The following is another tale of my years working as a disgruntled night shift security guard at a casino resort. As you may have already figured just from the venue, there was debauchery a plenty...
It's bound to happen. Take a bunch of twenty year olds who are fit enough to be cops, but can't hack it as cops, slap a police-looking uniform on them, and that was our security force. Then take a bunch of former high school cheerleaders with drinking and self-esteem issues, squeeze them into black cocktail server dresses (that barely cover their butts and breasts) and intermingle them with the guards, and you have a recipe for disaster.
It was a literal feeding frenzy of everyone trying to get laid as fast as possible. I hated it, but I wasn't innocent in it either. I like to think that the difference between me and the rest of them was that I didn't try. But once in a while a cocktail server or cute pit clerk would escape the drag net of aggressive horn-dog guards, and she'd find her way over to me. Sometimes I would... but more often, I'd politely decline. I had a lot of sex working there, but I also refused a lot of sex too.
But, despite my cynicism and my hypocrisy, there
was
a girl who I knew was very special. That would be my partner, Officer Kate Galloway. She was a year younger than me-- twenty three, and she got hired on at the same time as I did. We bonded quickly-- suffering through the insufferable (something much more hellish than any boot camp) two days of HR orientation.
We were total strangers, but we sat next to each other, since we were the only new guards in that orientation group. I was smitten when I caught her on several occasions discreetly rolling her eyes during one of those god awful sexual harassment awareness videos, and we've been buddies ever since.
Galloway is a hell of a good looking woman. Even in our ugly blue security uniforms, she stands out even more than the cocktail waitresses do. I think
striking
is probably the best word. To me, the cocktail servers are the epitome of "boring pretty". Too much makeup, generic attractive faces, no personality (or an annoying one), damsel in distress types. Think of Kesha and you've pretty much imagined most of the cocktail servers.
On the other hand, Galloway iss about 5'8", fit-- not thick but she was solid. She looked like she could kick someone's ass. She had a pair of nice curvy C-cups hidden beneath that blue shirt and badge, a tight tummy with the faintest traces of ab definition, and below her duty belt and radio, a butt that was just slightly bigger than average, and thighs that were thick with strong muscle.
She rarely wore makeup-- but she didn't have to. She was naturally good looking without it, but the few times that she did, she was such a knock-out that people didn't recognize her. And even with an entire casino full of half-naked waitresses, she was definitely the heart throb among the men. She had sharp and well defined facial features, full pink lips, ice blue eyes, and wavy chestnut brown hair that she dyed to an exaggerated raspberry auburn/maroon. Her hair was flirting with the line of what would be considered workplace inappropriate.
The supervisors let it slide. She was good officer, but not a kiss ass-- which kept her in everyone's high esteem. She spent many nights trading vulgar jokes with the guys, or looking the other way on our shenanigans. But she didn't slap-dick around the way everyone else did. She had a sense of duty, and cared enough about the job to not get herself in trouble.
Like any female cop you've ever encountered, she had a cool, even temper, a dry and sarcastic wit, a toned down (somewhat robotic) voice, and a subtleness to her mannerisms. A ghost of a smile would tell you she was amused. Or a slight eyebrow arch meant she was intrigued.
Between her demeanor and her looks, I've often likened her to a young Neve Campbell (and have grown a fondness for said actress ever since I met Galloway).
It's easy to see why I had a crush on her. And for some fucked up reason, out of all the guys who were constantly trying (and sometimes succeeding) in getting into her pants, she gravitated to me. We were buddies. We hung out outside of work-- usually going to get beers and burgers.
As we spent more time around each other, I became aware of a mutual attraction. But we were careful. We didn't want to fuck up our friendship and we definitely didn't want to fuck up our partnership. And given our work place, that was pretty easy to do.
But a few catalysts inevitably pushed us into being more than friends and coworkers. I suppose it was a long time coming, the two of us looking out for each other, sharing an attraction, and just letting it build up. A few weeks ago, it finally boiled over... at work of all places. I think we were both thrilled by the taboo-- two security guards sneaking off to fuck each other's brains out. It was wild, and definitely not just a once and done thing.
I was terrified afterwards that things would get weird... or the next time someone tried to pick up me or Galloway, there'd be jealousy issues. Surprisingly... there weren't. We understood each other. We had the same personalities, the same outlook on life, the same views of the world, and the same deep introspection. If some groomed business man with a pocket full of winnings from the Craps table tried to pick up Galloway, it wouldn't bother me. She'd shrug him off, trade an amused glance with me, and give me that little ghost of smile. And if some drunk cougar, disappointed after a night of not getting hit on, tried to convince herself that she still had it by making a last ditch effort to take me home, I'd give Galloway a little wink.
Often, such encounters ended with me and Galloway slipping away to some utility room, or maintenance corridor, and fucking each other senseless-- and trust me, it wasn't hard to find places where there were no security cameras. For us, part of the thrill was in the mischief of having sex while on-duty at work. The other thrill was knowing that it was us.
I wouldn't say that we were exclusive but we definitely weren't casual, either. We never had some talk about shit like that. It was more of just being attuned to each other. We were a functioning team. And if we were going to get a little crazy and involve someone else in our antics, we would both need to be onboard with it, and we'd both need to get something out of it.
Our partnership came first.
*
*
*
Sex and sin aside, the casino was a very negative environment that took its toll on us in different ways. Some of us became hostile. Some of us-- rebellious. Some became nasty people, or man whores, or manipulators. And some of us just withdrew...
Officer Wade was one of the latter. He seemed like the kind of guy who was doomed from the moment he set foot in that hellish place. He was a hell of a nice guy, which already didn't help. But whereas I was cynical, he was just shy, and reserved. When women flirted with him, he would blush, he would stammer, and he would glance down at this boots.
Wade was young-- probably twenty-- but he had one of those clean-shaven baby faces that made him look like he was in his late teens. He had blonde hair, that he was trying to keep military and professional (unlike me, Wade wanted to be taken seriously). Most profoundly of all, the kid had expressive eyes. I sincerely hope he never played poker, because there was no way in hell that guy could lie and not be instantly called out. If he was happy, you could tell without him having to say a word. If he was feeling self conscious, his eyes let you know. And if he was sad... it was also obvious...
That last emotion was the most consistent. He was sad most of the time.
Wade started as a guard around a month ago. He was new, nervous, and clearly uprooted. He was also a sole hire in his orientation, so he hadn't bonded with anyone. Whereas me and Galloway had each other, Wade was on his own.
Galloway and I helped to train him in his early days. I think she had a soft spot for the kid, and often took on a big sister type of role with him. If she noticed him having a shitty day, she'd flash him a smile (something that she definitely didn't do often or for just anyone), and she'd point to him, then her arm, and make a tucking gesture. "I got you right underneath my wing, rookie," she'd assure him. That usually made him laugh. And if I happened to notice him eating alone in the cafeteria (even though I personally enjoyed my solitude), I'd keep him company.
But we couldn't be around him all of the time, which made him an easy target for the predators.
I knew that guy was going to have girl trouble. I warned him from the very first day when that bimbo with the black pixie-cut and the cocktail dress made herself comfy with him. Gwen was an attractive server, like most of the girls who delivered drinks were. But she had bad news written all over her. She had dark eyes (the eyes of a demon, in my opinion), heavy makeup, eyebrows that she'd spent just a little too much time on each day, large breasts, even larger butt (but not in a bad way, but she looked like she was doomed to pack on the pounds in the not-too-distant future). I thought she had a big mouth (probably for eating souls), but am willing to concede that she had a nice smile. It was disarming...
And the second that she started plucking at Wade's uniform, badge, and belt, taking clear enjoyment in making him blush, I cautioned him simply with "I wouldn't if I were you."
Wade hadn't listened to me. And it seemed like every week, that little hussy was playing head games with him. I suspect girl troubles weren't the only personal problems that Wade had going on in his life. But he was alienated, and both me and Galloway felt bad for him. There were days when he would come into work with a bandage on his arm. And there were some days when he wouldn't come in at all, and we'd fear that we wouldn't see him again.
Galloway stepped up her game, for Wade's sake (as she told me later).
I'd had the day off, so Galloway partnered up with Wade as floor rovers. They would walk as a pair around the gaming floor, maintaining a presence, making the customers feel safe, and just waiting for a call to come in.
Wade had been his usual self with Galloway. He was shy and withdrawn. I had a few ideas of why. I figured that he probably had a secret crush on Galloway. Most of the guys did (though some not as secret as others). And he was often nervous around her.
Galloway found that to be endearing. She liked him. Probably because he wasn't like the other guys. He still believed in love and respect and honor... and all that crap (poetic, aren't I?) Galloway might have been a sarcastic, stoic, badass bitch, but she had a soft spot for good men. In fact, I suspect that if she didn't have me to keep her entertained, she'd definitely have an interest in Wade. But, unfortunately, nice guys finish last.
As they roved, Wade had his nose in his cell phone. He glanced at it for what must have been the hundredth time.
"Do you two want to be alone together?" Galloway cocked her eyebrow. She didn't have much patience for people who were always on their phones.
"Huh?" He seemed like he was in a fog. Whatever hell was going on in his head on this day, he was having trouble seeing past it.
"I'm just saying," Galloway continued, "If this were a date right now, I'd be heading for the door."
"I'm sorry," Wade said sheepishly.
"Focus," she quipped, lightly slapping him on either side of his face, her voice heavy with sarcasm.
"Sorry... it's just that this girl I'm seeing is playing head games." He was nervous about explaining this to her.
"Gwen?"
Wade blinked at her, as if asking
