It turned out Ray was staying at Wynn Las Vegas, one of the nicer hotels and casinos on the strip. The driver took her to a side entrance, where a bellhop met her. He was obviously younger than her twenty-one, but only by a few years. He had traces of acne, and he looked her over without shame as she climbed out of the limo.
“Mr. Ferris left this for you,” the boy said, holding a keycard to her. “Slide it into the slot in the elevator and it will take you to the top floor.”
“Thanks,” Danielle said, reaching down to pull the hem of her skirt a little lower while the little creep glanced at her legs again. She went inside and found herself in a nondescript hallway with concrete walls. It obviously wasn’t meant to be seen by the guests. She wondered just how Ray Ferris managed everything. He had sent a stretch limo for her, a bell hop was waiting around for her to come by, and he had a top floor penthouse that needed a special elevator key. It all sounded like something out of a James Bond movie, if James Bond had a billion dollars instead of just millions.
There was a small elevator at the end of the hall, and the doors opened quickly when she pressed the button on the wall. Inside it took Danielle a moment to find the small slot where she could slide the keycard into the wall, but when she did the doors closed, and the elevator car started upward.
It seemed like a lifetime, or, at least, five minutes, though Danielle was sure it was much shorter, but finally, the elevator stopped, and there was a soft chime before the door slid open. Danielle tried not to gape. The door opened directly into the penthouse suite. Music was blaring, and people were dancing. A lot of people. Young and good looking, more women than men. None of the women were wearing much clothing, some were just shaking their hips in their panties, their breasts swinging freely. It made Danielle uncomfortable, but she found the whole thing strangely alluring as well. She had never been much of a party girl. She was always focused on school.
The men at the party, in fairness, were just as underdressed as the women. Everyone looked sweaty. She saw more than a few couples making out, and a few groups of people grinding and kissing and rubbing.
“Danielle!” a voice called, just as she was trying to figure out if she should leave or get off the elevator. It was Ray. He wore swim trunks and nothing else, but seeing him smile made her step forward, off of the elevator. The doors shut behind her.
“Swimming?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow and nodding her head to his wet swim shorts. As far as she knew, even the penthouse suite didn’t come with its own pool.
“I’ll show you,” Ray said, and he took her hand and led her through the throng of people dancing in the living room. As she made her way further into the suite Danielle saw that the music was coming from a DJ, an attractive blonde woman with hardly any meat on her bones that she swore she recognized from TV.
“Is that…?” Danielle started, and Ray cut her off with a grin and a nod.
“It is. Her dad and my dad are friends. Come up in the business together,” he said.
“What business?”
“Film. My dad is a producer.”
“Wow,” Danielle said. It was all she could think to say.
Ray led her into one of the bedrooms, where a group of people were grabbing water balloons from four giant plastic tubs and throwing them at one another. From the smell, Danielle wasn’t so sure they were filled with water.
“Vodka,” Ray said with another grin which made the young black woman weak in the knees.
“Looks fun,” Danielle said.
“It is,” Ray said, and then a balloon came sailing by, and it broke on Danielle’s shirt. It soaked through the thin white material, giving everyone a good look at the lacey red bra she wore underneath. Ray looked her over, and she found it didn’t annoy her the way it had when it was the bellhop doing it.
“Want to play?” Ray asked, nodding his head to one tub.
“Maybe later.”
“Want a drink?”
“Now you’re talking,” Danielle said with a laugh, and Ray took her hand and led her out of the bedroom. There was a whole room off of the living room which had been given over to a bar of sorts. Three bartenders who worked for the hotel were there, mixing drinks and slinging beers. Danielle found herself suddenly self-conscious as she looked them over. They looked like she did. Servers. Servants. Pouring drinks while rich people played.
“What can I get you?” Ray asked her, making his way to the bar and pulling her along.
“Any beer,” she said to the bartender, a young blonde girl. She nodded and set a frothy bottle on the bartop. “Thanks,” Danielle said, taking the beer and sipping.