Free Diva Las Vegas (Book 1 in Raven McShane Series) by Caroline Dries, Steve Dries Page B

even closer until it hurt.  With a flurry of thrusts he heaved himself into me and finished, falling forward onto me and submerging both of us in the water.  We came up gasping for air, and I put my arms around him and held him.  Our chests both heaved together, seeking oxygen, and we didn’t move for a very long time.
    Obviously, Mike needed that.  So did I.  People assume that strippers must have wild and fulfilling sex lives, but most men we meet are scumbags or just plain losers.  And when the good ones find out what we do for a living, they tend to back away after a few dates.
    Our breathing returned to normal after a few minutes.  “Want to get out?” I asked.  We were still standing, holding each other, the water bubbling up to our chests.
    Silence.
    “Mike?”
    He had fallen asleep standing up.  I gave his ass a meaningful grab.  “Mike?  Let’s go to bed.”
    “Okay,” he murmured.
    I led him slowly out of the pool, and when he got out he stood there naked, dripping wet and still half aroused.  He probably thought he was in a dream.  I pointed to his shirt and shorts on the ground and he seemed to get the idea.  I found my robe and put it on.  And then I panicked.
    “Mike, did you bring your room key?”
    He felt in his shorts.  “No.”
    “Well, I’m sure they’ll just give us new ones at the front desk,” I said.  We’d look ridiculous, but I didn’t care because I was drunk and in a happy afterglowy place.  Mike got his clothes on and we made our way slowly to the door.  It was locked.
    “What the . . ?”  I pulled at the doors again.  “We need a key to get back in.  We’re stuck out here.”
    He seemed not to fully appreciate the situation.  He was drunker than I thought.
    I looked around.  “Well, it’s July, we’re in San Diego, and there’s a bunch of cabanas over there with beds in them.  It could be a lot worse.  Let’s go get a big drink of water first.”
    He followed me to the drinking fountain and drank from it like a parched mule at the Rio Grande.  I led him to a cabana.  He was already half asleep when we got into bed.  I opened my robe and pulled his head to rest on my chest, and I fell asleep dreaming of an early morning encore.

Chapter 9
     
     
    “Ex- cooz me, ex- cooz me.”  The high-pitched voice was insistent.  As I grudgingly awoke from a peaceful sleep, I realized there was something off about the voice that I couldn’t place.  An accent, that was it.  Mexican.  I opened my eyes and squinted into the light.  A wide-faced, dark skinned woman was standing in front of the cabana, her arms on her hips.  Her look of disapproval didn’t require any translation.
    I pulled my robe around myself and propped myself up in the cabana bed.  “What time is it?”
    “No speak English,” she said.  “Ex- cooz me,” she said again, and pointed at the door.  “No open.”
    “Okay, I get it.  We were locked out.  Key?” I asked.  I made a lame motion with my hand trying to explain what had happened.  Mike was still asleep, face down.  I shook him by the shoulders and he began producing a series of grunting noises.  “We have to get out of here,” I said.
    “Mm hmm.”  He rolled over and I tried to pull him up.  He seemed to finally get it and slowly raised himself from the bed.  I smiled apologetically at the Mexican woman.  She kept frowning at us as she looked us over.  And then her eyes got big.  I followed her stare to Mike’s swimming trunks.  It looked like he was trying to hide the Washington Monument in his shorts.  I thought I caught the faintest hint of a grin on the woman’s face as she turned away and waved her hands in the air in mock disgust.
    “Let’s go,” I said.
    The doors were now open, and we took the elevator down to the lobby in silence.  They gave us new keys without batting an eyelash, and on the way back upstairs I couldn’t tell if Mike was hung over, embarrassed, or both.  We agreed