That sick feeling was at her stomach again. Her body wanting to fall over but her legs stay planted and not giving. It was so strong she could barely concentrate on making sure she looked presentable. That was the feeling she got every time she was in Vegas. Also the possibility of meeting him came up. This time, she would make sure she would meet him. â No â was not an answer she was going to take this time.
It was Sunday morning, around 7am. Way too early, but she had to make sure that she was looking alive and fresh. She showered, dried her hair, fully appreciating the job her hairdresser had done in accentuating the red her hair. â No make up today. â She thought to herself. Not that she needed it, she had great skin, and her friends were all envious of her complexion. She chose her outfit carefully, not that it mattered that much, but women can be obsessive about that sort of thing. A nice fitting pair of jeans and a white shirt, short, sweet and too the point, with some sandals. Not too much, she wanted to impress, to be wanted but not to look like a slut.
She tried explaining it to her friend that was with her, but it was pointless. Trying to explain the merits of not acting as a slut to a full blown and accomplished whore is like driving 90 mph into a brick wall. She took a glance at her friend still asleep in bed and chuckled. That girl could sleep through anything, even Linkin Park that Nora was listening too that morning. Nora picked up the CD-man, grabbed that CD, and went out to take a walk. It was only 8 am, and breakfast with him wasnât till 10. So she filled her ears with music, donned her sunglasses and headed out.
The strip looked the same as it had the night before, just with more light. She thought about the sneaky move she had done last night. She was hoping that when she met him this morning, that he wouldnât recognize her. It wasnât like she had talked to him or anything, but she had seen him watching her when she was scanning the Voodoo lounge looking for him. She guessed right that he would be there, but she was in Club Gear last night, not the clean and polished outfit she had on now, so she did not want to approach him, not like that. She felt like two totally different people sometimes, depending on the clothes she wore. And last night she felt an animal. Besides, she had just wanted to confirm that he was real, and after doing that she had conveniently disappeared to hunt elsewhere.
She sat down at the Starbuck on Las Vegas Blvd and sipped her Carmel latte. 8:15 She started to obsess. Thatâs what happens when you have idle time on your hands. She knew that he knew what she looked like. She knew that he knew she wasnât a Barbie, and normally she was pretty overly confident about the fact that she had wide hips, a small waist, and ample breasts, but for some reason, she felt like every eye was on her while she was sitting there. And in her world, she felt that she was being criticized for her size.
She thought, âMaybe I should run back to the hotel and put on some make up!â NO, that would kill what she was going for. She got up and started to walk some more. A man smiled at her, and when she turned to see if he was still looking, sure enough he was. OK, egos back to normal. At least someone liked what they saw, so she rationalized that she couldnât look that bad. The coffee was kicking in and she didnât feel so sluggish anymore. She walked a bit faster, had a spring in her step, and felt again like the Princess she fancied herself to be. And her mind hoped that he could see that when she saw him in a mere 1hr and 30 minutes.
She had talked to him online for months, she couldnât quite remember when she decided to IM âLord Shatterâ on yahoo, and she couldnât quite remember where she had seen the name and started to talk to him, or why. Maybe it had been the âLordâ part; after all, she did fancy herself as royalty. Maybe she though great minds think alike. But she was off a bit. Their relationship online had gone from him being aloof and silent to him opening up, than her life went to shit at that point and she acted it out on him. Sad, she thought, I actually miss the âgood morning sweetheartâ that he used to send me in the mornings.
âRuined that pretty well, didnât you?â she thought to herself. Thatâs what happens when your life goes to shit and you take it out on other people you really donât know. And she really didnât know that much about him, just little insignificant things. She knew he worked for a big Internet company, and that he worked long hours, a serious workaholic in her book. She knew that he lived in a suburb of Vegas, and that he was taller than her, but then again, almost everyone was taller than she was. She knew that he looked good. That pic of his told her that much, and even though they had conversed about his insecurities, she knew he was hot. She was completely right when she had seen him in the club. He was her version of an Adonis.