphomaniac I had ever met, but I didn't feel a spark with her. She let me drive her Mercedes C-Class back to the Bellagio so she could give me head. When I parked, we split up, so she could more discreetly go up to my room. While I waited for her, I called for Champagne from room service and prepped some lines of blow.

She knocked and came inside quickly. In moments, she was naked and crawling across the bed.

"Come fuck me, I'm so horny," she said and welcomed me on top of her by putting her hands behind my head and kissing me.

"You are such a slut," I said.

She purred, "You have no idea." She felt for my cock, gave it a couple tugs, and guided it inside her. "Oh my god, I want that cock."

Nicole laid it on thick. The acting aside, her body was phenomenal. Her skin was olive toned and incredibly soft. Her tits were obviously fake but fit her curvy hips and firm ass nicely. She had no tan lines, and her pussy lips butterflied out to show a steady stream of arousal. Her pussy sucked in my cock like a vacuum. It was greedy. Her dirty talk flowed relentlessly in her slightly girlish voice.

"It's so big daddy," she flattered. "I could fuck this cock every day. Don't stop!"

Her kissing was mechanical and generally lacked tongue. There wasn't a great degree of intimacy, but her body was hot, and she had a phenomenal pussy. Besides, for a villa, I needed to put on a good show. I could feel the way her hips raised to meet mine as I fucked her in missionary, so I started to drive down into her more powerfully with my strokes. She responded to the rougher fucking, and I put a hand firmly around her neck. She gasped.

"I like it rough, daddy," she said. "You can mark me. I don't care."

I flipped Nicole over and pushed into her doggy style. She rubbed her clit and exploded once, then twice. I struggled a bit. She was hot, her pussy felt great, but I was bored. This was a new feeling for me. I thought about Kat. I thought about swimming nude in the private pool at a Bellagio villa. It made me hard. I thought about how good it felt inside her pussy and ass. That's what made me cum. I shot it deep in Nicole.

"Oh my god!" she shrieked. "That's so much cum! That's so hot!"

She sat up and threw her legs over the bed. "I love feeling cum leak out of me," she said as she went over to the cocaine. She inhaled two lines. "And I like coke after fucking. It keeps me going. You can go another couple rounds, right? I need that dick."

Nicole was annoying me. But I needed to do this.

"Of course," I said. "Your pussy is too tight not to want more."

"I hear my ass feels pretty good, too," she said.

She was insatiable, and it was fun. I was just bored. She woke me up three times during the night, once to suck my cock and twice to fuck. Like a true pro, she was gone before dawn. I woke up to a text from her.

"A couple more trips like this weekend," she wrote, "and a villa will be no problem."

I wasn't sure if she meant trips with elevated gambling or fucking or both. Either way, I was good to go. The villa was the key piece for my trip with Kat. With that locked in, I had everything set for the most memorable weekend of my life.