Why am I here? What the hell am I doing?
Those questions raced through Shelley's mind over and over. She came down the boarding ramp from the plane and stepped into the terminal at McCarron International Airport. Nervously, Shelley scanned the crowd that was heading towards baggage claim.
He was there. Leaning against a pillar near Ben & Jerry's.
Shorter than she had pictured him in her mind, but otherwise just like the images she had seen on the computer. His arms were folded and he had a slight smile as he watched her arrive.
Navigating her way through the throng, Shelley made her way over towards him. He met her in the middle of the terminal. They were surrounded by people. The sun shone through the windows. The smell of waffle cones permeated the air. There were slot machines (in the airport!) making their clanging noises.
All of that faded away when their eyes met.
It had started out innocently enough. Shelley worked in an office and had lots of free time. She surfed the internet, sold some stuff on eBay and cruised message boards. Most of her job could be done in about 20 hours per week, but she had to be there for 40. That left half her paid time to fill with other things. Not that her boss noticed; she was slick enough to have him convinced that her job really did take up 40 hours per week, sometimes more.
Rick didn't have quite as much free time as Shelley, but he had enough. They met through a NASCAR message board, playfully taunting each other when their driver beat the other (hers is Kasey Kahne, his is Little E, if that matters to you). They traded message board posts and private messages for a couple of months, then moved into the world of instant messaging. Soon they were sending pictures back and forth and not just on company time.
Shelley never figured herself as one for internet romances, and truthfully, this one didn't start out that way. They were just two people with a common interest who became friends. It's easy to become friends over the internet. A computer screen separates you from everyone else. The people out there only see what you want them to see, and there's no chance that you'll ever meet in real life, right?
Things changed one night when they were both at home by themselves. Shelley's boyfriend was out with his buddies playing pool (translation: titty bar) and Rick's girlfriend was visiting her mom for the weekend.
Both of them we online at the same time and they were both drinking. Their flirting had gone from playful to out of hand in just a few minutes. But she didn't care. Her boyfriend was in one of his "asshole" moods and after a couple of drinks, Shelley's inhibitions were gone. Rick, who was always flirtatious anyway, was especially friendly that night and things went downhill very fast.
Their conversation, which had previously been limited to thinly-veiled innuendo and harmless barbs, became racier. When their night was over, Shelley found that she needed to spend some quality time with her "rabbit", only instead of imagining her boyfriend or her man Kasey, it was Rick.
A couple of weeks went by and both pretended nothing had happened. Yet, Shelley still felt weird about the whole thing. One night, both were up late again, and they started flirting again. Both were relatively sober this time, so there was no excuse.
It was only flirting, right?
Shelley rationalised everything away.
It's not like I'm ever going to see him. . . . Right?
By now, their conversations had gone from playful banter to overt sexual foreplay. It wasn't cyber-sex, but it was pretty close.
Shelley's boyfriend was blissfully unaware of what was going on, and she liked it that way. On one level, she felt a little guilty for carrying on with Rick behind his back, but on another, she felt that if he would pay her half the attention that Rick did, their relationship wouldn't have come to this.
A few more weeks passed and Shelley found herself thinking about Rick more and more. Not always in sexual ways. After all, at work they couldn't IM back and forth about the safety of performing oral sex on someone while they were driving or the merits of one type of vibrator versus another. Sometimes, when she was out at the mall, Shelley would see something and think,
Rick would like that; I should buy it and send it to him.
About a year after they met, Shelley knew they had gone too far when she opened her private messages. There was the usual morning PM from Rick. She clicked on it expecting him to be taunting her after Kasey wiped out Mark Martin the previous afternoon at the All-Star Challenge.
Instead, all it said was, "I need to see you."
Her heart leapt into her throat. Her hands trembled as she typed the reply.
"I need to see you too."
Despite their better judgment, Shelley and Rick spent the next two months conspiring to find a way to meet. She didn't know why. She didn't know what she expected. All she knew was that a small part of her wanted it more than anything else and that little voice overrode all of her considerable self-control.
By some stroke of sheer luck—or was it fate?—the company she worked for and Rick's employer used the same software package. It handled everything from human resources to payroll to inventory, and their annual convention was coming up.
After some wrangling, she managed to convince her boss to send her to the conference. Rick went every year; in fact, he was presenting at one of the sessions, so his attendance was never in question.
Shelley and Rick stared nervously at each other for a second before he reached out. She stepped into his arms and gave him a friendly hug.
She pulled back after a second, wanting to get a feel for him. Would she feel the same way about him in person that she felt at her computer?
"Your boy looked good yesterday," Rick said.
"Yeah, well, yours sucks," she replied with a laugh. At least Tony Stewart hadn't won at Pocono.
They went and picked up their luggage. Rick had his hand at the small of her back.
His touch was electric.
They caught a cab over to the hotel. Vegas is hot. And in July, the heat was stifling, even in the morning.
Shelley was used to heat, or so she thought. "It's not the heat, it's the humidity" is what they say in Alabama.
Screw that.
It's the heat, all right. The humidity just doesn't help.
Las Vegas is a dry heat. Contrary to what people believe, it's not better than humid heat. If the southeast is a sauna, the southwest is a blast furnace. Either way, air conditioning is better.
Along the way, they sat apart, as if afraid to touch. Several times, Shelley noticed Rick's eyes straying to her body, taking in her curves and the flash of leg beneath her skirt.
The cab let them out at the Bellagio. Rick paid the fare (expense account) and tipped the driver.
They stepped into the long line waiting to check in. Some of the folks there were tourists, but it seemed like most of the crowd in the lobby was there for the conference. Shelley began talking to the group in front of them in line. Soon she found that some of them were there in the same track she was, and she began making contacts.
When they finally got to the front of the line, Rick pulled her to the desk with him.
"Good morning, welcome to the Bellagio," the young woman at the counter said. Her name tag read Julie. "What is the name on the reservation?"
"We actually have two reservations," Rick said before Shelley could speak. He pulled out a printout from his briefcase. Shelley likewise produced a similar registration from her folder. "We'd like rooms with an adjoining door, if possible."
