Chlorine

Mission 1. Hook up with someone as old as my mom (54) and as young as my sister (20) in a month.
Mission 2. Live a completely gay lifestyle (without the gay sex) for a month.
Mission Three: Live without an apartment for a month.

Ben* was right, the Bellagio pool was a great place to meet women. Single, beautiful, smoking women with tiny bathing suits and perfect fake tits. Everyone had the same beautiful nose, the same beautiful face. The only thing that distinguished these girls from each other was the color of their hair and bathing suit. Everything else blended away.

I sat down with a copy of Giant, and ordered a water. The whiskey was starting to breathe through my pours and I needed to re-hydrate. I jumped in the pool and floated, suspended, paused. I wish I had a snorkel and mask, but it's hard to score pussy with such ocean-going accoutrements. I would look a bit Peter Pan with that garb, especially in a hotel pool. But it is so fun to float motionless. I decided to make due with my own physical devices and simply float.

I got out of the pool, toweled off, and chugged almost all of the water in a single gulp.

“Rough night?” said a female voice. I looked over, thinking it was the waitress being flirtatious.

“Birthday party,” I said, smiling.

I cupped my hand over the sun to get a better look.

“Vegas is a great place for a birthday party. Was it yours?”

“Yep, today is the day. Turned 30. But it’s just a number for me, really no big deal.” I was laughing to myself at just how false that statement was.

“Well, happy birthday, uh-”

“Rob,” I said, on cue.

“Well, happy birthday, Rob.”

I smiled.

“I’m Jen, by the way.”

“Hi, Jen.”

“Are you here with friends, some big celebration or something?”

“Something like that,” I said coyly.

Keeping my hand up with a squint was not the preferred angle to view this woman, but there were no other chairs. I backed up and let her sit on the foot the lounge.

“Have a seat, I said, putting a dry towel down, “ I don’t want your skirt getting wet.”

“Oh, thanks, what a gentleman. Actually, it’s a sarong. I don’t mind if it gets a bit wet.”

My mind held on those words. I thought of fucking her, but I hadn’t really had an unobstructed view of the ass or face without the 110 degree sun obscuring the package.

She sat down and gave me the look I needed. She was exquisite. Before I was playing this game, trying to find a hot chick, then trying to find one even hotter within five minutes. This girl was game over. Her skin was olive, she looked Greek a bit. Her hair was long and black. The gentle breeze blew strands in her hair that she sexily brushed back every so often. Her “sarong” was yellow, and the backlight revealed a white bikini bottom that looked like underwear. I almost wanted her to stand up again to take it all in.

“Do you want to go for a swim?” I asked, with the upfrontness of a little boy.

“I thought you would never ask. I like the cowboy hat, by the way. Very sexy.”

“Thanks,” I said, adjusting the hat.

I got up and watched her slip off her sarong. I smelled the air. I love walking by beautiful woman and catching their scent. I’m a bit of a freak about it, but I got a good whiff. She smelled amazing.

I looked around. A group of twenty-something guys were drinking large, fruity drinks to my left. It looked like they were all wearing women’s Channel sunglasses. I guess that is the trend with the under-30 set. I’ve only turned 30 today, and already the trends have passed me by. They looked at Jen, fucking her with their eyes the same way I had. I could tell they were wondering what kind of game I was throwing down to get this girl to talk to me. But, there’s only one kind of game in this town. If they’d take off their large, overpriced specs and open their eyes, they would have realized it.

She grabbed my hand. I looked at the frat boys. She gracefully walked over towards the steps, but I stopped her.

“Not that way,” I said, “This way,” as I jumped foolishly into a super-splashing cannonball.

She laughed. I treaded water.

“C’mon," I said, waving my free arm to her.

“I’ll think I’ll go in the easy way,” she said, walking to the steps.

“Screw the easy way, do a cannonball,” I said tauntingly, "They're fun."

She smiled and looked around.

“What if my top flies off?”

“I’ll be on top patrol, besides, half of these fucks are euro anyway, they expect that shit. Even Caesar’s has a topless pool. Don’t be afraid.”

She got to the edge and curled her toes over.

“When was the last time you did a cannonball?”

“Uh, never.”

“Great, then this can be your first. Just jump up, bring your legs to your chest, grab them, and let your top fly off when you hit the water. Simple.”

She tilted her head to the side and game me an incredulous look.

She jumped. I watched.

It was the most unorthodox, yet beautiful cannonball I had ever seen. It was endless, her hair above her face, her expression of happiness and freedom. Her tits.

She hit the water, and I clapped. “Well done, I wasn’t sure it you had it in you.”

“Oh, I have a lot in me,” she said playfully. She flipped her hair slick, and made her way toward me, treading.

“Let’s go where we can stand,” she said.

“Sure.”

“How about a ride?” she said, grabbing my shoulders.

We swam to shallower waters, her on my back, holding me. Her wet tits were pressed into my shoulder blades and her stomach gently brushed against my lower back. I was an aroused tugboat.

I got to where I could stand and turned around. She kept her arms on me, this time we were face-to-face. I looked deep into her eyes. Generally, if I can get to this point, it becomes simply academic. My eyes are my secret weapon, always have been. They change colors with my mood, my clothes. They are blue, green, purple. When they are open, they are my closers. This bitch was in the bag.

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

“I could eat,” she said.

Shit, I thought only east coast Italians used that expression. I liked it.

“The food here is for shit, how about I get some room service?”

“Uh, sure” she said, slightly hesitantly.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you do any more cannonballs off my bed or anything.”

She laughed, and it seemed to break the ice.

“Order me a chicken sandwich.”

I got out of the pool and picked up a house phone.

“Hello this is Ben.”

“Ben, you little bitch. It’s Rob. Hey, I wanted to thank you. The pool is a great place to meet girls. I actually wanted to see if you could have two bottles of Crystal and a chicken and another veggi sandwich sent to the room. No cheese. Oh, and this time, can you have the guys toast it? I would call room service, but this is kind of a rush, especially the champagne. Oh, and some chocolate and strawberries, maybe a couple of salads. Some shit like that. You hook me and I’ll take care of you.”

“Rob, anything for you. I appreciate you calling me for this, and I’m glad you took my advice.”

“Me, too.”

I walked back to the chair and Jen was toweling off. She was talking to an tall and extremely hot Asian girl. They both turned around when I came by.

“Rob, this is my friend Kara,” she said.

“Hi Kara, nice to meet you.”

I held a gaze somewhere between admirer-and stalker-length. She was amazing. I’ve always had an arms-length fondness for Asian women, but this girl trumped them all. She was tall, slender and perfectly proportionate. Her tits were not small, but not big. They were just right, at least for her body anyway.

“Kara, Rob and I were just going upstairs for a late lunch, would you like to join us?”

My jaw dropped. Was this really happening?

“Sure, why not, I need to get out of the sun.”

“But there’s just one condition,” she said, smiling and looking my way, “cannonball.”

"What?” she replied.

“You need to do a cannonball, we both did, and so do you.”

Fuck, I thought. This girl didn’t seem like the cannonball type. I was feeling Jen's salt infecting my game.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want.” I said.

“Yea, you don’t have to, but you just can’t come with us,” she said teasingly.

It was a challenge. I was invisible at this point, so I let the two girls have their way. Their eyes met and released. Kara walked over to the corner of the pool, and with sunglasses still on, did an even worse rendition of the summertime splasher.

“Whoo, hoo” she said, raising her arm in spirited victory. She got out of the pool and toweled off.

“Let’s go,“ Jen said, grabbing my hand and Kara’s. I looked at the frat boys, again. I was their Madison.

We walked together to my room. The air was sexually charged. We all understood the unspoken, what we were walking toward, what we were talking around. It was electric.

I slid the card and unlocked the door. Inside, the champagne was chilling, but no food. I popped open a bottle and poured it straight down my throat. Jen and Kara were fiddling with the soundsystem, arguing about whether they wanted latin or dance. They agreed on something slow and sexy, a bit jazzy and standard. I walked over to them, bottle-in-hand.

They were slowly dancing, but not with each other. It looked like they were dancing for each other. Jen took a swig, then grabbed the hair on the back of Kara’s head and kissed her, letting a mouthful of champagne flow down into Kara’s mouth. It was unexpected, but she accepted and laughed. This time it was Kara’s turn, she grabbed the bottle and let it flow into the expecting mouth of Jen. Their tongues began to unleash. It was by far the most disgusting and arousing moment in my life. Happy fucking birthday.

They began to undress, peeling off their wet tops. I sat at the hand-carved table, in the hand-carved chair and watched. The matinee of my 30th birthday began to unfold. On the floor, standing up, against the glass. It was beautiful and peculiar. I consumed all. The feel of wet clothes, the chlorine-filled wet hair. The feeling of two woman, becoming one on me. It was profound and universal. It was by far the most exhilarating moment of my life. I breathed and took it all in, a girl under each arm.

I got up and walked by the mini-bar, pulled out a bottle of water and unlocked the safe next to it. Out came $5,000. I walked over to the girls and smiled. I handed them the money.

“We square?”

“Thanks,” Kara said smiling.

“Thanks yourself, especially for letting me pay afterward, your manager was a bit wigged about that. But I'm glad you agreed to the scenario."

"It worked out great,” Jen said as she jumped from the bed and planted me with a cheerleader kiss. “I like you Rob. You’re a funny, fucked-up dude.”

“Yea, you know how hard it was to find a yellow bikini that I liked,” Kara added.

“Well, you looked hot in it. Just keep practicing the cannon balls, they could use a little work.”

They both smiled. I think they liked me in a beyond-john sort of way.

They collected their wet suits and sarongs and went to the door. I walked over to say goodbye, and gave them a special gift.

“Here’s an extra $500 each. Take it downstairs and put it on black. It’s been lucky for me.”

They hugged me like a parting friend and left. I came inside and jumped on my couch, more satisfied with myself than I had ever been. It’s ironic to think that paying for sex actually brought out that kind of confidence. But the world is a beautiful and confusing place, especially when it becomes filled with champagne, yellow bathing suits, and afternoon cannonballs by ladies of the night.

There was a knock on the door. I got up to answer. It was Jen.

“I’d invite you in, but only if you make this one half-price.”

“Ha, ha,” she said, sounding more like an annoyed girlfriend than someone I just paid to finger another girl.

“Seriously, did you forget something.”

“Yea, actually I did.”

She came over and kissed me under the door frame. It was wild and passionate. This is the second time this month I made out in a hallway, with almost the exact same line. Pattern behavior, again. Just like the fucking numbers.

I kissed her for a minute, and she stopped to say something.

“Kim,” she said.

“Huh?” I asked.

“My real name is Kim.”

We kissed some more.

“Want to know my real name?” I asked. “It’s Rob, Rob Lowe.”

She looked at me and we both burst out laughing.

“Yea, right,” she said.

We stopped laughing and she started to leave again.

“I better be going, got a ton of errands to do today, you see, I normally work nights, so my days are free,” she said with sweet sarcasm. I liked this girl.

“Well, if you worked today, does that mean you have tonight off?”

She smiled. What the fuck I thought, why not?

“Yea, why, you want to hang out?”

“I could eat,” I said. It seemed much more clever when I said it.

“Me, too.”

“And this would be with Kim, not Jen, right?”

“That's right, Mr. Rob Lowe, that's right,” she said smiling.

I gave her a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of boxers. She threw them on and I grabbed a few beers from the mini-fridge. I put my arm around her as the sun fell and called Ben.

“Hey Ben, Rob. Could you get me some reservations for tonight at 8, somewhere in the hotel, veggi-friendly?”

“Sure, thing. I’ll call you back.”

“Oh, and Ben, could you send up some popcorn?”

Kim looked at me and grinned. She curled up next to me like a high-school sweetheart.

I curled back.

"Happy birthday, Rob." She said and took a nap in my arms. I smelled her hair. Chlorine. I'll never forget that smell.

*names have been changed.