Las Vegas Sexual Adventure Part One – The Wildcard 8/4/09
The Stratosphere is a sleazy, dated-looking casino with a nice hotel on top of it. It has a mall inside it, a roller coaster at the very top, and a pin-drop “Space Probe 7″ style ride as well. Why the hell not? This is Las Vegas.
Yesterday I sat down at a poker table, $50 buy-in. They take $5 from your buy-in every time. Fold, fold, fold… fold. Queen Ace suited. Let’s play. Raise to 5. I’m nervous as fuck because I’ve never played in a casino before. The dealer keeps telling me to put my chips on the beige area and not to lift my cards off the table. Everyone folds but me and this cholo. He deals the first three cards, and they look awful – 2 7 9. I’ve got two higher cards, so that’s an out – something could easily come up that could give me the best hand. Raise $10. Cholo calls. Fourth street is some other low card. Raise $10. Cholo calls. Fifth street is a Jack. I’ve got Ace high, but I’m not backing down now. Raise $10. Cholo looks at his cards and folds.
The Canadian fellow next to me says “Man… You’re the scariest guy at the whole table.”
I say “Thank you,” and smile. That’s what I like to hear.
Fold, fold, fold. I mess around, trying to bluff people out of the $3 that’s on the table, to no avail. Queen Ten suited, in the hole. Raise $5. Everyone folds but this big bikie-looking guy. Flop comes out and I have a pair of queens – highest pair made from the table. Raise $10. Fourth street, I have two pair. Raise $10. Fifth street, there’s a pair of nines on the table. Raise $10. Bikie says “What have you got there?” Counts out my chips, $39, and puts in $40. I say okay. I show, he mucks. All he had was the pair on the table. Lucky he didn’t have a 9.
I leave $100 up. I guess I’m okay at this poker stuff. Playing cards is like playing girls. Spesh said to me and Aster that the most important thing in game is ego management. I haven’t quite mastered it yet, so I hope posting how I won $100 at poker on the Internet isn’t going to give me a big, weird cyber-ego.
Speaking of big egos, after having my ego bruised the first night we got into Vegas – thinking that I was hot shit because I had an Australian accent, and getting blown out about 20 times accordingly – I was feeling pretty good. We went to Revolution, which is “just a bar”. Spesh said we didn’t want to go overboard on a Wednesday considering we’d probably be heading out 10pm-6am with him, finishing the night at Spearmint Rhino, four nights in a row, Thursday through Sunday.
Aster had to go back to the hotel and get his passport. I stormed the dancefloor. Danced with some Dutch backpacker but she was being stand-offish. There’s a cute blonde checking me out across the dancefloor so I move in.
“OMG where are you from??”
“Australia.”
“OMG me too! I live in London now but I’m from Melbourne!”
“Really? I live in Melbourne.”
“I knew you were Aussie – I could tell.”
I dance with her, really good dancer. Her name is Amelia. She keeps swinging herself around in my arms, and I keep kissing her neck. I meet her friend Christantha. Christantha doesn’t talk much, but keeps making sexy eyes with me and bumping her hands like a lowrider. Threesome crosses my mind.
Aster comes in, takes the friend.
“She’s weird as fuck, man.”
“How do you mean?”
“One second she’s all over me, making out with me. The next she’s like ‘get away – I don’t want to talk to you.’”
“Hm…”
“I’m going to go talk to some other girls.”
And he did. But Christantha was his back-up plan.
Christantha keeps disappearing, wandering off aimlessly, and we have to go find her. Then she’s trying to start a fight with some random black girl who’s dancing near us. I try to pull her away.
I ask Amelia “So what are you doing later?”
“I don’t know – it all depends. Christantha might want to leave at any minute.”
The inmates are running the asylum. I think, you’re putting the fate of your night in the hands of that nutcase? I think, okay, if I want to get laid to-night I probably should ditch this girl and go back to zero. Then I think, fuck it, I want to see where this goes.
Christantha is sitting down at a table.
In Vegas, you can’t sit down at a table unless you’re paying. Every table has table service – probably costs about $400 a night. It’s cool to flirt with the girls that have tables so you can get free vodka cranberries.
I say to Amelia “Hey, look, she’s sitting at that guy’s table.”
“Wait till they say something.”
Dude says something. Dude says something to bouncer.
“Hey, now the bouncer is coming.”
“Wait till the bouncer talks to her.”
Now the bouncer is talking to her. The bouncer asks her to move. She ignores. The bouncer tells her to move. She moves three feet away, to the other side of the table. The bouncer tells her to move to a spot that’s not at that table. Eventually she does. Then she flicks off the bouncer.
The bouncer turns to me “Your friend really wants to get kicked out, doesn’t she?”
I have to commend the staff at Revolution – don’t get emotional, stay cool, stay professional. I apologise and try to distract Christantha from being a douchebag. I wave my hands in front of her face like a butterfly.
The head bouncer comes out “Hey, that girl you’re with – is she really drunk or just kind of drunk?”
“Just kind of drunk.”
“Okay – I really don’t like kicking people out, so if you can get her to sit down for a while and chill, that would be great.”
Somehow manage to get Christantha to sit down. Keep pulling funny faces and dancing with her, like I was entertaining an infant. Man, what is this girl on? A large dose of stupid… 400 mg of crazy bitch, and ridonkulous amounts of alcohol. She starts putting her legs across my legs. Completely oblivious to me getting it on with her friend. I say to Aster “Do you want to action this?”
“…Not really, no.”
But it was too late. She grabbed him and started making out with him. Amelia comes back and I say we should get some water. $30 and 15 minutes later, we come back and they’ve disappeared. Nowhere to be found. I get Amelia to ring Adam’s phone, and her best interpretation of what he’s saying is that she’s left and he’s still at the club.
I grab Amelia and go for the lips. I’ve been kissing her neck all night, trying to build sexual tension.
“Jones… I have to tell you, I have a boyfriend.”
After a few kisses it became:
“Jones… I kind of have a boyfriend.”
And then:
“I’m seeing someone…”
And by the time we were back in her hotel room:
“I’m kinda seeing someone.”
Christantha was nowhere to be found, nowhere outside the hotel, in the taxi rank, on the streets that we didn’t look at from the taxi while we were making out.
“Okay here’s $8, you can take the cab back to the Stratosphere from here,” she said.
“That’s okay – I’ll come to your hotel.”
“Ah… no… it’ll be really boring. Christantha will be there and you’ll have to sleep on the floor.”
“Cool.”
So we went up the elevator, got into the room. “See, I told you the Riviera was a scummy place,” she said.
“It looks pretty much identical to the Stratosphere…”
Get into the room, wall-slam. “Oh… … But what about Christantha?” Bed-slam. “Ohhhhhh … … But what about Christantha?” Hand on butt, finger from behind. “Ohhhhhhhhohhhhh … … … … But what about Christantha? I have to find her.”
“Look baby, you can’t really do much about her now. She doesn’t have a phone. Do you want to go roam the streets for her? The best thing you can do is wait here.”
“Okay…”
I’m down to my boxers, eating out her pussy through her pantihose. I remove the pantihose. Then there’s a friendly knock on the door and Amelia hides under the covers. Christantha walks in. “Well well well. I wouldn’t expect anything less of you. You two have been lying here fucking while I’ve been out trying to find a way back home.”
“Where were you?”
“I was out waiting for a cab.”
Righto. “You could at least fuck him in the bathroom so I can get some sleep. Disgraceful.”
“Wait a second here – ” I said “Don’t you realise that your friend has stuck her neck out for you? That I’ve stuck my neck out for you? The bouncers were going to kick you out of that bar and I took care to make sure they didn’t.”
“Oh yeah – when did you do that? When you were lying here fucking?”
“Are you fucking crazy? Don’t you remember anything?”
So Christantha is coming in trying to take some sort of moral high ground, implying Amelia is a slut for fucking me and cheating on her sort-of boyfriend. Forty minutes before she was trying to come onto me and Aster all at once. Thirty minutes before she left the bar.
Aster said “Wait – shouldn’t we tell your friend?”
“No let’s go.”
Twenty five minutes before she was trying to fuck Aster in a taxi while the cabby was thoroughly confused.
Twenty minutes before, Aster was trying to talk to reception at the Stratosphere, claiming to be me, so he could get into my room so he could take a condom.
Seventeen minutes before, he walked back to her to find her tripping over herself and a black couple asking if she was okay.
Sixteen minutes before, a black man was getting very angry with all the unsolicited racial slurs he’d just received from a drunken Australian girl.
Fifteen minutes before, Aster dragged Christantha out to the taxi rank. She said “Fine. I’m leaving.”
He said “Okay. Good. Bye.”
She turned back and said “So can I come up to your hotel room now?”
He said “No, you’re a fucking insane racist bitch.”
Nine minutes before, she got into a taxi.
Then she proceeded to tell Amelia how unreliable she was. I said “Okay, I’m out.”
I left. Walked back to the Strat. Wandered around. Walked into the restroom, and thought “Hey, that’s funny. Why would they have a female cleaner in the men’s toilets?” I turned to my left and saw a blonde with huge tits.
“Wrong room honey.”
I turned around on the spot, and walked back to the men’s.
As I walked out, I saw the blonde and her friend walking towards the bar. As I walked past, she said “Hey naughty boy – what were you doing in the women’s? I should spank you!”
I presented my bum for spanking and she obliged. I flirted with her for a second, told her I’d just gotten into Vegas.
“Really? What are you doing tonight?”
“I dunno. Partying, going nuts.”
“Want some company?”
“Uh… what do you mean?”
“Do you like strippers?”
“No hah. I don’t pay for women. It’s my thing. See?” My shirt said Las Vegas Pure Luck Player.
“Okay Mr. Player. Good night.” I guess hookers, I mean, strippers, don’t get taught that persistance beats resistance. Which is a shame, because if she’d handled my objections three times, I probably would have paid to see those titties… I really wish she’d handled my objection if you know what I mean.
At least it only took five minutes to find out what she was about. The first night we got in, Aster talked to a girl for half an hour before he realised she was an escort.
Continued – Las Vegas Asexual Adventure Part Two – Blonde, Fake Tits.
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Comments (2)
OI! come up to Canada for a bit when you’re done there with the crazy Americans hahaha…Lets hit up Toronto?!!!!
Why didnt you bring moss?!??!!
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haha not this time around. flights are booked from LA to sydney on the 29th.
are you living there permanently now?
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