the Loose Slots Tour part 3

On Saturday morning, we all lazily rolled out of bed and began the laborious process of clearing our heads. Spock took off around 9AM, but we promised to call him before our big night so he could join in the festivities. It took a while to get ready, since three women + one bathroom = tight squeeze, but we were finally fit for public viewing and ready for some grub. We had breakfast at the café downstairs, and then K took off on her own while Susan and I strolled the Strip, stopping here and there to gamble and gawk. We got ice cream in Paris (pistachio for me, coffee with chocolate-covered coffee beans for her) and watched people laughing hysterically over the mime walking around teasing tourists.

“Boy, they’re really grooving on the mime,” Susan said.

I stared at her in awe. “That would be the best euphemism for masturbation ever. From now on, I shall refer to it as grooving on the mime.”

There’s a place on the Strip that rents luxury cars, and they had an Elvis impersonator, complete with spangled white jumpsuit and huge aviator glasses, standing by a red convertible. We knew we had to pose with him, so after a nice woman agreed to take a picture, we flanked him and he put his arms around us. “Put your heads on mah chest, little mamas,” he crooned, and we laughed and complied.

At 4PM, we met up with K at the room, and took short naps before changing into our hottest duds. I started out wearing my dragon dress (a black silk floor-length dress printed with blue dragons and slit up the side), but for some reason it didn’t look right to me, and I thought it might be uberlame to show up at Imperial Palace looking like the hostess for Ming’s. Fortunately, I had brought a backup outfit, and I put it on: a pretty floral halter dress with a ruffly hem. K chose a sweater, black skirt, and her supersexy black stiletto-heeled bitch boots, and Susan went with a printed top with lace sleeves, jeans, and high-heeled boots. While we were getting around, we realized that the pirate show had started, and even though we couldn’t hear the dialogue (which was no loss, from what I understand), we could see the boat sinking and the fireworks from our window.

Worried about a potentially hostile reaction to Spock at Olympic Gardens (a notorious dual-level strip club that features female dancers on the ground floor and male dancers on the upper level), I decided to give them a call.

“Olympic Gardens, may I help you?”

“Uh, yes,” I began. “I’m not really sure how to phrase this without sounding insulting, but I’m coming to your establishment tonight with a group of gay, lesbian, and bisexual friends, and I just wanted to make sure they would be treated cordially.”

“Oh, of course, no problem. Women can go anywhere and get lapdances from anyone, although men who go upstairs, where the male dancers are, must be accompanied by a woman, and they cannot get lapdances from our male dancers.”

Crap…there went my gleeful visions of watching Spock get a lapdance…but at least I knew he’d be able to enjoy the eye candy.

Once we were all tarted up, we hopped into a cab and rode over to Imperial Palace. K accidentally gave the people in line for a cab a squirrel shot, but those boys weren’t complaining one bit! There was some confusion as to where everyone was meeting up, but once we got it settled, we had time to get dinner at the Seahouse. I had quite possibly the best filet mignon of my life, which was made even better by dipping it into béarnaise sauce. Oh yeah. I topped it off with crème brulee and a glass of red wine and was squirming around with delight. At one point, I picked up a fork from the table using only my cleavage, to the delight of K and Susan and the confused stares of our waiter.

After we finished eating, we sat in the lounge area and soon Luna, A, Supergirl, J, and TR showed up and we talked for a while. Unfortunately, Luna and A had to head back home, so we hugged them goodbye. We cabbed it over to Olympic Gardens, paid our $20 cover charge, and went inside. We found a table and sat down to watch the dancers ply their trade. Spock arrived about fifteen minutes later, and once he sat down we all ordered drinks.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, trying to get everyone’s attention without being too obvious. “Check it out.”

Surreptitiously, everyone turned to see what I was flicking my eyes at. A pretty young stripper was bending over a table while a man kneaded her ass as though preparing pizza dough, and she stared straight ahead chomping on her gum, looking for all the world as bored and complacent as a cow being milked. It was one of those things that was both funny and sad at the same time, like a clown falling into a combine. It finally became too depressing to watch any further, so we headed upstairs to where the boys were.

“Oooooweeee, girl!” Susan said. “Did you notice that guy staring at you when you walked past him?”

“In a good way or a bad way?” I asked.

“Oh, please. In a very good way.”

Beam! I knew I looked money with my cleavage and my legs and my hair in a chicly messy updo, but to get attention in a room full of half-naked women? Talk about an ego boost!

Upstairs was pretty much the exact opposite of downstairs; we had barely even walked in the doorway when two shirtless dancers came over and said hello. We grabbed a couch, and within seconds a dancer came over and asked if I wanted a lapdance. I politely declined, as he wasn’t my type, saying that I had just gotten there and wanted a chance to get my bearings. As soon as he walked away, I turned to talk to Susan, but our conversation was interrupted when someone put their hand on my shoulder. I turned around, thinking it was Spock, but imagine my surprise when I found a jockstrap-clad dingly-dangly at eye level.

Hello!

“A little present for you, sweetie!” Spock shouted as the dancer began running his hands over my shoulders, then down to my sides and over my breasts. I shivered as he danced around me, touching and teasing me, and I immediately sat on my hands.

Must not touch...I have a fantastic boyfriend...I have a fantastic boyfriend...sweet Jesus I WANT TO TOUCH THE HEINIE!

I could resist no longer. I grabbed two handfuls of sweet cheek meat and moaned in ecstasy. I spanked him so hard my hand stung, and he said, “Yeah, baby, you like that, don’t you? I’ve been so naughty.”

Spock yelled, “And she’s the shy one!”

After he finished tormenting me, the dancer kissed me on the cheek and then shook Spock’s hand and said something I didn’t catch. Spock replied, “It was as much for me as it was for her!” and the dancer winked and said, “I know.”

I bought a lapdance for K, and then one for Susan, and enjoyed watching their reactions. K slyly sent a dancer Supergirl’s way, and she shrieked, “No, don’t touch me, I’m a lesbian!” I was chuckling at her discomfort when I noticed Susan handing a twenty to a dancer and pointing at me.

Bliss!

I didn’t hold back this time. I touched every inch of him that wasn’t covered by thong. At one point, I was so wrapped up in it that I started sliding onto the floor, and he took this opportunity to bounce his balls against my forehead. Goodness! I felt like a tennis court. I could do nothing but scream as he teabagged me mercilessly.

Soon we were out of twenties, so we watched the stage dancers for a while before heading out. We made plans to meet up with the others for breakfast, and then walked through a dimly-lit parking lot to Spock’s car, stopping to admire the silver spray-painted Elvis on the side of a dumpster. I told Spock I had never seen the famous “Welcome to Las Vegas” sign, so he took us on a pilgrimage, and we dutifully oohed and aahed.

“On this trip, I have seen a transvestite, an Elvis impersonator, and the welcome sign,” I said solemnly. “My work here is done.”

Well, not quite. Once we got back to Treasure Island, we stopped at Isla and drank ourselves silly…literally. Because I didn’t want to keep getting up, I bought four bottles of Smirnoff Ice in a row and finished three of them off in fairly rapid succession.

Tongue…buzzing…

I was halfway through the fourth bottle when they announced that they were closing, so I stuck the bottle in my cleavage and we sauntered out of the restaurant. A drunk man accosted us and slurred, “Iz my birthday, I wanna kiss!” So we all (Spock included!) kissed him, and then we got in the elevator with a man who was none too amused by my improvised bottle holder…humorless bastard!

Back in the room, we got ready for bed, and Susan was sitting on the toilet with the door open when I walked in. She talked to me while I brushed my teeth, and then she said, “My god, I actually peed in front of you, and I’m usually so pee-shy!”

“The pee barrier has been broken!” I crowed.

An impromptu slumber party ensued, and although we were all drunk and tired, we couldn’t stop talking and laughing. I made a comment that was far too politically incorrect to repeat here, and we were absolutely howling. I’m surprised security didn’t get called on our rowdy asses!

In the morning, we all got ready, and while K was showering, Suaan, Spock, and I went to get coffee at Starbucks. I was telling him more about G, and he said, “Honestly, in the twenty-odd years I’ve known you, I have never seen you so happy.”

“It sounds so goopy and sappy, but I feel like before I met him, I was just existing…and now I feel alive.”

Awwww.

Then we stopped in Bijoux Terner (“Everything $10!”) so I could grab the cool anime-styled watch I’d been eyeing, and in the gift store for cigarettes and shirts, and it was back to the room to retrieve K. We met up with TR, Supergirl, and J at Bally’s and had breakfast, turning a leftover sausage into a phallic work of art. Then it was tearful goodbyes and hugs, and then we returned to Treasure Island. At K’s car, I turned to Spock and we hugged fiercely. “I love you so much!” I burbled, and he said, “I love you too.” Then he hugged K and Susan goodbye, and we were off.

The ride home was pretty uneventful, aside from some great conversation and a stop at the Bun Boy for dinner. We were all in bed within maybe an hour of getting home, and I must say Susan is a fine woman to share one’s bed with, for she is absolutely silent and barely moves at all. In the morning, I managed to remain somewhat stoic when saying goodbye to her, but once she and K walked out the door, I allowed myself a few tears. She is truly an awesome woman---funny, sweet, whipsmart, and blessed with beauty inside and out---and I’m so glad to have had a chance to share my Vegas adventure with her, and with everyone else as well.

No doubt thanks to all the secondhand smoke, rich food, drinking, and lack of sleep, my immune system plummeted, and I am now suffering from the same crud plaguing everyone else around the office. My eyes are bloodshot, my nose is chapped, and my throat feels like someone took a melonballer to it and scraped away three layers of flesh and mucous membrane, leaving only raw nerves.

But you know what?

I’d do it all over again, and then some.

Viva Las Vegas, baby!