Some days are just perfect. Not many of them, and especially not many for amateur gamblers trying to beat the odds in Las Vegas. I had a perfect day in Vegas though, and my buddy Chris had a pretty good one as well. My name's Mike, by the way. We're from Oregon, we work for the same company as insurance salesmen, we're both still single and we decided to head south to try our luck with the gambling and the girls.

There's no need to tell you what Vegas is like. If you never go, you'll never, never know. All I can say is that we had a great time for the first two days: did the tourist things, played some good games of poker and we both came out ahead on the stake money, even if Chris did a lot better than I did. At least we both had the good sense not to play anybody but drunken businessmen with plenty of cash to lose. Grandma always told me that was the only kind of poker game to get mixed up.

We were at the DeltaVee Hotel with our winnings in our pockets and waiting for the Wednesday night pool party to kick in when she arrived. Being a couple of single guys and looking, we were checking out every girl who passed by, especially the rare few that didn't already have a guy with them. So we noticed this particular chick as she came through the door; the good news was that nobody else came in with her and the even better news was that she was a looker by anybody's standards. The bad news was that she seemed a lot more ornery than horny. This was a gal as mad as hell and didn't care who knew it. For mine, anybody who wanted to try to sweet talk her was welcome: it'd be about as much fun as trying to cuddle a shark in a sauna.

And then she stopped right by our table, turned to face us and looked at us the way we'd been looking at the girls. Except that she did it like we were a pair of dummies in shop window. Then she shrugged, as if to say she couldn't be bothered wasting her time in looking for anything better. Chris and I glanced across the table at each other, as if maybe the other guy knew what was going down. Then she stepped over alongside us, still apparently as happy as if we'd burnt down her house and pissed on the ashes.

"You guys on your own?"

"D'uh, yeah." Somebody had answered, somebody who sounded shit stupid: me.

"You want to come up to my room and fuck me as much as you want, any way you want."

"How much?"

No doubt about it, Chris was handling the situation better than I was. He'd gotten right onto the important details straight away while I was still trying to winch my jaw back up off the table.

"No charge, but no questions either. You get into the elevator with me now, or not at all."

She was still giving us the angry eye, we were both knocked sideways and I had my mouth open to ask her what was the story was when I saw Chris's eyes on my face. They were eyes with a message: 'Say anything, do anything to screw this up, and I'm going to take you down to the Gun Store range, buy fifty rounds of Uzi ammo and put every one of them through your stinking hide'. It's amazing sometimes how much information can come over in one look. And then Chris was on his feet in a blur of movement.

"I'm ready when you are."

This was clearly developing into an every man for himself situation, so I nearly knocked the table over myself in getting up as fast as I could.

"We're ready when you are, lady." I said, putting a lot of emphasis on the first word.

She didn't say anything, she just turned and walked away, with the pair of us following her like we were on short leashes. It had to be some sort of scam, right? Probably we'd walk into her room and a bunch of guys would beat the snot out of us and take our billfolds. I was wondering if I dare let Chris go into the room ahead of me. The answer was no; he might slam the door in my face and leave me outside while he had the girl all to himself. The hell with that.

It was a weird situation inside the elevator though. The girl was in the middle and we were standing behind her like Secret Service bodyguards. That way we could keep looking at each other and try to exchange guesses with our eyelids. My worst case scenario was that we were taking a potential suicide up to her room after she'd lost all her money at the tables: a potential suicide who might want to blow away a couple of sacrificial lambs along with herself. That's a lot of heavy duty shit to send by semaphore but I guess Chris was thinking along the same lines anyway. Things like this just didn't happen to nice guys like us -- there had to be a horribly big catch somewhere. Which we were sure to find out about because we both had our tongues hanging out and if this dame had walked out onto a parapet on the top floor we'd have had a stand up fight between us to see who followed her out onto it. Sometimes you have to go figure how any man manages to survive women long enough to die of old age.

This one never looked back as she stepped out of the elevator, but she didn't have to, she could feel the hot breath on the back of her neck all the way down the corridor to her room. She never even bothered to turn her head when she unlocked the door and walked into the room. I decide to let Chris go in first after all, to find out if there was a fighting mad boyfriend inside -- but I kept my foot in the door in case this isn't an ambush or an hallucination.

Nobody hit Chris, nobody even cussed him. So I went in as well, but not before I'd turned around the sign on the door handle to 'DO NOT DISTURB'. I felt as cool as George Clooney; it's not a feeling I get too often. It's an even rarer feeling for me to watch a good looking girl taking off her dress when I haven't even paid a cover charge for the view. It was happening though, right there and then. The dress hit the carpet and underneath it this crazy woman was wearing nothing but a matching set of blue colored panties and bra: even from the back they looked as if they had more attractions inside them than Caesars' Palace.

Then she finally decided to turn around and talk to us. No, talking is not the word for what she said, or the way she said it.

"Strip off, both of you. Before anything else happens -- and don't say anything."

And Chris didn't say a word: he'd gotten his jacket off before I'd even reached for a button. But I caught up with him while he was trying to unravel his tie and by the time we got down to our shorts we were neck and neck -- or dick and dick, maybe. Or we would be except that I let Chris drop his shorts before me.

It's not that I'm being modest, it's just that I was thinking that if this completely unpredictable female pulls out a knife from underneath a pillow, she can be bobbiting Chris while I'm running for help -- at about a hundred miles an hour. I hope nothing like that happens, of course. In a town with ninety casinos there's always got a good chance of hitting a bad run of luck, but getting his cock cut off in Vegas would really turn a guy into a sore loser.

Anyway, there's no knife. We both got a sharp eyed look though, with the girl sneering at our assets like they're a couple of one dollar chips. It wasn't an easy situation and my prick didn't know whether to hold or fold. But our hostess finally made its mind up for it when she knelt down on top of the bed with her ass up and her head down.

Chris gave it a welcome pat and then moved around the bed -- I figured he was hoping to get the first ever free blow job in the entire history of Las Vegas. I still couldn't believe it was going to turn out that way, but it did. He snapped open the front of her bra, grabbed hold of her boobs with both hands and next thing you know her head's bobbing around between his arms like she's doing an aerobic routine.

It seemed like it was down to me to get down and return the favor. So I did, and happy to oblige. I guessed this must be the way that million dollar lottery winners feel all the time. And she sure felt good to me when I pulled her gusset to one side and lapped her up.

She seemed all tensed up at first but with two guys giving her their best shots at each end that anger seemed to start morphing into an even more basic instinct. Before there was time to do more than call 'place your bets' she was wriggling that lovely rump around, letting it be known she was ready for me to jump it and pump it.

Well, OK, I was hot for it, she was hot for it and with Chris hanging onto her tits she wasn't going anyplace but down anyway. So there it was, I was going to fuck a total stranger with my best buddy grinning at me over her back. One thing was for sure, nobody at work was ever going to believe this story when we told them what had happened.

END OF PART ONE

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