A true story about my trip to Las Vegas where we celebrated my sister’s bachelorette party. Here is a short story about taking a Lyft back to the hotel room.
We drove down the backstreets of Las Vegas Blvd. The car bounced lightly and in my drunken state the city lights blurred together. A hand clenched my chin, he kissed me. Our tongues slapped together, I gently bit his lip while rubbing his crotch.
He pulled my hair then kissed me. I mounted him. His fingers grazed my thighs as his hands moved beneath my dress. We kissed again. I could feel him getting hard, then, as usual, words invaded my thoughts.
AIDS, I shook my head hoping the word would fall out.
I unbuttoned his jeans sticking my hand down his pants, syphilis, herpes, whore!
I wrapped my fingers around his thick cock, gonorrhea, whore! Whore! Whore!
The car jerked forcing my eyes open. I wasn’t in a passionate sexual embrace, instead I was in an SUV surrounded by five women. This was my sister’s bachelorette party.
The liquor made me randy, but I was a sexually repressed adult so I took a breath and searched for a distraction. Then, I caught a glimpse of the Cameroon flag dangling from the rearview mirror.
Who was our Lyft driver? What stories does he have to tell? Where has his journey taken him?
I would have sought the answers, but the last shot of vodka was hitting me. The car suddenly stopped and all six of us spilled onto driveway of our hotel.
I now had a new distraction, how to get six drunk and semi-drunk women back to the hotel room.