Two Nights in Vegas by Olivia Gaines Page B

If not lascivious men, a big roller with a small tool and a vivid imagination was a constant in the Vegas nightlife.  Of the seven times she had visited the city of too many lights and too few morals, she had always traveled with girlfriends. This was the first time she had ever gone solo with a specific goal in mind, spend some money, have some money spent on her and for once in her sad, tired life, step out of her Nadine suit and enjoy life in the moment.
                  Nadine Jordan was five feet seven, one hundred and twenty five pounds, covered in a fine sheen of cocoa and far too smart for most men’s taste.  If there was one thing that turned her off, it was stupid men, which is why she was uncertain of why she had even accepted Moron Number Two as her man.  It was simple, they looked good together, but that was about it, because he was a tool in life and a limp tool in bed.  In his mind he was rocking her world. She was even more surprised when after three months she was still under him, pretending he was making the earth move and facilitating the lie.
                  She often heard of women fighting each other over a man who gave good love.  Maybe she had missed the memo or gotten out of line, because she had yet to find one that could make her have a true happy ending, let alone make her lose herself in the moment.  The closest she had come to earth shattering was a rumble in the back seat at Lake Hollywood when a 2.6 earthquake reverberated through the hills.  She was going to change her fate, her luck and her understanding of men.  She had three days and two nights in Vegas to be real with herself and she was planning to make the best of this trip.  She even started the adventure out by wearing a low cut blouse, a high cut skirt, and a thong that read, “Yes, Baby.”
                  Three men on the plane had slipped her their business cards and she accepted each with eyes that promised endless nights of delights. She had no intention of calling any of them since they all lived in the same city as she did. It never seemed to fail when she would meet a loser and then run into him at the supermarket.  Who cares if Los Angeles was full of small cities, towns and expressways that separated the haves from the name droppers?  It was still too close for comfort for a woman who was about to let her freak flag fly.

                  Nadine had only traveled with a carryon case and a purse that held a strip of condoms, a lip glosser, her phone and two skimpy swimsuits. The carry on case held edible undies, see through bras, short dresses and other items that when left up to the imagination, could seem somewhat scary. Hell, she was scared.  What was she doing?  She wasn’t some skank for easy pickings.  She was educated, smart, had a great job and was well respected. Once she checked into the hotel, she would throw away half of the things she’d brought and just enjoy a few days of decompression.
                  She caught a cab to the Stratosphere and checked in with no problem.  A quick scan of the room to make sure there were no hidden cameras, toilet cams, or any creep under the bed, she changed into an all-white bikini, clutched her wrap and headed down to the pool. As she went through the doors to get outside, Nadine was hit with a whiff of something heady, intoxicating, and smelling of pure man.  She felt a rush of sensations course through her body and slowly turned to see who belonged to the scent of Eau du Come Get Some .
                  He stopped in the doorway and was looking back at her.  He was in his early thirties, six foot hunky, two hundred odd pounds of solid man meat, black hair, piercing blue eyes and covered in trouble. His blue eyes bore into her brown ones and she almost heard his silent request. She nodded at him, acknowledging that he was acknowledging her, and walked away. White men weren’t her thing,