Cindi and the Unexpected in Las Vegas

Cindi and I were in Vegas to attend a three-day multi-manufacturers convention and maybe do something trippy. We owned a medium-sized wholesale company 40 miles northeast of Los Angeles and were hoping to find one or two unique short product lines to complement our current product mix.

We arrived in Vegas a little after twelve on a Saturday, checked into the Rio Hotel, and had lunch. We were on the convention floor by 1:30 and spent the rest of the afternoon talking to manufactures, but we didn't find anything that suited our needs. Either the lines were too big, or the manufacturer wanted, what we felt, was an impractical commitment. We were about to leave when Cindi grabbed my arm and started dragging me toward a booth we'd missed.

I shook her hand away, stopped, and faced her. "Where are we going, and what's the big rush?"

She pointed to a booth where three men were standing around talking. "That looks like Jason."

"Which one?"

"The one who resembles a young Brad Pitt."

Jason was one of Cindi's ex-boyfriends. She'd told me about Jason and all her ex's during the first six months we were together. I gathered from the way she talked; Jason wasn't just another boyfriend. He was special.

As we walked toward the booth, the two men drifted away. When Jason caught sight of Cindi, he rushed over, wrapped his arms around her, and hugged her tight.

I stood off to the side.

When the emotional outburst ended, Cindi stepped back and took my hand. "Jason, this is Tom, my husband."

"Nice to finally meet you," I said and shook Jason's hand. "Cindi's told me a lot about you."

"All good, I hope."

"Most of it." I looked at Cindi and smiled.

Jason and Cindi spent the next twenty minutes talking about old times. I felt like a third wheel on a two-wheel bike, so I excused myself and said, "I want to check on a booth we'd passed up." I wandered around until I heard an announcer say the booths were going to close in 15 minutes and moseyed back. Cindi and Jason were still talking. They probably didn't know I'd left.

I announced my arrival by asking Jason if he wanted to join Cindi and me for dinner.

He said, "I'd love to, but I've already made plans. Maybe another time." Jason took Cindi's hand and looked deep into her dark brown eyes. "Let's keep in touch."

Cindi smiled, nodded, and said, "Let's."

We said our good-byes, headed for the exit, and walked out into an oven. I felt the heat of the sidewalk through the soles of my shoes. I couldn't wait to get to our van and turn on the air conditioner.

As I pulled out of the lot, I said, "Well, what did you two talk about?"

Cindi buckled her seatbelt and said, "Old times and old experiences. It was nice seeing him again."

"That was obvious. Anything else?"

"He wanted to know if he could see me before we left."

"And, you said?"

"I'm not sure. I'll have to let you know."

Here might be the perfect place to pause and tell you a little about Cindi's and my lifestyle. It's not the norm. I'm a voyeur, and Cindi loves sex, especially with other men. I knew this before we got married, and to be truthful, it's one of the reasons I married her.

We returned to our hotel, freshened up, and went out for dinner. As you might expect, the main topic of discussion was Jason. Cindi retold the story about the night they were drunk and rode thirty-five miles on her motorcycle. About how Jason liked to pull over and fuck her by the side of the road. And the time he lost it when he learned she flew to Boston to see Tim, an ex-boyfriend. When Jason said, "Did you fuck him?" She said, "Of course, I fucked him. I didn't fly from Chicago to New York to hold his hand."

That's another reason I married Cindi. She holds nothing back. If you ask her a question, she'll give you a direct answer, whether you like it or not. When Jason heard she'd fucked Tim, he lost it. He started yelling and calling her a whore and a slut. That would have been bad enough, but they were in an upscale restaurant. They hadn't seen or talked to each other since that night.

We were working on dessert when Cindi said, "Am I going to meet Jason or not?"

"What do you want to do?" A spoonful of chocolate ice cream was halfway to my mouth.

"You have to ask?"

"No, I just want to hear you say it."

"Say what? That I want to fuck Jason. Does that make you happy?"

"Yes, and it turns me on."

"I know. Now we have to come up with what I'm going to tell Jason if he asks how I was able to get away."

"Tell him I had an early meeting with a manufacturer, and you wanted to sleep-in. That should satisfy him, but I bet he doesn't ask."

"You're probably right because I could see he was getting turned on while we were talking. It would take an earthquake to get his mind off my pussy, and I'm not sure that would do it."

All the talk about Jason was turning us on, so I paid the bill, and we hurried back to our room so Cindi could make the call.

"It's all set," Cindi said when she hung up the phone. He wants me to meet him in his room tomorrow morning at 9, and you were right, "He didn't ask where you'd be."

We spent the next hour and a half talking, fooling around, and fucking our brains out. Not necessarily in that order.

Cindi was up and in the shower by 6. It takes her two hours to get ready. I stayed in bed, read, and fantasized about what the morning was going to bring.

"Do you want me to order breakfast?" I shouted when I heard the water turn off.

"You can order for yourself. I'm too keyed-up to eat," Cindi yelled back.

We left our room at 8:45. Cindi looked like a high-priced hooker in a short black skirt, pink v neck top (sans bra), and black heels.

I stopped the van in front of Bally's Hotel and Casino and helped Cindi out. I kissed her lightly on the lips (I didn't want to smear her lipstick) and said, "I love you, have fun."

I could feel the butterflies (they arrive when Cindi does something trippy) as I watched my wife walked through the revolving doors.

The dashboard clock reads 8:55. I have an hour and a half to kill.

I leave Bally's and head for the Peppermill. A restaurant Cindi and I frequent when we're in Vegas. I order two pieces of dry toast and coffee. There's not much room for food with the butterflies.

The idea strikes while I'm sipping my coffee. Most people would call it and me crazy, especially after letting my wife spend the morning with an ex-lover, but to me, it would be trippy.

I pay the bill, leave my half-eaten toast and half-drunk coffee, and go looking for a chapel. It wasn't hard to find. There's one, like toadstools after a summer shower, on almost every block in Old Las Vegas.

Each is unique. The Graceland Wedding Chapel has an Elvis impersonator who sings at the service. The Little Church of the West boasts it's a replica of a church found in an old western mining town. The Special Memory Wedding Chapel looks like an authentic New England Church. The Chapel of the Flowers has been voted 'Best Chapel of the Year' by a review website. It didn't say which website. The Little Vegas Wedding Chapel was a night club for the mob before being converted to a chapel in 2000. Unfounded rumors say the ghosts of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr., and Marilyn Monroe still walk the floors.

I check the time: 10:05. Cindi said she'd call by 10:30, so I decide to stop at the next chapel I come across and get some information. Chapel of Devotion sat a short distance off the strip. I parked in the small lot, went in, and talked to the minister's wife. I said, "My wife and I want to renew our vows and was wondering if her husband could perform the ceremony later that morning?"

After checking her husband's schedule, she said, "He has time at one. Will that work?"

I said, "It would," and handed her a deposit.

On the way back to our hotel, I realize the butterflies are back. It's 10:25. Cindi said she'd call by 10:30. By 10.45, Cindi still hasn't called. I'm pacing the floor like a caged lion. Each time I pass the floor to ceiling windows, I can see Bally's on the other side of the freeway. It doesn't help. By 11:00, the butterflies are going crazy. Pacing faster doesn't help. By 11:15, they've almost unbearable. I decide I'll give Cindi 15 more minutes. If she doesn't call by 11:30, I'm heading to Jason's room. My phone rings at 11:29.

"Okay, I'm through. Want to pick me up?"

When I arrive at the hotel, Cindi's in the parking lot talking to a distinguished-looking older man wearing a dark-gray suit and open-neck white shirt.

I pull up beside them and lower the window. "Ready?" I said.

"Just a minute," Cindi said.

I hear her tell the man, "Thank you, I appreciate the offer, but it will have to be another time."

The man takes the rebuff graciously and hands Cindi a card. "I understand, but if you should change your mind, I'm in room 1020. You can call me at the number on this card."

Cindi took the card, slid into the van, and waved good-bye. I watched the man watching us as I pulled onto the street.

"What was that all about?" I said.

"For some reason, he mistook me for a hooker and wanted to know how much I would cost for the afternoon."

I smiled. "You should have accepted the offer. Isn't that one of your fantasies?"

"I probably would have if I wasn't full of Jason's cum."

"Hey, it might have turned him on."

"I'd rather it turned you on."

I reached over, took her hand, and laid it on my lap. "Well?"

"It looks like it did," Cindi said. She leans over, said, "I love you," and kisses me on the cheek. She smells of Aramis, and her lips feel sticky.

"I love you too," I said as I make a quick left-hand turn. "How did it go?" I asked the question, but I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the answer. Hell, who am I kidding? I wanted to know everything that happened, from the time I dropped her off until I picked her up. I pulled onto Flamingo Blvd. drove south, then made a left turn.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"Don't tease."

"Okay, if you're sure."

Cindi reclined her seat, pulled up her skirt, and spread her legs.

She took my hand and placed it on her pussy. It felt wet and sticky.

"Does that answer your question?"

"Fuck!" I ran my fingers through Cindi's curly hair (it was wet with Jason's semen) and slipped two fingers inside her.

"You like having a wife that's a slut, don't you?"

"As much as you like being one," I said. I pulled my fingers out and raised them to my lips. They tasted salty.

"Now, I'm hungry," she said. "Want to get something to eat?" She pulled down the mirror visor and checked her make-up. "Not bad, considering."

"Considering what?"

"I've been fucking an ex-boyfriend for...Cindi looks at her watch...the last hour and a half."

"Are you going to tell me what happened, or do I have to beg?"

Cindi takes a small, flat brush out of her purse and begins brushing her hair. "Let's talk about it over lunch. I'm famished."

"Okay, but I want to do something first."

"What?"

"It's a surprise."

"What kind of surprise?

"You'll have to wait and see. So, continue, what happened when you got to Jason's room?"

Cindi's looking around, trying to get her bearings. "We're not going back to the convention, are we?"

"You'll see when we get there. Go on with what happened."

He told me to meet him in his room, so I took the elevator up to the 15th floor and knocked on his door.

"It's open," he called out.

I pushed the door open and walked in.

"Right on time, just like the old Cindi," Jason said.

He was lying on the couch, smoking a joint with a white towel draped across his middle. There were four lines of white powder on the glass coffee table.

"It doesn't look like you changed either," I said.

He sat up, and I sat next to him.

"Still like to dress sexy, I see."

"Some things never change."

Want a hit or a little blow?" he said, holding up the joint and pointing to the coffee table.

I said, "I'll pass. It's too early for smoke, and the last time I did coke, I got some bad shit, and I told myself never again."

"Too bad," Jason said. "This is prime."

"It's okay. I don't need it."

"That doesn't sound like the Cindi I used to know." Jason leaned over the coffee table, picked up a rolled twenty-dollar bill, and in less than a minute, all four lines had disappeared. He wiped his nose, ran the residue over his teeth, and sat back. He offered the bill to me and said, "You sure, I've got more?"

"I'm sure."

"How long since we've seen each other? Ten, eleven years?"

"Closer to ten."

Jason pushed back against the couch and propped his feet on the coffee table. I knew what he wanted, but I felt like being a tease. 'Well, now that I'm here, what did you want to talk about?" I was sitting primly on the edge of the couch. I never remembered Jason being at a loss for words. That, and his looks, were the reasons he was a good salesman, especially when it came to women, but he didn't seem like he knew what to say. Maybe it was the coke, or perhaps it was that I was married, but he seemed reluctant to make the first move."

"So, what happened?" I said as I made another turn.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Cindi said.

"Trust me." I made a left, then a right-hand turn. The chapel was three blocks away. "I assume you took the initiative."

"I thought I had too if I wanted something to happen. I lifted the side of the towel and peered underneath. What I saw reminded me of the old days. I slipped my hand under the towel, wrapped it around the rock-hard cock, and left it there without moving.

He started thrusting up his hips, trying to force my hand to do more.

"Remember the last time we were together, and you called me and whore and a slut?" I said.

"Oh fuck, do you still remember that?"

"You're, damned right I do, and you know what? You were right."

I ripped the towel off and went down on him with my mouth, using all the tricks you taught me until there was nothing left to take. He started fingering me, but only on the outside, between the lips. He must have remembered how his fingers used to drive me crazy. I wanted to scream when I felt his fingers opening me, but I didn't want to release his cock. I pressed down on his fingers and felt one slide inside. You know how crazy I get when you do that. I pulled his hand and my mouth away, threw my leg over his hips, and slide down his cock until there was nothing left to take. You would have been proud of me, baby."

"I'm always proud of you, I said and let my fingers slide in where Jason's cock was minutes before.

I was inching my fingers in when Cindi screamed, "Look out!"

I yanked my hand away, grabbed the steering wheel, and jammed on the brakes. We were inches from the car in front of us.

"May...maybe I'd better continue my story later," Cindi said. "When we're in a safer place."

I eased my foot off the brake and said, "Good idea."

"How much farther till we get to the surprise?"

"We're here," I said and pulled into the Chapel of Devotion's parking lot."

"What do you mean we're here?" Cindi said. "A church is the surprise?"

"Technically, it's a chapel," I said. "A wedding chapel. I thought it would be fun to renew our vows."

"After I spent the morning fucking one of my ex-boyfriends?" You've got to be kidding."

"Nope, I already made arrangements and left a deposit."

It took a minute for the realization to sink in, then Cindi said, "Well, it will be different from our first ceremony.

The minister's wife greeted us as we walked in. "Welcome to The Chapel of Devotion."

Cindi went to the restroom while I paid the remainder of the fee. When she returned, the door to the chapel was open. Everything was white. The lace curtains on the Gothic windows. The curtained backdrop behind the altar. The wooden pews, lining both sides of the aisle. The fresh carnations, hanging in vases at the end of each pew. The two bouquets of roses sitting in large, white vases on the white tables at the front of the chapel. I felt like I was in a 110-degree snowstorm.

Are we ready?" a deep voice said.

I looked over and saw what I guessed was the minister heading toward us with an outstretched hand. I'm reverend Phillips, and you must be..."

I told him our names and shook his hand.

"Welcome," he said. "I understand you're going to be renewing your vows."

"That's why we're here," I said.

"Then let's get started. Martha, are you ready?"

In answer to the reverend's question, the first strains of the wedding march filled the chapel.

He showed us where to stand and said, "When you hear Martha begin playing, start walking down the aisle. I'll be up there. He pointed to the pulpit at the other end of the room. Any questions?"

I looked at Cindi. She shook her head.

"Then let's begin," Reverend Phillips said and walked down the aisle. When he reached the pulpit, Martha began playing.

"Here," Cindi said, handing me her wedding ring. "You're going to need this."

I palmed the ring, took my wife's hand, and began walking. I could hear the minister's voice.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to..."

We were halfway down the aisle when Cindi started giggling and whispered, "Oh shit!"

"What's the matter?" I looked around and didn't see anything out of place.

"Jason's cum is running down my leg. It tickles."

I stopped walking, pulled her toward me, and kissed her passionately. "I love you."

"Even though I'm a slut?"

"Because you are."

"Ah-hem," said the minister. "Can we continue?"

"Oh... yea," I said. I squeezed Cindi's hand, and we continued walking.

"I won't ask what was so funny," the minister said, "but I'm glad you made it. Do you, Cindi, take Tom to be your lawfully wedded husband...?"

Cindi looked into my eyes, smiled mischievously, and said, "I do."

Tom, do you take Cindi to be your lawfully wedded wife from this day forth...?"

"Ah, I'm not...Maybe this isn't...

"Tom! Tell the man yes, give me my ring, and let's get out of here."

I said, "Yes," slipped the ring on Cindi's finger, and took her in my arms. "I love you."

"I now pronounce you man and wife," Reverend Phillips said. "Don't forget to pick up your marriage license before you leave."

"Can we have a few minutes alone?" I said as Reverend Phillips was preparing to leave.

"I don't see why not, but...he looked at his watch...please make it brief. I have another ceremony in fifteen minutes."

"We will," I said and watched Reverend Phillips close the chapel's doors.

Cindi stared at me with a puzzled look. "Why did you want to stay here?"

"I'll show you. I took my new (old) wife's hand and walked to the first pew. "Turn around, face the pew, and bend over." Cindi did as I instructed. I pulled up her skirt, undid my jeans, and slid my cock into my new wife's pussy and Jason's cum. It felt warm, sticky, and inviting. I was about to come when I heard someone at the chapel door. I pulled out, crammed my cock back into my jeans, and yanked Cindi's skirt down. We were walking up the aisle when the door opened.

Martha was standing in the doorway. "Are you finished?"

I wanted to say, "Not quite," but I swallowed the words and said, "Yes," and kept walking. When we reached the vestibule, Martha handed us our Marriage Certificate and said, "Have a wonderful life."

I called out, "We plan to," as we brushed by a young man in a black tuxedo and an equally young woman in a white wedding gown.