The House Always Wins - 3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

I arrived downstairs, once again prepared to find another bus to take me further away. The lobby had little more than a handful of guests, so I went to the front-desk to check myself out, waving Carly’s help away and handing her the key to the room I'd been staying in for the last four days.

“Thanks, but you’ve done enough already.”

I hugged her and thanked her once again. Then I hoisted my backpack up once again and was about ready to leave when my eye fell on the entrance to the casino, where the well-known sounds of slot machines were coming from.

Somehow I felt drawn to it, as is anyone at some point, and what the heck; five bucks, ten at the most. Carly was already walking away at a brisk pace on some other errant, her cell-phone shoved between shoulder and ear while combating her PDA at the same time. She was lost from view as I entered the gambling hall.

I placed my backpack beside me on the floor and took $10 out of my wallet, feeding the one armed bandit in front of me. These days, they're all computerized, half the fun is gone, I'm afraid, but it would do. And it did! On the first try, wham! $100. Ding, ding, ding.

Maybe this hadn't been such a bad idea after all! If I could make a few more hits like this, my money problem wouldn't be much of a problem for a while. I could look for a job in the meantime, living off of the proceeds from today's winnings.

**********

An hour later that idea was shot to hell, and what more, I wouldn't even be able to take the bus out of this hellhole. I still couldn't believe it: $500 lost and gone.

Somewhere along the way, when playing slots, I got overconfident. After playing the dollar machine for about fifteen minutes, and not winning another single dime, I moved to another machine, a $5 one. On the third I hit $50, so my spirits rose a little. Two hits later, another $50.

Afraid to repeat the same mistake with the last machine, I moved again, this time to a $25 one. Hey, no pain, no gain, right? Remember that overconfidence I talked about? There's also this feeling that tells you one more time. Come on, you can do it.

Well, I couldn't. And if I were to ever have a dollar in my wallet again, I'd never go near another slot machine. It was my own fault, I knew that. I chided myself, over and over, looking at the machine with sadness. Then I sighed and felt for the last $10 in my pocket. Oh well... as a final farewell to this money-eating establishment, I walked out to the first lounge I could find, and sat down on a stool at the bar, off to the side, and ordered a plain soda.

There were three couples sitting at the bar, a few tables were occupied by older people, and two larger groups had taken over the couches. I recognized one group from a comment that one of the hotel employees had made: bankers.

Apparently there was some sort of convention going on, and the entire hotel was pretty much booked to capacity. The employee had no idea that I was listening in on the conversation, but she told one of her colleagues that she had been to three different rooms on three separate nights so far.

I think I even recognized one of her nightly adventures, because of the goatee that one of the men sported. He was the only one who had one, and she was right; he was cute. I guessed around thirty. Most of the men in the group were pretty young, from the looks of it; I didn't believe there was one over forty.

One of them rose from the couch and walked to the bar, and I followed him with my eyes; it was hard not to. This guy was gorgeous. At least 6'5, but probably taller. Endless legs, small ass (as far as I could tell, since most of it was covered by his jacket), and broad shoulders.
I couldn't tell the color of his eyes; it was too dark to make them out. He laughed at something one of his group yelled after him, and I got a glimpse of two rows of blindingly white teeth. He wore a pastel green suit, which fit him very well, a white shirt, and a blue-grey tie. He had to walk past where I was sitting, and as he went by, he glanced to where I sat, and slowed a little when I put my empty glass down on the bar.

I smiled when he nodded to me, and he smiled back.

I kept following him with my eyes, to check out his other side and wasn't disappointed. Normally I'm not so superficial, but give me a break, okay? When you see eye candy like that, you simply lose control over some of your faculties.

A few minutes later he returned, and again he smiled. He had a great smile. Some people shouldn't be allowed to walk around with so much going for them, ya know?

I ordered another soda, and kept watching the other people, but my eyes were constantly drawn to this guy. He talked a lot with his hands, and was very animated; not loud, though. I couldn't hear anything they were saying.

After about an hour, most of his group stood up and left, leaving only three behind, and I was glad to see that the guy was still one of the three remaining. Why was I glad about that? I wondered about it for a while. I think it was just physical attraction.

I kept observing the three guys, watching one of the waitresses look up when Mr. Pastel called her over. She was only too glad to do so, overdoing her hip movements and putting on her most seductive pout. I wasn't the only one in the room who thought he was hot.

I frowned when she listened to him, quickly glanced in my direction, and then reluctantly nodded. She walked back to the bar, got their order and then, instead of taking it back to their table, the waitress came over and set a new drink in front of me.

"Compliments of the hot blond one," she said, winking at me. Then she leaned in close and her voice was low and soft. "No offense, but it's just a damn shame. All you cute guys are either married or gay."

I uttered something like "none taken," and risked a glance at the three men. Two were talking to each other but Mr. Pastel was looking straight at me, lifting his bottle of beer in silent salute. I picked up my drink and returned it, then drank almost half of it in one gulp.

To my surprise he kept his gaze at me, pretty much ignoring his colleagues, who were in some sort of discussion. He took slow sips of his beer, licking his lips after each sip, and sitting back, relaxed. His other arm was loosely resting on the armrest, a hand on his leg. At first I didn't notice it, because I was too busy looking away when it got a bit too familiar. Yes, I'm shy at times, okay?

But then I noticed the hand on his leg, moving up and down slowly, so as to not attract any attention from his two friends. Not that they'd see all that much, most of it was hidden from their view. But that hand was definitely going somewhere. Like I said, at first I didn't notice it, but once it had my attention, it pretty much stayed there. It slowly crept up to his crotch, resting there while he responded to a question.
Then the thumb began to move up and down the crotch. When he slowly turned his head back, taking a sip as he did so, I knew he was coming on to me, big time, and there was definitely something growing down there.

Then he nodded to me, just barely, and winked, and then motioned up with his eyes. In his other hand he held a room keycard.

Oh damn... did he want me to...

He rose from his chair and said something to his colleagues, and then came over, stopping right beside me.

"How much?" he whispered, without looking at me.

"How much what?" I asked back, frowning.

"For the entire night... you and me, what do you say? How much... $500?"

I almost spit out my last sip and my heart was thudding wildly in my chest. Was he offering me money to sleep with him?

"I ... ahh ..."

"Alright, $1000, but you'd better be good, and for that kind of money, I want bareback." A thousand dollars! Oh man... I could really use it. But... what the hell was bareback?

"Okay," I said, not believing I was actually going to do this. "A thousand. Up front." If he was going to pay me for it, then I wanted to make sure I'd get it.

"No. $500 now and $500 after."

He pulled out his wallet, and plunked down five hundreds without so much as blinking. I saw even more where that came from, so I knew he'd be good for it.

"Alright..."

I pocketed the $500 and followed him out the bar, passing the desk in the lobby. That's as far as we got; from behind, a hand gripped my elbow, and none too gently. When I looked up, my eyes met with a pair of startling blue ones.

"What do you think you're doing, hmm? Hustling in my hotel? I don't think so."

I had no idea who he was but he was tall, though not as tall as Mr. Pastel, and broader. I'm only 5'8 but he towered over me by being at least 6'3.

"And you, Sir..." the man spoke with a posh British accent, addressing Mr. Pastel, "are lucky. But please; next time, try to not show the contents of your wallet so publicly."

Then I was pulled, or more like guided by force, to a door marked ‘Personnel only'. He yanked it open and pushed me through.

"Where are you taking me," I asked, "let me go. I didn't do anything wrong."

"Oh please, don't insult my intelligence. It's all captured on camera. So we're going to my office, we're going to have a nice chat, and wait for the police to arrive, so they can arrest you for soliciting."