What Happens In Vegas...

Latifah threw her hands up and swayed her hips to the music, causing her wet shirt to rise.

The club lights bounced off on her newly pierced belly button and run down her exposed skin to where her jeans sit low on her hips.

She had barely made it into Vegas before she ran into the club on the top floor of her hotel. She had simply showered to wash away the stress, dressed up and taken the elevator all the way up till she got there and immediately ordered two shots of vodka. It was some sort of mask party. But only a few people wore the masks.

Most of the clubbers had their faces bare, dancing and jirating, so she didn't feel singled out. She jumped right in, dancing and singing along.

One hour in and she had danced and drank EVERYTHING!

It was her fucking body, anyways.

A lot of men had come up to her to dance, but she wanted a bit of alone time. She wasn't just dancing. She took it as a ritual, completely washing away her dark past. Preparing herself to live and act her age. To enjoy everything that life had to offer.

And she started by clubbing.

Before long, Lyra was on top of the large table in the middle of the club separating the DJ from the crowd.

She danced just as everyone cheered, but she could not quite shake the feeling of being watched. A lot of people were looking at her, yes, but she knew something was 'watching' her.

It unsettled her a little. She stumbled down from the table drunkenly and headed out, searching for the ladies room.

She could still feel that presence following her, making their way through the crowd.

She found a hallway, and proceeded to thank God loudly. They had to be a toilet behind one of the numerous doors in the hallway. Her bladder was killing her.

She pushed a random door and stumbled inside, but rushed out almost immediately. An upside down missionary? People where crazy and innovative with sex.

She threw a loud apology to the couple she had just caught fucking and proceeded to open the next door.

"Oh god! Sorry. Good work though" she said and winked to the lady sucking off another man in the room.

She could still feel the presence and stare of the person.  She didn't know whether to be worried, scared or excited.

Stumbling, she placed her hand on the wall to keep herself from falling into it. Looking into the next room, she stepped inside, and she heard the person do the same.

"What are the odds that you picked my room" The strong masculine voice said as he closed the door behind him and flipped the light.

Latifah turned around and froze when she sees one of those mask-covered men standing in the room with her.

“Oh, uh ...” her eyes went to the door as she took a  small step back, stumbling into the footboard.

He masked man stepped into her, and she sucked in a breath when he lifts his hands to push her hair back. Latifah was by this time drunk out of her mind and barely holding on to her sanity, but she did not feel fear. There was a heady rush that moved through her, it replaced whatever fear should have been there.

She watched wide-eyed and half-paralyzed as he lowers his hand down over her shirt, pressing the material softly to her chest. When he jets to her breast, he tilts his head to the side.

The pressure of her bra rubbing on her nipple makes it harden.

Who was this? She could not quite tell. A lot of people had introduced themselves to her at the club, but she had not really been interested.

“Richard…?” she said in question and swallowed, her tongue heavy.

The figure shakes his head, and she whimpered.

Of course it wasn't him. Why the Fuck was she mentioning random names? Latifah giggled at her drunk mind.

Even her late husband did not have an iota of the presence this person had. It was a no-brainer. And truthfully, she did not care who it was.

"Oh. I’m sorry …” she licked her lips. “I shouldn’t have barged in here like that… I’ll leave." She said, stumbling over her words as she made a small effort to walk around him and out the door.

But his hand comes out, wrapping around her waist and pulling her back to the front of his body. Latifah 's breath rushed out of her lungs.

"I’d rather you not," he whispered roughly into her ear.

Latifah kept trying to think if she had heard his voice before, but the song "God is a woman" by Ariana Grande was playing too loud, the sound filtering in from the club, and her mind was foggy.

A chill ran up her back, making her shiver. Without permission, his free hand yanked her shirt up, and then his warm hand landed on her stomach. Her heart raced a 100mph when his hand started making its way up her rib cage and to her bra.

The need to pee long gone, Latifah swallowed nervously, and her thighs tightened when he slid his hand under the material and up over her sensitive breasts.

She should have been embarrassed. She should be embarrassed for two major reasons. One, he was a stranger, and two, her chest was wet from the alcohol she spilled on it while dancing on the table.

But that was not the case. As she lean her head back on his chest, a moan escaped her numb lips.

Latifah licked them just in case she was drooling. She had imagined what it would feel like to be touched like this. To be owned in this way. To know what it was like to be so sexually wanted for so long. She wished she wasn’t so drunk, so she could really take it in. It had been a long fu*cking time!

“I was watching you earlier,” the man admits shamelessly into her ear. "From the way you danced tonight, it looked like you're trying to get over someone. An ex. Let me help you get over him.”

She knew she wasn't crazy. Of course she was right and someone had been watching her. But then she did not know who it was or how he had very easily and roughly deduced what she was going through “I …”

“Shh.” His hand around her waist lowered to her jeans.

His fingers softly ran back and forth along the top of the material, making Latifah 's body break out in goose bumps. “Will you let me help you?”

Her head was swimming, the room tilting. Her heart was racing, her body on fire. All of a sudden, everything was hot.

Getting undressed sounded like an amazing idea. She nodded and breathe, “Yeah.”

Why not? She was single now. Her ex husband was dead, buried and never to return. Why couldn't she? It’s not like she loved him.

“Stay right where you are,” he ordered, “Understand?”

Swallowing the lingering taste of vodka from that last drink, she answered “Yes.”

He let go, and Latifah watched him walk out from behind her and over to the door. He locked it, then turned to face her.

Latifah looked up at him. He had got an all-white mask on. It had black lines through it in various places to make it look give the illusion that it’s cracked. The eyes had black circles around them, and the lips are filled in the same color. For some reason, it was not as frightening as it should be.

Maybe that was the alcohol talking. She had never  done something so bold before. So reckless. Something that was a hundred percent her decision.

Her parents would throw a fit if they knew she was drunk at a party in Las vegas, let alone locked in a room with a stranger who had not still shown her his face.