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SYNOPSIS
Las Vegas is the adult fantasyland where any dream is possible no matter how extraordinary. The local Chamber of Commerce promises that in every advertisement. Start out with the chance encounter of an overheard story about a prostitute too good to be true and you may find yourself catching a limousine to the next county over where prostitution is legal just to find out for yourself. But even if she is that one-in-a-million girl everyone is searching for who will give you memories for a lifetime can you be a one-in-a-million man to her in return? Considering what jerks the other men were, and that it is Las Vegas, just maybe anything is possible to someone willing to show a little imagination and a decent work ethic return. The best stories of what happens in Vegas don’t always stay in Vegas.
This title contains graphic language, and sex.
EXTRACT
As I rode in the back of the limousine that smelled of stale cigarettes trying to fight
their way through the overpowering air freshener squirted liberally about, I wondered just
what I was doing here. The bright lights of Las Vegas and my hotel on The Strip had faded
behind me, to be replaced by this dark highway. I still had another forty-five minutes to
go.
Prostitution is illegal in Las Vegas and surrounding Clark County. While that doesn’t
mean it isn’t available, what you’ll find there is clandestine, unregulated, and not
always safe.
For legal, regulated, licensed and inspected sex services you need to travel at least
seventy-five miles into the next county. The various houses and ranches out there have
banded together to solve this problem by offering “free” limousine service to and from
your hotel. It’s not quite as altruistic as it sounds, because you’re quite a captive
audience once you arrive at the other end, but it sounds alluring nonetheless.
You’re not quite a complete captive, since these establishments tend to clump together.
Once you’ve arrived, you can often walk between several of them, sometimes just by
crossing the parking lot. But then again, I wouldn’t be surprised if all the ones that
close weren’t owned by the same person-or mob. That’s how things often work out here.
Now I don’t normally do this kind of thing. In fact, let me think. I’ve done this
exactly-zero-times before. What I’m looking for I feel I’m pretty unlikely to find in any
whorehouse.
But last night I’d been sitting next to these two guys about my age at the bar while one
of them absolutely raved to his buddy about this girl-Star-that he’d had that afternoon.
He kept insisting how his buddy should go back with him the next afternoon for a return
engagement.
“One in a million,” the man had enthused as his buddy nodded. “And I ought to know!”
By the time they got up and left for the Sports Book, I felt I knew every hair and pore
on Star’s unseen body. If she was a fraction of what this man was claiming…
Well, here I am in the limousine, about to find out for myself.
