Page 9 of Theirs to Treasure

Since we have a follow-up meeting with the founders tomorrow morning, we’d scheduled our pilot for noon.

And anytime we’re in Vegas, Zev avails himself of all the lascivious offerings.

“Dinner at the steakhouse and then a cabaret at the Royal Sterling?” he suggests after a second sip. “Desiree is starring in it.”

The last two times we visited Sin City, we saw her risqué and entertaining show and then spent an enjoyable nightcap with the beautiful, talented, andverylimber dancer.

She enjoyed entertaining brothers, and they hadn’t found anything yet that was off-limits.

“Strip club?” he asks when I don’t respond.

There’s an exclusive one that we frequent. It’s owned by a reputed gangster, and not open to the general public. On any given night, I’ve shaken hands with many of Las Vegas’s finest, along with two congresspeople and a US senator.

But I’m bored. Restless.

When I remain silent, he tries again. “The Ranch?”

The last time we visited, there’d been an orgy with at least a hundred attendees. Zev fucked until his dick was raw, and he grinned for two days afterward.

I spent my time in the lounge, enjoying a drink, watching basketball on the multiple screens, and enjoying very attentive, very personal service.

“Damn, Forrest. You’re jaded.”

I run my finger beneath my shirt collar. There’s nothing in Vegas that we haven’t seen—and done—a dozen times.

Jaded? Bored is more like it.

Zev rolls his eyes.

The cabaret, strip club, all of them are selling a pricey fantasy, even Desiree, whom we’ve fucked six ways from Sunday.

Days like today are what sustains me.

It’s real.

Success and failure hang in the balance, and there’s no predetermined outcome. No one is offering a fake smile, pretending they want to make me happy, when all they want is for me to open my wallet and to drop a wad of cash in front of them.

“Loosen up,” Zev encourages. “We’ll be back at the grind tomorrow.”

Or sooner, if the buzzing of my phone in my pocket is any indication.

“There’s a masquerade at the Ranch tonight. Maybe you can beat my old record. Seven women.”

Shaking my head, I laugh. My wallet has a couple of emergency condoms tucked inside. Fortunately there are bowls filled with them in every room of the Ranch house.

“You up for it?”

“I’m not.”

“Don’t tell me you’re ready to settle down?”

“No.” There’s still plenty of time for that. “No.” More like the thrill of the chase and the conquest appeals to me.

Lorenzo Carrington, the resort’s owner, moves through the lounge, flanked by his men, and he stops at our table.

Zev and I both stand to shake his hand.

“Always appreciate your business.”