Chapter One
Laura
“Hope, what’s taking so long?” I call from the doorway of our dressing room in Been Jammin’s Gentleman’s Club in Las Vegas.
“Hold your horses. I’m almost ready.”
I smile at her choice of words. She’s from Texas.
When she emerges, she has no makeup on. She is wearing a t-shirt, blue jeans, converse tennis shoes, and her hair is up in a ponytail. She looks like a college kid and not a Vegas stripper.
My astonished look makes her confess. “Rodney is taking me to LA for Christmas.”
“So, you’re meeting the parents?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t realize you two were that serious.”
She laughs, “Me either.”
I cut my eyes at her as we walk out of the club.
“What? If he wants to take me to LA, wine and dine me, parade me before his parents, I’m down for that. I’ll be his Sugar Baby for the show.”
“Oh!” I laugh with her. “That makes more sense.”
She says, “I should pick up a couple of gifts for them before we go. Let’s start at Caesar’s.”
Dodging and weaving through the crowd, we walk along in silence. When we enter the Forum shopping area, Hope gets a text. She pauses to read it, then types furiously on her phone. When she’s finished, she looks at me and says, “Change of plans. He’s coming now to get me.”
I open my arms and she steps forward into them. “Merry Christmas, Hope.”
“Merry Christmas, Laura. I’ll see you in a few days.”
“Have fun.”
Watching her ponytail bounce back out the door leaves me with a rare sense of loneliness. It is Christmas Eve and my plan is to meander through the crowded casinos and window shop at their stores to while away the hours.
I thought about going home and spending it with my sister and her family. I know she would love to have me, but her in-laws are visiting, and well … I am a stripper. I live in Sin City and make my living gyrating my tits and ass for tips.
Instead, I’ll hang out with my people. Strangers on vacation, just passing through. Enjoying the magic of the season.
Zane
"Okay, Batman, it’s time to fight crime.” I open the cruiser door, and my K9 partner stands. “We’re going to patrol the Strip tonight, so I want you to be charming.” I reach in to hook his leash on his collar, and he shakes his head, flopping his ears. “I know, buddy, not your favorite thing to do, mine either, but it’s Christmas Eve, and because we are single, we are assigned patrol tonight.”
I step back, and he jumps down. Immediately, his nose goes to ground, sniffing around the length of the lead.
This is my third year with the Las Vegas Metro Police Department and my first as a K-9 handler. Batman is my Belgian Malinois.
“We don’t have to do anything special. Just be badass, like always.”
He glances up at me, and I chuckle as we walk along the sidewalk, heading to the Strip. When we round the corner, there is a throng of people beginning to bottleneck at the bottom of an escalator. At the top is a man trying to walk down the upside. Clearly, he is confused.
Better get up there and straighten him out, before there is an accident.
“Hup.” I signal Batman to heel, and we trot to the stairs on the opposite side. As we climb, my radio keys the call in, and Reggie and Gary respond to dispatch that they are on it.
By the time Batman and I clear the door and step out onto the crowded crosswalk, Reggie and Gary are walking up the escalator. The confused dude sees them and turns around, heading back up in the right direction.
Problem solved.
Batman and I stop, taking up post on the railing out of the flow on the crowd to observe him.
Suddenly, a man stiffens and stops dead in his tracks. His hand goes up and touches his ear. Then he looks at what is on his hand.
“MOTHERFUCKER!” He shouts as he spins around, pointing his finger, and aggressively striding toward the confused dude. “You spit your fucking chicken on me!”
I tighten Batman’s leash and head toward them. There is nothing like a K9 to deescalate a confrontation.
The crowd of people passing them parts.
The confused dude spits again, but it has no velocity, and luckily lands at the angry dude’s feet.
“Chicken Man,” he threatens, pointing over the railing. “You’re going to find out if you can fly.”
Chicken Man grinning, not the least bit intimated, prepares to spit again.
“Do it, Motherfucker!” The angry dude dares him, just before Batman, straining hard against his leash, pulls us into their line of sight.
Both dudes stop, stunned.
Then Chicken man drops his box of chicken, and turns to run.
Batman lunges wanting to chase him down, willing to sink his teeth in him, but I hold him back.
Reggie and Gary top the escalator, then charge him, shove him against the railing, and handcuff him. Gary takes a spit mask and slides it over Chicken Man’s head.
I pull Batman back. “Sit.”
He eases down onto his haunches, ears forward, eyes alert, and I pat his shoulder. “Good boy.”
The angry man turns to me. “Thanks, man. I’m glad you were close. Otherwise, I would be joining him downtown.”
I nod, as Gary walks by with Chicken Man. Reggie stops next to us. “You just coming on duty?”
I nod. “Yeah, what’s the mood?”
Gary says, “Festive. It’s been quiet. We were going to hit Caesar’s one more time before we went in.”
I nod, “We’ll start there then.”
Chapter Two
Laura
As I exit Agent Provocateur, I scold myself … happily. “You knew better than to go in there. You knew you were going to be naughty.”
I grew up poor and now that I have more than I need, I indulge my weakness. Some women have a shoe fetish, I love sexy nighties and their naughty accessories. I treated myself to a new black lace bra with matching panties, garter and hose, plus a new baby pink leather choker and wrist cuffs. I have no idea who I will wear them for. I’m not hooking up with anyone at the moment. But I am prepared to blow the next man’s mind.
Swinging the bags, I merge into the crowd. Christmas music is playing over the speakers, and I hum along with Andy Williams singing, “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas.”
One of the two teenage girls walking in front of me lets out an excited squeal as she grabs her friends arm, stopping us all, and points to the other side of the area. “OH, MY GOD, TISH! LOOK!”
They, as well as everyone behind them, turn to see what she has seen.
“Is that Mr. Deep-cember?”
“Who?” Her friend asks confused.
“The hot cop on the Faces of the Force calendar. Mr. December. Come on, let’s go get a selfie with him.”
She drags her friend in that direction.
Curious who Mr. Deep-cember is, I watch them weave their way over, catching glimpses of him through the people passing by. The hottie cop has positioned himself away from the traffic area, trying to be inconspicuous, but there is no way he could ever blend in. He is too much of a man!