havoc in the City of Sin.
“I’ll be good. I swear it.” I try to reassure her.
“Pinky swear?”
I smile and offer Olivia my pinky. She wraps her little finger around mine and I lower my head and put my forehead flush against hers. “Pinky swear. I love you, babe. You’ll be hearing from me. And I fully expect you to send me naked pictures of yourself so I can get through the night.”
She smiles and pushes herself away from me, shaking her head. “You’re delusional, but I love you. Have a good time and I’ll see you on Monday.”
Two hours later, I’m lined up in the queue to get on to my plane to Vegas. I think back to the last time I was headed out on a flight. That flight changed my life.
Me: I’m getting ready to board the plan. I can guarantee this flight will be MUCH less exciting. I need my flying partner.
I tuck my phone in my front pocket and hand the gate agent my boarding pass. As I walk down the gangway, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
Olivia: You didn’t ask your flying partner on this trip. You’ll have to make due with no hanky panky on a plane this go-around.
Text me when you land. Love you.
Hanky panky? I do love that girl. I find my row and place my newly purchased Men’s Health and FHM magazines on my seat while I stow my luggage. I have an aisle row in economy plus, but I’m instantly regretting not getting a first class seat. My 6’4” frame just isn’t cut out for these tight seats. Once I’m settled, I send Olivia a final text:
Me: Are you saying that the next time we fly we’ll have sex on a plane? I love you more. xo
I shut my phone off and tuck it back into my pocket to settle in for my flight.
“Welcome to Las Vegas, Nevada where the time is two eighteen and the temperature is a beautiful ninety-two degrees.”
I dig out my phone and turn it on to send Olivia a text.
Me: Just landed. Boring flight. Chick next to me was not nearly as hot as you and refused my advances. Heading to hotel soon to meet up with the guys. xo
Once I’m settled in the cab on the way to the hotel, I check my phone and find a message from Olivia.
Olivia: Glad your new flying partner didn’t work out. Means my spot is secure. Buried under paperwork and green with envy that you’re off having fun. Send me a dick pic later. xxo
I arrive at Caesars Palace, on the heart of the Vegas strip, and check in to my room.
“Mr. Maxwell, I see a note here that Mr. Greyson wanted to be notified when you checked in this afternoon.” The woman assisting with my check in gives me an inquisitive look, but I just smirk.
“He does, does he? Well, by all means, please notify Mr. Greyson that I have arrived.”
“If you’ll follow me to the Augustus VIP room, I’ll let him know.” She motions for me to follow her and I gladly do while shaking my head on the short walk to the secluded room. What is that bastard Greyson up to now?
In the time it took for me to finish my glass of scotch, Greyson arrives. “Owen Maxwell. How the fuck are you, man?” he calls to me as he enters the room. Scott Greyson is dressed to the nines in a dark blue suit, a white and blue small-patterned plaid dress shirt, a silky, solid blue tie, tied in a Windsor knot, and a crisp white pocket square. He looks like money and I’m a tad envious. Standing at 6’2” with a muscular frame, jet black hair and tanned skin, he looks the part for his job as a General Manager of Caesars Palace to a T. As I stand from my plush leather chair, Greyson makes his way toward me. He starts to undo the two buttons on his suit jacket and throws his arms open wide for a hug. I do the same and we greet each other like the old buddies we are.
Scott and I were in the same fraternity at UCLA and have kept in contact over the years. He’s the type of guy that exudes masculinity. Alpha male seeps out of his pours. He wasn’t the most popular friend of the guys in the fraternity because of his explosive temper, but he and I became friends
“I’ll be good. I swear it.” I try to reassure her.
“Pinky swear?”
I smile and offer Olivia my pinky. She wraps her little finger around mine and I lower my head and put my forehead flush against hers. “Pinky swear. I love you, babe. You’ll be hearing from me. And I fully expect you to send me naked pictures of yourself so I can get through the night.”
She smiles and pushes herself away from me, shaking her head. “You’re delusional, but I love you. Have a good time and I’ll see you on Monday.”
Two hours later, I’m lined up in the queue to get on to my plane to Vegas. I think back to the last time I was headed out on a flight. That flight changed my life.
Me: I’m getting ready to board the plan. I can guarantee this flight will be MUCH less exciting. I need my flying partner.
I tuck my phone in my front pocket and hand the gate agent my boarding pass. As I walk down the gangway, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
Olivia: You didn’t ask your flying partner on this trip. You’ll have to make due with no hanky panky on a plane this go-around.
Text me when you land. Love you.
Hanky panky? I do love that girl. I find my row and place my newly purchased Men’s Health and FHM magazines on my seat while I stow my luggage. I have an aisle row in economy plus, but I’m instantly regretting not getting a first class seat. My 6’4” frame just isn’t cut out for these tight seats. Once I’m settled, I send Olivia a final text:
Me: Are you saying that the next time we fly we’ll have sex on a plane? I love you more. xo
I shut my phone off and tuck it back into my pocket to settle in for my flight.
“Welcome to Las Vegas, Nevada where the time is two eighteen and the temperature is a beautiful ninety-two degrees.”
I dig out my phone and turn it on to send Olivia a text.
Me: Just landed. Boring flight. Chick next to me was not nearly as hot as you and refused my advances. Heading to hotel soon to meet up with the guys. xo
Once I’m settled in the cab on the way to the hotel, I check my phone and find a message from Olivia.
Olivia: Glad your new flying partner didn’t work out. Means my spot is secure. Buried under paperwork and green with envy that you’re off having fun. Send me a dick pic later. xxo
I arrive at Caesars Palace, on the heart of the Vegas strip, and check in to my room.
“Mr. Maxwell, I see a note here that Mr. Greyson wanted to be notified when you checked in this afternoon.” The woman assisting with my check in gives me an inquisitive look, but I just smirk.
“He does, does he? Well, by all means, please notify Mr. Greyson that I have arrived.”
“If you’ll follow me to the Augustus VIP room, I’ll let him know.” She motions for me to follow her and I gladly do while shaking my head on the short walk to the secluded room. What is that bastard Greyson up to now?
In the time it took for me to finish my glass of scotch, Greyson arrives. “Owen Maxwell. How the fuck are you, man?” he calls to me as he enters the room. Scott Greyson is dressed to the nines in a dark blue suit, a white and blue small-patterned plaid dress shirt, a silky, solid blue tie, tied in a Windsor knot, and a crisp white pocket square. He looks like money and I’m a tad envious. Standing at 6’2” with a muscular frame, jet black hair and tanned skin, he looks the part for his job as a General Manager of Caesars Palace to a T. As I stand from my plush leather chair, Greyson makes his way toward me. He starts to undo the two buttons on his suit jacket and throws his arms open wide for a hug. I do the same and we greet each other like the old buddies we are.
Scott and I were in the same fraternity at UCLA and have kept in contact over the years. He’s the type of guy that exudes masculinity. Alpha male seeps out of his pours. He wasn’t the most popular friend of the guys in the fraternity because of his explosive temper, but he and I became friends
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