It Takes One To Know One

By Vickie

There was only one reason I was in the bar this evening. To get laid. I eyed myself in the large mirror behind the bar and toasted the reflection with the white wine I had ordered. Not bad for 40 years old! The black designer dress fit me like a glove. Nobody needed to know that I had bought it on eBay, right? The diamond choker that I had at my throat was actually my mother's, borrowed for this short trip. The diamond tennis bracelet around my wrist was 5 carats and gorgeous - a gift from my ex-husband in happier days. I reached down to run a lucsious red fingernail under the strap of my stiletto heels and stopped to grin, as I thought of our college days name for these kinds of shoes: FMPs. Yes, I truly had on 'fuck-me-pumps' tonight.

I usually came to Las Vegas several times a year, but not just to find an easy outlet for my sexual frustration. Living in Small Town, USA, did not lend itself to easy sex, due to the fact that the available men there were either jerks, minors or nearly in the grave. No, I usually came to Las Vegas to find money. I had become accustomed to being a "stay at home" single mom of 2 small girls and working for a living just wasn't something I wanted to do. Morally, I knew that it was wrong, but finding men who wanted to spend their money on me was easy and for the most part, fun. My routine was to dress up to the hilt, go to the casino and look for an easy mark. Most of the men coming to Las Vegas by themselves were looking for fun and a beautiful woman snuggling up to them was just part of the fantasy. I didn't usually sleep with them; rather I just looked for the opportunity to lighten their wallets. Today had been a good day. The two men I had targeted never knew that the several thousand they lost was to me and not the crap tables.

My eyes flicked around the room, covertly checking out the selection of unattached males, and caught some of them checking me out as well. I saw bald heads, Hawaiian shirts and Bermuda shorts and shook my head with irritation. Was there no one to satisfy those fantasies that I had of tall, dark and sexy?

As I lifted the tall, cool wineglass to my lips, my eyes saw him in the mirror. He had just entered the room and was walking toward the bar. Time seemed to stop as I watched him move. He was tall, dark and sexy - moving like an animal in a skin-tight, midnight blue suit. The man was hot from the top of his dark hair to the tips of his black suede boots. His almond shaped, coffee colored eyes swept the room and I could tell he was on the prowl as well. Maybe not for sex, but nonetheless looking for something. I could tell the minute his eyes found me - the dark brown eyes checked out my clothes and jewelry before they flicked up to find my eyes staring back at him.

My heart did flip-flops and my breath caught in my throat, but I did not look away. This was the man I had been looking for and I was going to give it my best shot. He ordered from the bar and then indicated toward me. The bartender refilled my wineglass as the dark vision came up to sit beside me.

"I hope you don't mind that I ordered another drink for you." His accented voice was deep and caused my mouth to go dry. My stomach tightened in anticipation of what I hoped would happen.

"No, I don't mind at all. Won't you join me?"

"Gracias. Please let me introduce myself. I am Morals Pitman, Attorney at Law. And it's a definite pleasure to make your acquaintance." He eyes burned into mind, and then he leaned over to kiss the back of my hand. As his voice lingered over the word pleasure my breath caught in the back of my throat.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Pitman. My name is Christina. An attorney, huh? Tell me, are you Spanish? I love the sound of your voice." As we began the ritual of getting to know each other, I knew then what he was looking for. He was smooth and sexy, but I could see that he was mentally appraising my jewelry as we talked. It was easy for me to recognize another con artist; the challenge was to keep him from recognizing me as one.

As he chatted about Las Vegas and drank his wine, my eyes roamed over him in an obvious display of appreciation. His lucsious mouth took on a sly smile as he watched my face. He knew as well where this was headed.

I decided to cut to the chase. "Let's dance," I said as I stood and picked up my purse.

"But querida, there is no dance floor here."

I hooked my finger into the front of his open shirt and began pulling him toward me. "Not here," I whispered with my lips a fraction of an inch away from his.

A con artist knows when the mark is hooked. I didn't have to turn around to know that Morales was following me. He reached around me at the elevator and pushed the up button, then settled his hands on my hips. I leaned back against him and felt the solid muscled chest against my back. He pulled back with his hands and my round bottom snuggled up tightly against his crotch. Whoa!! I knew that I had better watch myself - I could get lost in that body! I needed to keep my wits about me if I didn't want to lose more than I wanted tonight.

The elevator door slid open silently and we entered the empty mirrored room. I pushed the button to the 27th floor and then turned to find Morales a hairsbreadth away from me. I knew he was a slick con artist, but I couldn't resist him. His mouth descended on mine and instantly his tongue dipped in for a taste. My arms curled up around his neck and his hand was at the nape of my neck holding my head captive. His mouth slid down and I could feel his teeth nipping at my neck as his hands moved to my neatly fashioned French braid. His nimble fingers found every pin and then ran his hands through the honey blonde tresses.

The bell rang our arrival on my floor but apparently we were too caught up in the erotic moment. My ardent companion's boot caught the elevator doors as they were silently closing to return us to the lobby. The halls were eerily silent compared to the teeming casino below as I fumbled in my purse for the room key.

It was difficult, but I gathered my wits about me as we walked into the suite. "Would you like something to drink?" I asked as I put my purse on the fireplace mantle - thinking that I could keep an eye on it at all times.

Morales circled me like a predator with its prey. "Later. Right now, I have other things on my mind."

"But you promised to dance with me." I pretended a little pouty attitude while I turned to find the music. The heavy bass and Latin guitar music I loved poured out of the speakers while some young thing named Enrique started whispering in Spanish.

"I will be keeping that promise, honey." We came together to dance and the fabric of our clothes nearly bonded we were so close. The music was hot and he knew how to move with it. He whispered the same Spanish love words into my ear that the singer was singing.

Minutes turned to hours and the dancing soon became vertical. Making out was too tame a word for what Morales and I were doing in that hotel room. My skin felt like fire and his tongue licked a hot path from my neck down my body. The designer dressed looked better on me than it did the floor, but I then, I wasn't complaining that it ended up crumpled in a heap. The electric blue suit he had on came off under my greedy fingers and I nearly swooned. His body was the stuff erotic dreams are made of. Muscles and lots and lots of smooth, dark skin.

His face lifted from mine to watch my face as his hand moved to the edge of my black lace panties. We were moving fast - it hadn't been more than 10 minutes since we had entered the room, but I couldn't wait for him to touch me.

"Yes, now!" I nearly begged as he hesitated. No sly smile this time, just the intense look of a man on a mission as the rest of my underwear joined the dress on the floor. I knew that hotel patrons 5 floors away must have heard my moans and screams when he finally entered me. His eyes never left mine as he pounded the rhythm of the music into the center of my soul. The sex was incredible and it seemed to go on forever. He knew just when to move and where to touch. We seemed to change positions every few minutes and each new sensation threatened to put me over the edge. Morales finally drug me under him again, and began to get down to the real business of sex. His face took on a look of intense concentration and for the first time, his eyes closed. I'm not sure what he did after that because intense waves of pleasure washed over me. I knew I was being loud and the bed frame was pounding against the wall, but I thought who cares? Let them be jealous!

Our labored breathing began to settle, and he lifted his head from my shoulder.

"Are you OK?" he said as he kissed me gently.

"I am so much more than OK, you'll never know," I replied as my hands drifted down his sweat slicked back. "I'm exhausted!"

"What? You are not ready for more?" He teasingly said as he began moving his hips against me again. I knew he must have had an orgasm, but he was hard and the movements were causing electric shocks to shoot up my body.

Several hours later, I finally knew what it really meant when people talked about 'Latin lovers.' Morales was sleeping soundly next to me as I admired his stamina, his skill and that lovely, lovely body. Well, I had wanted to get laid, but I didn't know how thoroughly it could be done until now. As I snuggled down under the comforter, Morales reached over and roughly pulled me next to him to sleep.

The alarm annoyingly went off at 7 a.m. and I nearly threw the clock against the floor trying to get the damn chirping sound to stop. I hadn't even rolled back over in bed before Morales had grabbed me from behind.

"Buenos dios, querida," he whispered behind my ear as he pulled me down against his ready and willing body.

"Again?" I said, then silently told myself to shut up, Christina! Enjoy it while you can, I lectured to the prude that had woken up as me that morning. "Morales, you are insatiable!"

"I am insatiable when I am with a beautiful woman. You do not want to make love this way this morning?" He asked even as his hands snuck around my waist and up to my breasts.

"Yes, I do want to make love, but my plane leaves in 2 hours."

"Well, we will have to be fast then," he said as he quickly entered me from where he was behind me. The sex was fast and furious. We both came in minutes and collapsed in a heap on the bed. Our legs were a tangle of tan and cream and I tried to extricate myself.

"I am going to take a shower - you can just rest a little more, ok?" I said as I crossed to the bathroom. Once in the shower, I let the hot streams of water wash away the soreness and lack of sleep. As my head rolled from side to side to help stretch the kinks out, I realized I left Morales in the bedroom alone with all my things. The long shower I planned quickly ended and I hopped out of the tub to find Morales dressed and flipping through the channels.

"What are you doing?" I asked as I eyed my purse on the fireplace mantle.

"Just waiting for you. I thought I would go with you to the airport, if that's OK. I don't have too much going on today." His smile stretched out to reveal straight white teeth.

Trying not to compare his smile to a wolf's grin, I said "Sure, that would be great! I just need to get dressed and throw my stuff into a bag, OK?" I walked casually across the room to pick up my purse and overnight bag. When I returned to the bathroom I quickly searched my purse to find the money stash intact. Whew! I must not have given him enough time to search my things! I zippered the money into my purse and quickly got dressed.

When we returned to the lobby, Morales led the way and hailed a car waiting behind the taxis. "I asked a friend of mine to chauffer us to the airport. That way, you won't have to waste your money on a taxi, si?" He placed the overnight bag on the ground and held my hand as the driver rolled up in front of us in a long black limousine. The driver, a young funny looking boy with big teeth, jumped out and began taking my luggage to the rear of the car. "Oh, just put the bags in front with you, OK?" Morales ushered me into the back seat and shut the door.

Morales immediately pulled me into his arms and hungrily kissed me. His hands seemed everywhere - up my sides, down my back, on my arms. I was lost in his touch. "Morales, stop …the driver…he can…see us." My words and weak attempt to slow his advances just seemed to inflame him more.

"I don't care - I want your taste on my tongue after you leave," he whispered. His voice was deep and graveled - then he began talking in Spanish and I totally lost it. I swear I heard the driver giggle a few times, but I figured he was getting an education in the art of love.

By the time we rolled up to the airport, my dress was at my waist and my bra needed re-hooking. Morales was enough of a gentleman to assist me in repairing my appearance then he assisted me out the door of the limo.

The driver had already gotten out and was waiting at the curb with my purse and overnight bag. I was still in a desire-induced haze when I finally kissed Morales goodbye for the last time. My 'cat-who-had-the-cream' smile lasted through check-in, the security check and into the plane. As I sat in the seat and listened to the flight attendant go through her routine, my eyes shut and I relived the last few hours of my life. Those memories were hot enough to keep me warm for a very, very long time.

The plane took off and the bright lights of Las Vegas had dimmed. Houses turned to ants as I looked out the plane's window. The flight attendants were pushing the cart through the aisles, since it was happy hour somewhere; I decided to have a drink. "Vodka tonic," I said to the young woman pushing the cart. As she fixed my drink I fished out 2 bucks from the bottom of my purse. Sipping the cool drink, I decided to count the other 'blessings' of the weekend. I unzipped the pocket where I had placed the money I had placed there early that morning. The weak drink suddenly went the wrong way and I choked as I realize the money was not there!! Shit! Where was it! I frantically looked through the small purse and quickly came to the sinking conclusion that it was gone. When had he taken it? I had been with him all morning after I had hid the money - the only time I wasn't watching it was…the limo driver. Somehow, Morales had passed him the purse while we were making out in the back seat. He had it on the curb when I got out of the limo at the airport. I certainly hadn't noticed, given what I was doing at the time.

My head dropped back on the seat and a small chuckle escaped my mouth. I lifted my glass and gave a toast to Morales. "Salute! You are nearly as good at a con as you are a lover!" The alcohol burned my throat as I began to plan my next trip to Vegas.