Page 42 of Tequila & Lace
“I guess it could be worse like,” he paused for a beat, “dingleberry.”
I laughed—hard. My stomach clenching and tears pricking my eyes. If I didn’t stop, I would have to fix my makeup and for sure be late for my date. “Dingleberry?” I finally said, still with laughter in my voice.
“Do you know what a dingleberry is?”
I chuckled again at the visual. “I do, and if you want me to call you a turd, I will.”
He kissed my lips. “Sugar lips is better.”
“Good. Now I’m really going to be late.” I pushed on his chest so he would let me up off the couch.
He kissed me one last time.
When I was walking out the door, he yelled, “Are you sure you don’t want to blow me for luck first?”
After valet parking, I walked into the Palazzo and found my way to the LAVO Lounge where I was meeting Derrick. My back office instructions said that he would be waiting for me before we hit the tables. The LAVO Lounge has a bar and restaurant on one side and a nightclub on the other. I’d been told it could get pretty steamy on the dance floor.
When I entered the swank, dimly lit bar, I scanned it for Derrick. The lounge could be described as a modern day speakeasy with deep crimson plush furnishings, rich woods throughout, and high back chairs to make any man feel like a king. I spotted Derrick sitting at the bar, dressed in a pair of dark slacks and a charcoal grey button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He was definitely easy on the eyes and I questioned why he would hire an escort. He’d mentioned he had a wife at home.
He turned and smiled. “Andi with an I.” He stood and I leaned in to kiss his cheek.
“Hello, sweetie.”
“Baby girl, I’m anything but sweet.”
“Is that right?”
He winked. “Maybe you’ll find out.” I laughed, ignoring the innuendo. “Margarita again?” He nodded to his drink and that’s when I saw his forearm and the dragon tattoo sticking out of the rolled up sleeve.
In his suit, Derrick looked like a well-dressed business man, but underneath I would bet he was tatted up. Not everyone is who they appear to be. Some people will do anything to appear to be the perfect person on the outside.
“Yes, on the rocks with salt please.”
“I remember.” He nodded to the bartender.
I sat in the empty chair and waited for my drink. “So, what kind of business are you in town for?”
With a straight face he answered, “Porn.”
I laughed. “Well, we are in Vegas after all, but I wasn’t expecting that answer. What are you an actor?” I glanced down at his tattoo and then back up to his eyes.
His gaze followed mine and he laughed. “No, I’m only kidding. I’m a salesman trying to get our shit in every hotel on the strip.”
The bartender placed my drink in front of me and I took a sip. “What kind of shit?”
“The toiletries in the hotel rooms.”
“Really? That’s cool.”
“Not really.” He laughed and took a pull of his beer. “But I don’t want to talk about work, Andi with an I.” He grabbed a piece of my long dark brown hair, twirling the end then releasing it.
I smiled. “Other than strip clubs, what’s a man like you do for fun in Sin City?”
“I only gamble with a lucky charm because I always lose, and I hate going to the corny shows by myself, so I just like to look at tits and ass.” His gaze roamed up and down my legs then rested on my boobs before finally my eyes as he waited for my response.
I grabbed my drink, took the final sips and stood, ready to get the show on the road.
The cheers of people could be heard all around us as we walked toward the tables of the Palazzo. People smoked cigarettes, drank and bumped into us—basically it was your typical Saturday night in Vegas.
