Oh What a Night!

Las Vegas has never been a city I particularly like to visit. But, the open sexual attitude of the town and the unwritten rule that “what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas” is compelling for me. So, when I told a friend in Los Angeles, I had to attend a conference in Sin City, she was quick to offer to drive up from Los Angeles for a night at the Bellagio.

Since the conference was a geek-out for cinematographers, I was extremely careful to wear slacks and a blazer so I would not be mistaken for a booth-babe. It’s hard enough for a female director of photography in a, still, mostly man’s world. When my friend arrived for lunch on the chosen day, she acted shocked at my “hopelessly conservative” look.  I promised her an improvement after my presentations and passed her a room key.

When I finally got back to the room, I found my friend in the bathtub with a chilled bottle of champagne. Eagerly, I undressed and jumped in with her. Cuddling and sipping the bubbly I was informed that she had snagged tickets for “O” right there in the Bellagio and had reservations after at Hugo’s Cellar, my favorite restaurant for dinner in Vegas.

Clean and refreshed, I slipped into an almost obscenely short and delicate baby doll dress and a pair of four-inch, strappy sandals. The dress was a hunter green that complimented my ginger hair and just grazed the top of my bare thighs while minimally covering my bum. My friend emerged from the bathroom a vision in a Grecian style cocktail dress that draped from spaghetti straps, to a plunging neckline, to knee grazing folds of gold silk. Ever a fashion plate, my friend accented the outfit with nude fishnet thigh highs and gold pumps.

How does the old Four Seasons song go?

Oh, what a night

hypnotizin' mezmerizing me

She was ev'rything I dreamed she'd be…

My friend was infinitely confident with me all evening, holding hands, touching, guiding me without effort and utter, but firm, gentleness. During “O” she repeatedly caressed my thighs and pulled my little dress up revealing my panties for the couples seated on either side of us to see. Occasionally she nibbled my ear and kissed my neck, briefly, and whispered wonderful words of seduction.

After “O” we had to stand in a long line to catch a cab to go to Hugo’s. I stood behind her, compulsively hugging her close, pulling her body to mine. She turned her head, kissed me quickly, and told me to hold tight and not let go. As I obeyed, I felt her hands slide behind her, then to my mons. She raised the inch or two of the fabric of my dress that gave me any modesty at all, and grasped me. Her small hands working gently, she moved my panties aside and I felt her fingers enter me. She knew I was hopelessly wet. A little panicked, and wildly turned on, I looked about. Of course, no one noticed, but standing there, fingered in public by my beautiful lover, my emotions, my ecstasy, sent me into a quaking orgasm. I held on to my date tightly, trying not to let my knees buckle. She laughed softly, and didn’t let go until it was our turn for a cab.

Oh, what a night
why'd it take so long to see the light

Seems so wrong
but now it seems so right.
What a lady, what a night.

I felt a rush like a rollin' ball of thunder…

I’ll finish this story later: our dinner at Hugo’s Cellar.