This is my first time writing erotic fiction. I hope you enjoy it, as these scenarios have been floating around in my head for a while. Be aware, this series will include a variety of adult situations, including bisexuality, interracial sex, incest, group sex and other taboo subjects that not everybody may be into. If any of these subjects bother you, there's an entire site here filled with things you may prefer more. In any event, thanks for reading.
Author's note: This is the final chapter of Part 1 of this series. We'll be back in a week or so with the start of Part 2, which will cover Jack and Avery in Washington, and continue the story. I want to thank everybody who has read, commented, and favorited these stories, even the comments from people who seem to have skipped the non-sex parts, lol. I've learned a lot from you all, especially about what you like and don't like, and will do my best to incorporate all of that into the second part. I hope you all will look forward to the next part as we continue the Sinclair and Fisher stories in a new setting as much as I will. Thanks for reading!
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If you've lived in DC longer than a few days, you've seen a presidential motorcade. Motorcycles zipping past, blocking side streets, police cars, black SUVs, three large limos, all that jazz. They'd mess up traffic for a solid twenty minutes. And for half an hour or so before, you'd see the police cars lining the route, getting ready.
We didn't have presidential motorcades in Vegas - last time the President was here, a few weeks ago, she'd done so quietly without a lot of hype, because she stayed at the Elysium. All the VIP suites were on the VIP floor, which was two floors below the penthouse where we lived, just below Ciel Bleu. But if she'd decided to go with full pomp and circumstance, Vegas would have looked a lot like it did right now.
Our three-SUV motorcade was just one of many headed towards the Empire Luxe on New Year's Eve. Some were larger, some were smaller, but when you've got an event on a major holiday that's known for drinking to excess, in a town that's known for drinking and partying to excess, and that event draws all the people who make the drinking and excess in that town noted for excess possible, it's going to cause traffic.
We had gotten a late start. The reception began at nine, and we left the Elysium right around eight thirty. On a normal day with no traffic and hitting all the lights, it would take us just five minutes to get from the Elysium to the Empire Luxe. Today, however, was not a normal day.
Every black SUV in Las Vegas seemed to be on Las Vegas Boulevard. I was in the front car of our three-car motorcade, with Lionel, Miles, and Sol. Behind us, riding alone with Diego was Biggs. Nobody could stand sitting with him except Diego, who hadn't known him at all. In the third car, Gabby drove with Mom, Avery, and Nyla.
Along the route, up and down the strip, the police blocked off the side roads. New Year's Eve in Vegas was a tale of two cities. On the Strip, most of the hotels had New Year's Eve parties, and the Plaza always did a spectacular fireworks show. For the locals and the less affluent, Fremont Street was the main party. Downtown, on the north end of the Strip, it funneled people away from the tourist areas, which were crowded for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the NARC Gala.
The Nevada Association of Resorts and Casinos was the premiere trade group for hotel and casino operators. Like any other trade group, they lobbied the government, mostly in Carson City but also some in Washington, and they put on programming and events designed to give the movers and shakers in the industry a reason to get together. They had two major events each year - their annual awards and the crowning of the 'King of the Strip,' the NARC's highest honor. There hadn't yet been a 'Queen of the Strip,' but I thought there were all kinds of good opportunities for double entendre whenever that finally happened. That was in July. The other was the NARC Gala, which took place every year at the Empire Luxe on New Year's Eve. Everybody would get together, there'd be a reception, followed by dinner, the obligatory speeches, and then dancing and drinks until the ball dropped at midnight. The Empire Luxe set aside several suites for after parties the various owners could sponsor, and there were rooms set aside for sleeping for those who didn't want to go home or couldn't go home for whatever reason, be it drink, drugs, sex or a combination of all three.
The Gala had been going on for more than fifty years now. The more tables you bought, the bigger deal you were supposed to be, and invitations to the Gala were highly sought after. If you were a player in town, you were expected to be there. If you were a mid-level person, you scrabbled and cut deals and stabbed your friends in the back to get a seat. The dinner also attracted government officials - this was a "widely attended event" so invitations could be accepted without breaking any gift rules - as well as local media, who were in attendance both as guests and to cover it, and a smattering of celebrities. The celebrities ranged from Hollywood A-listers and music stars who were in town for concerts and didn't get stuck doing NYE shows, to producers, directors, and even the occasional porn star. I guess that list included me now. There was a red carpet, and this would be my first time navigating that.
Each table seated twelve, and we bought one. Me, Lionel, Biggs, Sol, Diego, and Miles. Mom, Avery, Nyla, and Gabby. Diego and Gabby were there as staff, not as attendees, but they still counted against our table count. Diego was wearing a dark suit with sunglasses, standard bodyguard attire, and Gabby had on a business suit that looked very weird on her, at least to me. Neither of them was armed, but neither of them needed to be. Gabby had almost become an MMA fighter after she left the Baltimore Police, and Diego had learned the finer art of street fighting growing up in Naked City. Lionel and Biggs were in white tie because they were expected to be sitting with us. We would have two empty place settings at the table, which were going to be filled by some of the governmental invitees, who were often sprinkled throughout the various tables to provide an added incentive for folks to buy more.
Romano, who owned the Empire Luxe, bought twenty tables last year. But that made sense, because in the end, he was just paying himself. I wasn't sure why we didn't buy more tables, but I knew that the Sinclair Group was a relative newcomer -- we'd only been around six years at this point, and we only owned the one property. Sure, the Elysium was rapidly becoming one of the best hotels in Vegas, and we were making a significant profit for the first time since we began opening four years ago, but we were still the new guys, still just a one property concern, and I think Sol was hesitant to make too big a splash. He'd tried that before, and it had cost him more than he'd ever been willing to pay. Subtlety was the name of the game. Since this town was not known for its subtlety, most of our competition -- at least, the casino competition -- had a tough time wrapping their brains around the concept. I think that suited Sol fine.
Knowing all this was important, Claire had made it a point to spend a good bit of time with me while I was in the office this morning going over these details. I'm sure Avery knew it all, as she'd been at the dinner before -- covering it, not attending as a guest -- and this would be the fifth year Mom and Sol had been in attendance. Nyla had attended in the past, but Miles hadn't. I wasn't sure why he'd never been there, but knowing now what I did about him and Mikey Romano, Vex Romano's son and Miles' former boyfriend, I could take a guess. Claire had told me that this event, among other things, was a chance for Romano to show off his family. Mikey was a handsome fellow -- he'd have to be to have won Miles' heart -- and his daughter Eva was a renowned beauty, just like her mother Ilse. Ilse descended from royalty -- her great-grandfather had been grandson or nephew or something to Kaiser Wilhelm. He'd been a minor big deal for most of his life, right until the end, which he met on the gallows at Nuremberg. Claire had laughed derisively when she told me this, adding "leave it to Vex Romano to find a Nazi princess to marry."
"Maybe we should just get out and walk," Miles said, looking at the row of cars ahead of us, creeping slowly towards the Empire Luxe.
"I wish we could," Lionel said. "But you all need to do the red carpet and somebody's gotta drive the cars."
"Where are we supposed to go when we get in," Sol asked Lionel. He didn't have to say it -- I knew he was asking about our handguns.
"The dinner is in the ballroom on their second floor," Lionel said. "There are two sets of bathrooms up there, one for VIPs and one for everybody else. The VIP bathroom was the only one that worked for our purposes. Romano had those expensive Japanese toilets installed there, and they have space to tape a gun behind. Diego told me he put the guns in the last three stalls."
"Okay, when we get there, Miles, Biggs and Diego should escort the women to the reception, while we go powder our noses," Sol told us. "Diego put one loaded pistol and one extra magazine behind the three toilets. That's sixteen shots each."
