By Tenzin McGrupp © 2004
The Bellagio was crowded for a Sunday night in Vegas. Standing at the bar across in the sports book across from the poker room, I watched a NBA playoff basketball game on the TV. She accidentally nudged my elbow as she grabbed an ashtray. Of course it was no accident, she intended to get my attention.
"Do you have a light?"
I fumbled inside my pocket and found the lighter I had bought off of a hairy armpitted hippie chick at setbreak during the Phish concert the night before. Casually, I lit her cigarette, an American Spirit. She seductively glanced at me, the flame illuminated between her green eyes.
Adorned in a sleek, olive green dinner dress, her firm, but medium sized breasts bulged out, which detracted from the string of elegant pearls that hung around her neck. Her nails were freshly done and her blonde hair looked too perfect. Her lips glistened in the lowly lit Bellagio sports book and she smiled when she spoke.
"How did you do tonight?"
"Huh?" I mumbled with one eye on the basketball game and the other locked onto her cleavage.
She pointed at the poker room.
"Oh, I did pretty good, but I had been getting my ass kicked all week."
"I saw you in there," she motioned and smiled, "You had a lot of chips, so I guess you're a good player. I was playing low limit, you know because I'm still learning. How long have you been playing?"
"Since college, but seriously only for a year or so."
"You playing in the World Poker Tour Championships tomorrow?"
I lied to her. "Yeah."
Her eyes perked up and she slid closer to me.
"Cool. Best of luck. Winner is gonna get almost $2 Million."
I nodded and winked. She gently touched my arm.
"So, are you staying here?"
"No, at the Excalibur."
"You know," as she looked around, "it's super crowded here. Do you want to go back to your place for a drink?"
I just didn't fall off of a turnip truck from Moultrie. It wasn't my first time in Vegas. And it wasn't the first time I had been propositioned by a hooker.
"What's your name?"
"Crystal," as she smiled once again.
It figured. I betcha she was a stripper too.
"I'm in the middle of watching this game here," as I pointed up to the multiple TV screens, "I got big bucks on Denver. I really don't have time to haggle with hookers. How much will it cost me to suck my dick and type of six days of notes and journals in Vegas onto my hard drive?"
"And how much for just the blowjob?"
"How much will you charge to do my laundry?"
"Fuck you," she screamed as she smashed her cigarette out onto the bar and shoved past me. The bartender poured me another drink and I watched the game for a few more minutes with an empty seat next to me. A few seconds later, she accidentally nudged my elbow as she grabbed the ashtray. Of course it was no accident, she intended to get my attention.
Tenzin McGrupp is a writer from New York City.