What Happens in Vegas... Ch. 03

Amy's meaning was obscured by her nerves and Jake's own preconceptions. What he had heard her say was merely Mike's warning come to life: Amy hadn't cared for him before they got here. His heart, soaring so high this entire weekend, came crashing down around him. Anger boiled up even as his heart fell. His words were nearly spat out, venomous in their intent and destructive in their purpose.

"Really? REALLY? That's it? God forbid I hadn't won that money, you might have had to find some other rich guy to fuck."

"Fuck you, Jake, that's not what I-"

"Did you ever really care at all? I mean, at all? Because if you didn't, we really need to collect the security camera footage of your performance and put you up for an Oscar. I can see the title now: 'Gold Digger - Amy's Story'."

Amy recoiled as though Jake had hit her. "Is that what you think of me? That I only slept with you for your money?"

"Of course not."

"Thank god, because I was about to-"

"I think you did it for the clothes, too."

Amy did exactly what she had planned before she had been interrupted. Picked up her drink and threw it in Jake's face, then promptly stood up and strode off, wincing at Jake's final, biting comment.

"It's easy to waste alcohol when YOU DON'T HAVE TO PAY FOR IT!"

But he didn't see the tears falling from Amy's cheeks as she fled.

--

Jake's outburst was not unnoticed. His casino host, Sarah, had been in the vicinity, and Jake's final, insulting barb towards Amy had been bellowed at the top of his lungs. Quickly attempting to halt any further disturbance, she gently ushered Jake away from the rest of the guests, towards the bar. Gesturing quickly to the bartender, Sarah sat the inconsolable Jake down at a stool and told the bartender to accommodate his every need, giving her a meaningful look as she left.

"What can I get you, honey?" The sultry bartender asked, looking for all the world like a wet dream come to life. Jake was unresponsive, lost in his mind over the events that had just unfolded. The bartender looked over at Sarah, who pantomimed a gentle pushing motion, accompanied by a deliberately raised eyebrow. Rolling her eyes slightly, the bartender tried to engage Jake once again.

"Sweetie? Need a drink?" Her gentle tap on the bar counter caught Jake's attention, jolting him from the dark places his mind was spiraling towards. Looking up, he caught the bartender's deep, green eyes. Nothing like hers, Jake thought. His eyes refocused, taking in the sight before him. She was looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and impatience, her eyes boring holes into him. She looked exactly like a stereotypical bartender should; large, inviting breasts leading down to a slim waist and flaring hips. Jake noticed this all academically, his mind as far away from arousal as could possibly be. Still, the lady had asked a question.

"Whiskey, please. Your best."

As she turned to leave, Jake caught her hand, placing two hundred dollar bills into it.

"I don't want to see the bottom of this glass. Ever."

The bartender looked at Jake with a second lens. It wasn't the first time a casino host had pointed out a high roller for her to 'service', but this one didn't actually seem interested in her, so much as the booze she carried. She brought back a bottle of Macallan 30, and poured him a stiff measure of the amber liquid. Throughout, Jake gave no sign that she was even present. As soon as she finished pouring, Jake picked up the glass and knocked back the drink. He sat it down on the counter, tapping it twice. She filled again, curiosity growing. Jake paid her no mind, swallowing the drink as fast as he could before tapping it on the counter once again. The bartender looked at Sarah once again, who nodded. As she poured the third drink, she tried to engage Jake.

"You seem like you're having a rough night, sweetie. My name's Erica, I'll make sure you're taken care of Slow down, enjoy the drink and maybe relax a little."

Jake looked up at her, his normally bright blue eyes dull and listless, his gaze looking far away.

"I seek oblivion, not relaxation, Erica. If you can't help me with that, find me someone who can."

Erica, being a bartender in Vegas, had heard far worse things in her time, and proceeded to oblige Jake, following Sarah's instructions to the letter, keeping Jake topped off. True as well to Jake's request, he never saw the bottom of his glass. In due course, Jake found himself being helped back to his suite, accompanied by a gentle hand on his shoulder. James met him at the door, looking decidedly concerned.

"Ahem, sir, before you enter, I must inform you, your companion has departed."

Jake stumbled, in part from James' words, in part from his own inebriation.

"What do you mean?" Jake's words slurred as his body swayed, uncomprehending.

"Your companion Amy, sir. I'm sorry to say she has packed her things and left. She did mention something about needing to catch a flight back to Seattle."

In his drunken state, Jake barely heard the butler, stumbling inside and slamming the door behind him, not noticing that he was followed in. Jake weaved around the furniture, the copious amounts of strong drink inhibiting both his mind and his movements. It seemed to take him hours, but Jake made his way to his luxurious bed and practically fell in. Moments later, he registered the bed shifting as someone else settled down beside him, identified as female only by a flash of smooth leg. In his addled state, Jake gripped her hip and fit himself close against her, his length pressed firmly against her toned, tiny ass.

Tiny?

Something was wrong, a thought trying to swim to the surface of Jake's sluggish memory and failing. The Fever was back and roaring through Jake's body, his senses singing with sensation. The errant thought tried to push forward again, almost making it to the forefront of Jake's thoughts.

STOP! That's not Amy-

Jake shook off the sudden chill he felt and forged on aggressively, hand sliding down past a blonde landing strip to find an already swelling clit. Almost by muscle memory, Jake's fingers went to work, teasing gently along the sides of her lips, trailing, tracing lines so light and ephemeral that a breath might have ended the skin contact. Small gasps and moans from somewhere above urged Jake onward. He all but crawled over her in his eagerness, hot breath making the woman above him shudder as his tongue flicked out to lave over her clit. He began doing what he loved, completely devouring the woman. First, he slowly licked and lapped his way across her clit, her body arching and writhing above him as he varied his strokes to maximize her pleasure. His hands curled underneath her ass to pull her closer to him, his powerful grip holding her down just as surely as handcuffs. Jake dove in with a will, his agile tongue piercing the woman's entrance, twisting around to massage her G-spot with the tip of his tongue. The hands suddenly gripping his hair encouraged Jake's efforts, his tongue performing a killing dance inside the thankful woman.

Unbidden, his conscious mind tried to push its way to the surface again, only to be shut down by the crushing combination of The Fever and the alcohol.

You idiot, stop! STOP! You don't care about her, you-

Who the hell cares? I'm having fun. I'm wanted here.

NO! This is a worse decision than when you rented Paul Blart: Mall Cop!

Bullshit, nothing is that bad a decision. Besides, Vegas!!

WHO. THE. HELL. CARES?

Jake remembered her first orgasm. He remembered her second one, as well. But then his mind was finally overcome by the Scotch, and the picture frame of his memory fractured. One moment it seemed he was on top of her, mounting her, dominantly fucking the woman into the mattress. The next she was riding him gloriously, head thrown back as she crushed his head to her ample breasts and screamed her pleasure into the rafters. Then he was behind her, hand tight in her hair, his hips pumping into hers furiously. Then they were locked together and breathing so heavily, feeling so good. A flash of pleasure surged through Jake's body, and then he was falling through nothing, down an inky black well. The darkness enveloped him, and Jake didn't remember landing.

--

As Jake awoke, a primal drumbeat pounding against his skull, the events before he had started drinking flooded his mind, doing nothing but cause him more pain. He reached over for Amy and wrapped his arm around her from behind. She sighed contentedly and snuggled against him, pressing her small, firm ass into him from behind.

Jake's eyes flew open. Small ass?

Then he remembered. The fight with Amy, the drinking, Erica...

Sure enough, as Jake's eyes snapped open, he was greeted with none other than Erica's platinum blonde hair, her naked body wrapped in the sheets. Stirring, she rolled over and gave him a sleepy smile, her glittering green eyes reflecting in the Vegas sun.

"Hey, sweetie, how're you feeling?"

Jake's only response was throwing a hand over his eyes and groaning.

"Yeah, I'm not surprised, considering how much Scotch you knocked back. You were really putting them down. I told your butler last night that you would probably need about a dozen Advil and a pitcher of Bloody Mary's. I'd get them for you myself, but I actually have to go to work."

"Wait, don't you want to stay, get some breakfast or something?"

Erica looked at him quizzically. "Sweetie, what time do you think it is?"

Blinking, Jake rolled over to look at his clock. 5 PM, what the fuck?

Turning back, Jake blushed. Erica was already getting dressed, her matching lime green bra and panties visible for just a brief moment before being covered by her bartender's uniform.

"I guess I thought it was the next day already. Wait, weren't you working when we met?"

"Yeah, and trust me, I know this doesn't look great, me skipping out. I've certainly been on the other side of it. But I had a split shift today, and it starts about 5 minutes ago."

Leaning over, she kissed Jake chastely on the lips before writing something on a piece of paper.

"This is my number, sweetie. Next time you're in Vegas, you give me a call. I owe it to you to rock your world. After all, turnabout is fair play."

With that, Erica made her way out the bedroom door, and Jake heard the entry door shut a few seconds later. He made his way downstairs and was greeted by James, holding out the Bloody Mary and the Advil. Jake took a swig and popped 4 of the Advil at once. He thanked James, then trudged his way up to the bathroom. Not bothering to leave the pitcher outside, he turned on the steam shower and let the water pour over him, taking large gulps of the hangover drink. Jake didn't know how long it took, but his head finally began to clear, and as it did, his spirits began to lift. Jake stepped out, pitcher almost empty, and as Jake walked back into the bedroom, he started to feel better. Happy, even.

Who needs Amy? Jake thought. I had a great time with Erica, there was no awkwardness or tension, and she wants to see me when I come back. Who cares if that gold digger ran back to-

Jake stepped into the large living space adjacent to the bedrooms and his world came crashing down around his head. He all but collapsed to the large sectional sofa, head in his hands, the beginnings of tears welling up in the corner of his eyes.

Lying in the center of the living area, no longer spread about haphazardly, but folded in careful piles, was every stitch of clothing Jake had bought for Amy while they were in Vegas. Every dress, every pair of jeans, every pair of the lingerie that had served as a catalyst for their passion.

Jake's brilliant blue eyes appeared between his fingers; the magnitude of his actions striking him like lightning.

What have I done?

*****

To be continued...