I first saw her at the Flamingo. She was walking through the snaking casino floor on her way to the rideshare pickup. She was simply dressed. A loose sheer white shirt with drawstrings that hung undone draped over her skinny frame. Under that, you could see a white bralette over her modest breasts. White shorts of comfy yet fashionable cotton settled low on her hips, clinging to her like a wisp of morning fog on a thicket. She had white keds on her feet, which seemed large, but not clumsy.
Big dark sunglasses and a flopping straw hat obscured much of her face, but her prominent features still peeked out. She had a long, straight nose. Cheekbones, which were shaped by the hands of a master potter, carved a contour down toward a soft, square jaw. She walked with a purpose. Not quite in a hurry, but she had somewhere to be.
She didn't turn her head to look at anyone or anything, except the ground, and the exit she was headed toward. This was unusual behavior in Las Vegas. People usually looked around at the bright videoslots, turned to look at the craps winner jumping in celebration, or peered over their shoulder to make sure no one was following them. This narrowed down the possibilities. She had a mission and knew her way around. That meant she was probably working. She wasn't a casino worker-- she seemed to come from the direction of the guest elevators. She wasn't a traveling call girl-- she would probably be sleeping or relaxing at the pool at this hour-- it was early afternoon.
Nobody was paying her much attention as she used her lithe bodyweight to open the tinted glass door, letting in a blinding pang of daylight into the smoky casino. There were plenty of hot girls in Vegas, but I she caught my eye. I spun my bar stool all the way around and leaned back on the bar. I watched her to the maximum.
"See something you like?" Oscar, my colleague, said to me from two stools down. He was craning his neck around to try to see what I was staring at, but she was already a silhouette against the Vegas sun.
"A model," I said.
"If you say so," he said.
"She is, I'm sure."
"What time is your flight?" Oscar knew I was set to fly back home tonight.
We had both been sent to a grueling three day conference in Vegas. We went to classes and panels during the morning, ate and networked in the afternoon, drank and networked at night. We had developed pet gambling habits in the early morning hours, but we would leave that behind and return to life as usual when we flew home, him to Chicago, and me to San Francisco, tonight.
"I don't know," I said, watching the blurry shape of the model get into a white sedan. "I might just stay tonight."
"You're not gonna win back your money, you know," said Oscar.
"I might try my luck at something else," I said. "Once I ditch the married man."
Oscar laughed. "Well, I might as well just leave you to it then." He put another drink for me on his tab and closed it out. We shook hands.
"Safe flight," I said.
"Uh huh," he said, and made his way to the bag check outside the front of the casino.
I sat and thought about the mysterious girl. I thought about how I would find her again. How long would a model work for? When would she be back? Well, it was 1 pm now. She'd need to get there, get makeup done, get styled, photographed, and assuming it's an indoor shoot... it could be 4-5 hours. If it was outdoor they would shoot through sunset, to get the good lighting toward the end of the day.
I called my airline. They said I couldn't change my flight to tomorrow for free. I couldn't charge the change to the company. So, I thought, screw it. I'll simply miss my flight and worry about the rest later. I had worked hard all weekend, put fun-- real fun-- and women out of mind so I could do what I came here to do, even though I was surrounded by pool parties, night clubs, strip joints, bachelorette parties and summer breakers the whole time. Now, it was all hitting me, and all this stimuli was just titillation. I had my mind on one thing, this beautiful model.
I figured I had two hours to spend before I would have to resume my lookout for this vision of a girl. I went to a restaurant connected to the hotel, went up to my room, and jacked off while thinking of her. After that, my mind was clear. I showered, got dressed, and went downstairs to the slots by the main entrance. She would be coming back through those doors.
I envisioned it in my mind. Over and over I envisioned her coming past me. Me making my move. I spent so long envisioning, that when I turned my full attention to look at my slot machine, I saw the waitress had brought me five drinks in the meantime, and I had drained them all. That must mean I had been losing badly
So I was drunk, evidently losing, and I hadn't seen the outdoors all day. I realized I wasn't about to make a good impression. I had to take the state I was in and use it to my advantage. Turn it around. I'd play the craps table near the walkway, and when she passed, I'd draw her in.
------
She came in the front entrance, just as I thought she would. She looked mostly the same as before, but her hair was wet. For the first time, she took off her sunglasses and I saw her full beauty. The dealer tapped my arm because I was leaning on the table. I was leaning on the table because I was practically salivating over this little angel that just walked in. Now that it was early evening and people were feeling loose, she was catching a lot of eyes and a few compliments. To a few, she beamed a sparkling smile, to others she retorted, to others, she said nothing. To be scorned such was the ultimate defeat. For a moment I doubted I had a shot, but then my time came up to roll the dice.
As she approached, I stepped back into the walkway. I had thought about this all day. Was I just going to give her the standard line "blow for good luck?" It suddenly seemed too corny and crude. She's already been chirped at by many people on her way through the lobby. I just said what struck me at the moment.
"What is that beautiful fragrance?"
She wrinkled her eyebrows at me. "What?" she asked.
I smiled, "Sorry, I just... I could tell you were coming from all the way across the floor. Everything here is smoke and booze. You smell amazing. What perfume are you wearing? Marc Jacobs? Dior?"
"Nothing, actually," she said, looking to the ground sort of embarrassed. But she didn't walk away.
"Well miss No-Perfume, I'll leave you to it. It's my roll anyway..." I sort of bowed to leave her on her way. She took one step and I said, "unless you want to give it a shot?" I presented her with the sharp red casino dice.
"I've done it before..." she said.
"Even better."
"It's your money."
"My money, your roll. Sounds good to me."
"And what do I get if I make you rich?" she asked.
"Whatever you want."
