Life in the Oasis Ch. 05

Author's Note

This is the next chapter in the final series of the Elysium Trilogy. If you haven't yet, I suggest you read Part 1 and Part 2, although you do not need to have read the previous two parts to be able to completely understand the story (or enjoy the sex!), so don't let the size of this series intimidate you. You are welcome to start here and go back later or simply continue from here. If you like what you read here, there's plenty more in the previous two books!

Be aware, this series includes a variety of adult situations, and I do my best to ensure that the tags are correct and comprehensive for each chapter. These stories touch on a variety of sexual subjects, like male and female bisexuality, gay sex, lots of interracial sex, some incest, oodles of group sex, voyeurism and exhibitionism, all set in a near future universe where sex is far more open than in our world. You'll find a lot of the standard tropes turned on their heads here, so don't be surprised to have your assumptions challenged!

As always, if you like what you've read, give us a vote, leave a comment, and a follow. I do my best to respond to every comment! Thanks for reading!

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Saturday night, June 5, 2032

Naked City Motel, Las Vegas

The proprietress of the Naked City Motel had seen some shit. A grizzled veteran of the Vegas scene, she'd saved all the money she'd earned as a showgirl, then later as a waitress, and all the while as a part-time mistress to one of the old casino moguls back in the 80s and 90s. That cash, along with a small life insurance policy on her long-dead husband, gave her enough money to buy the motel back in the mid-90s, and she'd been running it ever since.

Belle Dix had no illusions about what she was doing. She'd worked in those big hotels. Those were fine, as they went. But the working class, and those on the economic rung below them, needed a place to lay their heads, too. And so did the pimps, whores, drug addicts, drunks and fugitives that were part of the local color of Las Vegas. Everybody was welcome at the Naked City Motel -- so long as you could pay. And whether it was by the hour or by the day, week or even month, she gladly took their money and asked no questions about what they were doing or with whom.

Belle watched as the two Black youths casually strolled past the office, coming from the direction of the Seven-Eleven and the dry cleaners down the other end of the block. The older one had just paid for room 10 for six months. The other one -- and they had to be related, as they looked so similar -- she'd only started seeing here in the last few weeks. They could have been her grandchildren, she thought with a grin, although she was darker than both. Her mother had been from Africa, although she'd grown up in Vegas.

The older youth she knew well. Not only was he the collections man for the local gang she paid protection money to, he'd been using her hotel for years now, especially in the last six months. Without fail, he'd arrive, and half an hour later a car would drive up and a couple would emerge, tap on the door, and enter the motel room. For an hour or so the couple remained, and then they would leave, and a few minutes after that, the lone Black man would leave.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what was going on there. Invariably, the next day she'd be cleaning cum stained sheets and spraying air freshener to get the stink of sex out of the air. She'd considered making him pay a deposit for the sheets, but that was too much work to collect and repay. Easier to just charge an extra ten dollars per week.

She'd only seen the second youth a few times, but she liked the way he carried himself. The first man was arrogant, walking with a pimp roll that made it clear he felt like he owned the streets. But the younger man was more hesitant, like he was still finding his path, and she found that attractive. She never considered herself a cougar, but she wouldn't have minded a little extra attention from the younger man. Her looks weren't completely shot. She wondered how much they were charging.

The two young men had been in the room for an hour, and no car had yet arrived. This was a bit out of character for the pair, and she wondered what was going on.

"How much longer are we supposed to wait here?" Elijah asked. It was nearly ten at night and they had been waiting for over an hour for their scheduled date with yet another cuck couple that had found Red Dog on the Onyxed app.

"They payin' us to be here, so we'll be here," Red Dog said, rising from his seat on the motel room's bed. The bed, happy to be relieved of the weight of yet another body, creaked loudly. "The amount of money these fools pay us, we can afford to be patient, yo," Elijah's brother told him testily.

"The amount of money they're paying you," Eli retorted. He was still upset at the split his brother had forced on him. He didn't want to be doing this, being paid for sex -- or in his case, attempted sex, since none of their dates had as yet been able to handle his enormous cock -- but what else could he do?

His father had turned to drugs, his brother to drugs and violence, and now sex, to make money. Whoever coined the adage that crime doesn't pay apparently never lived in West Las Vegas. Red Dog was doing well enough to support their mother and keep a roof over both their heads. But if Elijah ever wanted to escape West Las Vegas, he needed his own way to make money. He'd use it to get an education to find a job that would pay him enough to get far away from here. In the end, everything came down to money and how to get it.

Cash rules everything around me, CREAM get the money; dolla, dolla bill, y'all, Elijah sang in his head. The Wu-Tang Clan had said it best almost forty years ago.

"Why you still whinin' about the split? Like I said, lil' bro, when you start pulling your weight around here, I'll consider upping your take. But I'm the one doing all the work."

"It's not my fault I was born this way," Elijah said, gesturing towards his crotch. "I didn't ask for this. I wish I didn't have it. I wish I could just be normal," he lamented.

His brother laughed at him. "You the smartest fucking idiot I know, Boog," Red Dog said, shaking his head. "God gives you a gift and you want to give it back. What the hell's the matter with you?"

"When we're alone, can you please just call me by my real name, Curtis?"

"Fuck that noise. You gotta get used to hearing your street name. Stop fightin' it."

Elijah was about to continue the argument, but the telltale light from a pair of car headlights shone through the bars protecting the motel room windows. This had to be their date for the evening.

"Now listen, lil' bro. This is going to be a different date tonight, okay? Just go with it and don't make any fucking noise. I told you before sometimes when we do this shit, we have to put up with weirdos, but they're paying almost five figures for this date tonight, and you get a third of that, so just shut up and do what I tell you, aight? You take those pills I gave you?"

Elijah perked up at the thought of making nearly three grand in a single session -- far more than the paltry hundred bucks he'd received for the tryst with the mail-order bride. This was more like what he'd expected when his brother had dangled the idea of sex for money in front of him. But how weird was weird?

His brother had given him a double dose of over-the-counter Viagra, which he'd dutifully taken before they'd left home. He nodded to Red Dog but said nothing. He was still lost in his thoughts.

His brother strictly controlled access to the Onyxed app and never showed him the photos or the profiles of the couples they were to meet. Elijah had no idea who or what would be walking through that door.

That worried Elijah, who was already not keen on this whole situation. He had been counting the minutes until Monday. Bunny, the escort his brother had set him up with a few weeks ago, had offered to help him get a job at the Elysium hotel if he wanted one.

He hadn't told his brother about Bunny's offer, nor that he was contemplating accepting it.

There was a tap on the door, and Red Dog crossed the room and cracked the door open. He saw what he expected, apparently, because he opened the door the whole way and let the pair into the room.

Elijah was shocked and then angered. He hadn't signed up for this.

The man who entered the room first looked completely normal. He was white, of middling height, salt and pepper hair and beard, looked to be in pretty good shape, probably in his late thirties. Elijah thought he looked like your typical cuck, except he was radiating an air of complete control. Blue blazer, crisp white shirt, khaki pants, expensive shoes.

In his hand, he had a leather leash that was attached by a gold chain to the collar of the person who entered behind him.

This person was absurdly tall, at least two hands taller than Elijah who was himself over six foot, and thin as a rail. They were dressed in a skimpy red cocktail dress that barely covered their ass. They were completely flat chested, and the cocktail dress hugged their body tightly. Around their neck was a leather collar with "BBC SLUT" written in silver letters, and the gold chain was attached to it. They were a few shades paler than their partner.

Other than their height, nothing would have been out of the ordinary to Elijah -- these were cuckold style liaisons, after all, so a little kink was expected. But what he hadn't expected was that the person on the end of that leash would be a man.

Now, they weren't dressed like a man. But Elijah could see their hands, the prominent Adam's apple and the bulge in the crotch of the cocktail dress that gave it away.

He had to admit that, but for the hands, neck, bulge and lack of breasts, the leashed man was pretty passable. His hair was long and curly, tinted blonde and he appeared to be completely hairless otherwise. His makeup was tasteful, brightening his cheeks and lips. His legs were his best feature, ending in a pair of red stiletto heels that made his ass look very good in the cocktail dress.

Elijah almost started up out of the cuck chair to object, but his brother had been staring knives at him this entire time, as if daring him to say a word.

"I'm Max," the older man said. "This is my husband, Tracy."

"Hello Max and Tracy," Red Dog said, stepping up to the pair. "I'm Red Dog, and this is my brother, Boog."

"Are you really brothers?" Tracy asked. His voice was a deep, manly baritone. It fit with his height but not with how he was dressed or made up.

"Yep, he's my younger brother. I got the good looks of the family," Red Dog said, laughing. "But he makes up for it with that thang between his legs, yo."

Elijah blushed furiously, his emotions raging through him. He didn't want to do this. It was bad enough fucking women while their partners watched -- or, at least trying, because he'd not managed to do much more than wet the tip of his cock, thanks to his curse -- but he wasn't gay and had no desire to fuck or suck another man.

"Oh my God," Tracy breathed. "This is a dream come true," he said. Max smiled at Tracy and stroked his face gently.

"Happy birthday, love," he said. "We've talked about this for a long time, but I wanted to make tonight special for you."

"Max, I couldn't have asked for a better present than this!" He grinned and leaned in to kiss his partner.

Elijah was touched. It was clear these two loved each other, regardless of how weird this situation was, and that lessened his qualms a bit about what they were here to do. But that didn't banish them completely.

His brother smiled and began to take off his clothes. Elijah sat there thinking, still not entirely sure he was willing to go along with this. He'd made a deal with himself last month when they'd started this that if it ever got to be too weird, he'd bail and give up this life. And he was dangerously close to doing just that. He could stand up and leave, and let his brother clean up this mess. He was furious with Curtis, furious he hadn't been more up front about this date tonight, and furious with himself for being so stupid as to trust his brother. And a part of him was let down -- he was hoping that maybe, just maybe, tonight would be the night when they had a date with a woman who could handle his cock.

And while this Tracy may have been willing, he didn't have a pussy, and Elijah didn't think there was an ass on the planet that could handle his penis without causing permanent damage. Now, this was naïve on his part, but it was what he believed.

Yet, he didn't get up. He didn't stalk out of the room. He didn't protest or rage at his brother for not being upfront about the situation.

Instead, he sighed to himself, then simply stood up and began pulling off his clothes, just as his brother had.

Three thousand dollars was almost a semester's worth of tuition. He couldn't turn that down. But he resolved to himself that this was it. He was done with his brother's games, done with this business. He was going to see Bunny and find out what the Elysium could do for him. He'd even take a job sweeping the floors if it meant he could pay for school and not have to be humiliated every few nights by his brother's sex work.

Red Dog was naked now, stroking his cock, while Max and Tracy looked on. Boog's shirt was off, and he tugged down his gym shorts, freeing the monster lurking between his legs.

"Oh, shit," Max said softly. He took a step back and almost fell into the cuck chair. "You weren't kidding, Red Dog," he said softly. "I thought you were bullshitting us with that photo."

Tracy said nothing. His eyes smoldered with desire, and he took a step forward, completely ignoring Red Dog, and took Boog's cock in his hands.

"There is no way I can get this thing in my ass, Max," he said, looking over at his partner. Boog sighed inwardly, although he hadn't expected anything different. "But I'm going to give you the best blowjob of your life, Boog," Tracy told him.

Tracy sank to his knees, opened his mouth and slid the tip of Boog's cock in. Boog closed his eyes, and let Tracy enjoy himself. Max had dropped the leash, which clinked onto the ground as Tracy knelt and soon the sounds of a wet, squelchy blowjob were filling the air of the apartment.

Red Dog's heart was beating faster. Ever since he'd overheard that Sinclair kid and his now husband fucking in the room next door, Red Dog had been obsessed with gay sex. He couldn't get enough of it. He was watching hours of gay porn, and scrolling the hook up sites, contemplating taking the plunge. But something always held him back, some fear that if word got out that he was bisexual, that it would cost him his street cred. And in Red Dog's world, reputation was his most precious commodity.

He knew other guys in the gang were gay or bi. Twitch, the OG of the Bloods, was known to enjoy male company, and he knew that Twitch and Detour, one of the rare Hispanic members of the overwhelmingly Black gang, were old butt buddies. He'd always sneered at that relationship and was pleased when Detour left town in a hurry with a price on his head.

Secretly, though, he'd envied them. Red Dog wanted a relationship like that, a friends with benefits with another dude, where he could explore this side of him in relative safety.

So when he found this couple on Onyxed, he thought it was the perfect cover. Nobody would look down on him for taking ten grand from a gay couple for sex -- being gay-for-pay was just another part of sex work, after all and nobody really cared about that -- and he could watch his brother in action, too. It was the best of both worlds.

His cock had started to rise the second Tracy's knees hit the floor. Now, without touching it, he was hard as a rock, his cock twitching to the beat of his heart, and pointing at the pair standing a few feet from him.

Tracy knew what he was doing, his large hands making Boog's enormous prick look even larger by comparison. His mouth was moving up and down on Boog's cock, and despite its size, he was able to get nearly half of it in his mouth.

Boog, for his part, seemed to be enjoying it. He'd thrown his head back and closed his eyes. The double dose of Viagra seemed to be working. Tracy had stroked Boog's cock to its full size, and once there it had stayed that way.

Tracy was moaning loudly while he sucked Boog's cock, and soon his hands strayed down to his own penis, which was fully erect and threatening to tear a hole in the fabric of his red dress. Red Dog licked his lips as he saw Tracy pull up his dress and begin to stroke his cock. It was a good size, although smaller than those of the two Black men, uncut, and leaking pre-cum.

He stepped up and put his cock within reach of Tracy's large hands, but Tracy ignored Red Dog completely, focusing totally on Boog's enormous member. It was like he was completely mesmerized by it and had eyes for nothing else.

"Suck that cock, baby," Max urged. "Get as much of that big black cock in your mouth as you can take. There's another one waiting for you, baby," he said, nodding to Red Dog. "They're all yours," he said, a smile on his face. "Happy birthday!"

Max's comment woke Tracy up from his tunnel vision, and he realized Red Dog's member was right there by his face. He let go of Boog's penis and shifted his attention to Red Dog and began to bathe the new cock with his tongue.

Boog looked at this brother's face and saw the look of rapture it held. This was a side of Curtis he'd never seen before. He'd known his big brother was well-traveled sexually, but he had no idea that he'd even consider doing something like this. That look on his face was not the look of a man who was simply gay-for-pay. He was clearly enjoying it, and not the way Boog had been enjoying it.

For his part, with his eyes closed, Boog could pretend it was Bunny sucking his cock, or Nancy, the girl from their last tryst. But Red Dog was staring at Tracy, watching Tracy jerk his own cock while swallowing Red Dog's. He even saw his brother lick his lips, his eyes glued to the white cock sticking out below the bunched up red fabric of Tracy's cocktail dress.

He pushed the thought from his mind and focused on trying to give the couple their money's worth. He gripped his cock and began to stroke it, closing his eyes again and remembering how Bunny smelled, and how Nancy's breasts had felt in his hands.

"Fuck me," Tracy said, staring up at Red Dog's eyes. "I know I can't handle your brother's cock, but I want yours in my ass, right now!"

Red Dog smiled at Tracy and lifted him up off his knees. Tracy unhooked the leash from his slut collar and handed it to his husband. The cocktail dress came off, landing in a pile at Max's feet. He smiled, and sat back in the cuck chair, watching and rubbing his crotch. He was still fully dressed.

Tracy climbed onto the bed, which creaked and groaned in protest.

"Yo, Boog, get me that lube from the bathroom," Red Dog ordered.

Boog kept stroking his cock as he walked to the tiny bathroom on the far side of the motel room, so as not to lose his erection, even though that was unlikely given the amount of sildenafil coursing through his veins. He emerged with a tube of Astroglide, which he dutifully handed to his brother.

Tracy wiggled his ass at the two men, his own cock still hard and hanging down towards the bed, as he assumed the position.

Red Dog squirted a handful on his dick, rubbed it in and then lined up his cock with the entrance to Tracy's bubble butt. Boog had to admit that man's ass was juicy, which sent a thrill and another bit of shock through him. He must be horny if this was actually turning him on.

I need to find a woman, he thought.

"Fuck me, Red Dog!" Tracy urged. "Fuck me hard and if you open me up enough, maybe I can try your brother's cock!"

Max groaned from the cuck chair, still rubbing his own dick through his pants. "It's your birthday, baby. Do whatever you want," he added.

Red Dog wasted no more time, his greased-up pole ready for some fucking, and he slowly pushed his cock head into Tracy's anus. Tracy moaned, and began to push back, helping Red Dog get his cock in. Soon, he was buried up the hilt in Tracy's boypussy, and Red Dog held the position, savoring the warmth and the tightness. After pausing, he began to fuck Tracy slowly, his cock moving in and out, the lube and Tracy's obvious experience making it enjoyable for both of them.

Boog watched as his brother's cock slapped into Tracy's asshole, Tracy's cock whipping up and down in time to the fucking he was receiving.

Tracy waved at Boog, inviting him to join the pair. Boog accepted the invitation, and positioned himself in front of Tracy's mouth near the edge of the bed, still standing. Boog didn't trust the rickety old motel room bed to handle the weight of three men and just moved his cock as close as he could to Tracy's head.

Tracy reached out, one hand steadying himself on the bed while Red Dog pummeled him from behind, the other grasping Boog's cock and jerking it, then pulling him even closer and directing his cock into Tracy's willing mouth.

Red Dog watched Boog get his dick sucked again. This time, Boog wasn't closing his eyes, wasn't throwing his head back, but was watching with desire as Tracy's tongue swirled around his cock head, his lips stretched wide around the massive cock in his mouth. Looks like you ain't as straight as you thought you was, lil' bro, Red Dog thought to himself, grinning.

For his part, Red Dog was in heaven. Watching his brother get blown while fucking this dude was everything he'd hope and dreamed it would be. Hell, he'd have fucked this guy for free. But getting paid ten grand? That was the icing on the cake.

The threesome kept this going for what felt like hours but was probably only ten minutes or so. Tracy finally begged to try to fit Boog's cock in his ass, and Red Dog pulled out, watching as Tracy's asshole gaped lewdly. He tossed his brother the lube, and watched as Boog clumsily squirted a handful into his hand and then slathered it on his penis.

"I don't think this is going to work," he said, looking at Tracy's puckered ass.

"Please try," Tracy begged. "I want to try. Please?"

Boog sighed and walked around to where his brother had been standing. The two swapped places, and Red Dog let Tracy take his cock and stroke it while waiting expectantly to see if Boog could fit any part of that giant prick inside his willing ass.

Boog's cock glistened with lubrication. Max stood up and walked closer to the pair, wanting to get the best look possible as his husband prepared to take Boog's cock. Boog, for his part, thought this was a complete waste of time, but the customer is always right so he'd have to at least give it a shot.

He pressed his cock head up against Tracy's asshole and started to push slowly. It barely moved. Tracy pushed back, trying to pucker his anus as wide as he could. His asshole gaped, and Boog managed to get just the tip of his cock inside. He was surprised he could get even that much in. He tried to push a little and felt considerable resistance, even with the lube, but his cock did slide in just slightly.

"Oh my God, I can't--" Tracy said, spitting Red Dog's cock out of his mouth and biting his lip. "You're tearing me apart! It's so good but I can't--" He cut himself off, pushed backwards one more time to see how much he could get, and Boog felt another quarter inch of his cock slide in, but that was as far as it went. Tracy pulled himself off, falling face first onto the mattress, shoving his fist into his mouth and biting down to stifle a scream.

"Tracy! Are you okay?" Max said urgently, rushing to the side of the bed.

Tracy stayed like that, face down, legs shaking for a few seconds. Then he rolled over, to reveal a huge wet spot on the mattress, and a wide smile on his face.

"That was amazing," he gushed. "I've never felt so full in my life. I have never come like that, hands free! This is the best birthday ever!"

Max sighed with relief, leaned over and kissed his husband.

"I want you two to jerk off for me," Tracy cooed. "Cover me with your spunk, please! You, too, Max!"

Boog looked at his brother, who was staring at the stain on the mattress with wide eyes. He'd never seen anything like that before. But that didn't stop him from stroking his cock, and Boog watched as his brother started pumping harder and harder.

He joined him, while Max did the same. The older man unbuckled his pants and dropped them to the floor, withdrawing an average sized cock from his boxers, which was stiff and pointing at Tracy on the bed.

The three men, two black and one white, surrounded Tracy, who still lay flat on his back, breathing heavily, recovering from his orgasm.

Max came first, spurting a few shots onto Tracy's stomach and penis, and landing one large splotch on the comforter of the bed, beside the wet spot Tracy made a few minutes before.

Red Dog came next, and he sprayed Tracy's chest.

"I want to taste you," Tracy said to Boog, grasping at the teenager. Red Dog pulled his brother roughly, pushing him up towards Tracy's face and making sure he was in position. This annoyed Boog, but he said nothing, focusing on trying to cum for their clients.

It was difficult. While he'd enjoyed the feeling of his cock head inside Tracy, the lack of breasts -- he was a breast man -- and the fact that he couldn't see Tracy's ass now had taken away most of the visual stimulation that had excited him before. He closed his eyes again, picturing Bunny and Nancy, and soon felt his orgasm rising.

When he finally did cum, it was like he'd turned on a firehose. Jet after jet of hot, white semen spurted from the end of his cock, coating Tracy's face and leaving even more stains on the bed. When he opened his eyes, Tracy was moaning in ecstasy, covered in the spunk of the three men, a gooey, cum covered mess.

"Best. Birthday. Ever!" He said, laughing and trying to wipe the jizz from his eyes.

Max pulled his pants up, and Tracy padded off to the shower to clean up. Ten minutes later the couple was dressed and ready to leave.

Max pulled Boog aside. "Dude, you are amazing! I've never seen anything like that. How the hell aren't you a porn star by now?"

Boog smiled at the compliment. "Dunno," he said. "Maybe I will be someday," he added.

"I can't wait to see you if you do. Here, this is for you." Max pulled out a wad of cash, hundreds by the look of it, and pressed it into Boog's hand. "You earned this. I mean, you both earned it all, but you especially. Thank you, Boog," he said again.

Boog pocketed the money and shook hands with Max. Tracy and Max left the motel room, and Boog picked up his clothes and put them back on.

"How much he give you?" Red Dog said, stepping over towards his brother. "I saw him give you a tip, yo," he added suspiciously.

"I don't know, I didn't look," Boog said diffidently, taking a step back. "He said it was for me."

"I don't give a shit what he said, yo," Red Dog told him. "The split is 30/70. That includes tips."

"You never said anything about tips! You let me keep the tip the last time!" Boog argued. He couldn't believe it. His brother kept altering the deal after the fact.

"It was implied, fool, and last time it was just a hundred bucks. That's nuthin'," Red Dog said. "Now gimme that wad. Don't make me ask you again," he warned.

Boog rolled his eyes. He knew his brother wouldn't raise his hand to him, but he didn't want to push it. He took the wad of bills from his pocket and handed them over.

"Jesus," Red Dog said, counting them out. "He gave you an extra grand! Not bad. I'll just add that to the pile and give you your cut tomorrow."

"Why not give it to me now?" Boog challenged, pushing back.

"Because I gotta get it out the bank, idiot. All these transactions go through the app and into the bank. You'll get your cut tomorrow when I withdraw it. Chill, dude. You'll get your money," he said.

Boog steamed quietly. He knew he was getting screwed -- he never saw the actual rate they were being paid, so he just had to trust that his brother wasn't lowballing him, even on the 30%.

This was the final straw. He could almost forgive Red Dog for not telling him that he was going to be fucking a dude tonight, especially since he'd enjoyed it, but the money thing was too far.

Elijah couldn't wait until Monday. Vegas casinos never really close. He'd take his mother to church in the morning, as he always did on Sundays, he'd drop her home, and then he'd go to the Elysium to find Bunny.

He was done being his brother's meal ticket.

Six hours later, Belle Dix knocked on the door of the motel room. "Housekeeping!" she announced. There was no reply, so she used her set of master keys to enter the room. The lights were still on, and the room was barely lived in.

Her eyes glanced over at the bed, saw that it had been mussed up, and then discovered the huge cum stains on the comforter.

"Goddamn it," she sighed. "Every fucking time."

* * *

Sunday morning, June 6, 2032

The Elysium, Las Vegas

Mom's wedding, the reception, and then our private party afterwards took a lot of out me and the girls. By the time we'd stumbled back to our rooms, carrying our clothes and a lot of memories, we were already half asleep.

I dumped everything I was carrying onto the magical cuck chair, knowing that at some point tomorrow, it would all end up cleaned, pressed and back in the closet.

Avery hopped into bed first, pulled Eva in after her and I climbed in behind them. I told the lights to shut off, and we were asleep in almost no time. At some point during the night, I woke up to find my cock in Eva's hand, but she was still completely asleep. I appreciated the fact that even in her sleep she wanted to touch me.

Morning came, and I realized that in our haste to climb into bed, I had neglected to close the curtains. The sun in our room had zero impact on Eva or Avery's ability to sleep, but I've never been able to sleep in a bright room, and soon I was wide awake, despite the fact we'd only crawled into bed a few hours earlier.

I got up, padded into the bathroom, did my business and then hopped in the shower. We probably should have showered last night before we went to bed, but we were too exhausted. I'd gotten so used to the smell of sex that even had I reeked of it -- and let's be honest, I probably did -- I wouldn't have noticed.

The shower enervated me, relaxed my muscles and got me ready for the day. It was just after six in the morning,

When I left the bathroom, I saw the girls hadn't budged from bed. I decided to let them sleep. We'd had a long day and a long night, and they'd earned their day of rest. I headed into the kitchen to make some coffee, but I stopped short. The smell of coffee was one of a handful of things guaranteed to wake Avery up. I didn't want to do that, so I decided I'd go downstairs to the casino and grab a cup at one of the breakfast places on the retail level.

I threw on a workout shirt, my favorite ratty old Vegas Knights hoodie that had a few holes in it, a pair of my old baseball workout shorts and my running shoes. I grabbed my phone and my Apple watch and headed downstairs.

One of the benefits of living in a Vegas resort casino is that nothing truly closes. The Elysium was open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, holidays included, and since the middle of last year, we were almost always booked solid. I had to give Sol credit. His great idea, this grand sex palace hotel, had finally taken off.

The casino floor was sparsely populated, but it wasn't empty. There were a few people, still dressed in last night's fancy garb, playing at the tables. I grabbed my coffee and decided I would watch people play for a little while. I had absolutely nothing on the agenda for the day.

Now, before we continue, I need to set the stage for what happened next. It has become part of my legend, so I want to make sure I tell the story properly.

I'd showered, but I was not dressed for a night out (or a morning out, in this case) at a fancy Vegas casino. I wasn't even properly dressed for McDonald's, to be honest. Had anybody but me been dressed the way I was, I'd have been asked to leave by one of the Elysium staffers. This was not a hotel you could lounge around in sweats in, unless you were a woman, they were from Fendi or Gucci and cost more than most people's entire wardrobes, or you were the son of the owner. Fortunately, I qualified in at least one of those categories.

I sipped my coffee and then sidled up to a craps game that was still going strong. The table was well populated by the remains of last night's guests. Two of the men were in tuxedoes -- they could have been wedding guests, but I didn't recognize them. Another one of the men was dressed in very flashy club attire, and he was dripping with bling -- gaudy Rolex on his wrist, diamond pinky finger ring, solid gold chain around his neck, and expensive sunglasses that he kept on. On the other side of those three were a pair of men, one who looked Hispanic and another who was Black. They stood near a pair of attractive older women in cocktail dresses. The women looked to be in their forties, and it wasn't clear to me whether they were with those two men, those men were looking to pick them up, or -- since this was the Elysium -- they were looking to pick up the men.

They weren't the focus of the table's attention, though. At the other end of the table were five women, dressed in fashionable club gear. They were all cute, two of them were truly beautiful, and they were all having a good time. One of them, one of the beautiful ones, was a petite, short haired blonde with full breasts and a winning smile that she was flashing around the table. She was wearing a tight little black dress that showed ample cleavage, with a white sash that read "Bride" on it. I was slightly surprised -- I didn't realize the Elysium was a bachelorette party destination. This was my first time seeing a group here. It was clear they had been here a while -- at least long enough that some of the folks at the table had gotten to learn their names.

"Okay, Katie! Let's get another run going!" shouted one of the tuxedoed men to the bride-to-be. Katie stifled a giggle, and leaned over the rail, giving me a good look down her top. It was clear this wasn't intentional -- she was just excited and happy. It was cute. I noticed she had a tiny key on a gold chain around her neck. It reminded me of those best friend necklaces that were popular when I was a kid -- one girl would wear the key, the other a heart shaped locket, and the key would open the locket. They were all the rage at Claire's when I was growing up -- at least, that's what I recall from scrolling too much DikDok. The inside of the locket always said something like 'BFFs' and they were everywhere back in the mid-20s. It was cute and it made Katie seem sweet and naïve, still wearing teeny bopper jewelry at her age.

I walked up and stood in an empty spot at the far end of the table, sipping my coffee, watching the action. I was just beside Flashy Rolex Guy, who looked me up and down, and apparently didn't like what he saw. He sniffed and took a step away from me.

I surreptitiously checked my armpits -- I was pretty sure I'd put deodorant on after my shower, and I didn't smell any BO. I guessed the guy didn't like how dressed down I was compared to the rest of the folks at the table. His problem, not mine.

The table soon filled with pass line bets, and I watched as the three dealers handled the action. Eventually, the stickman used his long stick -- we called it a whip -- to push the dice towards Katie, the bachelorette, and announced to the table she was the shooter. The stickman was joking and teasing, and that seemed to egg Katie on.

She did a little happy dance, twirled around and then giggled again as she prepared for her turn shooting the dice.

Part of the stickman's job is to keep up a steady flow of talk, walk new players through how to play, and generally be amusing. This guy was pretty good, I had to admit.

Katie scooped the dice up, had one of her party blow on them for luck, then tossed them down towards me at the opposite end of the table.

"Big Red! Winner, winner, pass line dinner!" Our side of the table tittered politely, and the dealer on the left of the boxman, the head dealer who sat across from the stickman and monitored play, started counting out chips to pay off the winners who had bets in play during Katie's toss.

The other end of the table was not so demure. Katie whooped and hollered, hugging on the girls with her and just generally being a ball of energy. I couldn't believe she'd been out all night. It was just after six thirty in the morning, and she was still bouncy and happy after a long night of partying. I wish I had half her energy, and she was probably older than I was. I smiled. It was hard not to, watching her and her girlfriends celebrate.

The stickman kept up his chatter, and I saw him look at me closely, a look of recognition starting to bloom in his eyes. My smile started to fade. I had been enjoying a bit of anonymity, which was all too uncommon lately.

Now, look. I'm not trying to be an egotist or anything, but I wasn't exactly a nobody at this point. I was the son of the owner (both owners now, since Mom was a partner along with Sol and I was officially his stepson, finally), I was an award-winning porn star in my own right, and I'd been on national television more than a few times, thanks to my saving the President's life at the cost of taking two bullets last January.

It was a rare day when I wasn't recognized by somebody in the Elysium. The stickman nodded to me, and at that point I knew he'd recognized me. I covertly placed a finger on my lips. I didn't need to be announced, and I preferred keeping a low profile when I could. Besides, I was underdressed and while I knew I was conventionally attractive, this was the Elysium -- you had to look good to be allowed to join the Elysium Club and stay at the hotel. Everybody looked good here. That and my clothes made me a virtual nobody to the other people at this table. None of them had really looked at me twice.

I saw the stickman grin, and he winked at me, and then started up his banter again, congratulating Katie on her roll and urging the rest of the folks watching to bet while Katie was hot.

"She certainly is hot!" Rolex Guy said. I groaned a little to myself, and I saw Katie's smile and the smiles on her bridal party wane a little. I looked at him sideways. He looked at me, sniffed again, and took another half step away.

The piss poor attempt at flirting didn't dampen the bachelorette and her crew's enthusiasm for very long, and soon they were bopping around, praising the dice, praising the dealers, and having a grand old time. The girls all had stacks of twenty-five-dollar chips in their hands, some more than others.

Another round of bets hit the table, and I tried to do the math. This was a $50 bet minimum table -- not the highest minimum bet in the Elysium, but higher than the standard $10 bet tables that were more common. There were about twelve players crowded around the table, not including me, and most were betting almost every toss. That meant there was at least six hundred bucks on the table in bets at all times, and I knew there was likely twice that given the habits of some of the folks there. Flashy Rolex Guy had a stack of black hundred-dollar chips in his hand and was betting exclusively with them, and I noticed the Black and Hispanic guys were betting heavily as well.

The more they bet, the closer the two cougars who were watching stood to them. I grinned, watching these ladies on the prowl. It might be early, but it was never too early to find someone to go home with. Especially if they were going home with a full wallet, and 'home' was just an elevator ride away.

The stickman used his whip to push the dice back towards Katie, who shook the dice in her hands and then had a different friend in her party blow on them.

"C'mon, dice! We need to move outta my fiancé's parents' basement sometime this century!" Katie said, and her friends all started laughing.

"Yes, you do girl!"

"Get that down payment money, Kay Tee!"

"Hot lady needs a new pair of shoes ... Jimmy Choo's!"

The girls were shouting encouragement at Katie. Even the stickman got in on it.

"Got a hunch, bet a bunch!" the stickman rhymed, egging on the players. I saw a few extra bets sliding onto the table, thanks to Katie's crew and the stickman's gentle cajoling.

Katie set the dice, picked them up, threw them down towards me...

... and crapped out.

"Boxcars! Sorry ladies, that's a loser," the stickman announced. "So sorry, everybody, looks like Hot Katie just cooled off," he added. Katie had rolled double 6s, but on an open table with no point, that was a losing roll.

I saw a little gleam go out of Katie's eyes for a few seconds, and she made a cute pouting face, but that didn't last too long, and soon she was back to her breathlessly excited self, as her girls shook off their losses and the dealer cleared the table of bets.

Katie's loss spooked the rest of the girls, who all refused the dice, so they went to the Black guy, who was being teased lightly by his friend, while the two cougars smiled at him.

"Okay ladies, gotta be in it to win it!" Katie said, and I saw the stickman look at her appreciatingly. It was always nice to have someone help generate bets and Katie was doing a good job of it tonight. It was endearing how happy she was, even after losing.

But it didn't help. The Black guy had a cold hand, too, and the players on my end of the table groaned. That was two losses in a row. Flashy Rolex Guy was getting agitated.

"Fuck me!" He yelled. "You just cost me a grand, my man! Let's get somebody who knows how to roll up in this joint!"

I looked at him askance. "Don't bet what you can't afford to lose," I replied. I should have probably kept my mouth shut, but this guy was acting like a douche. I saw the girls at the other end of the table all pause, waiting to see how Flashy Rolex Guy was going to react to me talking down to him with one of Vegas' most well-known aphorisms.

There is no more social game in the casino than craps, and there are dozens of unwritten rules. Never say 7, don't buy in when the puck is on, don't put your hands over the rails when the dice are thrown, among others. I included 'don't mock a guy after he loses,' but maybe that was just one of my own unwritten rules. I hate seeing somebody kick a man when he's down and I wasn't afraid to say so, especially to some flashy rich asshole who wasn't hurting for money.

"Mind your business, kid," the guy told me. "If I want to trash talk the guy who just cost me money, I will. Hell, my watch cost more than your house," he added, looking at my hole-ridden sweats disdainfully. "I don't even know why they let people like you in this place. You know there's a dress code, right?"

"I had no idea," I told him, deadpanning. I saw the stickman smirk. Katie and the girls at the other end of the table gasped, and for the first time, I saw a frown of disapproval on their faces. They certainly didn't like how this guy was talking to me.

The stickman apparently didn't want the verbal sparring at my end of the table to have a negative impact on the girls having a good time -- and betting more because of it - so he started up another string of jokes and soon had everybody at the table laughing. It worked well enough that he was willing to take a small dig at Rolex Guy.

"It's your money, or it was..." the stickman said, earning himself a dirty look from Rolex Guy, and the girls at the other end of the table giggled in delight. I saw one of them, a cute brunette who looked like she had some Indian ancestry, look at me hard and then whisper to her friends. I hoped she was just amused at my standing up to Rolex Guy and didn't recognize me. She reminded me of a young Avery, although she was much shorter and not as gifted in the boob department. The thought made me smile. I wished Avery was down here with me. Eva, too.

Katie and the girls started betting again, and my drama was soon forgotten because the table started to win.

The Hispanic guy was up next, and he managed to hit two 7s in a row and win the table some money, before establishing a point on a 6. This started a big spate of betting. The cougars had gotten very close to the two men, both of them daintily placing their bets and making eyes at the shooter. I wished him luck -- those two ladies looked hungry.

He rolled a couple more rolls, but didn't generate any wins for the table, before crapping out on another 7, which was a bad roll when a point was set. This loss led to a few more groans from my end of the table, and even more cursing from Flashy Rolex Guy. The two cougars backed away from their quarry slightly.

Finally, the dice came around to me. I wasn't sure what to do. I hadn't rolled dice in years, and I hadn't done it in the Elysium ever. Part of me wanted to throw those dice so bad, show off in front of those girls and show up this Rolex wearing twat, but another part told me it wasn't my place, and I was just supposed to be watching.

It was only a few seconds, but I had broken one of those unspoken rules I told you about. When you're up, throw quickly. Nobody likes it when the flow of the table is thrown off by somebody wasting time.

"Don't be afraid, my guy!" Katie yelled at me from the other end of the table. "Even little ole' me did it! It's fun!" She seemed to think I was nervous about picking up the dice, which I found endearing.

"You gonna play kid, or just stand there looking poor?" Flashy Rolex Guy mocked, which was not endearing at all.

I almost wanted to pause for a few more seconds just to fuck with the guy, but the stickman coughed politely and looked at me. Fuck it, I decided. I wanted to throw. But I wasn't sure if I was allowed.

"I'm not sure I'm allowed to play," I said, shaking my head. I looked at the boxman. "Can I get a quick ruling?"

"Why wouldn't you be allowed to play, idiot?" Rolex Guy said, staring at me like I was brain dead. "I mean, you do have fifty bucks to your name, don't you?"

I ignored him.

Senior casino executives are usually barred by state law from playing in their casinos, but there were nuances to the law. Up until recently, I don't think I could have played here in the Elysium. I was a Vice President of the Sinclair Group, and we owned the Elysium. I didn't have a portfolio -- if I had been part of say, casino operations, there was no way I could play, but others who did things like admin were allowed. My role was in a gray area, but I hadn't wanted to push any boundaries, so I'd skipped the tables.

But now, while I was ostensibly still a Sinclair Group VP, I was also President of Oasis Entertainment LLC, a different company, even if we were wholly owned by Sinclair Group. I wasn't involved in any business relating to the Elysium anymore, so I expected I was in the clear, but I wanted someone on the floor to confirm it before I bought in and touched those dice.

The boxman signaled the Pit Boss over. The Pit Boss stepped up to me -- he knew who I was -- and we chatted briefly. We kept our voices down so we wouldn't be overheard.

"Hey, Jack, what's the issue? You want me to toss this asshole?" He said, jerking a thumb at the Rolex Guy.

I shook my head. The guy was a dick, but he was spending money. I wasn't completely oblivious to business realities, after all. "Am I allowed to play?" I asked. The Pit Boss frowned and then shrugged.

"Good question. Let me check upstairs. Give me a second," he said. He turned, snapped his fingers at a waitress, who sidled over immediately, and then he addressed the rest of the table.

"Hold on one second folks, while we clear something up. Peaches here will take your drink orders," the Pit Boss told the table. There were some groans, and I thought Flashy Rolex Guy was going to pop a blood vessel. The two tuxedoed men took their bets from the table and walked off, ostensibly looking for another game. The cougars began wavering. But soon Peaches had taken drink orders from everyone. Rolex Guy demanded Hennessey, and the bachelorette party wanted champagne -- being reminded that the drinks were free got them very excited again -- and the mood at the table had quickly gone from testy impatience back to conviviality.

Despite the drink orders, play had still stopped, and while the girls were happy enough dancing and cavorting together, it didn't take long before the rest of the table was mulling about, murmuring. I stood my ground. This was my home, after all, and these folks could all be patient. It's not like the table had been hot, anyway. I crossed my arms and waited.

After a few more seconds, I noticed it had gotten quiet on the other side of the table, too. Whatever the Indian girl had said to Katie seemed to have sunk in, because I noticed all of the girls on the other side of the table were staring at me now, and one of them -- a tall redhead -- was giving me a small smile and licking her lips.

Katie gave me a bigger smile -- she had a lovely smile, her best feature - then cupped her hand and whispered to her friends, and soon the entire gaggle of gals at the other end of the table were giggling and looking at me. She waved and blew me a kiss. I laughed and waved back.

Now, of course, the lizard part of my brain started wondering if I was just a few minutes away from another orgy, but I don't think I had the stamina after yesterday. And another part of my brain reminded me that Prince Edward and his sisters were still in the hotel. And, of course, so were the rest of my family and my girlfriends, too.

My sexual dance card was absurdly full right now, and I didn't think I had a spot for five more women on it. But I knew I was getting ahead of myself. Looks are just looks, and a little flirting never hurt anybody, nor did it always lead to sweaty group sex, even here. After all, I hadn't said a word to any of them. Yet.

Another long minute passed. I saw the Pit Boss nod, as he spoke into a hidden mic in his hand. He turned to me and gave me a thumbs up. "Upstairs says you're good," the Pit Boss added. I nodded my thanks and turned back towards the table. "And you're 'mood indigo,' too," he added.

"About fucking time," Rolex Guy said. "Let's go! I got money to make!"

All Rolex guy heard was that upstairs said I was good. He missed the last part, the 'mood indigo' line, which was Elysium staff code. It meant I had unlimited credit at the table. That would make playing a bit easier.

The stickman, three of the girls with Katie, the Black guy and both cougars rolled their eyes at Rolex Guy's outburst. It was a pretty amusing bit of synchronicity.

"I guess I need some chips," I said, thinking aloud to myself, trying to decide how much to ask for. I didn't want to blow my cover. Turns out, I didn't have to. For the first time since I got here, the douchebag next to me actually did me a favor.

"Here kid, first one's on me," the Flashy Rolex Guy replied, tossing me a black hundred-dollar chip. "Roll me a winner."

The Pit Boss was about to say something -- I don't know what, but I assumed it was going to be something about my credit being good here, but I waved him off. He looked at me funny, but I just shook my head and gave him a half-grin.

"Thanks, dude," I told him. "First time playing!" I lied, letting a note of excitement creep into my voice. Rolex Guy looked like he wanted to take the chip back. The bachelorette party cheered for me, while the single guys and the two cougars shook their heads, and I noticed one of the cougars removed her bet from the pass line.

Not exactly a vote of confidence, I thought.

The stickman slid the dice over to me. I lifted them in my hand, weighing them. I shook them a few times and then threw them at the other end of the table.

"Dice are out..." the Stickman said, and I watched as they tumbled down towards Katie and the girls.

"Natural! A winner!" The dice stopped on a 7, and I had just won $100. The table cheered, and Katie gave me a big grin.

Let me be honest. It wasn't my first time playing craps. It was probably the game I knew best in the whole casino. My Mom had worked in casinos for a long time, and you can gamble in Vegas at eighteen, so I'd been playing for a few years by this point. I wouldn't consider myself a pro, but that's only because there are no professional craps players -- it's a house game, like roulette, where the longer you play, the more likely the house will take all your money. It wasn't like poker or blackjack, where an expert could make a steady income.

Craps is almost entirely a game of luck and odds, but mostly luck.

I was lucky that morning.

On my second roll, the dice came up Jimmie Hicks, or a 6 for those of you who don't play. 6 became the point. I needed to roll another 6 without rolling a 7, and people could bet on a variety of things, including specific dice rolls, whether I'd hit a 7 before I hit the 6 again, or the like. Bets were made, and I tossed again. And again. And again.

It took me five rolls, but I hit the 6 again, and the table exploded with excitement. Each successive roll amped up the drama, and soon we had people who had been playing at other tables stepping over to watch. Flashy Rolex Guy was tossing around hundred-dollar tips like they were nickels, and I made sure to tip our dealers well after each toss we won.

I kept tossing the dice and we all kept winning. I set 5 as a point and hit it in two rolls. The table went nuts again, and as soon as the dealer flipped the 'on' button to 'off,' a few new people bought in and threw bets on the pass line.

I was still playing with Flashy Rolex Guy's money, so I threw one of my winning chips over to him and thanked him for the loan. He was too busy counting his winnings to even really care, and that cemented his dipshit status in my head.

I was on a roll, and it kept going. I hit 10 as a point, hit it again six rolls later, and the crowd cheered loudly enough that it raised heads around the casino floor. I hit two more points, and soon there were nearly two dozen people trying to put bets on the table.

I had something close to a thousand dollars in chips riding on the pass line now, as I just kept betting my winnings.

We had been going for close to twenty minutes so far, and I was waiting for my luck to run out. But before it did, I decided to take a chance, just to see what would happen.

"Can I get ten grand?" I asked the dealer.

Flashy Rolex Guy laughed out loud. "You think that's how this works, kid? Jesus, did you just fall off a turnip truck or something?"

I looked at him, said nothing, and then looked back to the dealer. "Please?" I added, as politely as I could. The girls were laughing at me, but not in a mean way, more like a he-is-crazy-for-even-making-the-request way. It actually seemed to raise my standing with them. The Hispanic and the Black guy, who had their arms around the two cougars now that they'd won quite a bit, began encouraging the dealer to give me as much as I was asking for, just for having the balls to say it.

The dealer, who had heard the Elysium code and knew I had unlimited credit, played along. He leaned over and stared at me, appraisingly. Then he looked at the rest of the table and paused for dramatic effect.

Finally, with a big smile he said, "You look like the trustworthy type," and pulled a stack of ten orange thousand-dollar chips from the rack in front of him and pushed them towards me.

"Holy shit," Rolex Guy said. I smirked.

"Hey, if that's all it takes, can I have ten grand, too?" Katie asked, giggling and sending her side of the table into paroxysms of laughter. The dealer laughed and just shook his head no.

I put the stack of ten pumpkins on the pass line, and leaned over to talk a little smack to Rolex Guy.

"I think I've got a solid case of beginner's luck. You think it's going to run out, or are you willing to live a little?" I chided him. I was feeling a little ballsy, given the streak I was on. And I have to admit, I wanted to stick it in this guy's eye a bit, given he'd been talking down to me since I got here. He'd been holding onto his winnings and had nearly as much in his hands now as I had riding on the pass line.

"Kid, I could put your yearly income on the pass line if I wanted," he said, sneering, and he threw all the chips he'd been hoarding onto the table. "Shut up and roll."

"I think he's got another win in him," Katie said encouragingly, and her girls all bet as much as they were holding as well.

Soon there was probably close to fifty thousand dollars in bets on the table. There were dozens of people crowding around, waiting to see what was going to happen.

I took the dice, blew on them, and threw.

I rolled an 8, with one die showing 6 and the other a 2.

"Can I get another ten grand?" I asked the dealer. He didn't hesitate, and I put the stack of ten orange chips on the hard eight. The bet would pay ten to one if I won it, meaning my ten grand would become one hundred grand if I managed to role two 4s.

I freely admit that I was enjoying playing with house money, and I was being reckless. Hard way bets are almost always losers, but I felt lucky. As long as I didn't crap out or roll an 8 any other way, I wouldn't lose it. But the only way to win it was to hit that pair of 4s.

The table held their breath as I collected the dice after the stickman pushed them towards me, and I rolled for what felt like the hundredth time that morning.

I rolled a 10, a 4 and a 9 on the next three rolls. I made a few bucks for people who were playing the field, but otherwise the table was relatively quiet. I still had my first ten grand on the pass line, with the five I'd already won on the odds behind my pass line bet. And I had the second ten grand hard way bet still in play.

I blew on the dice, closed my eyes, and threw.

The first die hit the back wall of the table, right under where Katie was standing, and stopped, showing a 4. The other die rattled around a bit, bouncing off the back wall and then rolling almost to the middle of the table, and when it finally stopped moving, it showed another 4.

The sound that came out of the people around our table probably shook the Elysium. Everybody, and I mean everybody, from the players to the people who had stepped over to watch, started screaming. Flashy Rolex Guy was hugging me, patting me on the back. The stickman was grinning from ear to ear, and I smiled at all of them. All the girls had won a considerable amount, but there was no bigger winner at the table than me.

My hard way bet earned me a hundred grand. My pass line bets had earned me sixteen grand, so all told, there was a hundred and forty-one thousand dollars to my name sitting on the table right now. I paid back the twenty grand credit I had borrowed from the house, gave the dealers a twenty grand tip and left a thousand bucks on the pass line. That left the hundred grand winnings from my hard way bet and the ten thousand stake I'd made it with.

Not bad for not using a penny of my own money.

"Katie, when are you getting married?" I asked, from across the table. She was counting her winnings and didn't hear me at first, but one of her girlfriends poked her and then pointed at me, and she realized I was talking to her.

"What? It's hard to hear over all this screaming," she said, raising her voice. The crowd around the table was still cheering, and the dealers were still counting out chips and paying out winning bets.

"When are you getting married?" I asked her again, loudly. She finally understood me and smiled.

"Today!" She said, laughing. "I should have probably called it a night a little while ago, but we were doing so well, I couldn't walk away while lady luck was smiling on me!"

I laughed. "Well, she's still smiling. Here," I said, waving at the pile of chips the dealers were counting out, the winnings from my hard way bet. They had to shift from chips to 10k markers. I leaned over and told the boxman to pay those winnings to her. He dutifully took the pile of 10k markers and pushed it in front of Katie. "There's the downpayment for your house. Get out of the basement. And best wishes on the wedding," I said. I took the last 10k marker and held on to it.

"What the fuck, dude!?" Flashy Rolex Guy said, as he saw what I did. "That's a hundred grand! Are you fucking crazy? She's getting married today, you've got no chance," he laughed at me, amused at his own joke. "Besides, that's life changing money for a guy like you!" he added.

Unbelievable. I had just won this guy thousands of dollars and he was still looking down on me because I had the audacity to walk the floor of the Elysium in my favorite hoodie, one my father had given me before he'd died, and that I'd had since I was a teenager.

I just shook my head in exasperation.

I think the stickman had finally had enough. He touched the guy on the arm. "Far be it from me to inject myself into your conversation, but do you have any idea who you're talking to?" The stickman pointed directly at me.

"No," Flashy Rolex Guy said, still laughing. "Why should I?"

"Because he's Jack Fisher," the stickman continued. "He's the President of a major casino here in Vegas, and his mother and stepfather own the Elysium."

The bachelorette party screamed when they heard my name. "Wait, THE Jack Fisher? The porn star?! It's really you?!" shouted one of the party girls.

The one who reminded me of Avery started bouncing up and down, and she shouted to the other girls, "I told you bitches it was him!"

Katie was already pale with shock at me handing her a hundred-grand for a wedding gift, and this added revelation made me concerned she was going to faint right there on the floor. It was worth every penny to see her face light up when she realized what was happening was real and not a joke.

"In the flesh," I said, waving at them. They squealed and laughed.

The cougars actually moved in my direction for a second, but the two guys moved with them, their arms still around the two ladies' waists. I started laughing, too.

Flashy Rolex Guy looked stunned. "No wonder they let you down here looking like that," was all he could say. What a prick.

"Don't judge a book by its cover, dude," I told him. The stickman just shook his head and pushed the dice over to me.

I was still the shooter, so I picked them up, and got ready to roll one more time. I didn't know how much luck I had left, but I didn't expect it was going to be much.

I was a bit disappointed as Flashy Rolex Guy got his winnings and left the table. While I hoped he was embarrassed by how he'd spoken to me, I figured he wanted to leave on a high note, and I'd made him a lot of money. I knew my luck streak had to end sometime, and I was hoping I'd be around to see him lose everything. Oh well.

The bachelorette party girls were too excited by the gift I'd given Katie and their own winnings to pay attention to the table now, and none of them bet. Only a few of the people who had come late and were hoping for more magic stayed in. The two guys and the cougars were also nowhere to be seen. I wished them good luck and was happy I helped those two get laid -- at least, I hope they got laid.

I threw the dice. It came up 3. I had crapped out. C'est la vie.

"And the hot streak finally comes to an end!" The stickman said. The dealers cleared the table of bets. The pit boss motioned for Katie to come over to him, and he whispered a few things to her, and then she smiled brightly. My guess was she'd just got her room comped.

I waved to the crowd, who began to disperse, took my now very cold cup of coffee and started to walk away.

"Hey, Jack! Wait up!" I heard from behind me. I turned and saw Katie and her bachelorette girls rushing over to me. She stopped in front of me and rested her hand on my arm. "I can't believe that just happened," she said, breathlessly. "I've never seen anything like it. And you just... you just... gave me all that money!"

I smiled at her. "Enjoy it. I hope your wedding is wonderful, and I know you'll make your husband very happy," I told her.

She bit her lip, and looked at me, then at the girls. "The girls and I were wondering if you wanted to ... well, you know ... go upstairs for a bit?"

There were four of them and Katie.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked. Far be it from me to turn down five women, but I knew almost nothing about her, and I'd just spent last night in an orgy. I didn't think I was up for another. "What's your fiancée going to say?"

Katie went beet red and started to stammer. "I... I didn't mean that! It's just... a couple of the girls are big fans, and I didn't realize it was you. We kind of just want to hang out and get a few selfies before the wedding."

I grinned at her. She was adorable. She had to be my age, maybe just a little older.

"Sure," I said. "I'd be happy to."

We went upstairs to Katie's suite. Her fiancée was asleep in the bedroom, so we had to keep it kind of low. The girls all wanted selfies with me, and I obliged them. I signed a few autographs, and the girl who looked like Avery -- I found out her name was Jasmine -- asked me to sign her left breast, which I did. The girls whooped and hollered, and soon Katie's fiancée woke up and joined us all in the main room. He was a hunky Black guy, and he looked bleary eyed. I guessed his bachelor party had been last night, too.

"Hey Tony, did you have a good time? Well, as good a time as you could have, am I right?" Jasmine said, a knowing look on her face. I had no idea what she meant by that, but I saw Tony look down at his feet. The look on his face made me think he might have been blushing, but his complexion was too dark to really be able to tell.

Interesting. I filed that one way for later analysis.

Katie, on the other hand, squeed when she saw him, ran over and gave him a big kiss and started whispering about what had happened at the craps table with him. At first, he seemed a little put out that I was in his suite with his fiancée and all the girls, but when Katie explained the craps game and the result, I saw a look of shock and then one of unalloyed happiness cross his face. Then he turned back to me and the look went away, and he looked shy and abashed.

What is going on here? I wondered.

The guy was maybe a hand shorter than I was, just around six feet tall. He was dark skinned, with a broad face, strong shoulders and his body was just a bit husky. A few more inches and he could have been a linebacker, but instead he looked like a miniature version of Lionel Jefferson, Sol's main bodyguard.

I had to admit, this guy was my type. I've had a thing for Black guys for years, as all of you who have read these memoirs know. And I had to admit, I'd not been with a guy in a while. Granted, this guy was getting married today, he probably wasn't gay or bi, so sex with me was probably far from his mind. This was the Elysium, though, and I learned long ago not to make assumptions about anybody's kinks.

Katie brought him over to me. "Tony, this is Jack Fisher. He's the one I told you about. Who gave us all this money. Jack, I never formally introduced myself. I'm Katie Lampton and this my fiancée, Tony Blankenship."

Tony just stood there looking at me, until Katie cleared her throat and gestured towards me. It was like she had flipped a switch in his head, and suddenly he was gregarious and happy again.

"Jack, I can't thank you enough!" Tony gushed. He had a deep voice and big hands, and he shook mine heartily. "Katie and I have been living in my parents basement since we got out of school, and we've been desperately trying to save up enough to get our own place! I never thought it was going to happen, but now... you got us the downpayment and they comped our room for the entire stay! I was worried we'd just bankrupted ourselves on this destination wedding..." he said, and I saw a look of frosty disapproval cross Katie's face. The happy-go-lucky, cute naïve girl was gone now, and let me tell you, I did not want to be on the receiving end of a look like that. "... anyway, thanks," he said, his voice trailing off and his gregariousness completely gone.

I tried to buck him up. "The best part is, since you didn't win it yourself, and as my gift to you, you don't have to pay any taxes!" I joked with them. I had no idea if that was true or not, but it sounded good. That made Katie smile broadly, and I saw a hesitant smile cross Tony's face. He looked over at Katie, and she nodded slightly, and his smile broadened until it was as wide as hers.

"Anyway, I'm glad I could be part of your big day. And since it is your big day, I think we should probably all get out of your hair and let you all get ready, right?" I told them, looking knowingly at Katie and then over at Jasmine and the other three ladies.

Katie nodded, and I saw Jasmine stand up, and start shooing the rest of the girls out of the suite. Soon it was just the three of us.

While this was happening, I saw Katie lean towards Tony. She whispered something to him, and he nodded vigorously. Then I saw her slap her left hand against his crotch casually. She had a small diamond engagement ring on -- modest, clearly the ring of a man who was pinching his pennies -- and I could have sworn I heard a metallic tink when the back of her hand hit it.

I was still processing what I thought I'd heard when the door clicked shut behind Jasmine and the girls, and Katie stepped over towards me.

"Jack, I know you've given us a lot, but can I beg for one more favor?" Katie asked, looking up at me. She had pretty blue eyes that reminded me a bit of Eva's.

"Of course. What can I do for you?" I asked her, feeling pretty good about myself, but dreading that she was going to ask for something sexual. I wasn't really in the mood, even after all the winning.

"Can we get your number? We're going to be staying in the hotel for a week -- like Tony said, this is our destination wedding, and the honeymoon is built in," she explained. "Maybe you'd be willing to get coffee with us later?"

I looked at Tony and noticed he was looking back at me strangely, a mix of hesitation and what looked like desire. Katie took his hand and leaned on him, and then looked up at me, expectantly. I let go a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding and smiled.

There was a weird vibe going on here between the two of them, and I have to admit I was intrigued. They weren't asking for sex, just my phone number.

Hell, I thought. Why not?

"For you? Anything," I said, laughing politely. I pulled out my phone, and we exchanged contact cards.

"Thanks! I'll text you," she said. I could tell our little meeting was coming to an end, so I decided to take my leave.

"Congrats, you two! Good luck today, and have fun tonight," I told them, as I said goodbye and left their suite. As the door was closing, I saw Katie pull Tony down and give him a tremendous kiss. It was pretty clear who wore the pants in that relationship, and it wasn't Tony.

I wandered back downstairs, to get a new cup of coffee and see what other mischief I could get up to.

* * *

Monday afternoon, July 18, 1983

The Oasis, Las Vegas

"Tell me your life story," Winston Chesterfield said to Victor Romano, as the pair handed their menus back to the waiter in The Grill.

When the Oasis originally opened in the 1960s, its anchor restaurant was called The Luau. They served authentic Hawaiian food and ran an hourly show with dancing girls in grass skirts, leis, and even a Don Ho-style singer complete with ukulele.

It bombed. Vegas-goers in that era weren't interested in 'ethnic' food, and while Hawaii had been officially a state for a decade at that point, it was still a bit too exotic for the flavor palate of your average gambler. Chesterfield was obstinate that it remained open because he liked the place and the food, and over the years, The Luau had picked up a cult following. Despite that, he did bow to pressure from his staff and opened a second marquee restaurant in the Oasis, The Grill, which was a standard Vegas steak-and-potato joint.

It was now his go-to spot for business lunches, and he had a reserved table near the kitchen. This was intentional. The area near the kitchen was the loudest part of the restaurant, and while he didn't think it was bugproof, it was one area where only the most determined eavesdropper would try to listen in on his business.

Romano grimaced at the directness of the question. Victor was an intensely private person, and he felt like Chesterfield already knew too much about him, given their run-in at the maternity ward the previous week. But he also knew that Chesterfield was the power in Vegas, and if he was going to succeed in his efforts to transform the town, he needed to stay on Winnie's good side. So, he did something that did not come easily.

He talked frankly about himself.

Fortunately, he could cheat. He'd once been forced to write his personal history down for a class in college, and he recalled exactly what he had written at the time.

"There's not much to tell, honestly. My family is from Tuscany, in Italy, although my mother is Greek Cypriot. My grandfather moved here in the 20s as a teenager and found a job as a building super in an apartment building in Queens," Romano began. Chesterfield looked at him closely and could tell there was a lot going on in this young man's head. It was clear he didn't like speaking about himself.

"Common immigrant story," Chesterfield said, and Romano nodded.

"He was prudent with his money and wasn't married. Right before the war, he bought the building. Like many Italian immigrants, he was a patriot, and when the war started, he enlisted, even though he was in his early thirties. He served in Europe, came home and built his business. By the time my father was born, he owned more than a dozen buildings. My father took over Romano Real Estate Holdings when Grandfather passed in '65. The business grew steadily after the war, and eventually, they added a few hotels to the residential properties. I've been groomed to take over the business since I was born," Romano said, taking a sip of still water from a glass dripping with condensation.

The information dump from Romano about his life could have come from a written biography, and the stilted way he delivered it was like he was reading from a printed page. It made Chesterfield smile internally, but outwardly he kept his face passive. He realized as Romano spoke that there were many layers to this kid. Time to keep peeling.

"How did you end up in Vegas?" Winston asked, looking across the table at the impeccably dressed, well-groomed young man. There was something about his story that was too neat. It made Chesterfield's intuition prickle. He filed it away with all the other questions he had swirling in his head at the moment, a thread to take up another time.

On the outside, Winston was calm and collected. On the inside, he was still a roiling ball of emotion, agitated and angry, still conflicted about his next steps. He was seriously considering handing Romano over to the Mob, outing him as the leak to Weissman, and pointing the finger at him as one of the casino execs who was loudest in favor of the Mob's removal from Vegas. He had another three days to make up his mind before The Chin's deadline was up.

Romano had no idea how much was riding on this lunch.

"We got bought out. Our new parent company made my father an offer he couldn't refuse," Romano deadpanned, apparently completely oblivious to the irony of what he'd just said.

Chesterfield grunted. "Cute," he said. This kid's pretty funny, Winnie thought.

"What's cute about it?" Romano asked, clearly confused by Chesterfield's remark.

Chesterfield blinked. Maybe he'd given the kid too much credit. Maybe that wasn't a quote from The Godfather. Kids.

"Never mind. That doesn't answer my question, though. How'd you end up here?" Chesterfield took a sip of water.

"Part of the agreement for the buyout of Romano Holdings was that the new owners put me in charge of their new hospitality division. Otherwise, my father wasn't going to sell. Given how much value real estate in New York is worth these days, especially with developers like Donald Trump and others paying out the nose for it, they really wanted the company."

"Who's Donald Trump?" Chesterfield asked. The name meant nothing to him.

"A big real estate developer in New York. He just opened a massive tower in Manhattan a few months ago. His organization is one of our largest competitors," Romano explained. "The price of New York City real estate has been skyrocketing, and our parent company wanted in on it. Romano Holdings gave them a prebuilt way to do that. And the only condition, besides the sales price, was letting me run their hotel operation. They accepted," Romano said, as if what happened was the most natural thing in the world.

"Wait," Chesterfield said, pausing. "Are you telling me that you're technically Frank Boyd's boss?"

"Not technically. He reports to me," Romano said.

"How old are you?"

"I turned twenty in February," Romano replied.

"Jesus Christ. Frank Boyd, a casino executive who has been in this city for thirty years, is reporting to a twenty-year-old?" Chesterfield was floored.

"Yes."

"I had no idea. What does Frank think about this?" Chesterfield asked. He tried to imagine if someone had put a twenty-year-old kid in charge of his hotel. It made his head swim. How could this kid possibly have any idea what it was like to run a business?

"I don't know, and I don't care," Romano said. "His opinions on my age are of no concern. My job is to ensure that our hotel portfolio makes money. Frank's job is to assist me in doing that. If he does his job, everything will be fine. If he doesn't, then he'll be looking for a new one."

Chesterfield gave a wry smile. The kid has balls, he thought. I kind of like him. Makes what I'm probably going to do to him harder.

The server arrived with their lunches. Winnie's usual lunch at The Grill was a large, rare ribeye with a loaded baked potato, slathered in butter, sour cream, cheese, chives, and bacon. Romano had opted for a Cobb salad. Winston ordered a bottle of wine -- a Chianti -- in acknowledgement of Romano's Tuscan heritage, and the sommelier brought it over. Chesterfield knew almost nothing about wine and drank it rarely, so he told the sommelier to let Romano sample it and decide if he liked it. Winnie was a whiskey drinker.

Romano took a sip, nodded at the sommelier, who proceeded to pour two generous glasses for the men. They ate in silence for a few moments, before Chesterfield cleared his throat. The conversation so far had been one sided and more than a little stilted. He was surprised that Romano had been this forthcoming, but he also noticed Romano hadn't asked him a thing. That was curious.

"I'm sure you want to know all about me, too," Chesterfield suggested, trying to reignite the conversation that had died when the food and wine had arrived. He cut and forked a piece of ribeye, appreciating that it was perfectly prepared, and savored the meat as he chewed it.

Romano, for his part, had barely touched his salad. He rested his fork on the side of his plate, in perfect Emily Post style. He looked at Chesterfield piercingly.

"I know all about you already, Mr. Chesterfield," he answered.

Chesterfield grinned. "Oh really? Tell me about myself," he said, his voice full of amusement.

"You are Winston Carlton Chesterfield IV. You're forty-four years old, born in Chesterfield County, Virginia. Your family is one of the First Families of Virginia, and you descend from Philip Stanhope, the 4th Earl of Chesterfield, for whom the county was named. Unfortunately, your family's title became extinct in 1967," Romano told him.

Chesterfield raised his eyebrows. He had no idea he was related to the English aristocracy. Romano wasn't finished and kept talking, reciting on like he was reading a dossier prepared by the CIA.

"Your family made its fortune in tobacco farming, and were Union sympathizers during the Civil War, which is how they managed to hold on to their estates postbellum. Your paternal great-grandfather served on the Union side, and your maternal great-grandfather was the last Republican governor of the Commonwealth until 1970. You moved to Las Vegas when you turned twenty, and you took your share of your grandfather's estate and built the Oasis. You're affiliated with the Genovese family, you're married to Margaret Ann, with two children, Carlton and Elizabeth, and you are known to have frequent dalliances with the staff at the Oasis," he finished. "Your favorite color is blue, you drive a Cadillac Seville, and even though you ostensibly hate tobacco, you have been known to smoke from time to time."

Chesterfield laughed, slight shock giving way to admiration. The kid had done his homework.

"You didn't say which shade of blue," he mocked gently.

"Royal," Romano added.

"Goddamn it," Chesterfield said. "Where the hell did you get all that?"

"I do my homework, Mr. Chesterfield. I read your Playboy interview, and many of the articles written about you in the Las Vegas Review over the years. I notice that the Tribune rarely mentions you. Why is that?" Romano asked, picking up his fork and digging into his salad.

"Weissman and I have a deal. He leaves me alone and I leave him alone."

"Was there some kind of falling out between the two of you?"

"Sheldon doesn't approve of my ... affiliations. But when I came to Vegas, that was the only way you could get into the casino business. I didn't have much of a choice," Chesterfield said ruefully. He dug out a hunk of potato, making sure to get a generous bit of sour cream and bacon, and ate it. He avoided the skin at all costs.

"And what about now, with the government taking on the Mob?"

The conversation was steaming towards dangerous territory, and Chesterfield had no idea how he'd lost control of it. That irritated him, so he did his best to wrest control back.

"How did you remember all of that stuff about me, off the top of your head?"

"I have an eidetic memory," Romano explained. "Do you know what that is?"

Chesterfield shook his head. "I'm not a college graduate, Victor. My parents wanted me to go to Harvard, and I wanted them to go to hell, so I left. Granddaddy was on my side, and he made it possible for me to do what I wanted when he died. And while I consider myself to be pretty street smart, I don't read dictionaries for fun." Chesterfield was not ashamed of his lack of education. In fact, he reveled in it. College educated men often underestimated him because he didn't have a degree. The look on their faces when he ran circles around them was priceless.

"I can recall images, sounds and objects in great detail, especially written words. If I hear something, it's like I have a sheet of paper in front of me and can read what's been said. Same for things I read. It's how I managed to complete high school and Yale so quickly," he explained.

"Oh, like a photographic memory? Why didn't you just say that?" Chesterfield said.

Gotcha, he thought. There were no bugs in his office or in the conference room the NARC board meeting was held in. Romano was the fucking bug. He had a photographic memory. Everything clicked into place. And his casual mention of the Tribune was telling, too.

"Because my term is more precise than yours," Romano said. "I value precision. It's unfortunate that you and Sheldon Weissman do not get along. I think he's done a lot of good for Las Vegas, and I hope to be able to build on his work."

Chesterfield's poker face displayed nothing of his inner thoughts, but at this revelation he felt himself start to smirk. He covered his satisfaction at Romano's admissions by forking another hunk of meat into his mouth.

Winston evaluated what he'd learned so far, and it confirmed many of his original impressions. This kid was extremely smart, but he lacked ... wisdom? Or was it experience? In his place, Winston would have been more cagey, less trusting. It was clear that Romano, while intelligent, was still naïve when it came to power politics. And, unfortunately for him, that naiveté might cost him. Dearly.

"What is it you're trying to do, Victor?" Chesterfield decided to be blunt. He was tired of dancing around the subject, and since Romano seemed willing answer and since Winnie had detected no obvious falsehoods -- the glossy version of his family background notwithstanding - he might as well get to the heart of the matter. He was done eating, anyway.

"The same thing as you, I believe," Romano said. "While I know you've worked with the Mob, you made it clear you don't like the way Vegas has been run and you're looking forward to the federal government clearing the Mob out of this town. I do not intend to let anybody, especially not some criminal element, dictate to me how I run my business. And I do not want to raise my daughter in a city built and run by organized crime. I want Vegas to be completely legitimate, a place where people will want to live, work and raise a family, free from violence and coercion. I'm going to fight hard to make that goal a reality. And I hope you'll join me," Romano said passionately.

Chesterfield gave him a wry grin. The kid was an idealist. He knew as much from their brief conversation in the maternity ward last week. Chesterfield appreciated the enthusiasm, but it was probably going to get the kid killed, he knew. The Mob wasn't going anywhere, regardless of what the Feds were doing. They'd been here so long, had so much invested, they would never just walk away. At least, not without a fight. The kid seemed to want the fight, but Chesterfield didn't.

Winston didn't have any real qualms about working with the Mob. To him, it was no different than working with the government. Both provided protection and services. Both expected you to pay for them. Both used force to coerce you if you didn't. Now, maybe there was a layer of bureaucracy with the government that the Mob didn't use, but whether you put somebody in jail for not paying his taxes or in the hospital for not paying the skim, the point was the same -- fuck you, pay me.

It was all part of the cost of doing business.

The kid seemed to think one was better than the other. That was his naiveté talking. In the end, the question Chesterfield was struggling with was less about doing the right thing, than it was doing the thing that would maximize the benefit for him and for the people he cared about while minimizing risk.

There was a ton of risk in throwing his lot in with Weissman and Romano against the Mob. There was far less risk in giving The Chin what he wanted and then hoping the Feds actually managed to pull off their move against organized crime nationally. That seemed to be the winning move, both in the short term and the long term.

Chesterfield almost decided then and there his course of action. It was clear to him the best choice for him and his family. But he felt a pang of conscience.

"How is your little one doing? Sally, right?" Chesterfield asked, tilting his head. "I don't have a photographic memory, but I do listen," he added lightly.

"She's doing fine. I'm looking forward to when she starts sleeping through the night, though. These three AM feedings are hard on her mother," Romano said, perking up. He clearly enjoyed talking about his little girl. He was even more animated now than when he was preaching crusade against the Mob.

"Good. You aren't worried about her? You think you can take on the Mob and not expect them to fight back?"

That sobered Romano up right quick. "I'm not afraid," he said. "Those people don't intimidate me. My grandfather and my father all stood up to them in New York, and they were all bark and no bite. Besides, they don't attack family. If they want to try to intimidate me, they'll find I'm a hard person to scare."

"We're in a strange new world, Victor. Just because the Mob has their own rules, doesn't mean they have to abide by them. I think you need to think this through a bit harder than you have been. There's a reason why I don't cross them. Three reasons, and they all live in Virginia."

Romano scoffed. "I thought you were tougher than that, Mr. Chesterfield. Wouldn't you rather beat these men rather than join them?"

Chesterfield bristled at the implication that he was a coward. He wasn't a coward. He was a realist. He didn't fight battles he didn't have to. Discretion is the better part of valor, he'd always thought. And the battlefields of the world were littered with the shallow graves of brave men who hadn't thought about the consequences of their actions. Chesterfield wanted to die in bed at a ripe old age. He had no illusions of immortality. Romano was too young to start worrying about that kind of thing, and it showed. He had a lot to learn.

Maybe he'd get lucky and get the chance. Chesterfield didn't think that was likely, though.

"I'd rather keep breathing, Victor," Winston replied.

* * *

Sunday afternoon, June 6, 2032

The Elysium, Las Vegas

I hit the gun range, then the gym, and found my way down to the sports book. The Sunday afternoon baseball games were just starting, and I ordered myself a cheeseburger and a beer, as a reward for finally getting a workout in.

Avery and Eva had texted me that they were going to have a girls' day over at the Empire Luxe. Eva preferred the salon and clothes stores in her home hotel, and she and Avery would often head over there by themselves. I tended to stay away. I didn't trust Vex Romano and his hotel brought back bad memories.

I wanted to tell them about the events of this morning, but I figured it could wait until they got home tonight. If they got home tonight. Eva still had an apartment at the Empire Luxe, so the girls could easily spend the night over there if they wanted to.

That meant I had the day to myself. Mom and Sol were off to Switzerland on their honeymoon. Diego had the day off. It was only a two-and-a-half-hour drive, so Claire and Ben told me they were heading down to Arizona to see the Grand Canyon. I was basically alone. All the people closest to me were doing their own thing, so I decided I'd follow suit.

The Diamondbacks were playing the Dodgers. The Boys in Blue were our biggest rivals, and now that the Dodgers had traded Shohei Ohtani to the Mets to get his monster contract off their books, they were in the basement in the NL West. I was not complaining, and I cheered as my Dbacks took an early three to nothing lead.

"Hey Jack!" I heard a voice call, and I turned to see Cassidy Cane bouncing into the sports book. Cassidy was a fixture now in the Elysium, one of our longest residents and, now that she'd unretired from the porn business, one of our biggest attractions. The Queen of Interracial Porn, she'd begun hosting afternoon gangbangs in the sports book a few months ago when she and I had an impromptu one that was well received by the gamblers here. Since then, the sports book staff had roped off a section of the book near the front for her use.

It looked like we were about to get another show, because she had three members of the hotel's Stable of Bulls trailing behind her.

"Hey Cassidy," I said, standing up to give her a quick hug and a kiss. Hugs with Cassidy were difficult affairs, because she was so petite and her breasts were so large I had to bend my neck at an awkward angle to kiss her. That never stopped me, though. She'd taught me a lot about the porn business over the last few months and was one of my favorite scene partners. "You putting on a show?"

"Yes, sir," she said, saluting me. "It's about that time, and Sunday is my funday," she laughed. "Care to join?"

I shook my head. "I'm going to finish my burger and then go walk around the hotel a bit. But you know I love to watch you," I told her.

She grinned at me. "Maybe we'll get to play again soon," she said, winking at me. She turned to the three Black guys and crooked her finger at them. "C'mon boys. I need some cock!"

I sat back down and took a bite from my burger, washing it down with a pull from my Mic Ultra. The Dbacks had scored another run, and it was now four to nothing. There were a few other games on the big screens, and apparently there was a horse race happening somewhere that was also being broadcast, but it didn't take long for my attention to be drawn from the video displays to the sexy display happening a few rows below me.

Cassidy was now nude and had begun undressing the three Bulls. Soon there were four naked people at the foot of the sports book, and I noticed the seats around me began to fill up as people came in to watch the show.

Cassidy's long, platinum blonde hair almost touched the floor as she knelt down to take one of those big black cocks in her mouth, while her hands began to jerk off the other two. Her enormous, enhanced tits barely jiggled with her efforts, and I saw that she had refreshed the temporary Queen of Spades tattoo that she often wore right above her shaved pussy. The black of the ink was a dark contrast against her pale skin, even blacker than the cocks she was servicing.

I divided my attention between Cassidy and her crew and the ballgame. An inning passed, the Dodgers managed to hit a three-run homer that brought the game back within their reach, and Cassidy managed to deepthroat each of the three cocks in turn, and that brought even more people to the sports book to watch her show.

A few minutes later I groaned as the Dodgers tied the game on a wild pitch. At the same time, I heard Cassidy groan as she sat down on one of the Bulls' cocks, who began fucking her hard, her hair swishing about and her tits finally moving as she was pummeled.

I cheered loudly as the Dbacks took the lead back in the next inning, while the folks around me cheered equally as loud as Cassidy took the first spunk from one of the men, who covered her tits with his semen. I watched as she bent over one of the seats, found a tube of lube, and used it to grease the pole of one of the Bulls who hadn't cum yet. She placed the other Bull in the chair, climbed on his cock, and then urged the remaining Bull, with the lube moistened member, to fuck her ass.

My attention went back to the game as the DBacks expanded their lead, and then I turned to watch as the Bulls expanded Cassidy's asshole, both of them getting a chance to plow her from behind while the other fucked her pussy. I knew Cassidy enjoyed being double penetrated -- I'd done it to her multiple times with other partners -- and the noises she was making often drowned out the sounds of baseball and horse racing that otherwise would have filled the sports book.

Another inning and the Dbacks held on to a one run lead, winning the game five to four, and Cassidy had taken the final two loads from her bulls all over her face and torso. She was dripping with cum and sweat as she stood up, took a bow, received a rousing round of applause from all of us, and then walked out to the casino floor and up to her room, naked as a jaybird. The three Bulls put their clothes back on, and I saw a few of them receiving tips from folks in the sports book as they walked out.

I stood up, leaving the remains of my lunch to be cleared by one of the servers, and decided to take a stroll around the hotel.

I wandered by the hotel lobby, looking at the line of people who were waiting to check in. They all looked good, many wearing designer clothes and flashy jewelry. There were a handful of couples, some single men, and more than a few women who appeared to be by themselves.

But what caught my attention was a lone Black kid, in a nice white shirt and khakis, standing by himself near the entrance. He was looking around, and I could sense from his body language that he was overwhelmed by what he was seeing. To be fair, the registration lobby of the Elysium was an overwhelming place.

I remembered being in his shoes the first time I'd stepped into the hotel, last December. The dark woods and dim lighting, the explicit, erotic art on the walls and the massive fountain depicting a threesome in mid-act were like nothing I'd ever seen before, and I could tell this kid was having the same feelings as I did the first time I'd seen them.

I crossed the lobby and decided to see if I could help him. He seemed timid, no more than a teenager, but he was tall and good looking, and completely my type. And I have to admit I was a bit amped up after watching Cassidy's gangbang in the sports book.

"Hey man, you look a bit lost. Can I help you?" I asked him.

He looked startled for a second and then looked at me. "Y... yeah... first time in a place... like this. Damn, this wasn't at all what I was expecting, you know?"

I laughed. "Yeah, that was exactly my reaction the first time I came in here. I'm Jack. What's your name?"

"Elijah," he said. I stuck out my hand, and he looked at me confused for a second, but then came back to himself, grasped my hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you, Jack."

"What brings you to the Elysium today? Checking in?"

He laughed. "Naw, man, I can't afford to stay in a place like this. I was, actually, well... I met this girl..."

It was my turn to laugh. "Is she staying here? Maybe I can help you find her," I told him, and I gestured him over towards the front desk.

"Do you work here?" he asked, eyeing my hoodie and shorts skeptically.

"Sort of," I told him. "Come with me."

The front desk of the hotel was slammed with guests checking in, as it was just after four. I steered Elijah over towards the residential concierge desk, where I saw my favorite Sinclair Group staffer, Misaki Oh, was standing.

"Hello, Jack! Good to see you!" She said, bobbing her head at me. Misaki was as breathtaking as usual, one of the most gorgeous women I had ever seen, and there was just something about the way she filled out the white blouse and black pencil skirt that served as the staff uniform for women in the Elysium that did it for me. Just looking at her made my dick twitch.

"Hey Misaki! Good to see you, too," I said, venturing a kiss on her cheek. She smiled at me happily and returned that kiss with one on my lips. That sent my heartbeat fluttering a bit.

"And who is this?" She asked me, looking at Elijah for the first time.

"This is my new friend Elijah," I told her, gesturing to the kid. He looked stunned by Misaki, and I couldn't blame him. She was as close to female perfection as I'd ever seen. "He's looking for a friend."

"I'm sorry, Elijah, but we aren't permitted to release information about guests to anyone," Misaki said, frowning.

"Oh, she's not a guest," Elijah said quickly, holding up his hand. "She works here. She and I met a week ago, and she told me if I ever needed a job, I should come and see her. Well, I do. So here I am," he added. He looked Misaki straight in the eye as he said this, apparently summoning up all of his self-confidence.

I grinned. I liked the kid already. He had guts, coming into a place like this, looking for a job.

"What is her name?" Misaki said, tilting her head politely.

"Bunny," he told us. "Uh... she never gave me her last name."

"Just Bunny?" Misaki said, a wan smile on her face. She seemed to be enjoying how flustered the young man was getting.

"Yeah. Uh... sorry," Elijah added, and I could tell he was struggling. "I know this sounds kinda stupid and all, now that I think about it. Maybe I shouldn't have bothered asking, but I need a job, and she said..." I could see the kid deflate as he kept talking.

"Do we have a staffer named Bunny?" I asked Misaki, trying to help the kid out.

Misaki smiled at me. "Of course. Bunny Eckert is one of the sex workers here, Jack," Misaki told me. "She lives on the 5th floor. But I don't believe she's here today," Misaki said, frowning again. "She has been on vacation this week. Let me confirm that," she added, punching a few buttons on her computer terminal, and then nodding her head. "Yes, she's not here and won't be back until Wednesday. I'm sorry, Mr. Elijah."

"Oh, no problem," he said dejectedly. "I guess I can come back another time. I was just hoping to get whatever the application process is going," he said.

"What kind of job are you looking for?" I asked him. "Anything in particular?"

"I don't care, as long as it pays," he added. "I'm trying to make enough money to pay for college. I just graduated high school," he told me.

I grinned. "I just graduated college," I told him. "And I feel your pain on the school thing. My college was expensive as fuck, and I was on an athletic scholarship." I stuck my hands in my pockets and leaned on the concierge desk.

"Yeah man, it's tough," Elijah told me. "Nobody in my family's ever gone to college, and the only way to make it seems like you gotta take on so much damn debt that you start life in the hole, ya know?"

"Totally," I agreed. "Misaki, can you get Elijah set up with the job application?"

She nodded and reached under the desk to pull out a tablet computer, on which she punched up and then connected to the Sinclair Group HR portal.

As she did that, my hand hit something hard in my pocket, and I realized I could do more than just give this kid a job application.

I looked him over. He was a good-looking kid, and he'd obviously dressed up as well as he could to come over here to meet his friend Bunny. I got a good vibe off him, and I'd already done one good deed with Katie and her fiancé earlier today.

One good turn deserved another.

"Hey, since you're already here, let me do you one better than just giving you the job application. Misaki, do me a favor and set him up with a membership in the Elysium Club," I told her.

"Oh shit,' Elijah said. "Thanks a lot... Jack," he said, remembering my name. "But I can't afford that. That's gotta cost a ton of money," he added.

"Five hundred bucks is the application fee," I told him, and his eyes bugged out. "But I'll wave it for you, if you do me a favor," I told him.

He looked at me carefully, waiting for the catch. "Depends on the favor," he said warily.

I grinned at him. "So, I was playing craps earlier today, and I won this," I said, pulling the last ten grand marker I'd kept of my winnings after giving Katie the other ten. "I would like it if you'd take this off my hands and use at least some of it to have a good time here in the hotel before you head home. You can fill out the job application, and we'll get in touch with you for an interview later in the week. How does that sound?"

Misaki smiled broadly at me, and the pair of us looked at Elijah. The kid looked like he was about to faint. I put the marker in his hand, and he looked up at me, his mouth wide open in shock. After a few seconds, he spoke.

"Are you for real? You ... you're just gonna give me ten thousand dollars? Why?" He stammered, his hand closing around the marker, as if the tighter he held it the less likely all of this was going to turn out to be a dream.

"Why not?" I asked him, smiling. "I like doing nice things for people. Makes me feel good. And this hotel," I said, waving my arms to encompass the lobby. "This hotel is about making people feel good. That's a lesson you're going to need to learn if you want to work here. So, go feel good and pay it forward," I told him, slapping him on the arm.

"Holy shit," he said, looking at me. "You're serious?"

"As a heart attack," I confirmed. "Go have some fun. Don't spend all the money in one place, though. There's a lot to see and do here, after all."

I felt my arm buzz as I got a text message, my watch notifying me of it.

I left Elijah to fill out the paperwork with Misaki and wandered back onto the casino floor, my second good deed of the day filling me with warmth. It felt good to help people out, and I hoped Elijah ended up getting a job here.

He was cute.

I pulled out my phone to check my messages. It was a text from a random number I didn't recognize, but I knew the 212 area code was from New York City.

It read: Jack, this is Jasmine, Katie's friend from this morning. Can you meet me in the lobby bar? I have an indecent proposal for you...

It ended with an eggplant emoji, a smiling devil and a sweat drop emoji.

I grinned to myself. Jasmine was the mini-Avery from this morning. She was the one who had recognized me, and I was intrigued by the offer of an 'indecent proposal.'

It was just after four in the afternoon. I had been a bit sad that I was probably going to be alone this evening, but now things had started to look up. It had been a while since I'd had a random hook up here in the Elysium, and all the sex I'd seen had made me horny.

There was a spring in my step as I wandered over to the bar to see what Jasmine had in mind.