Sex, Lies and Dirty Secrets

by Jamie Sobrato

  Macy sighed and went out into the main room to find an outfit. Bright sunlight poured through the wall of windows that overlooked the balcony and outside. Even though it was only ten in the morning, the sounds pouring in from a door Lauren had left open were of a city wide awake.

  Macy went to the open door, inhaled the hot desert air and then closed it. “How can you stand all that heat pouring in here?”

  Lauren came out of the bathroom with her long dark hair smoothed into a shiny curtain and shrugged. “I thought it felt kind of nice. I like the dry air.”

  “I already took a shower, but I still need to change clothes and then we can go. Griffin and Carson are probably already waiting downstairs for us.”

  “You didn’t answer my question—why can’t you get it on with Griffin until the promotion happens?”

  “Maybe I don’t want to.” Macy avoided eye contact as she went to the closet and rummaged around for the appropriate outfit.

  Lauren’s knowing gaze seemed to be burning a hole into her back. “That’s not true. You’re into him.”

  “I am not,” Macy said, trying her best to sound casual, when actually, the accusation struck her as, at best, infuriating.

  How could she, a self-respecting woman with excellent taste in men, be into a guy who clearly thought so much of himself? She couldn’t.

  More likely, she was just into the whole idea of a weekend fling with her adolescent-fantasy guy. And maybe the sexual frustration thing was clouding her otherwise good judgment.

  She selected a beaded green camisole and a matching purple-and-green skirt to wear, then went into the bathroom to change. Once dressed, she found a pair of platform espadrilles to complete the outfit, and when she turned to Lauren, her friend gave her another one of those all-knowing looks.

  “Don’t kid yourself—you’re into him.”

  Macy rolled her eyes and threw up her hands in defeat. “Believe what you want. And what exactly is your story again? You’re a freewheeling flight attendant from Atlanta?”

  “San Francisco.”

  They walked to the elevator, rode it to the casino level and walked to the buffet. The Golden Gate Casino’s breakfast layout turned out to be an impressive one, complete with seafood and dessert and just about everything else Macy could think of.

  They spotted Griffin and Carson across the room and gave them a little wave, then went to load up their plates.

  “Okay, he looks doable,” Lauren said as she selected several gigantic strawberries.

  “Told you.”

  “And you’re sure he’s not obnoxious? I can’t tolerate obnoxiousness.”

  “He’s fun. Really fun. I promise.”

  “So why haven’t you dated him?”

  Macy piled a couple of huge wedges of French toast onto her plate. “I don’t know. I guess he’s never shown any particular interest. Maybe he’s not into blondes.”

  “Every guy is into blondes who look like you.”

  She made a face at Lauren. “Whatever.”

  “I bet I know. Griffin is into you—probably has been for years—and Carson knows it. He doesn’t want to step on his friend’s toes.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Griffin and I have never gotten along in the office.”

  “Sexual tension can do that.”

  They moved farther down the buffet, and Macy found herself torn between fruit crepes and eggs Benedict. She was running out of room on her plate.

  “I don’t know why you think you can take a tiny bit of information and extrapolate entire relationship histories based on almost nothing.”

  Lauren’s mysterious little smile would have been more infuriating if Macy hadn’t been so used to it. And Lauren’s extrapolations themselves would have been more infuriating if she wasn’t so often correct.

  “There’s no other explanation. If Carson has never flirted with you, it’s because he knows his friend wants you.”

  “I’m so glad you know everything. It must make life a breeze for you.”

  “Yeah, and I’m pretty handy to have around, aren’t I?”

  Lauren had an uncanny way of ignoring sarcasm when she wanted to, and piling it on thick when it helped her make a point.

  They carried their plates to the table where Carson and Griffin were sitting with cups of coffee, and Macy went through the usual introductions.

  The guys went off to grab their own plates of food, and as soon as they were gone, Lauren pinned Macy with a look that said she approved of Carson.

  “He’s hot,” she said. “Very hot.”

  “Told you. Too bad you’re just a flight attendant looking for a weekend fling, because I think you and Carson could hit it off.”

  Lauren stabbed a strawberry, her expression blasé. “I’m holding out for a wealthy foreign national so I can snag dual citizenship for someplace cool like Monaco.”

  “Right, because we bump into so many wealthy foreign nationals in our everyday lives. That makes perfect sense.”

  “In my flight-attendant career, I meet them all the time. And I think a girl has to stick to her guns, keep her standards high and all that.” Her attention was on the gigantic strawberry now.

  “You’re just afraid of finding a guy you could really fall for and then having to face the big C-word.”

  “Cunnilingus? I’m all for it.”

  Macy tried to keep a straight face but failed. “Commitment, smart ass.”

  Lauren made a face and shuddered. “You’re right about that. I’m so not the marriage-and-kids type. I might as well get it tattooed on my forehead, so the guys who are can just avoid the disappointment.”

  “Or you can keep using false identities and pretending to be a footloose flight attendant. What’s your fake name, by the way?”

  “I could do without the acidic disapproval. And my name’s Lauren Smith.”

  “That’s creative.”

  “It’s easy to remember, okay, smart ass?”

  Macy spotted the guys headed in their direction, and she lowered her voice. “Okay, Lauren Smith. Just be sure not to let him see your driver’s license, and when you’re lamenting the fact that you’ve lost a perfectly good guy, don’t cry to me about it.”

  But she knew her words were falling on indifferent ears. Lauren had never, and probably would never, find one guy she could settle for. Macy almost admired her insatiable appetite for variety, but unlike Lauren, she believed that there was even more satisfaction to be had in finding one guy with whom she could develop a soul-deep connection.

  When she glanced up at Griffin sitting down at their table again, he flashed a knowing little smile that spoke volumes about what was on his mind, and she knew without a doubt that he was not one of those guys. Theirs was a surface connection, born purely of sexual hormones, misguided adolescent dreams and frustration.

  “Either of you have anything in mind you’d like to see today?” Griffin asked.

  “I’m open to whatever,” Macy said. “I guess we should check out everything here at the hotel before we venture out.”

  “So far I’m pretty impressed,” Carson said. “I’ve stayed at a lot of Vegas hotels, but this one actually manages to look more classy than cheesy.”

  “Isn’t it kind of cheesy to use the word classy?” Griffin said, his green eyes sparking with mischief.

  “Shut up,” Carson said. “You know what I mean.”

  “It’s true,” Lauren said. “This is the first Vegas hotel I’ve seen that manages to do over-the-top in a really tasteful way.”

  Macy ate her French toast as she listened to them talking about possible marketing strategies. Lauren, intelligent as she was, had plenty to offer despite the fact that it wasn’t her industry. Macy had her own thoughts about the slant to take on the campaign, but they were still simmering in her head, and she didn’t like to share her ideas while they were still half-baked.

  In fact, her creative process was probably part of what had always sparked tension between herself and Griffin. I
t drove him crazy when she held back during brainstorming sessions.

  And while she could see that maybe she came off as not a team player, she believed that some of the best inspirations only became diluted when worked on by committee. She preferred to develop her thoughts until they were fully formed and could have the most impact. Then, and only then, would she present them and make herself open to feedback.

  By the time she’d finished most of her breakfast, the conversation had turned from ad campaigns to Vegas attractions to Lauren’s faux career as a flight attendant. The guys were listening attentively as she spun lie after lie about herself, and Macy marveled at the ease with which she did it.

  “So you’ve probably traveled all over the world then,” Carson said.

  Lauren nodded. That part, at least, was true. Lauren’s family had money—lots and lots of money—and they never hesitated to send their daughter on exotic trips, with or without them.

  “What’s your favorite place you’ve ever visited?” Carson asked.

  While Macy had thought Lauren’s answer would be Paris, she surprised her. “Romania, believe it or not.”

  “Really? What was it that you liked?”

  “The whole Carpathian mountain region, with all its dark legends about Dracula—it really got to me. Something about it resonated, and I could see why those legends developed. It’s really a haunting, mysterious place. Not like anywhere else I’ve ever been.”

  “Wow.”

  “Are you one of those goth chicks who’s all into vampires and stuff?” Carson asked, sounding vaguely turned on by the idea.

  Macy tried not to laugh. “Maybe she’s a little designer goth.”

  Lauren narrowed her eyes at Macy. “Am I now?”

  “You’re always wearing dark colors, and you’ve got the dark hair and pale skin….”

  “First, this is my natural coloring, and second, we live in San Francisco. You just described ninety percent of the population.”

  “And you’ve got that funky altar in your house.”

  “It’s not an altar. It’s just some damn candles. On a shelf.” Lauren’s voice had turned a little stiff, and her expression had lost its usual cool detachment. Now her mouth was set in a grim, sarcastic line.

  Macy had never seen her get flustered like this before. As though she was trying not to, but it wasn’t working. Maybe she just didn’t want to be teased in front of a guy she wanted to score with.

  “Hey, I think if we sit here much longer I might be tempted to eat more food. Why don’t we skip out of here and go find some trouble to get into,” Carson said, his timing impeccable.

  “Yeah, this being Macy’s first time in Vegas, she’s got lots of trouble to find.”

  Carson glanced at his watch. “I was thinking of doing a little gambling. Anyone interested?”

  Lauren’s grim expression vanished. “That sounds right up my alley.”

  “I don’t know.” Macy glanced at Griffin. “Do you want to split up, maybe catch up again at dinner time?”

  The last thing she needed was Carson around taking notes on every little thing that happened between her and Griffin, and she didn’t really feel like gambling right after breakfast, anyway. She figured she’d played the odds enough last night with her ten minutes on the slots.

  “I’m cool with that.” Griffin looked at Carson. “We were thinking of catching the show at the Golden Gate last night, but we got, um, sidetracked. Want us to pick up tickets for all of us for a show tonight?”

  Carson shrugged and looked at Lauren. “You game?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “We’re there. What do you say we meet up for dinner around seven?”

  They decided to make reservations at one of the hotel restaurants, then catch up via cell phone to confirm the final plans. Five minutes later, the two couples had parted ways, and Macy and Griffin headed out into the blinding desert sunlight through a huge rotating brass door.

  After the dark, artificial world of the hotel, the outdoors seemed unreal. And truly not much about Vegas seemed real, not the Technicolor blue of the sky, not the spectacle of the architecture, not the constant bustle of the crowds.

  The unreal atmosphere renewed Macy’s sense that she could break all the rules this weekend. That here in the desert, she could do everything wrong, and she’d still be all right. She could take risks, sleep with the wrong man, tell lies for fun and profit.

  In a city where nothing was as it seemed, Macy felt as if she fit right in.

  Macy Thomaston, Queen of the Fake Orgasm, performing tonight at the Golden Gate Resort and Casino, Las Vegas. This weekend only.

  8

  GRIFFIN YAWNED and stretched out on the hotel balcony’s chaise longue. He hadn’t intended to doze off, but Macy was wearing him out. In a good way.

  They’d wandered the strip for a little while after breakfast, until it got so hot they couldn’t stand it anymore. Then they’d explored every inch of the Golden Gate, trying to absorb the feel of it, all of its sights and sounds that might influence the ad campaign. But that had inevitably led them to decide that the private suites were the nicest feature in the hotel and they really needed to spend more time in one of them. For the sake of research, of course.

  An afternoon of sex with Macy was by far the best product research Griffin had ever done.

  Next to him sat the cart from room service they’d ordered for a late lunch and hadn’t bothered to move back into the hallway yet. And overhead, the pink-and-orange-streaked sky in the waning light suggested it was getting close to dinnertime.

  From inside the room, he could hear Macy talking on the phone, something about meeting up with them for dinner and that they had tickets for an eight o’clock show. Probably talking to Lauren.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much sex in so short a time. Hell, he could hardly remember his name right now. Griffin Something-or-Other. Did he even have a middle name? It started with an M. Mitchell? No, Michael. That was it. Griffin Michael Reed.

  Whew. Good. He hadn’t completely lost it.

  Macy appeared on the balcony again, wearing his white button-down shirt, open in the front, and nothing else. He smiled at the sight, even as his body responded in its predictable fashion.

  “You might as well not have bothered getting dressed,” he said, only then noticing that he was still naked.

  She looked down at herself. “Oh, I just put this on to move the cart back into the hallway, but I remembered I needed to call Lauren, and then I forgot about the cart, and—”

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her down on top of him, where she fit quite nicely. He slid his hands over her bare ass, savoring her full curves, letting his fingertips tickle the cleft of her backside as his cock strained against her belly.

  “Do we have time for one more round before dinner?”

  Macy grinned. “You’re insatiable.”

  “Only for you, baby.”

  “I bet you say that to all your future bosses.” She started kissing his neck so he took that as a yes and shifted her hips until she was within target range.

  “If it turns you on to think that…” he said, teasing. He didn’t want to get into an argument about the imminent promotion now, not when he had much more important matters to attend to.

  He reached for a condom from the half-empty box on the side table next to them, and a minute later he was suited up and ready for liftoff.

  “I told Lauren I’d meet her in my room in fifteen minutes.”

  “So we’ll go fast.”

  She shifted her hips, and he eased into her. She must have been a little sore from all their lovemaking, but if so, she didn’t complain.

  Something about her expression when she sat up and looked at him gave Griffin pause, though. “Is something wrong?”

  “I just realized tomorrow’s Sunday, and we’ll be flying back to the real world.”

  With his cock buried all the way inside her, he didn’t feel much equippe
d to carry on a conversation, but he was willing to give it a shot.

  “So we live it up tonight.”

  But he didn’t want it to end, either. He’d only seen Macy as a sex object at work, as someone to lust after and compete with. Now that he was getting to know her, he liked her. A lot. Maybe too much.

  Without realizing it, he’d been hoping he wouldn’t like her so that they could have this affair and then get back to business on Monday. Liking her complicated things.

  “Yeah,” she said, the tension easing from her expression. “We live it up tonight. I like that.”

  Her breasts peeking out of his shirt was a sight almost too sweet for words. “You’re beautiful,” he said, anyway.

  She rode him a little faster now, her tightness and heat nearly all his mind could focus on. But still, there were these other thoughts vying for his attention.

  Thoughts about Macy. About having her for more than just tonight.

  Her shallow breathing told him she was close to coming, and he slipped his fingers between their bodies, coaxing her closer to orgasm. When her muscles started contracting around him, and she cried out in throaty gasps, he joined her.

  Her body convulsed as he spilled into her, and the pleasure that rocked his body was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of. He was addicted to Macy, and he was in serious trouble.

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, then placed a kiss on her damp forehead as they caught their breath again.

  “Wow,” she said. “I didn’t think I could do that again so soon.”

  “Me, either. Do you think this is some kind of medical problem—our inability to stop having sex?”

  She laughed. “If it is, I don’t want to have to explain it to a doctor.”

  “I’m thinking we could be in big trouble at work on Monday.”

  “No, we’ll just have to make sure we, um, do everything we can tonight.”

  “You think that will help?”

  She shrugged, standing up from the chair, and another melancholy expression crossed her face. “I’d better go get dressed for dinner. We’ll knock when we’re ready, okay?”