Mia Sheridan - Stinger

I made a frustrated, angry sound in my throat and marched away from Carson Stinger, Straight Male Performer.

I went up to my room and took a quick shower, calming down from my lobby run-in. When I felt level-headed again, I got out and changed into my brand new black bikini and white, crochet cover-up, before heading out to the pool. My conference didn't officially start until the next morning and so I planned on spending several hours lying in the sun, reading and relaxing. The life of a law student didn't leave a lot of room for R&R and so I was going to take advantage of it while I could.

It took me about twenty minutes to simply walk through the pool area and decide where I wanted to sit. There were five pool courtyards, luxurious cabanas, umbrellas over plush seating, and rows of lounges–all with the same Mediterranean design. It was breathtaking and I tried my best not to walk through with my mouth hanging open at all the opulence. I'd never in my life seen anything like it.

My dad was a police officer and a single parent, who raised me and my two sisters on his own after he and my mom divorced. We never wanted for anything, but we certainly didn't have the money to vacation. In fact, until I left for college, I had never been out of Dayton, Ohio, where I grew up.

After getting a drink at the bar, I finally parked myself on a lounger with some shade and started lathering my pale skin up with sunscreen. It was June and it was in the nineties, and I had been holed up in libraries and classrooms for months–I would definitely burn if I wasn't careful.

I sat back and pulled out my book and had just read a couple pages when my phone rang. "Abby" came up on my screen. I hit answer.

"If you saw where I was right now, you'd be so jealous," I said, grinning.

She laughed. "Well, hello. If you saw where I was, you so wouldn't be jealous. I won't make you guess–couch, an itchy, calamine-spotted vision of loveliness." Poor Abby had gotten poison ivy while hiking with her boyfriend, Brian. It was bad.

She went on, "Now you , let me see, I smell coconut and I hear the gentle lapping of chlorinated water–poolside with a drink in hand?"

I laughed. "Bingo."

"But wait, what is that? What is that I see? A textbook in your hands instead of a steamy romance? The horror. Please tell me I'm wrong."

I looked down at the large textbook in my lap, Concepts & Insights Series: Administrative Law. "Oh stop, you know that I have to study this weekend if I'm going to ace this summer course. Anyway, this place, Abs, it's outrageous. Truly. We have to come back here and stay for longer than a weekend. And make sure it's a non -working weekend, okay? "

"Hmmm. The reality of getting you away for a weekend that doesn’t involve work? I’m skeptical. But a girl can dream. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right? The debauchery sky's the limit–I’m in."

I laughed again. "Right. Speaking of which, there's another conference at this hotel. You'll never guess what it's for."

"What? Do tell."

I looked around quickly to make sure no one was listening in on my call and then mentally shook my head at myself. This was Vegas, no one was going to blink when I said the word 'porn.' Still, I whispered out, "A porn convention."

Abby let out a loud guffaw. "Oh my God, Grace, you've gotta get me some autographs. Please!"

"What?! Whose autograph do you want exactly?"

"No one in particular! I just want to be able to say a porn star wrote a note to me!"

I giggled. "Actually, I ran into one in the hotel lobby. Literally. He was a total asshat."

"Why? What'd he say to you?"

"Ugh. Just made some disgusting sexual innuendos and then gave me a look that made me want to shower."

Abby laughed again. "Was he a greasy-looking Ron Jeremy type?"

I paused. "Actually, no, he was a douchebag, for sure, but, well," I lowered my voice to a whisper, "he was hot. I actually didn't know porn stars were hot. I guess I figured if you were doing a job like that… I don't even know what I thought. But he is not what I pictured a porn star to look like."

"Why, Grace, I do believe you're blushing."

"Oh shut up, you can't even see me."

"I know you girl, you're blushing. Now get off this phone and go find you some hot porn star. I bet he could teach you some new tricks up in your hotel room tonight."

I groaned. "Oh God, gross, Abby. I wouldn't touch a porn star with a borrowed body. Especially one with as few brain cells as him."

"You're no fun."

"When it comes to porn stars, no, I'm not." I laughed. "Seriously, you doing okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Brian's coming over in a little bit and we're gonna see how sexy we can get using nothing except our privates and our feet–the only places I'm not covered."

I laughed out loud. "Oh God, did I need that visual? Okay, have fun. I'll see you Sunday, okay?"

I heard the grin in her voice as she said, "Okay, babe, talk tomorrow."

"Bye, Abs," I said, still smiling, and hung up the phone.

I spent a couple hours at the pool, finishing my studying and taking notes so that I could review them on the plane home. Even though I was doing schoolwork, just sitting out in this gorgeous location felt luxurious and decadent. I never did things like this. I had been pushing myself like crazy for the last five years and I barely had time to breathe, much less sit by a pool for an afternoon. First, I had had my head in a book for four years through college, pushing myself to graduate magna cum laude and get a scholarship to one of the top law schools on my list. Once that was accomplished and I started at Georgetown, I began pushing myself yet again–only this time it was because my goal was to graduate in two years, take and pass the bar on my first try, and be recruited into a top law firm in Washington, D.C. It was The Plan. I’d always had a plan, and I never strayed from it. Never.

As I lounged, my mind went to Carson Stinger, Straight Male Performer, several times. It still irked me that he had frazzled me so much. And in only about two minutes! What was that about anyway? No one frazzled me. I was un-frazzle-able. I was frazzle-less. I prided myself on being cool, calm and collected. And suddenly, a porn star who looked at me lasciviously had me stuttering and stammering and running for safety? It was beyond irritating. And the fact that he had turned me on was completely maddening. Seriously, Grace, is that how desperate you are? That a good-looking porn star whispers a few sexual, completely disrespectful sentences to you and your panties are wet? God! I lay back on my lounge chair, frowning and squinting up into the blue Nevada sky. I put my sunglasses on and closed my eyes.

After a little bit, I got up and started to gather my things. My shoulders had a definite pink tinge and I needed to get inside and start thinking about dinner plans. I decided that a cocktail before heading up to my room sounded really good. I had only had the one drink when I arrived at the pool and I was hot and thirsty. A drink at the inside bar sounded like just the thing, and so I pulled on the sundress I had put in my bag and I made my way to the hotel bar. As I walked through the casino for the third time that day, I still couldn't help looking around in wonder at all the different game tables and machines, lights and numbers flashing everywhere. The combined sounds of laughter, multiple, overlapping machine dings, clicking, and shuffling, overwhelmed me. It was like being in another world.

I sighed in pleasure as I walked into the cool, quiet, elegant lounge area. It wasn’t very crowded for a late Friday afternoon. But people were probably still out by the pool or getting ready for dinner.