Vegas Surrender by Sasha Peterson Page A

purse.
Because of the early summer, my caramel skin had already turned
bronze from the sun. I only made up my eyes and applied a dash of
color to my lips.
    “ Not so bad yourself.”
    Daniel’s wardrobe was simple. When not in a
business suit, he wore jeans and a collared shirt, but he made
dressing down look good. The shirt gave me a view of the asset I
loved most on my husband—his arms. Daniel worked out regularly, and
he was rock solid all over. His muscular build gave him the
appearance of a man well over six feet tall even though he was
actually five eight, only two inches taller than me.
    I looped my arm through his, and we headed out
the door. As we made our way to the elevator and down to the lobby,
I marveled at the décor of the Venetian. The architect didn’t hold
back their talent when tasked to turn the hotel into Italy. The
brochure we looked at when making our decision on where to stay
didn’t misrepresent the place. “Romance of Italy” is
right.
    Romance was the reason we were even in Vegas in
the first place. We needed to put a spark back into our
relationship, more so our sex life. After three years of marriage,
something was missing. We’d fallen into a routine. With both of us
advancing in our careers, Daniel an executive board consultant for
a group of companies and I a financial consultant, spontaneity had
fallen by the wayside. We had plenty of sex, but sometimes we’re
too tired to really get into it. Robotic was more like
it.
    We continued making our way through the lobby
and to the Bouchon restaurant. We only stopped to eat for my sake.
But, Daniel being the man he is, he didn’t pass up a meal. He
devoured his New York Strip in less than three bites while I tried
to savior my lamb. He was ready to go and I knew it but ordered
another blue martini anyway. I needed to relax before going to our
next destination. We’d spotted the place while walking down the
strip the night before.
    Putting Daniel out of his misery, I gulped my
drink down. He paid the tab and almost dragged me out the chair in
his haste. Once outside, he hailed a cab instead of making me walk
to the far end of the strip again. The day prior, I still had on my
flats from the plane ride, but today, I wanted to look cute and
opted for heels. There was no way my feet could’ve survived the
journey.
    In less than ten minutes, we stood in front of
the Red Door. From the outside, the club looked less than
spectacular. In fact, I frowned when I first looked at the outside
door. It was black. Then once we walked in, I could see another
door. This one was red.
    My nerves kicked in, just as they had the
previous day, this time for a different reason. We weren’t going to
remain as spectators.
    Daniel held my hand and guided me into the
unknown. A woman in a booth waited on us. The glass divider she
slid open reminded me of a doctor’s office. In essence, I guess she
was the receptionist.
    “ Back again I see.” She gave us a
warming smiling.
    “ Yes.” Daniel flashed a grin at
her.
    “ It’ll be sixty for the both of
you.”
    Daniel flipped out his wallet and paid the
fee.
    With a loud click, the red door opened granting
us access. Daniel put his wallet away, placed his hand on the small
of my back, and ushered me inside. Even though it was only eight,
the place was already packed. People mingled about at the many
bars, in the lounge area, or on the dance floor. He led us to an
empty spot at the bar and pulled out a chair for me to sit. Before
long, I had another blue martini in my hand and he a glass of peach
cream on the rocks. Like me, Daniel wasn’t a beer drinker and
preferred the smooth taste of good liquor.
    My gaze wandered to the individuals in the
room. An underground life unfolded in front of me. They looked
nothing like those in the clubs I’d experienced back home. These
people looked to be all business professionals or models. The women
were gorgeous. Even the plus-size ladies gave the women in Atlanta
a run