I saw Tom from a distance in a club at the Bellagio and promptly and cooly put myself in his line of site. And by ‘myself’ I mean my cleavage. The mating dance continued as we friendly nudged each other and made casual comments about Vegas and the club. It was then the dancing begun. And it didn’t stop for hours. We took breaks to go the watering hole and refuel with tequila and vodka. During which he showed off his talented skills like how to light a cigarette with a match just using his mouth and one hand.
I thought I had hit the jackpot in finding someone so convenient and confident in using his hands and mouth simultaneously, but then he amazed me more by showing off his thousand dollar chips. Later, after more hot and sweaty dancing that even Patrick Swayze would be jealous of we hit the tables. I turned into the role of sexy side girl at the blackjack table. I ooh’d and awe’d as he spoke to his cards more than me. He referred to his Queen card as ‘Lady’ about ten times. I got jealous quicker than I wanted to. But then he’d kiss me and tell me he loved me when he won and grumble and chain smoke when he lost.
In the end, he lost big and impatiently chain smoked as I drank White Russians and played roulette. After I lost, we went up to his hotel room. It took us a few minutes to get into the actual room since he had to shuffle through half a dozen different hotel room keys. Instead of seeing the red flag, I could only focus on the fact at how smoothly he slid the cards around in his hand.
The hot and heavy part lasted about 10 minutes because as I was returning the favor, he passed out. Instead of leaving I waited patiently for him to wake up and get a second wind. He groggily got up a few minutes later asking what happened. I told him and he laid back down. Just as I was about to remind him that I didn’t come to Vegas to snuggle, he got up and stared at the floor. He picked something up along with my purse and held it out to me.
“You stole from me” he said loudly. I tried to see what was in his hand. It wasn’t a chip or cash or a credit card. Maybe a piece of paper.
“What are you talking about?” I said. We went back and forth like this for a few minutes until he firmly told me to leave. I got dressed and grabbed my purse and shoes in a total confused state.
I was walking out when he placed his hand gently on my lower back as if we had just met.
“Let me zip up your dress.” he said. He slowly zipped me up and opened the door for me. I took one step out and heard the door slam behind me.
I'm back in my own city, catching up on sleep and have found him on facebook. I'm a good searcher ok? Not a stalker. Well it's a thin line. His facebook picture is him posing with a live tiger. Are we really suprised by this?
In one sense I'm pissed off about being treated that way but on the other hand, I'm fascinated by the entire night and our manic time together that I'd almost expand my guy search to include the Financial District. I was a different version of myself this weekend so of course, I meet a VERY different guy.
And if a weekend like that can happen in Vegas, maybe one day I'll meet a guy who can light a cigarette with a match in one hand and then maybe not kick me out at the end of the night. Who knows?
