Seven Nights of Sin - Lacey Alexander [67]
Wandering through yet another casino where slot machines whirred and jingled and roulette wheels spun, Damon led her to a dark, quiet club where her eyes were drawn instantly to the young man on the stage, who sat on a stool, singing and playing a simple wood guitar. With slightly shaggy hair and a smooth, olive complexion, he couldn’t have been more than seventeen, but his voice and instrument proclaimed otherwise, sounding as if they belonged to an old soul. The sound was pop alternative—catchy but hip, clever but stroked with meaning—and after only a few seconds, Damon and Brenna gave each other a look that silently said: This guy’s good.
“I’m blown away,” Damon said.
In response, Brenna fell into her new habit of making comparisons with an eye toward marketing. “He’s like…a young John Mayer, but with major teen idol appeal. Every high school girl is going to swoon for him.”
“The CD cover will be a close-up of his face,” Damon mused, eyes on the stage, clearly thinking ahead. “With only his name above it. Austin Cole.”
“Back in the days of albums,” Brenna said, “we could have put a poster of him inside.”
Damon wasn’t dissuaded. “We can still work with that idea. That’s what websites are for. We could offer a free poster to the first thousand people to send in their CD receipt, something like that.”
“How old is he?” Brenna asked.
“Not old enough to get in here—just old enough to perform here,” he explained. “He sent me a CD a few months ago, and I knew he was good, but I didn’t know he was this good, or I would have dropped everything and gotten my ass over here faster.”
From there, they found a table, ordered a bottle of wine, and simply sat back and enjoyed Austin Cole’s soulful, heartfelt music. Until he took a break. After which Brenna got to see, once again, the fun side of this job—watching the boy’s face light up when Damon introduced himself and told him how impressed he was.
They set up a meeting with Austin and his mother for the next day, but Damon made it a lunch meeting instead of breakfast, “because,” he explained to Brenna with a wink as they left the club, “we’re gonna be out late tonight.”
She grinned. “This involves my surprise, of course.”
He gave a succinct nod.
“And just when do I get this surprise?”
“Our next stop.”
Despite herself, Brenna’s pussy trembled with anticipation. Of course, having so many lustful eyes on her as the night had progressed had kept her in a fairly aroused state all evening, as had the provocative topless show, and merely just being with Damon. So it wasn’t only the promise of what was to come that had her excited. It was everything—everything Damon and Sin City had to offer.
And she was more than ready for whatever the night held.
Three
The next cab sped them up busy Las Vegas Boulevard, where all around them Brenna saw limos and trolleys and more of those moving billboards offering up lingerie-clad women for sale. Out the windows, she noticed the neon signs marking the MGM Grand, the Paris, the Monte Carlo, and others zipping past and making her feel—along with the wine she’d drank—totally consumed by the dizzying lights and fast pace of the Strip. The next thing she knew, the cab turned off the boulevard onto a shrubbery-lined drive that led to another brightly lit mega resort and casino, but again, she’d failed to catch the name.
As Damon led her through the sprawling front doors into yet another grand lobby, she felt still more eyes upon her, felt her man’s hand in hers, felt her heart beating with the excitement of wondering what was to come and how she would please him tonight.
After they stepped into an elevator, Damon waited until most of the other people inside had exited onto their floors, then punched the very top button, marked simply with an R.
“What does that stand for?” she asked. “Roof?”
Damon’s mouth curved into a mischievous smile. “No. It’s a club. Called Rendezvous.