Shooting On the Strip (2 page)

The conservatory was located across the lobby from the front desk. The Chinese New Year celebration was in full swing, with the Year of the Horse display designed to attract harmony and positive life forces. The centerpiece of the display featured eight life-sized horses cavorting on a mountain top. I’d read that the significance behind the number of horses was that eight was symbolic of good fortune. Other Chinese symbols throughout the conservatory included a money tree for prosperity, water for positive energy flow, pine trees for perseverance, bamboo for integrity, and plums for modesty.

I loved the gold horse that was rearing up on its hind legs. The pagodas were lovely. And I was enchanted by the sights and smells of the diverse and colorful flowers. I wasn’t crazy about the people displayed—with the exception of the flowers that made up their garments. They looked a little creepy. The conservatory was open twenty-four hours a day. At night, those giant dolls would really freak me out. I’d keep imagining they were watching me…or moving.

“The horticulturists change the theme of the conservatory and botanical gardens seasonally,” said Luke. “They even have a Ferris wheel in here in the summer.”

“Really?” I asked. “Do they let people ride it?”

He grinned. “I think it’s just for looks. But if you want to go on a ride, I’m sure we can find something on the Strip to accommodate you.”

My eyes widened. “What are you suggesting?”

He chuckled and then lowered his voice. “Not what you’re thinking.
That
ride will take place in our suite. I was talking more along the lines of race cars or the Big Apple Coaster.”

“I’ll pass on both of those,” I said. “What else have you got?”

“Indoor skydiving?” he asked.

“I like to be as adventurous as anybody, but I’d like to take in the sights a little slower my first time here.”

“I think I know something you’ll love.”

It turned out that Luke was right. He took me to the Fall of Atlantis animatronic fountain show at Caesars Forum Shops. The show was fantastic, and I didn’t turn my nose up at shopping at Louis Vuitton, Mac, Sephora, and H&M while we were there. And, hey, who could expect me to pass up lunch at the Cheesecake Factory? My sweet tooth was legendary.

After lunch, we went to the Secret Garden and Dolphin Habitat at the Mirage. I adored the white tigers and lions—the brown ones too!—and the dolphins were wonderful. Of course, there was a gift shop, and Luke insisted on getting me a stuffed white tiger as a souvenir. I didn’t put up a fuss. I loved it.

As we were walking out of the gift shop, Luke gave an exaggerated yawn.

“Don’t you think we should go back to the hotel and take a little nap before we go to dinner?” he asked.

A little nap. Like we were eighty
.
I knew what he wanted…and it wasn’t a little nap.

Once again, we lucked into having the elevator to ourselves. Luke began kissing my neck and fondling my breasts through my blouse, rubbing my nipples with his thumb. I ran my hand down into his pants so I could touch his hard, hot cock. It took less than a minute for us to get up to our suite, but by then, we were so hot for each other we could hardly stand it.

We started taking each other’s clothes off in the living room, strewing them all the way into the bedroom. Luke’s hands were so strong and masterful as they stroked my body.

“Sixty-nine, baby,” Luke said as he led me over to the bed.

He lay down on his back, and I kissed his nipples and his chest before I turned around to put my cunt in his face as I sucked his dick. I toyed with his head, flicking it with my tongue as I gently caressed his balls.

I gasped as Luke’s tongue began making little circles on my inner thighs. Then he began nibbling. He took his fingers and spread the lips of my pussy. He gave me one agonizingly slow lick as I whimpered and went down on his cock.

With one hand still cradling his balls, I wrapped the other around his shaft as I sucked his head. Luke’s tongue found my clit and began teasing it in quick circles.

I lifted my mouth. “I need you…now.”

I rolled off Luke’s body. He got on his knees and took my ankles in one hand. Pulling my ankles onto his left shoulder, he entered me slowly, tapping my G-spot with his thick cock.

I moaned. “That feels so good…
you
feel so good.”

“You feel fantastic,” he said. “I love that tight, wet pussy.”

His thrusts became harder and faster. I raised my hips to meet his thrusts.

“Yes, yes,
yes
!”

I came seconds before he filled me with his cum.

Afterward, he pulled me to his chest.

“Wow…” he said. “I love you…you know that, don’t you?”

“I love you.” I pushed his hair off his forehead and then caressed his cheek.

He kissed me gently.

I laid my head on his shoulder, and we went to sleep.

Luke’s colleague, whose name I learned was Dan Sellers, was meeting us at Le Cirque for dinner. The restaurant’s color scheme was red, purple, and yellow. The chairs were red-and-white striped, and there were vintage-looking circus pictures adorning the walls. The ceiling was draped with colorful fabric to look as if we’d stepped into the Big Top.

Dan turned out to be a tall, skinny, balding man who seemed terribly nervous. He actually kept wringing his hands. I was disappointed that he hadn’t brought a date because I felt that Dan wasn’t going to be much of a conversationalist.

Dan immediately began trying to explain whatever situation had brought us here. Luke still hadn’t mentioned anything about it to me, which made me think that it probably wasn’t as important—at least, to Luke—as Dan seemed to think it was.

“Dan…let’s eat our dinner, and then we’ll talk business, all right?” asked Luke.

“Yes… Of course, Mr. Fontaine. Whatever you say.”

“Please call me Luke. And, of course, this is my wife Brandy.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Dan,” I said.

“Very nice to meet you, Mrs. Fontaine,” he said.

I really wished he’d brought a date so I’d have someone to talk with…or if she was as big on conversation as Dan was, at least I could’ve given it a shot.

When our waiter arrived he referred to us as
Messieurs
and
Madame
, which made me feel very continental. He gave us menus and a wine list.

I ordered marinated tuna with clementines and avocado tapenade for an appetizer. Luke and Dan both got the smoked salmon. For our main course, Dan ordered the Dover sole, and Luke and I got the chateaubriand for two.

I’d found some little individual hand wipes in a bathroom at one of the swanky shops we’d visited earlier in the day. I’d taken a handful because who knew when you’d need a wipe? I was glad I’d put a couple in my evening bag.

Poor Dan couldn’t wait until after we’d eaten to begin discussing business. He took a drink of his wine and dived into his story with both feet.

“You see, Mr. Fontaine…Luke…as I mentioned when we spoke earlier, this has gone beyond a case of workers’ compensation fraud. I felt strongly that Mr. Wilson was faking his disability, and I hired a private investigator to watch him. This investigator is someone we use often, so I knew he was trustworthy.”

I could tell Luke was bored by this rehashing of information. Even though it was new to me, it bored me too.

I went ahead and took one of the elegantly-wrapped hand wipes from my evening bag. There couldn’t be any harm in going ahead and cleaning my hands. Plus, it might get Dan off topic for a minute or two. The man really needed to lighten up!

I put the wipe on the table and closed my purse. I noticed Luke’s eyes widen, and I winked and smiled. I hoped it wouldn’t embarrass him for me to wipe my hands off at the table. Was it bad manners? Surely not. Everyone was health-conscious these days. Besides, I’d be discreet.

“Isn’t this the handiest little thing?” I asked, holding the tiny packet between two fingers. “I picked it up earlier today. Dan, would you like one? I have another in my purse.”

A bright pink flush that started at Dan’s hairline spread over his face and even down to his neck. His eyes bulged as he shook his head.

Maybe it
was
considered bad manners to clean your hands at the table of an elegant restaurant.

“I’m sorry.” I looked at Luke. “I thought it would be all right to wipe my hands off before dining.”

Luke began shaking with laughter.

“What?” I asked.

“Did I hear Madame say she would like a hand cleaning wipe?” asked our waiter. “I’ll get you one.” He bent down and whispered. “You might want to put the condom back into your purse.”

“Condom?” I turned the package over in my hand. Come to think of it, it
did
feel strange…for a wipe.

By now, Luke was laughing so hard that tears were coursing down his cheeks. Though my blush probably rivaled Dan’s as I dropped the condom back into my evening bag, I began laughing too.

I did succeed on one account—Dan didn’t talk business…or anything else…until after we’d finished eating.

After dinner, we took Dan back to our suite where he could show us a video on his laptop—again, where Luke was concerned, because Luke had seen the footage when Dan had shared his screen during their video chat.

“You see, the private investigator had been tailing our employee—Martin Wilson—and filmed various activities to prove that he was faking his work-related injury,” Dan said.

According to Dan, Mr. Wilson had alleged he’d hurt his back working in the warehouse. However, the video showed him in a parking lot loading boxes into a moving truck.

“It’s a good video…excellent quality,” Luke said. “Your guy must’ve been using some great surveillance equipment. But there’s no way to tell how heavy the boxes were. If we don’t know that, we can’t use this in court to say that Wilson was lifting as much or more than he would at our warehouse.”

“That’s where the P.I.’s testimony would have been invaluable,” said Dan. “When he brought me the footage, he told me how suspiciously Wilson acted prior to the arrival of the U-Haul. He said Wilson seemed afraid of being caught. He also said it was apparent that Wilson was straining under the weight.”

“If he didn’t know the investigator was there, maybe he was worried about the contents of the boxes,” I said. “Do you have any idea what was in them?”

“No. The P.I. copied the identifying information off the moving truck and was going to see who’d rented it and get back with me,” Dan said.

“Who rented it?” I asked.

“That’s just it. My guy has been missing since the day he delivered the video.”

“He didn’t leave the information on the truck with you?” Luke asked.

Dan shook his head. “No. I trusted him to look into it and get back to me. I didn’t think I needed the information.”

“How long has the investigator been missing?” I asked.

“Two days.”

I frowned. “Of course, you’ve sent someone to look for him.”

“Naturally,” said Dan. “He’s not at home. He’s not at work. He isn’t visiting known relatives.”

“What are the police saying?” asked Luke.

“Basically, there’s no body and no crime as of yet.” Dan sighed. “It just doesn’t feel right. That’s why I called you.”

“I’m glad you did,” Luke said. “Brandy and I will start looking into this right away.”

“Thanks.” Dan appeared relieved to be able to share his burden.

Once Dan had left, Luke and I talked strategy.

“What do we do first?” I asked. “Do we talk with Wilson or try to find the investigator?”

Luke pursed his lips. “We need to talk with Wilson, of course, but I don’t know how to go about it without looking suspicious. We don’t want to end up in the same place as the investigator.”

“How about we take Mr. Wilson a gourmet food basket? We could have the concierge find us something.”

“And that would work how? ‘Hi! Here’s some food. Are you faking your injury? And did you kill our private investigator?’” He chuckled.

“No, Mr. Smarty-Pants. We’d deliver the basket to his home and say we happened to be in town and that we met with Dan and were told of his injury,” I said. “We could say we were very sorry.”

“If we do that, babe, we end up looking like the company is at fault.”

“If the man is receiving workers’ compensation benefits, hasn’t the company already been found at fault?” I asked. “I’m simply giving us an in. We could wear recording devices so it would show that we were also looking into the claim that Mr. Wilson is a fraud.”

“You know, that’s not a bad idea.”

I smiled. “I wrote an article once on a retired doctor who’d worked for plaintiffs’ attorneys in these types of cases. He said that for neck injury claims, he’d ask the patient to move his head as far as he could without feeling pain during the examination. Afterward, when the patient was off guard, the doctor would walk all around the room asking the patient questions. The patient, if he wasn’t legitimately hurt, would turn his head every which way—without a single
ouch!
—to watch the doctor and answer his questions.”

“Pretty clever,” Luke said. “So how are we gonna get him to show us his back injury is bogus—drop your purse on the floor and see if he’s able to pick it up?”

“Ha, ha. We’re not as concerned with his back at this point as we are the fate of the P.I., are we?”

“True, but if we could disprove his claim while we’re there, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings any,” he said.

“I don’t know. I think maybe we should try to keep him on our side…or at least let him think we’re too self-absorbed to suspect him of any wrongdoing…until we can gather more information about him.”

“When we go see him tomorrow, I’ll let you take the lead.” He pulled me close for a kiss. “Now…are you ready to go see Zumanity?”

Zumanity was hot! The male contortionist made me squirm a little—and not in a good way. The way he could twist his body was just unnatural and a tad disturbing. But the rest of the show was stunning—the aerial performances, the acrobatics, the dancing, and that bathtub scene! Whew!