VEGAS
Written and Copyrighted by Michael Rose

          Edward was lonely, walking the brightly lit Las Vegas strip. Vegas was an odd city to be lonely in, he thought to himself, considering the well oiled machine that was the prostitution industry here. Just like a pizza, a hooker could be in your hotel room in thirty minutes or less, and if you didn’t like her, you sent her back and got a new one. Hundreds of short, mostly Hispanic men dotted the strip, handing out cards, flyers, and catalogs advertising the many illicit pleasures that awaited a weary traveler in the way of sexual bliss. Edward picked one up, convincing himself that it was just for fun; something to peruse later while sitting in his hotel room.

            Separate vacations had seemed like a good idea when his wife brought it up a few weeks ago. He had since realized that the best time to make vacation plans with your spouse is not just after you’ve had a knockdown drag-out fight about the merits of instant mashed potatoes. It always started over something small like that, and soon they were dragging up the corpses of many a word better left unsaid from the vast lake of past quarrels. After that it usually degenerated into a name-calling, why-did-I-marry-you screaming, mess. Separate vacations seemed like the thing to do then, but now that he was walking around toward the end of his week with nothing left to do, it was really rather lonely. Edward found himself missing his wife for the first time since his arrival in the world’s biggest adult playground.

            He sat down at an outdoor pub about half way up the strip and had a martini. Looking around him, Edward felt quite out of place. Flashy guys in tight, leather pants escorting young women wearing long, gold-sequined gowns walked in and out of the fancier nightspots, laughing and drinking. Businessmen with Italian suits walked cockily into the high-stakes rooms, only to be seen walking out later with slumped shoulders and a less haughty facial expression. Edward didn’t even look like the other tourists, the fat guys in Hawaiian shirts and their fat wives wearing high riding spandex pants and equally repulsive blouses, as though they were competing with their husbands to see who could make passersby vomit first. Then, there were the old women whose tans were soul-deep and who were wrinkled twenty years into the future by the death-gaze of the Las Vegas sun, looming over slot machines, waiting to jump in and win the quarters that some poor sap had been dropping for two hours.

            He downed the last of his martini and got to his feet, narrowly avoiding a passing waitress. She gave him a look that said: “I don’t care if I am dressed as the Statue of Liberty, get the hell out of my way.” He watched her skate her way over to a table full of drunken frat boys on vacation, and couldn’t help but notice the shape of her body, draped only in a tight, green toga-like contraption and spiked crown. His mind immediately pursued the topic of what she would look like underneath, and he shut it out, hurrying on his way.

            Everywhere he looked, the sin of the city winked at him, beckoning to his baser nature with a sly smile. All the glitter-encrusted signs promised either pussy, or payoffs, and he wished he was back in Ohio, where the biggest temptation he would ever have to face was the lure of buying a gas grill instead of going with good old-fashioned charcoal. The lights became a swirling vortex of color, and Edward got lost within the maze of his own thoughts.

            It took him awhile to realize that the noise and lights had sufficiently diminished. Looking back toward the strip from this side street, it looked gaudier than ever, but at the same time, it looked almost unreal, as though it were just an illusion, covering up some kind of black hole that looked nothing like “Sin City.” He pulled the pamphlet that he had procured earlier out of his pants pocket and looked at the cover. Even here, away from prying eyes, and thousands of miles away from his wife, he felt guilty. Edward looked around to see if anyone happened to be watching him, but oddly, this street was silent and empty. The light from the strip illuminated the alley just enough for him to see the girl on the cover, but the shadows in the recesses of the street remained dark as pitch. He nearly dropped his magazine when he heard a cat screech nearby.

            Taking several deep breaths, he regained his composure enough to turn the first page, and gaze upon the wares within. There were several full-body pictures of girls, each with a number printed beneath the photograph. At the bottom of each page was the same local number, and a small set of instructions that explained that each girl had an extension, which one could dial if he wished to make arrangements with that particular girl. He found himself becoming excited again, and closed the book. He would not let himself give in to the lust that was creeping into his mind. Edward Payton was not a lecher. He resigned himself to immediately go back to his hotel room, not noticing himself place the folded catalogue carefully back into his pocket.

            It took him fifteen minutes to get back to his hotel on the south end of the strip. By then he was winded, and even in the dry climate of a Vegas night, he was sweating. He pushed his way past an acre of slot machines to the rear elevator, and rode up to his floor in silence. The trek down the hall seemed endless. He closed the door of his suite behind him and flipped on the lamp by the huge queen size bed he had all to himself.

            “Time to relax” he thought to himself, pulling off his shoes and flipping them toward the door. The bed was soft, and huge, and he stretched out on it, wishing he had thought to bring some reading material.

            The television showed nothing of interest, except strange Spanish soap operas and late night infomercials. Edward thought briefly about ordering up some pay-per-view porn, or possibly even a legitimate film, but the idea left his head as quickly as it had entered. He lasted long enough to hit the light-switch, then drifted off to sleep, still encased in his suit.

            The next day flew by like a hawk on speed, but it felt like a vulture, hovering over Edward, watching him. For the first time since he began his vacation, he spent much of his time in his hotel room. At one point he went down to the main floor and played a roll of nickel slots, but his heart wasn’t in it, and he almost lost his composure when a sexy young server, dressed like an Aztec princess, asked him if he’d like a drink. Most of the time, Edward was sitting at the large wooden work desk in his room, paging slowly through the pictures of desirable… and easily attainable… women.

            Every page held a bevy of delights. This one was a “young college girl, but don’t let her innocent face fool you.” On the next page were two women who advertised that a “fella” could “take one or both of us!” There were even “specialty” pages, telling of such wonders as domination, bisexuality, and “full bodied” women, who overused the catch phrase “more cushion for the pushin!” Edward was simultaneously disgusted and intrigued by these women, and he soon found himself fantasizing about what it would be like to be with one of these beautiful, experienced young creatures.

            He had always considered himself a faithful husband, but recently, especially since the arguments had become more frequent, he found his mind wandering. It wasn’t a lack of willpower on his own part that pushed Edward into the oblivion of doubt, but one, singular, nagging thought… what was his wife doing right now? He thought about all the handsome young men that would be servicing the women at the spa… serving them drinks… serving them in other ways?

            The vinyl chair tried to hold him when he stood, but he broke free with a ripping sound, and walked to the window. He looked down on the strip, watching the lights come to life as the sky slowly began to darken. This was going to be his last full night here in “Sin City” and he was going to do something extraordinary if it killed him. Before he could give himself time to think, he quickly changed into clean clothes and strolled out into the night.

            The swirling noise of Vegas overwhelmed him, and he found himself wandering aimlessly again through the maze of lights. The names of the streets melted into each other and he lost his sense of direction quite rapidly. Finally, he stopped in an alley, much like the one he had seen a few nights before, to catch his breath. He looked around, trying to gain some idea of his location, and didn’t recognize anything particular, so he found himself walking further into the darkness, away from the strip.

            The maze of alleys got deeper, and Edward found himself walking without thinking about where he was going. The magic veil of Las Vegas slowly wore thinner as Edward went deeper into the bowels of the city. Even in this blistering summer weather, he found himself getting cold, and pulled his jacket tight for the first time this week. The colorful lights had all but faded completely, the way being lit only by a few dim streetlights. There was a sudden flicker of light across the street. Edward looked over to see two young men lighting cigarettes in the darkness, and staring at him, sullenly. He hurried on his way.

            It wasn’t until later that he realized something was sticking uncomfortably in his mind. He remembered the two men in the shadows, but he couldn’t figure out how he had seen them. The lighter alone didn’t cast nearly enough light to illuminate two men across a street, yet it had. He also found that although he remembered seeing them very well, he could recall nothing specific about their appearances. It was as if his mind wouldn’t let him see the whole picture. The only image he retained was the anger that seemed to ooze from the men.

            He stopped to catch his breath in a dark alleyway, and was surprised when it was suddenly illuminated. Prepared for the worst, he turned to see a woman standing in a doorway, silhouetted by the luminescence behind her.

            “Hello there, stranger. What brings you to our fine establishment?” Asked the woman, her voice a strange harmony of tones all mixed together. Edward was too startled to speak.

            “Would you like to come in? You don’t look well.” The woman continued.

            Edward stammered a bit, and untucked his shirt to hide the slowly swelling embarrassment in his jeans. The woman was incredibly beautiful in a way that Edward could not begin to describe. This was the kind of woman that drove poets mad, as they lacked words to describe the intoxicating effect she had on their libido. He followed her in, and the door swung shut behind him.

            The door was inlaid with intricate designs showing a variety of scenes from various mythologies. Here, a satyr frolicked rather bawdily with two nymphs, all three in a state of undress. Over there a dog-headed God was serviced by a harem of veiled women. Some of the etchings were quite explicit and showed a variety of bodily fluids being exchanged. Edward turned back to the woman.

            She stood, appraising him, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She was wearing a strapless red and black evening gown that hugged all of her curves tightly and made Edward want to sit down and take a few deep breaths.

            “I’m going to get you a glass of water.” The woman purred, as Edward sat down in a velvety eighteenth century style armchair. He watched her walk through the small rear entryway in which he currently sat, and out a heavy oak door, shutting it behind her. He caught a glimpse of the rest of the house through the portal and it looked as though Edward had found himself in a brothel. He began to sweat, and quickly put his head between his knees to keep from fainting. This was not the kind of place he would have expected himself to stop on this trip. On some level however, he thought that perhaps some greater force had led him here. This made him feel better, and he sat up just as the woman reentered the room.

            She handed him the glass, and he put it to his lips. It was cold and sweet, not at all like the hotel tap water he had become accustomed to. It chilled his throat as it flowed down into his stomach, cooling and calming him quite sufficiently. He breathed deeply, and detected the faint aroma of jasmine in the air.

            “Thank you very much.”

            “Not at all, stranger. We try to accommodate our guests’ every need here.”

            He looked up at her face, and saw eyes as deep as tidal pools, deep blue and staring at him expectantly. She brushed an errant strand of her hair away from her face and took a step closer to Edward’s chair.

            “So what have you come here for?” The woman asked.

            “I... I don’t know if I really meant to come here... I just ended up here by accident.”

            “Nobody comes here by accident.” she replied, the faint image of a smile creasing her lips, “They find their way here because they need to... It’s fate, really.”

            “I uh... I’m on vacation,” stammered Edward. He felt himself beginning to sweat again. Being this close to a beautiful woman was not doing wonders for his virtue.

            “We have a wide variety of services to choose from for such a weary traveler,” she said, purring, “If you will follow me, I’ll show you.”

            Against his better judgment, Edward stood on shaky legs, took the strange woman’s hand, and let himself be led off into the dimly lit mansion. She led him through the door opposite the way he had entered and Edward found himself standing in a somewhat gaudy, but still exquisitely beautiful recreation of a classic 19^th century brothel. Red velvet lined everything in sight, and gold accouterments were draped about, bringing a musty shine to the furniture. A huge, etched mirror hung on the wall behind a well-used wooden bar. The girl behind the bar polishing glasses looked no more than eighteen years old, if that.

            “If you’re looking for something particular, I can take you straight to it. We have everything you could imagine here, including some of the more... exotic tastes.”

            Edward felt his resolve melting in the face of the overwhelming wave of erotic pleasure that this house represented. “Maybe... Uh... Maybe I should just look around a little and choose afterward?”

            She nodded and turned toward the spiral staircase, gliding up it like a ghost with Edward in tow, stumbling behind her, nervously. They came to a heavy oak door, and the strange woman pushed it open. A young woman in a purple slip lay on a well-used mattress. Her raven hair brushed her forehead lightly as she looked up hungrily, waiting for judgment.

            “Is she your style?” The woman asked.

            The woman on the bed slid her slip down to expose a pink, pert nipple and began to rise, licking her lips. Edward, blushing, backed out of the room, muttering the negative, and the strange woman shut the door behind them.

            “Would you prefer a blonde? A redhead? Perhaps something a little more interesting? Domination? Submission? Role playing fantasies?”

            “I... I don’t know.” Edward was nearly hyperventilating.

            “Is this your first time?” asked the woman. “You poor thing, you look so nervous.”

            “I guess I am... I mean... I don’t know if I could actually sleep with another woman. I just...”

            “Don’t worry baby. We’ll take care of you. There are... alternatives.”

            The mystery woman led him down a dark hallway, deeper into the recesses of the house. He smelled lilac and burgundy masking the scent of a thousand men and women becoming one. Edward found himself aroused, much to his chagrin.

            They rounded a corner and stood before a staircase, descending into a dimly lit hallway. The walls here were warm to the touch, and this area looked less well traveled than the rest of the house.

            “Madam, please… I don’t know if I can go through with this.”

            She smirked at him, gesturing with her head, and turning to descend the stairs as though his protests were of no importance. He followed her down the stairs, sheepishly.

            In the hall, there was but one door, deeply set into a recess at the far end.

            “In there,” explained the woman, “You will find your deepest, most secret fantasy.”

            “But miss, I’m married…”

            “Oh, is that it?” she said with a smile, “That shouldn’t be a problem. You’ll see. Everyone who comes here gets exactly what they need.”

            She ushered him briskly down the hall, opening the door for him. Without thinking, he followed her unspoken order and entered the dark room. She lit an old-fashioned oil lamp on the wall as Edward stood, mouth gaping, exploring the room with his eyes. It was very small, cushioned on every side, save one, in blood red velvet. On the single wall that held no cushions, there were several small holes at about waist level.

            “Enjoy yourself.” The woman purred as she shut the door, and Edward was alone.

            He had read about these so-called “glory holes” in a porno magazine his friends and he had swapped when he was still a teenager, but he had never expected to see one in real life. This kind of thing was reserved for the realm of fantasy, not reality, and it seemed like Edward had stepped off the edge of the world into whatever lay underneath it, a gigantic platter catching the drips of the world.

            Feeling suffocated by this surreality, he felt the need for air. He turned to the door, but saw no handle, no knob of any kind. The men he had seen smoking on the street invaded his thoughts again. He brushed them aside like a bad dream, trying to regain some semblance of sanity, but nothing could erase their specters from his mind. How strange, he thought, to be reminded of those angry and lost faces now, when he has in a place like this.

            “Glory holes,” he thought to himself. Well… he had come for a reason, hadn’t he? This wasn’t really cheating, was it? I mean, there would be no chance to see the person on the other side of the wall. It was just like pleasing himself, only there was a hole in the wall, instead of an appendage. His libido was becoming uncontrollable now, and he knew that if he didn’t make a decision soon, he would be very uncomfortable for the rest of his last night in Las Vegas. Promising himself that he would think of his wife the whole time, he stepped forward to examine the holes.

            Anonymous sex was quite a social invention. There was no question of whether or not there would be a follow-up phone call, or some other relationship-oriented conundrum. Even a prostitute, an idea alien enough to Edward, was more of a risk. There would be a silent judgment. How could he look into the eyes of a woman and not feel like he was being judged? Even the false adoration in the eyes of an expensive call girl would feel like knives grating across his ego. This was the perfect setup for someone like him. It wouldn’t feel like cheating, because there was no person to put with the feeling… no responsibility to himself, or anyone else… just pleasure.

            All three holes were remarkably similar.

            “Hello?” Edward laughed, nervously.

            He heard a few short giggles come from somewhere beyond the wall.

            He couldn’t help from laughing along with them for a moment.

            “Is anyone back there?”

            To this, his only reply was the sound of something moving. He also heard a small clicking sound, like a lock disengaging.

            Edward closed his eyes for a moment, and then began to unzip his pants. Embarrassment welled up in him, even with nobody around to see. Pushing his self-consciousness aside, he walked carefully up the middle portal, and pushed himself through it.

            He felt nothing for a moment, and was almost ready to give up and try to find his way back to the outside, when he felt something. There were lips on him, and he allowed himself to be taken in by them. His brain was struggling to regain control over his body, but his genitalia would have none of it, and he found himself giving away all control to this mystery woman behind the barrier.

            A million thoughts raced through his head, things he would never mention to his wife, or anyone else, terrible, filthy things. He wanted to feel dirty, to feel naked and degraded. Something still nagged at the back of his mind though, the click of the lock. What would there be to unlock behind the wall? It seemed ludicrous to have a locked door so that the girls couldn’t be walked in on while performing their tasks, since there were obviously very few taboos that weren’t already shattered in this house.

            He heard the giggling again, and tried to add it to the fantasy he was creating for himself, but these sounds didn’t fit properly. The laughter had sounded not girlish, but garish, the sound of danger. He was getting very close to finishing, and as he got closer the giggles resumed, this time quite sinister. He was just about to retract and ask what was so funny when he heard the click of the lock again, and a sliding sound.

            Edward’s world had turned into a bright flash of intense pain and the sounds of mangled laughter. He heard screaming, as loud and wild as that of a crazy person. The last thing he realized consciously was that it was he who was screaming. As he fell to the floor, he saw a metal gleam where the hole had once been, and there was crimson everywhere… on the blade, the wall, the floor… even his clothing. He faded into a world of deep red, which quickly turned to black.

            “I think he’s wakin’ up.”

            Consciousness crawled back into Edward like a slug. He opened his eyes, seeing a few huddled shapes over him in the semi-darkness.

            “Oh Jesus!” he cried out, as the sharp pain returned like a gunshot.”

            “Take it easy, buddy. You’ll be okay, but you can’t move too far just yet.”

            “What happened? Am I in the hospital?”

            Laughter broke out around him, and he saw some of the shapes back away.

            “Man, this ain’t no hospital,” the shape closest to him grunted, “You want a smoke?”

            “I don’t smoke,” Edward began, and then another intense pain shot up his leg and expanded into the rest of his body. He cried out in pain.

            “Man, you gonna’ start real soon.”

            His vision cleared a bit, and even through the tears welling up in his eyes he could recognize the pitch-black leather and the tiny flame lighting up a cigarette, even as he watched. They all stood around him, some frowning, some smiling sadly… all of them looked very unhappy in one way or another. These were the men that he had seen earlier… the lost looking ones… the men who must have gone through something akin to what he had… it was finally sinking in that Edward had used his manhood for the last time. He felt sick, and the pain only added to his growing nausea. He turned his head just in time to be sick.

            Turning back, he found a cigarette waiting for him.

            “You can’t back now, man. You wanna explain that to your old lady? Some of us tried… shit…” the voice’s laughter sounded hollow… empty.

            “Who are they?” Edward cried.

            The men around him just laughed again. Someone lit his cigarette. Now was a good time as any to start.

            There was a nice write-up in the local paper the following week, where a young reporter interviewed Edward’s wife about his strange disappearance. Everyone who knew him said that he was a family man, and they never would have expected him to run off to Vegas, leaving his wife by herself.

            Life went on. People were born, and people died. Most people forgot about Edward. His wife, after a period of mourning, re-married and had children. The dog-headed god laughed.