Las Vegas

I was given another glass of Cristal and snacked on some delicious pate and croutons. They told me that I could wait here for Sara and Nichole.

A couple of minutes later the woman who had given me a pedicure walked in. She looked over her shoulder as she did so.

"Hello Miss," she said. She kept the door open but at the same time seemed a little nervous.

"Hi," I replied with a smile. I re-crossed my legs, which I consider my second best asset since they are well tanned and well toned, long and shapely and took a sip from my glass. I looked down at my toes, which peeked out the end of my heels. "I just love what you did."

"The pleasure was all mine Miss," she almost whispered, blushing slightly. "In fact," she reached into the pocket of her smock and took out a card, which she held out, "if you ever want another pedicure I would hope you would ask for me. In fact, we don't advertise it much, but we do provide a service where we can come up to your hotel room and provide whatever services you require."

I took her card and looked at it. It had all the information on it of the salon and only her first name, Maria. I turned it over and saw she had written a telephone number on the back.

She seemed very nervous now. She looked over her shoulder again to make sure no one else was within earshot. "That is just in case you should need anything when I am not here. We are open 24 hours but if you want me specifically that would be the best way to contact me. I do more than just pedicures you know."

It seemed that Maria had said more than she wished to because now she really blushed and turned away.

"Oh I am sure you do, in fact, I was really wishing there was more I could get done today, but my friends are in a bit of a hurry." I replied, amazed at my own daring.

Just then Sara, Nichole and the owner of the salon appeared in the doorway. Maria smiled at me one last time and said, "Well Miss, like I said, it was a pleasure to serve you today and I hope to see you again." She excused herself and left the room. Sara raised an eyebrow as she saw me tucking the card away in my purse.

I thanked the owner for the wonderful service she and her staff had provided and she said the pleasure was all theirs.

"Sara is an old and dear friend, and we always seek to please her friends." The owner smiled, as she looked me over. "And to be of service to such a beautiful young woman is an even greater pleasure."

I blushed and couldn't help feeling awkward. My bravado of a couple of minutes ago was now completely gone as I felt like a shy little girl. I could feel goose bumps rising on my skin as what seemed like a chill went through me. My nipples hardened and were easily visible through my dress. This time however it was through embarrassment and not arousal.

The owner smiled as she saw my reaction and didn't try and hide the fact she was looking at my breasts and erect nipples. "If I can ever be of service in any other way, Sara has my number."

Sara gave her a smile and as they kissed goodbye she whispered something in her ear. Nichole then took my hand and led me out of the room and to the waiting limo.

"What was that all about?" Nichole said as we were walking to the limo.

"Oh, nothing," I replied with a little smirk. "She just wanted to make sure that I enjoyed my pedicure and to tell me that if I ever wanted another one that I should make sure to ask for her."

Nichole raised an eyebrow and looked at me. I smiled knowing for once I had put one over or both her and Sara. I doubted I would ever get a chance to call Maria for a more private pedicure, but the idea that of doing it certainly intrigued me. I wondered privately where else she had piercings and body art.

Nichole and I got in the limo and Sara joined us a minute later. I thanked them both for the trip to the salon.

"It was worth it," Sara said. "You look luscious." Sara had a way of exaggerating everything, but in this case I had to agree with her. In this dress, with this makeover I must agree, I looked good enough to eat. And something told me that before the night was over, at least one of the two women I was with would make sure that happened.

Our next stop was a place called Nora's. After the trip to the salon it was almost disappointing as we drove up. I was expecting some grand restaurant in one of the casinos. Instead this place was a small cafe in a strip mall, far from the Strip. Sara said she had ate here everytime she came to Vegas and that she felt it had the best Italian food west of Chicago and East of San Francisco.

She was right. What this place lacked in flash it made up for by presenting some of the best food I had ever had anywhere. I felt a little out of place, all dressed up, but Nora made me feel like I was a long lost daughter. She was an older Italian woman, who Sara had told me immigrated from the old country. She used only homemade pasta and the freshest ingredients. We started with a bottle of Italian red wine and a plate of fried squid, or calamari fritte as Nora called it. After that we had the antipasto and then I had the most delicious pasta dish I had ever had in my life. It was linguini covered in a sauce of olive oil, capers, green olives and other delicious ingredients. And the size of the plate was enormous. Even with not eating since breakfast, and being very hungry, I couldn't even finish half of it.

When dinner was finished, Nora, like the Italian woman she was, still wanted to feed me. I was too full for dessert, and had had one to many glasses of wine already, so I accepted her recommendation of an espresso. Like everything else it was excellent, and so strong that it actually helped clear some of the fuzziness the wine had brought to my head.

Over the espresso Sara told me a little more about the party we were to go to. She said it was at the MGM grand and that it was for the big fight they were having there. She knew the manager of the 'room' and we would have great seats. She also told me that I could expect to see all sorts of celebrities both from the world of entertainment and sports, and that I shouldn't walk around with my mouth hanging open all night. I was to have fun, but to also remember that the people there were there more to be seen than to have fun. We were going to have fun, but not everyone there would be approachable or even civil if you weren't "somebody." I also was to under no circumstances ask for an autograph.

I listened intently and suddenly felt quite inadequate. I knew Sara knew people, but I suddenly wished she hadn't told me so much about the party. My excitement had suddenly turned to nervousness.

Isabelle brought the limo around front and Sara said goodbye to Nora. She promised to visit the restaurant on her next trip to Vegas. We all climbed in the limo and headed back towards the Strip. I suddenly realized it was almost midnight. Where had the night gone I wondered.

When we arrived at the MGM it was like we were rolling up to some Hollywood Awards Ceremony. The line of limos waiting to let off their passengers must have be twenty to thirty deep. And most were even bigger than the one we were in, and a lot were SUV limos, something I had only seen once or twice before in my life.

As we waited Nichole poured me another glass of champagne. I downed it quickly hoping to calm my nerves a little. She poured me another and this one I sipped slowly, determined not to get drunk and make a fool out of myself.. I had a mild buzz now, but not enough to be called drunk.

Finally it was our turn to unload. Isabelle pulled up to the curb and a mountain of a man opened the door for us. We got out and flashbulbs popped, until the photographers decided we weren't anyone important or famous. Several of the men behind the ropes wolf whistled as I was helped out of the limo by Mr. Mountain. His hand was so huge that mine was almost completely lost in it. I had never seen a man who was that big before in my life. He not only seemed like he was almost 7 feet tall, but he was a true mountain of muscle. If he had a neck, I certainly didn't see it.

Sara said something to the man at the door, who was almost a twin in size to the man who had helped me out of the limo, and he quickly checked his list and let us in. This entrance was more private, not leading us through the casino, and I suddenly found myself looking down on a large room, about half full right now. We were at the top of this beautiful staircase. I was amazed not only the people who I saw in there, celebrities of all sorts, but also by the place itself. It had a huge dance floor; tables and booths scattered about and was just what one would have thought of if you went into one of the exclusive clubs you had heard about it. Even the staircase was something special. It looked to be made of all glass. Suddenly I remembered I was not wearing underwear, as I looked through the staircase, and at all the people seated at tables and in booths that were directly underneath it.

"Umm, Nichole," I whispered in her ear. "I can't walk down that."

"Sure you can, what is your problem? You haven't had that much to drink." She started down. Sara was already two steps ahead of us, following someone who I assumed was taking us to our table.

"I mean I don't have any panties on. Look at all those people down there."

Nichole laughed. "Suddenly shy? That is not like you. Usually you love to show off."

She pulled away and followed Sara.

Now I was stuck. I was at the top of this staircase and Sara and Nichole were half way down already. I looked around and everyone seemed to be busy talking, dancing or drinking. Oh what the hell I figured and I started walking down the stairs thinking that no one would notice.

How wrong I was. As soon as I started down the stairs I noticed a table of what looked like athletes looking up. They had obviously taken that table specifically for the view, because later in the night I noticed that any time a young woman in a short dress started down the stairs, their eyes went immediately upward. Now I was going from embarrassed to a little mad. I knew men would do anything to get a glance at a woman's crotch, and that most athletes were worse than most men, but these guys were just down right pigs.

"Okay, you want a show, I will give you a show." I said to myself. "I will give you a show that will make you want something that you, nor any other man, will ever get a chance to touch."

Nichole had turned around to check that I was following her when I pretended to stop and fix my shoe. I turn around on the stairs and put one foot on the higher stair and pretended to adjust my shoe. I did this right over the table of athletes so I know they would get a good view. I spent a long time working on the shoe, even removing it and pretending something was wrong inside it. Every eye on that table was looking up now, and even some more men had been called over. I pretended to not notice anything that was going on down below me. Finally, when I knew they had gotten themselves an eyeful, and some of them probably had something else full, I finally finished 'adjusting my shoe' and continued down the stairs.

"What was that all about," Nichole asked when I reached her.

"Oh, just something in my shoe I guess," I told her.

She glanced over at the table of now hooting, hollering and slobbering pigs and raised an eyebrow as she looked at me. "Don't start anything that you might not want to finish," she grabbed my arm and hurried me to catch up to Sara.

We were seated at what had to be one of the better tables in the place. We were near the dance floor but far enough away that we didn't have people dancing on top of us. The entire place was sort of tiered, with four tiers that went out in more or less concentric circles from the dance floor. We were on the second tier and had a great view of everything that was going on. The DJ was just off to our right, and apparently he was some hotshot himself because he had several celebrities and what looked like groupies hanging out around him, we had a view of the staircase so we could see everyone who entered and everyone in the place could see us. There was already a bottle of champagne in a bucket waiting for us and three glasses were quickly poured. Sara smiled as she looked around. She was definitely in her element.

We weren't there more than two minutes when a waitress brought over another bottle of champagne. She said it was from the table of 'gentlemen' over under the stairs. Gentlemen my ass!!!!! Well, actually that is what those 'gentlemen' were interested in, my ass, or my pussy at least.

Sara looked at me and raised an eyebrow. She then looked that the location of the table and smiled. She knew what was going on and she approved. Sara loved teasing men as much as I did, the only difference was that she would also sleep with them, something I had never done and had no plans of doing.

Well, at least for a bunch of pigs they had good taste, even if it was unimaginative, they had sent over a bottle of 1989 Dom Perignon. I raised my glass to them and crossed my legs, letting my short skirt ride up high on my thigh. I must admit, with all the beautiful women around, all the celebrities and models, all the showgirls and 'escorts' I did enjoy the fact that these men had noticed me, even if it was because they had a great view of my shaved mound through a glass staircase.

I was in awe of all the people I saw at the party. Some of the most beautiful, if surgically enhanced and sculptured, women I had ever seen were there. They were wearing some of the most beautiful clothes I had ever seen, as well as some of the most revealing. Besides their clothing, many were wearing tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of dollars in jewelry around their necks, hanging from their ears, on their wrists and fingers. I saw one woman who even had a pierced belly button with what had to be a five-carat diamond attached to the stud. Almost all the women there were young and beautiful, even if most of the men were well past their prime. But the main difference was that while almost every woman was beautiful, it was just as easy to tell that almost every man there was rich, and some very much richer than others. One rather old, rather fat and rather ugly man was sharing his table with six women, all probably less than twenty, all very beautiful and all probably making a very nice amount of cash for one evenings work.

After we had been there a few minutes one of the guys from the table under the stairs came over to ask me to dance. I recognized him immediately as a member of one of the Phoenix sports teams. The stories about him around town were legendary. He was married, but that didn't seem to stop him from visiting many of the dance clubs and singles spots around town. He even had gotten in trouble once at a club that had erotic dancers. Apparently one of the dancers boyfriends had not appreciated the attention his girlfriend was getting from this guy and ended up getting thrown through a window when he tried to get this guy to leave her alone. It never made the daily papers but was common knowledge throughout the town.

"Hi," it was easy to see that the had been drinking, perhaps a little too much, "enjoying the champagne?" He pulled up a chair and sat down right next to me.

I looked at Sara and Nichole, unsure what to do. "Yes we are," Sara piped in. He never even looked at her, instead staring first at my face, then at my breasts. "In fact, we were just talking about what a good taste you have in champagne. 1989, a very good year."

I don't think he ever heard a word Sara had said. His eyes now were checking out my legs and he pulled his chair a little closer to me. He put his hand on my knee, perhaps more to steady himself as he leaned closer to me than to just cop a feel of my leg. His beery breath exploded in my face as he thought he was whispering to me, "Why don't you and I head out to the dance floor, where we might get to know each other a little better."

I could tell Sara had just about had enough of this oaf. But at the same time she was enjoying my obvious discomfort. Nichole on the other hand was obviously wishing this guy would just leave. I had seen her jealous before and that look was starting to seep into her eyes. I moved his hammy hand off of my leg and looked over at Sara wondering what I should do.

"Why don't you two young people go have some fun," Sara said, sounding much like a caring aunt and not what she really was.

That was all he needed as his hammy hand grasped my upper arm and virtually carried me to the dance floor. I looked back over my shoulder to Nichole. My eyes said please help me. Sara just grabbed her wrist and held her tight. My eyes shifted to Sara with a look that said I would get her back for this.

Once we reached the dance floor I was very happy to see that it was fast music, even though this did not keep him from putting his hands on me every chance he got. I don't know if it was just that he was drunk but although he was a pro athlete, he moved more like an elephant with an inner ear problem on the dance floor than someone who made his living with his body. Not only did he keep grabbing at me, he kept bumping into other people on the dance floor.

I must say even with this ox on the dance floor with me it was an amazing place to be. I had never been so close to so many people I had seen only on TV or in magazine before. She had won a Grammy. He was a hot new actor. She was a Playboy Playmate who married that famous guy. There were the two famous women who I had heard rumors about in the lesbian community dancing together. He played for the World Champions. I sort of lost myself in my surroundings while Mr. Stumblebum continued to make a fool out of himself..

Just my luck however, the music changed from a hip-hop beat to a slow dance.. Most couples left the floor, and I went to do so also when he grabbed me and pulled me towards him. He was so strong that even when I tried pulling away he simply held me, firmly, not hurting me, but sending a clear signal that he wanted to dance to this song.

We started to sway to the music and I felt lost in just the physical size of this man. I am not a small woman, but he was so much larger than me that I felt like he was wrapping himself around me. At first things went okay, even though his breath was almost too much to take. But soon things started to go bad. With one hand he pressed my face into his chest while his other hand started to paw at me. He ran his fingers along the sides of my breasts. Then he grabbed my ass. I tried to pull away but he just held me tighter. I was having trouble breathing as I could feel his hand reaching under my dress. Oh my god, not just under it, he was lifting it up.

I tried to push away but couldn't. He had me held tight and as his hand reached down and started pulling up my dress I tried to hit him but it was like hitting a brick wall. Any second now my entire ass would be in view of everyone in the club and this guys hammy hand was trying to force its way between my legs. I tried to push his hand away but all that seemed to do is make him more determined.

Suddenly, something happened. I felt a smaller hand grab my arm as I felt the huge mass of muscle let go of me and start falling away. I quickly smoothed out my skirt in back as I watched, in seemingly slow motion, the mountain fall. Remember the saying, the bigger they are, the harder they fall, it is true. Not only did he fall slowly, but when he hit the entire dance floor shook. He lay there blinking his eyes and looking around, unsure of what happened. I looked down at the hand that had kept me from falling over and realized it belonged to one of the two women I spoke about earlier. She, whom I will call LT and her friend who I will refer to as DB had stayed on the dance floor and were dancing next to us.