As she edited the tape, she tried not to get too turned on. This was a job. She needed to just get it done, make sure faces weren't showing, cut out all the boring stuff, get it uploaded to the site, then she could masturbate. Editing a tape like this is a lot less fun, downright boring actually, if you've just had several orgasms. Once the tape was on the site, she could excite herself not only to the hot sex in the video, but to the satisfaction that she didn't procrastinate.
His face was out of frame in the video, but she was imagining it now, remembering how they had met the previous night. Rob.
***
He was handsome, but not beautiful. She had picked him out for two reasons. He was alone at a nice hotel bar, and he was wearing a wedding ring. The fact that he was alone at a nice hotel bar meant he was only in town for a night or two on business. People don't come to Las Vegas by themselves unless it's for a conference of some kind, or they're driving across country for some reason. The wedding ring meant he probably never thought he had a chance with her, which meant the conversation could start out friendly, and she could steer it. She wore a wedding ring, though she was happily not married, just to make her approach seem more like overt flirting than seduction.
She wouldn't tell him that she was a hotel maid. She definitely wouldn't tell him that she wasn't technically a US citizen (she was born in Las Vegas, but not at a hospital). If one of her, let's call them costars, ever asked what she did for a living, she would say she was a translator for a Mexican diplomat, then she'd say she hated talking about work and change the subject.
She always pretended to be a little drunker than she was. Not sloppy, but wanting to come off as uninhibited. She would casually drop a compliment after the conversation had been going on for a while.
"Your wife is lucky, you seem so cool."
A little later, she would ask him if he wanted to go for a walk, see the lights.
She had done this about fifteen times now, and Rob was the first to cut through the bullshit. He only waited ten minutes into the walk to suggest they go back to his hotel room. Most guys needed at least an hour of Elena's heavy-handed flirting to realize that she was definitely going to fuck them.
"I've seen all this shit a thousand times," Rob said. He came to Vegas on business quite frequently. "It's 9 pm and 95 degrees outside. What do you say we go back to my room, I drop a ridiculous amount of money on a bottle of mediocre champagne from the minibar, and we enjoy some well-deserved air conditioning?"
"That's the best idea I've ever heard," said Elena. "But let's go back to my room. I've got the best view of Vegas you've probably ever seen, and we don't have to pay for booze."
"Deal."
He may not have said "Deal," if he had known that Elena would surreptitiously record their entire encounter on video, and then post that video to a website that she owned and operated.
When they got to her hotel, she winked at the desk clerk as he checked some guests in for the night. Peter was her best friend and coworker, he was the classiest homo she'd ever had the pleasure of knowing, and he was the reason she was able to use the Emperor's Suite free of charge. He gave Elena a knowing nod as she and her new friend disappeared into the elevator.
Once in the suite, she stepped out of her heels, and bee-lined over to the full bar.
Rob couldn't believe how nice her room was. He walked over to the giant windows.
"You were right. This is the nicest view of Vegas I've ever seen. Wish I could work for a diplomat."
"Would you like some scotch?" she asked him.
"Wow, the good stuff."
It was not good stuff, but was disguised as such. She was reusing a bottle she had found in a guest's room the night after a bachelor party. She had refilled it with the cheapest scotch that the liquor store had to offer, figuring that most men cannot tell the difference between "good stuff" and cheap stuff.
"Would you consider me a pussy if I asked for it on the rocks?" he asked.
"Not at all," she said, although she liked hers neat.
They sat in plush chairs in front of the floor to ceiling window and had great conversation. She loved talking to men about their pasts. She would ask a simple question about a first love or what he had studied in college, and she would swoon when she saw excited nostalgia take him over.
"That apartment didn't have a heater, and the only entertainment we had was a shitty record player, but goddamn if that wasn't one of the best years of my life," he said. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling. You've gotten me drunk, young lady. Cheers."
"So what did you do all day with no heater and nothing to do?" she asked suggestively.
"Oh, you know." He turned away.
"I think I do know. Cheers."
He laughed and looked out the window. They were quiet for a moment. Comfortable.
