What Happens in Vegas...

Why am I here? What the hell am I doing?

Those questions raced through Shelley's mind over and over. She came down the boarding ramp from the plane and stepped into the terminal at McCarron International Airport. Nervously, Shelley scanned the crowd that was heading towards baggage claim.

He was there. Leaning against a pillar near Ben & Jerry's.

Shorter than she had pictured him in her mind, but otherwise just like the images she had seen on the computer. His arms were folded and he had a slight smile as he watched her arrive.

Navigating her way through the throng, Shelley made her way over towards him. He met her in the middle of the terminal. They were surrounded by people. The sun shone through the windows. The smell of waffle cones permeated the air. There were slot machines (in the airport!) making their clanging noises.

All of that faded away when their eyes met.

It had started out innocently enough. Shelley worked in an office and had lots of free time. She surfed the internet, sold some stuff on eBay and cruised message boards. Most of her job could be done in about 20 hours per week, but she had to be there for 40. That left half her paid time to fill with other things. Not that her boss noticed; she was slick enough to have him convinced that her job really did take up 40 hours per week, sometimes more.

Rick didn't have quite as much free time as Shelley, but he had enough. They met through a NASCAR message board, playfully taunting each other when their driver beat the other (hers is Kasey Kahne, his is Little E, if that matters to you). They traded message board posts and private messages for a couple of months, then moved into the world of instant messaging. Soon they were sending pictures back and forth and not just on company time.

Shelley never figured herself as one for internet romances, and truthfully, this one didn't start out that way. They were just two people with a common interest who became friends. It's easy to become friends over the internet. A computer screen separates you from everyone else. The people out there only see what you want them to see, and there's no chance that you'll ever meet in real life, right?

Things changed one night when they were both at home by themselves. Shelley's boyfriend was out with his buddies playing pool (translation: titty bar) and Rick's girlfriend was visiting her mom for the weekend.

Both of them we online at the same time and they were both drinking. Their flirting had gone from playful to out of hand in just a few minutes. But she didn't care. Her boyfriend was in one of his "asshole" moods and after a couple of drinks, Shelley's inhibitions were gone. Rick, who was always flirtatious anyway, was especially friendly that night and things went downhill very fast.

Their conversation, which had previously been limited to thinly-veiled innuendo and harmless barbs, became racier. When their night was over, Shelley found that she needed to spend some quality time with her "rabbit", only instead of imagining her boyfriend or her man Kasey, it was Rick.

A couple of weeks went by and both pretended nothing had happened. Yet, Shelley still felt weird about the whole thing. One night, both were up late again, and they started flirting again. Both were relatively sober this time, so there was no excuse.

It was only flirting, right? Shelley rationalised everything away.It's not like I'm ever going to see him. . . . Right?

By now, their conversations had gone from playful banter to overt sexual foreplay. It wasn't cyber-sex, but it was pretty close.

Shelley's boyfriend was blissfully unaware of what was going on, and she liked it that way. On one level, she felt a little guilty for carrying on with Rick behind his back, but on another, she felt that if he would pay her half the attention that Rick did, their relationship wouldn't have come to this.

A few more weeks passed and Shelley found herself thinking about Rick more and more. Not always in sexual ways. After all, at work they couldn't IM back and forth about the safety of performing oral sex on someone while they were driving or the merits of one type of vibrator versus another. Sometimes, when she was out at the mall, Shelley would see something and think,Rick would like that; I should buy it and send it to him.

About a year after they met, Shelley knew they had gone too far when she opened her private messages. There was the usual morning PM from Rick. She clicked on it expecting him to be taunting her after Kasey wiped out Mark Martin the previous afternoon at the All-Star Challenge.

Instead, all it said was, "I need to see you."

Her heart leapt into her throat. Her hands trembled as she typed the reply.

"I need to see you too."

Despite their better judgment, Shelley and Rick spent the next two months conspiring to find a way to meet. She didn't know why. She didn't know what she expected. All she knew was that a small part of her wanted it more than anything else and that little voice overrode all of her considerable self-control.

By some stroke of sheer luck—or was it fate?—the company she worked for and Rick's employer used the same software package. It handled everything from human resources to payroll to inventory, and their annual convention was coming up.

After some wrangling, she managed to convince her boss to send her to the conference. Rick went every year; in fact, he was presenting at one of the sessions, so his attendance was never in question.

Shelley and Rick stared nervously at each other for a second before he reached out. She stepped into his arms and gave him a friendly hug.

She pulled back after a second, wanting to get a feel for him. Would she feel the same way about him in person that she felt at her computer?

"Your boy looked good yesterday," Rick said.

"Yeah, well, yours sucks," she replied with a laugh. At least Tony Stewart hadn't won at Pocono.

They went and picked up their luggage. Rick had his hand at the small of her back.

His touch was electric.

They caught a cab over to the hotel. Vegas is hot. And in July, the heat was stifling, even in the morning.

Shelley was used to heat, or so she thought. "It's not the heat, it's the humidity" is what they say in Alabama.

Screw that.

It's the heat, all right. The humidity just doesn't help.

Las Vegas is a dry heat. Contrary to what people believe, it's not better than humid heat. If the southeast is a sauna, the southwest is a blast furnace. Either way, air conditioning is better.

Along the way, they sat apart, as if afraid to touch. Several times, Shelley noticed Rick's eyes straying to her body, taking in her curves and the flash of leg beneath her skirt.

The cab let them out at the Bellagio. Rick paid the fare (expense account) and tipped the driver.

They stepped into the long line waiting to check in. Some of the folks there were tourists, but it seemed like most of the crowd in the lobby was there for the conference. Shelley began talking to the group in front of them in line. Soon she found that some of them were there in the same track she was, and she began making contacts.

When they finally got to the front of the line, Rick pulled her to the desk with him.

"Good morning, welcome to the Bellagio," the young woman at the counter said. Her name tag read Julie. "What is the name on the reservation?"

"We actually have two reservations," Rick said before Shelley could speak. He pulled out a printout from his briefcase. Shelley likewise produced a similar registration from her folder. "We'd like rooms with an adjoining door, if possible."

Shelley immediately blushed, but the other woman's face remained unreadable. Her fingers ticked away at the keyboard. "I've got two rooms on the 10^th floor. Both non-smoking, king-sized beds and an adjoining door. You had a suite reserved, but these are standard rooms. Will that be okay?"

"That would be excellent," Rick said with a smile. Shelley could only stand there, mute. He winked at her.

"Will this be on the same credit card or separate?" Julie acted like this happened all the time (it probably did).

"Separate," he replied.

"I'll need a credit card from each of you, then."

Rick already had his out. Shelley fumbled through her purse for the corporate AmEx her boss had given her. If he only knew what she was using it for . . .

The woman at the counter produced some papers for each of them. "Please sign here . . . initial here . . . and sign here, again."

Julie made a set of magnetic strip cards for each of them and slipped them into small folding sleeves. She wrote the room numbers on each and handed one set to Rick. For Shelley's keys, Julie had circled the city motto, "What happens here, stays here."

Shelley couldn't bring herself to look the other girl in the eyes, but she could see a slightly amused smile on her face. Julie pointed to the side of the lobby. "Go to your right and then down the hallway. You'll see a set of elevators, and take them up to the tenth floor. When you get off the elevator, your rooms will be to the right. If you need anything else, don't hesitate to call us here at the desk. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Actually, there is," Rick reached into his wallet and produced a business card. The image of the Bellagio was on the front and a hand-scribbled note was on the back. "I was told to ask for Adrina."

Julie read the note on the card and picked up the phone. "Mrs. Chambers? There's a gentlemen here to see you. . . . Yes. . . . He was referred by Tim Maxwell. . . . Yes . . . I'll let him know."

She hung up the phone and turned to Rick. "She has someone with her right now, but says she can see you in about thirty minutes, if that's convenient."

"I'll tell you what . . . Do you have a sticky?" Rick wrote something on a Post It note and handed it to Julie. "Here's my cell phone number, if you could have her call me when she's free, I'll get with her then."

Julie smiled and put the note where she would remember it and then Shelley and Rick went on their way.

The pair followed the directions Julie gave them, and soon they each entered their own room. Compared to the places Shelley was used to staying (read: dives), the Bellagio wasn't just luxurious, it was palatial. The king-sized bed was covered in fluffy pillows. There was a stand-up shower and jacuzzi tub in the bathroom. The curtains were drawn back, showing off a magnificent view of the Strip and the famous Bellagio fountains.

She was glad to be alone for a second. Rick was more handsome in person than she had imagined. Her pulse raced when she was with him. Was this something she really wanted?

Putting all of her questions on the back burner, Shelley called home. First she called her mom to let her know she got in safely. Then she called her boyfriend. There was no answer at the house so she called his cell. It rolled into voice mail.

Answer the goddam phone, she thought. What she said was, "Hi, I just wanted to let you know that I got in."

And that was it. No, "Love you, bye" or "Call me later."

After a few minutes, there was a knock at the adjoining door. She nervously opened it, not knowing what to expect.

Rick was standing there. He had a folder in his hands. His eyes flashed for a second; if she wasn't mistaken, it was with desire. He was looking her over, from the top of her curly hair down to her toes. A shiver ran down her spine. Her boyfriend hadn't given her that look in forever.

"We . . . ah, should go register," he said softly.

Maybe he was as nervous as she was. Both were attached, although neither of them were thinking of their SOs when they booked this trip.

"Yeah, good idea," she replied softly, a hint of relief in her voice. She went to pick up her purse and registration packet. She practically feel his eyes lock on to her backside and hoped he wouldn't notice that her nipples seemed to crinkle up whenever his hand brushed hers.

They went downstairs, happy to avoid the subject that had brought both of them to Sin City.

Before joining the mass of conferees, Rick pulled her aside. They were in different tracks and he needed to check in at the presenter's table. They swapped cell phone numbers and made arrangements to meet before dinner.

She wandered around the convention center for a while, first stopping at the registration desk. She got a big packet of stuff including a meal chits, tickets to the conference events, a name badge, some pamphlets from vendors and a backpack to hold all her stuff. For the rest of the afternoon, Shelley wandered around, networking with some folks in her track and talking to vendors in the exhibition hall.

When four o'clock rolled around (six o'clock to her; she was still on Central time), she headed back up to her room. Immediately after stepping into the room, her eyes went to the armoire. Hanging over the door was a black cocktail dress, and a small gift bag sat on the floor.

There was a lump in Shelley's throat as she touched the soft fabric. In the bag were a set of black pumps and a jewelry box. She opened the box and a note fell out.

You don't get to keep these, but I thought they would look good on you. Meet me at 5:00 downstairs in the Petrossian Bar down by the lobby.

-Rick

Opening the box, she found a white gold necklace with a pendant and matching earrings. The diamonds sparkled in the sunlight that shone through the window.

These must be worth a fortune, Shelley thought as she wondered what Rick had planned for them.

The adjoining doors were still open. She peered into his room, wondering if he was going to surprise her. If he was, she probably would have tripped him right there.

He was gone.

Rick's things were put up, his clothes in the armoire and his work materials in a neat stack on the desk. His laptop was set up and charging. She resisted the urge to poke through his stuff.

The scent of his cologne—Cool Water—hung in the air. She noticed that there was still some steam on the mirror in his bathroom.

She went back into her room and began unpacking her things. With her make-up and shower kit in hand, she went into the bathroom and stripped down.

Warm water cascaded down her body. As she cleaned herself, her hands lingered on her breasts as she thought of Rick. She imagined his strong arms around her and his body pressed against his. She pinched her erect nipples indulgently.

Her hand strayed down between her legs. Her body tingled as she imagined Rick's tongue where her fingers were.

Soon enough, she was leaning against the cool tile of the shower wall, convulsing as waves of pleasure wracked her body from her head to her toes.

The orgasm subsided and as soon as her wobbly legs would support her, she turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. Her heart pounded as she began getting ready for their dinner date.

She dried her hair and put on her make-up. Digging through her suitcase, she found a pair of black lace panties and matching bra.

The dress fit perfectly. So did the shoes.

Looking at the clock, she realised she was late and hurriedly picked up her purse and headed out the door.

Rick was waiting right where he said he would be. He had on a nice double-breasted suit and looked very dashing. He held a single red rose in his hands. She walked across the lobby.

They stood awkwardly for a moment.

"You look wonderful," he breathed. Shelley couldn't remember the last time her boyfriend had told her that.

She took the rose from him and then her hand slipped into the crook of his arm. He led her outside. It was still hot, but it wasn't as bad as it had been earlier in the day. They got into a waiting limousine and headed off.

They ended up at the Venetian hotel and casino where they were soon seated at the Zeffirino Ristorante, which featured a decidedly upscale Italian menu.

As they sat, they made small talk. He ordered the breaded veal chop while she had shellfish over linguini in a spicy red sauce.

Several times, she noticed Rick's eyes straying to the pendant that hung between her breasts. The dress wasn't risqué by any means, but it showed off a generous amount of her ample cleavage. When he looked at her, she thought he was going to eat her alive. Each time she caught him, he looked away, embarrassed.

Between the soup and the main course, Shelley knew she had to saysomething.

"Why are we here?" she asked.

Rick took a deep breath. He stared off thoughtfully for a second, then looked her in the eyes. "Because I needed to see you."

"Why?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. His voice was soft. Vulnerable. "I guess . . . Do you remember that first night we were on YIM?"

She didn't remember many details about that night. The vodka had left her rather foggy.

"You werevery frisky that night," he continued. "I don't know what it was . . . I just knew it then . . ."

As his voice trailed off, his gaze bored into her. "Why are you here, Shelley?"

She didn't know how to respond. She wasn't even sure she knew. Her mouth opened to say something, but his cell phone rang.

He looked at the caller ID on the outside, sighed and then flipped it open. "Hello? . . . Hi. . . No . . . I'm actually at dinner . . . No . . . We're three hours behind . . . Yup . . . No, there's me and that guy from Columbia and some sales guys of KRM . . . No, honey . . . Okay . . . Okay . . . How's your cold? . . . Have you gone back to the doctor? . . . Okay. . . . No . . . Mm-hmm . . . I sure will . . . Have a good time . . . No, I probably won't be up that late . . . Okay . . . I'll talk to you later . . . Bye."

Even though she only heard half the conversation, Shelley could fill in most of the blanks.

"Is that how the next four days are going to be, Rick?" she asked softly. "Lying to everyone who calls?"

He started to reply, but there was no good answer he could give.

Their meal arrived shortly afterwards and they ate quietly. There was a pall over both of them. It was as if the reality of the situation had finally sunk in.

They had both traveled across the country for a tryst. Both had someone waiting for them back home. They had deceived their bosses. To an extent, maybe both had lied to themselves.

Shelley only picked at her food, even though it was very good.

"Where did you get this dress?" she asked, trying to change the subject and bring herself out of the funk.

"I had ordered it a couple of weeks ago. I only guessed at your size but I think I got close," he said.

"You got it exactly right," she replied. That explained why he had steered several of their conversations towards clothes. "What about the jewelry?"

"A friend of mine knows some folks over at Caesars Palace," Rick said with a smirk. "He owes me a couple of favours, so they let me borrow those."

"How much are they worth?" Shelley said. The wine was beginning to loosen her up. "I wonder if he'll miss them if they don't come back . . ."

"I think he said they were appraised at twenty-seven thousand."

Shelley nearly spat out the bite of lobster in her mouth.

"As wonderful as they look on you, I think I need to return them or my buddy might be a little pissed." Rick smiled impishly. "You can wear them all the time if you want, though. The pendant gives me an excuse to stare at your boobs."

Shelley blushed.

He seemed to want to say something more, but stopped. Dessert came out and she only picked at that, too.

They got up to leave. Shelley didn't see the server bring a check.

"My friend took care of it," Rick answered her unspoken question. "Like I said, he owes me."

"What for?"

"I wrote his senior capstone thesis for him," Rick replied. "Now he's on track to make partner in a firm outside of Atlanta and is a high roller out here. He can afford it."