I frowned at him. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"I didn't know if you regretted it."

I blew a wet strand away from my face. "I'm not one of those girls, Brad. I needed you just now, more than I've every needed anyone, and I wanted you to f**k me. Which you did - very well by the way, thank you." I kissed him merrily on the face and turned, grabbing the body scrub and squeezing a generous amount onto my palms and working it into foam. I turned around, my hands now Island Tropic Berry. "Now, want me to wash your back?"


For breakfast, we decided to go to the Buffet downstairs. I dressed casually, in ripped up jeans, a white tank, and leather flip-flops. The buffet was huge, and I unintentionally piled my plate high just by grabbing a little bit of everything. We sat in a plastic booth and I grinned through a mouthful of pancakes at Brad.

"Whaart?" he said, his mouth full as well.

"It's just funny. You and me at an all you can eat buffet in Vegas, stuffing our faces after you just boned me in the shower. You know Broward would have a heart attack right now if he knew what we were doing."

"I don't think pancakes are outlawed in the corporate handbook."

I stuck my tongue out at him and grinned. "So," I said, spearing a lone strawberry and dipping it in yogurt, "can I go on your super secret mission or what?"

"You just want to go to find out what it is. It's really not that exciting."

"Then tell me what the errand is; then I'll decide if I want to go."

"I'm going to visit an old friend of mine. She lives in Boulder City, about a half hour drive east of Las Vegas. "

"An ex-girlfriend?"

"No… I do have female friends that I don't sleep with."

I snorted. "Likely."

"Do you want to come or not?"

"Will the… friend mind if I come?"

He smiled. "I think she can hold her jealousy in check for your visit."

"Do you mind if I come? I feel like I'm forcing myself on you."

"No. If you come I have a side trip we can take. Though you are a pain in the ass, I wouldn't mind your company for just a bit longer."

"Fine. Then I'm coming. I'm getting a little sick of the…" I waved my hand to encompass all that Bellagio was.

"Luxury?" he asked with a grin.

"Yeah. Luxury. Thanks for the help."

"No problem."


One hour later we were standing next to a brand new Dodge Viper. At some type of a Hertz on crack, the rental dealership had a collection of Vipers, Ferraris, and Lambos, as well as the more-refined Bentleys and Rolls. I guess "Tiffany" had gone on the lower price point and set Brad up with the Viper. It was bright blue, a convertible, and as ostentatious and sexy as they get.

"You’re driving this? I was thinking we'd be in, you know, a four-door Mercedes or something. Is this even street legal?"

"I'm driving this. You're driving that." He pointed over my shoulder and I spun, seeing an identical red clone. "It's stick-shift. Will that be a problem?"

I turned and looked back at him coolly, at least with my best impression of coolly. "Not unless you can't keep up."

He laughed and banged the top of the car with his hand, eliciting something close to a gasp from the salesman. "Your on baby."

An employee showed me the basic schematics of the car. There wasn't much to show - the car was built for one thing - speed. Other than basic A/C and what looked like an impressive sound system, all he really had to show me what how to operate the top. We went ahead and put it down. It seemed way too complicated, and I didn’t want to break anything in the next four hours.

"Any last questions?" the man asked, handing me the keys.

"Does it have a radar detector?" I asked innocently.

The pain in his eyes answered my question.


I pulled up next to Brad, my eyes flashing in excitement.

"You sure you want to miss out on riding with me? You look a little glum." he asked sarcastically.

I sighed dramatically. "It's going to be really tough, but I'm going to try and suffer through."

"Alright then. Follow me out of the city. If we get separated, stay on 515 till we get to Boulder City. There is a Taco Bell right in the city limits - meet me there."

"Got it." I gave him a thumbs up and revved my engine. He shook his head at me and pulled out.

We took a left out of the dealership and came to an almost immediate stop at a light. The engine roared, even at a standstill. I massaged the pedals and prepared myself to start. My start was a little rough, I gave it too much gas and the engine revved high. Better than a stall. I worked my ways through the gears as we drove through the city, getting used to the feel of the car. Finally, Brad got in the turn lane for the highway and we merged into the fast-moving traffic. Opening up the car felt similar to taking off. I cranked up the radio and was doing eighty before I could blink, and was still in third gear! I up shifted and felt the car comfortably cruise. We behaved, never crossing over 100, but zigzagging past cars like they were sitting still. Three songs later, we were slowing and pulling over to a Taco Bell. I frowned, not ready to be at the destination yet. I pulled up next to Brad and turned down the radio.

"You want to ride with me from here?" he yelled, over the drone of the engines.

"Nah. I'll follow."

"Whatever you want. Stay close."

He pulled a tight U-turn in the small parking lot, and I followed suit, the rear wheel drive throwing me off a bit. The back end spun out a little and I came close to plowing into an older-model minivan and mother with two kids. I made an apologetic grimace and tried to call out an apology, but Brad was pulling out and I didn't want to get left behind. She shot me a glare and pulled her kids WAY over on the curb. A little overdramatic. One of the kids, a pre-teen boy with coke bottle glasses, tripped over the curb, staring and pointing at my car. The girl, a little older, with a bored look on her face, whipped out an iPhone and took a picture. I rolled into traffic behind Brad.

Boulder City seemed to be a typical small town. It had a few of the tourist booths advertising Hoover Dam tours and Lake Mead excursions but had all the standard trappings of normalcy. Our cars had seemed normal on the Strip, but here they stuck out like sore thumbs. Ambidextrous, jeweled thumbs, but still sore ones. I loved seeing kids’ reactions from the passing sedans and SUVs, and felt like every guy in a three-mile radius craned his neck to look as we passed. We left the highway and turned down one side street after another, Brad seeming to know the route well. The engine was beginning to get hot beneath me by the time we finally stopped, pulling up to a small house at the end of a cul-de-sac. The yard was tiny, but well tended, and there were fresh flowers planted by the mailbox. A mid-level Mercedes was parked in the driveway, the only sign of wealth.

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