Chapter 3
Of Aunties and Hotties
01 hours to 03 hours
Of Aunties and Hotties
01 hours to 03 hours
For about a gloriously boring hour, we stood outside the airport, amidst all that sweltering heat, waiting for our good old friend to turn up in his mean machine. We were tired. We were jaded. And all that initial hysteria (the time when I kept screaming out "I'm in Vegas! I'm in Vegas" again, again and again with that blissfully dumb grin on my face) had finally ended. The sun had begun to set and the sky slowly turned from azure blue to a pinkish vermillion and then to a dark shade of crimson. The air became a little cooler, and the lights began to come on. Vegas had just begun to wake up from its deep slumber.
"Dude, I hope he comes in that one," I pointed to a sleek black Mercedes that came gliding into the Passenger Pickup area. A gorgeous brunette was behind the wheel, and two equally gorgeous blondes got in.
"As long as he doesn't come in a rolling tin can!" A replied.
And so, we passed our time, ogling at those stunning creatures - their lustful curves, the smoothness of their exposed parts and the glitter of their bodies. Sexy. Posh. Tough to get hold of. I was talking about those cars, by the way.
So, we waited there staring at anything and everything that would amuse us. And by the time K arrived in his decent looking Mazda, most people around us would've probably concluded that we were drug dealers or something. (And in fact, we did meet some actual drug dealers about whom I'll talk about in the later chapters.) After slinging a few friendly curses (the kinda abuses guys throw around, when they are with their friends), we finally made our way to the MGM Grand.
A gigantic statue of a golden lion greeted us at the entrance of the hotel. It was a majestic beast about three stories tall, its massive paws resting on top of raised platform. It's fiery eyes peered into the horizon, looking sideways along the famed Las Vegas strip, while its golden mane glittered in the twilight.
After winding up through countless levels of the tiered parking lot, we finally managed to find a vacant spot. Once our car was safely parked and the GPS was carefully removed and placed in K's backpack (After that incident in Washington DC, we wouldn't dare to leave anything inside the car), we headed off towards the hotel lobby.
The lobby area was jam-packed with tourists. And even more were pouring in through the numerous entrances of the hotel. There were people of all ages, all races and all sexes, standing there clicking photographs of a smaller version of the Golden Lion that stood inside the lobby, or chattering away excitedly, or chugging along their wheeled suitcases towards the check-in desk.
I had always thought that Vegas was kinda like an 'adult' place. I would've believed that it was not suitable for kids, based on what I've seen on movies and stuff. But the place was teeming with kids, the ones who kept running along like crazy little headless chicken, with their guardians running after them, screaming their lungs out. But I guess, the hotel would have some playroom or something where they'd lock up all these little devils, so that the adults could go and have some dirty fun!
There were people from all over the world. No kidding. From whatever limited knowledge that I have, I could hear English, French, Spanish, Chinese, German, Hindi, Telegu, Tamil, Gujarati, Marathi, Bengali...and all the other Indian languages that you find written on that ten rupee note. There isn't a place in the world without Indians, I tell you! And when I think of that Agent Smith dialogue in the Matrix when he tells Morpheus that humans have multiplied like a virus and spread everywhere and all that, I think he was definitely referring to us, Indians. No doubt about it! And when I saw old aunties dressed in saris and riding in wheelchairs (yes, they were old enough to not be able to stand up), I realized that Vegas is not just about the sex, drugs, alcohol and gambling. Well, it is mostly that. But there are other things that people could do like errr....uhmmm....like errr...I dunno, there must be other things, I guess!
And of course there was the regular Vegas crowd...the kind we see in movies - groups of decent guys like us (decent in any place other than Vegas, that is); groups of decent girls (same applies); couples; groups of guys with tank tops, sideways tilted caps and tattoos running throughout their arms, (the ones that I call pachaas-paisa wannabes); groups of girls wearing glittering cocktail dresses (dresses that would've fit a 5 year old pretty well) and high-heeled stilettos, with which they could barely maintain their balance (I was half-expecting or perhaps wishing that at least one would fall down and I would be at the right place and the right time); single men wearing swanky coats and leather boots, standing in places with high 'chick-density' waiting for something remarkable to happen; and of course those ineffable drunkards. How charming they were!
So, we went to our hotel room, admired the sheer elegance of the place and freshened up for the young and sexy night that awaited us. But before we could hit the Vegas strip and go wild, we had to respond to our rumbling tummies. Sadly, we realized that relishing the natural (or perhaps artificial...in this day and age, you can't tell them apart), beauty is isn't enough to satisfy one's real appetite.
"Food. Where?" I asked, rubbing my tummy. A whole colony of goddamn rats were running riot inside. If I waited a little longer, I would've had to call the Pied Piper, for Godsakes!
"There's a Chipotle somewhere on the strip. We could get a quick and fulfilling bite there," K replied in his usual 'safe-as-a-house' tone.
"Chipotle? Coming all the way to Vegas and Chioptle?" A blurted out.
"Well, that's true. What about Indian food? There's this place called Gaylord. Okay...Don't look at me like that. I guess the food is good there," I replied.
"That's a little far off," K replied.
"So, what then?" I asked.
"This is a hotel for heaven's sake. It's supposed to have restaurants! We'll eat in one of those," A suggested.
"Dude. Vegetarian. Please be considerate," I patted my chest.
"I'm sure they'll have vegetarian stuff to eat."
"Yeah. I'm sure they'll have leaves for me to chew on," I muttered in an undertone as we left our room.
Two guys were standing in the lift when the doors opened on the 8th floor. One was a Caucasian and the other was an African-American. The Caucasian guy was swaying around in the corner, fighting to keep his balance. His eyes were hazy and his shirt was tucked-in at some places and hanging out loose at other places. He was gloriously drunk, beyond that 'i'm-so-happy-that-I-want-to-hug-random-strangers' phase where you generally see drunk people at. This guy was beyond that stage. This guy was about to pass out. This guy was frikkin' time bomb of puke. Let's call him Mr. Drunk.
The other guy, the tall and well-built African-American dude was dressed in the standard party attire - good shirt, a neat coat, dark-blue jeans and leather shoes. He smiled politely when we entered the lift. Let's call this guy - Mr. Smooth.
"How are you guys doing today?" Mr. Smooth asked.
"Good," A replied.
"Excellent," K replied.
"Pretty okay, I guess," I replied.
"Whendja guys come here?" he asked.
"A few hours back. How about you?"
"Partying since last night."
Just then, the lift stopped at the 6th floor. A loud and excited chatter of girlish voices could be heard on the other side. And the doors opened to a group of four good looking and well dressed girls standing outside. We suddenly stopped talking and couldn't help staring those damsels in front of us. Simultaneously, the girls who were chattering away stopped abruptly. They hesitated for a moment to enter the lift, partly because it was small and already five of us were in there, partly because Mr. Drunk was tottering around everywhere and partly because we were staring at them like goofy testosterone-driven maniacs.
There was an uncomfortable moment when everyone was passing glances at everybody else. But Mr. Smooth broke the ice, "Why dontcha girls come inside? There's plenny of room in here." He winked at them. The three of us backed to the walls of the lift to allow the four of them to squeeze in. Mr. Drunk continued to sway and totter. By an unspoken agreement we had reserved one entire corner for him to carry out his shenanigans. But Mr. Smooth stood where he was - right in the center of the lift. So, the four of them had to distribute themselves to fit inside. And as the doors closed, Mr. Smooth found himself in a very good position - two ladies to his left and two ladies to his right.
And in those brief few seconds, I would finally come to realize as to what one needs to do, to get laid with a total stranger. No, nothing kinky happened inside the lift. Control your imagination, for Godsakes!
But I'm sure loads of kinky stuff would've happened afterwards....
"Dude, I hope he comes in that one," I pointed to a sleek black Mercedes that came gliding into the Passenger Pickup area. A gorgeous brunette was behind the wheel, and two equally gorgeous blondes got in.
"As long as he doesn't come in a rolling tin can!" A replied.
And so, we passed our time, ogling at those stunning creatures - their lustful curves, the smoothness of their exposed parts and the glitter of their bodies. Sexy. Posh. Tough to get hold of. I was talking about those cars, by the way.
So, we waited there staring at anything and everything that would amuse us. And by the time K arrived in his decent looking Mazda, most people around us would've probably concluded that we were drug dealers or something. (And in fact, we did meet some actual drug dealers about whom I'll talk about in the later chapters.) After slinging a few friendly curses (the kinda abuses guys throw around, when they are with their friends), we finally made our way to the MGM Grand.
A gigantic statue of a golden lion greeted us at the entrance of the hotel. It was a majestic beast about three stories tall, its massive paws resting on top of raised platform. It's fiery eyes peered into the horizon, looking sideways along the famed Las Vegas strip, while its golden mane glittered in the twilight.
After winding up through countless levels of the tiered parking lot, we finally managed to find a vacant spot. Once our car was safely parked and the GPS was carefully removed and placed in K's backpack (After that incident in Washington DC, we wouldn't dare to leave anything inside the car), we headed off towards the hotel lobby.
The lobby area was jam-packed with tourists. And even more were pouring in through the numerous entrances of the hotel. There were people of all ages, all races and all sexes, standing there clicking photographs of a smaller version of the Golden Lion that stood inside the lobby, or chattering away excitedly, or chugging along their wheeled suitcases towards the check-in desk.
I had always thought that Vegas was kinda like an 'adult' place. I would've believed that it was not suitable for kids, based on what I've seen on movies and stuff. But the place was teeming with kids, the ones who kept running along like crazy little headless chicken, with their guardians running after them, screaming their lungs out. But I guess, the hotel would have some playroom or something where they'd lock up all these little devils, so that the adults could go and have some dirty fun!
There were people from all over the world. No kidding. From whatever limited knowledge that I have, I could hear English, French, Spanish, Chinese, German, Hindi, Telegu, Tamil, Gujarati, Marathi, Bengali...and all the other Indian languages that you find written on that ten rupee note. There isn't a place in the world without Indians, I tell you! And when I think of that Agent Smith dialogue in the Matrix when he tells Morpheus that humans have multiplied like a virus and spread everywhere and all that, I think he was definitely referring to us, Indians. No doubt about it! And when I saw old aunties dressed in saris and riding in wheelchairs (yes, they were old enough to not be able to stand up), I realized that Vegas is not just about the sex, drugs, alcohol and gambling. Well, it is mostly that. But there are other things that people could do like errr....uhmmm....like errr...I dunno, there must be other things, I guess!
And of course there was the regular Vegas crowd...the kind we see in movies - groups of decent guys like us (decent in any place other than Vegas, that is); groups of decent girls (same applies); couples; groups of guys with tank tops, sideways tilted caps and tattoos running throughout their arms, (the ones that I call pachaas-paisa wannabes); groups of girls wearing glittering cocktail dresses (dresses that would've fit a 5 year old pretty well) and high-heeled stilettos, with which they could barely maintain their balance (I was half-expecting or perhaps wishing that at least one would fall down and I would be at the right place and the right time); single men wearing swanky coats and leather boots, standing in places with high 'chick-density' waiting for something remarkable to happen; and of course those ineffable drunkards. How charming they were!
So, we went to our hotel room, admired the sheer elegance of the place and freshened up for the young and sexy night that awaited us. But before we could hit the Vegas strip and go wild, we had to respond to our rumbling tummies. Sadly, we realized that relishing the natural (or perhaps artificial...in this day and age, you can't tell them apart), beauty is isn't enough to satisfy one's real appetite.
"Food. Where?" I asked, rubbing my tummy. A whole colony of goddamn rats were running riot inside. If I waited a little longer, I would've had to call the Pied Piper, for Godsakes!
"There's a Chipotle somewhere on the strip. We could get a quick and fulfilling bite there," K replied in his usual 'safe-as-a-house' tone.
"Chipotle? Coming all the way to Vegas and Chioptle?" A blurted out.
"Well, that's true. What about Indian food? There's this place called Gaylord. Okay...Don't look at me like that. I guess the food is good there," I replied.
"That's a little far off," K replied.
"So, what then?" I asked.
"This is a hotel for heaven's sake. It's supposed to have restaurants! We'll eat in one of those," A suggested.
"Dude. Vegetarian. Please be considerate," I patted my chest.
"I'm sure they'll have vegetarian stuff to eat."
"Yeah. I'm sure they'll have leaves for me to chew on," I muttered in an undertone as we left our room.
Two guys were standing in the lift when the doors opened on the 8th floor. One was a Caucasian and the other was an African-American. The Caucasian guy was swaying around in the corner, fighting to keep his balance. His eyes were hazy and his shirt was tucked-in at some places and hanging out loose at other places. He was gloriously drunk, beyond that 'i'm-so-happy-that-I-want-to-hug-random-strangers' phase where you generally see drunk people at. This guy was beyond that stage. This guy was about to pass out. This guy was frikkin' time bomb of puke. Let's call him Mr. Drunk.
The other guy, the tall and well-built African-American dude was dressed in the standard party attire - good shirt, a neat coat, dark-blue jeans and leather shoes. He smiled politely when we entered the lift. Let's call this guy - Mr. Smooth.
"How are you guys doing today?" Mr. Smooth asked.
"Good," A replied.
"Excellent," K replied.
"Pretty okay, I guess," I replied.
"Whendja guys come here?" he asked.
"A few hours back. How about you?"
"Partying since last night."
Just then, the lift stopped at the 6th floor. A loud and excited chatter of girlish voices could be heard on the other side. And the doors opened to a group of four good looking and well dressed girls standing outside. We suddenly stopped talking and couldn't help staring those damsels in front of us. Simultaneously, the girls who were chattering away stopped abruptly. They hesitated for a moment to enter the lift, partly because it was small and already five of us were in there, partly because Mr. Drunk was tottering around everywhere and partly because we were staring at them like goofy testosterone-driven maniacs.
There was an uncomfortable moment when everyone was passing glances at everybody else. But Mr. Smooth broke the ice, "Why dontcha girls come inside? There's plenny of room in here." He winked at them. The three of us backed to the walls of the lift to allow the four of them to squeeze in. Mr. Drunk continued to sway and totter. By an unspoken agreement we had reserved one entire corner for him to carry out his shenanigans. But Mr. Smooth stood where he was - right in the center of the lift. So, the four of them had to distribute themselves to fit inside. And as the doors closed, Mr. Smooth found himself in a very good position - two ladies to his left and two ladies to his right.
And in those brief few seconds, I would finally come to realize as to what one needs to do, to get laid with a total stranger. No, nothing kinky happened inside the lift. Control your imagination, for Godsakes!
But I'm sure loads of kinky stuff would've happened afterwards....
I liked this chapter most so far :)
ReplyDelete"Yeah. I'm sure they'll have leaves for me to chew on," <--LoL
Thanks! And I hope that the subsequent chapters are even better!
ReplyDeleteThats a godamn awesome post. No kidding. So , a lot to learn from Mr.Smooth eh ? :D
ReplyDeleteThanks! I appreciate it. I really do. Yes, Mr. Smooth's teachings will be revealed in the next chapter :D
ReplyDeletenow its rolling !! Vegas not the plane and Taxis !! Waiting for the next !!
ReplyDeleteWe all know you were talking bout the chicks, Vatsan! ;)
ReplyDelete@Sof - ;)
ReplyDelete