She quickly turned to face the sound of the radio announcer.
“Oh…hello…and yes, yes it is absolutely gorgeous!” said Bailey.
“You surprised me…I didn’t expect to see you…here” She continued.
There was silence. Bailey hated the dead air. A radio announcer should hate it even more she thought. She scavenged her mind for something meaningful and sophisticated to say.
“Sometimes words aren’t necessary…don’t you agree Ms Winters?” he said.
“Of course…yes, I do. Sometimes silence communicates the best ideas. But of course, sometimes people need words to truly express themselves. But only if they are the right words, sometimes it’s difficult to pick the right words…and when you don’t pick the right words...” Bailey’s words trailed off. She was babbling and they both knew it.
“So…is this the beginning or the end of your explorations this evening?” John asked.
Relieved at the change in the conversation, Bailey said, “What’s Sin City without a little sin. I was planning to hit a few casinos. I’m not really a gambler, I love to watch…but it’s more exciting if you have some skin in the game.”
“Meeting anyone this evening?” said John,
“No…my co-workers had other plans. I’m taking in the sites solo this evening.” Bailey said with surprising casualness. Did she really say she was available? Did she imply she had space in her evening—and her head--to accommodate this stranger—a charming one—but still a stranger? A stranger…the one who could describe her red-thong covered crotch before she knew his name? A stranger who knew just how wide she could spread her legs when necessary? Yes, yes and yes.
John leaned in closer. The radio voice, with the silver grey hair, fuchsia tie and dashing smile said, “Mind if I join you?”
Fear of babbling left her speechless. Bailey nodded in agreement, sealing her decision with a smile.
“I’m honored…let’s start here at the Bellagio and work our way up the strip.” John said.
It is said, the house ultimately wins. The Bellagio did, and so did the other casinos they drifted through. They never put more than fifty dollars on the Black Jack table at any one time. Alas, neither of them walked away with a windfall.
Woven among the laughter, stories and feigned disappointment at their losses, Bailey became comfortable in John’s company. During one of her particularly gleeful moments, she squealed and bounced up and down in her dangerously high heels. John placed a protective hand around her waist and left it there. She allowed it to stay.
He found other transparent reasons to touch her…to hold her. She encouraged him.
Over the next few hours, their often animated conversation ran from topic to topic. While they shared coffee at a Starbucks, they explored the impact of Steve Jobs on the global economy. Bailey was not interested in Steve Jobs at that moment. They could have been discussing Henry Kissinger's sex appeal and she would still have been smiling into John's eyes.
John caressed her shoulders while they relaxed on a luxurious sofa at Caesar’s Palace. Nanotechnology was the subject this time. His son owned a startup focusing on applying this technology to blood-borne diseases.
Travel was the next topic thoroughly explored during their stroll through Paris in Las Vegas. Bailey traveled for work mostly—hitting the traditional commercial centers—New York, Los Angeles, London and her most exotic site Singapore. John’s list seemed was different. He shared highlights of his travels to Australia’s Ayers Rock, Chichen Itza in Mexico, and India’s Mahabodhi Tree. Bailey did not babble. She was sacredly quiet.
Spiritual. Yes, that was it. That was the word to describe this incredibly fascinating gentleman.
He gave a special reverence to everything he spoke about. His deliberate and evenly placed words lent an ethereal quality to the ideas he conveyed. Even when he spoke of his wife of twenty-seven years, whom he had lost four years earlier, he used the word “transition.” It took Bailey a few moments to realize he meant she had actually died.
Meditation. Infinite intelligence. Sacred Love. These concepts were casually sprinkled through John’s conversation over the hours they spent together. Bailey had only a fleeting knowledge of these concepts. She loved the sound of his voice.
He could have been talking about imported manure and she still would have listened intently. She usually focused on return on investment, pay per click, A/B Split testing, B2B, Q Score and other concepts that fueled her marketing furnace.
This was different.
She nestled her head on his chest as they filled the overstuffed chair in the darkened lounge. She toyed with his tie, letting it slide up and down between her fingers. Fuchsia…it was such an odd color for this chronologically gifted man.
She felt his fingers beneath her chin as her face was turned to meet his eyes. His lips touched hers with featherlike precision. Working from one corner, he spread his hot breath and warm lips across her partly opened mouth. Her eyelids fluttered their excitement in anticipation. He moved to her eyelids and planted petal kisses. Her eyelids closed and relaxed. She could see him only in her mind.
John turned her head and with a raspy whisper he said, “Tired? Will you rest with me?”
Yes and yes. Bailey’s eyes answered before her mouth could form the words. They retired to his suite.
The large jetted tub was filled with bubbles. Their fragrance filled the candlelit room.
As he undressed her he said, “A gift should be lovingly unwrapped---the excitement of the gift should be savored. “
Her clothes slipped from her body. Her panties gently vanished from her crotch and appeared cupped like a flower in his large hands. He pressed them to his face and savored the fragrance while his brown eyes pierced her very being.
Bailey searched her mind for something poetic to say, but fear of babbling kept her silent. She reached for him.
She undressed him as slowly as she dared. She removed his tie and gently folded it across the stuffed chair. Her breast swayed as she stepped up to him. As he watched her, she removed his belt, unbuckled his pants, eased her hand inside the waistband of his underwear and pushed them down to his knees. As she did so, she was struck—literally and figuratively—by the release of his rock-hard erection.
She fondled him gently and began to lower herself to her knees.
John used his hand to guide Bailey’s face up to his, where he traced around her mouth with his tongue. He escorted her to the tub with his arm around her waist. He steadied her into the sudsy water. He joined her.
They bathed together, while his fingers explored every inch of her body. He massaged her feet, legs, thighs and her firm butt cheeks. She slowly parted her knees. He continued to massage the outside of her thighs and the rounded mounds, now surrounded by a carpet of bubbles.
She turned toward him in the tub, got on her knees and leaned in to kiss him. He accepted her kiss and began to move his tongue in circles around her mouth. She pulled away and kissed his shoulder, then his hairless chest.