Cruising the Strip Read Online Free PDF Page A

For a forty-something woman she was dead sexy, stilettos or not, and her sensuality was another thing Keri really liked about her. Used to be a tab of X and tequila shooters had been the only way to get turned on, but now she knew the miracle of a long bubble bath, slow touches, and lots and lots of kissing.
    Harmony was showing various points on the map to Marcie. “Your vacation includes a salt massage at our spa for each of you. The spa is located here—” She tapped the map. “Just call to make a reservation. A romantic dinner for two has been planned for this evening, with a reservation already made for eight p.m. at Imperial, which overlooks the lake and fountains from the south.”
    Marcie was better at remembering details, and Keri let her attention wander to the rest of the grand lobby. She had expected the discordant clanging of slot machines and the stifling stench of cigarettes, but only at the far end could she see the beginnings of a casino. Instead, the lobby seemed designed as an informal, well-lit place to relax and socialize. Three women in sensible shoes hauled heavy book bags off the ground and onto their shoulders as if girding themselves for more walking. Two had water bottles clipped to their belts, prepared for all eventualities. They disappeared in the direction of the conference center.
    Several stunningly attired women entered from the casino, waved a greeting to an equally elegant and curvaceous female—in killer pumps—and the four of them turned toward the shopping concourse carrying nothing more than cute little handbags. Keri couldn’t help but watch after them.
    As her gaze came back to the lobby, she spied a handwritten board welcoming various conventions to the hotel. There were surgeons, writers, poker players, and librarians. But it was “Escort Services International” that caught her eye. The two voluptuous brunettes with gorgeous full hairstyles and flawless makeup who lounged on one of the love seats as they chatted, well, they were not librarians. They might be a baby dyke’s wet dream about librarians, but that they were the escorts, and the water bottle carriers the librarians, was far more likely.
    If she were a good lesbian, she would attempt to explain to the escorts that their profession was oppressive and they needed to cast off the shackles of the patriarchy, but damn, they looked hotter than hell.
    You’re in Vegas, Keri reminded herself. You don’t have to be a good lesbian here. She glanced over at Marcie, who looked incredibly fuckable, too. Her gaze slid past to the two brunettes. You could be a very bad lesbian in Vegas. Trouble is, she told herself, going back to the far more pleasing picture that Marcie made, you’re falling for a granola lesbian, and that collection of toys you’ve got back home is going to go on collecting cobwebs and dust.
    Their room key cards clutched in her hand, Marcie led the way to a bank of elevators. The bellhop, summoned by the ever-cheerful Harmony, patiently followed along. They were passed by a much faster moving couple—oo, Keri thought, more dykes—with an equally swift bellhop. Their high-tech suitcases and leather bags were flawlessly matched. The medium-build, shaggy-haired woman was holding hands with a tall, caramel-skinned beauty in thigh-high boots and a short dress cut down the front to heaven. Their quick walk suggested they had an itch and were in a hurry to scratch it.
    You’re obsessed with sex at the moment, Keri thought. Fancy hotel, Marcie looking adorable—get her into the room and get her naked. You’ll both feel better.
    The power couple was long gone by the time a glass elevator arrived to whisk them up to the twentieth floor.
    “Honey! Look at that pool!” Marcie gazed down at the lush, tropical grounds as they ascended. “Let’s grab our suits and go for a swim.”
    It looked like the perfect setting for a Roman revel. Keri was starting to feel overwhelmed. She’d thought her one goal was to