Electrified(11)

He might as well have been in high school all over again, lusting after the prom queen, not knowing what to do about it other than rub one out.

This evening was different, though, because he had felt Sienna lock gazes with him. She looked right out at him as her act ended. She was smiling, but he could see right into her eyes. She was examining him back as though she wanted to know more about him.

It was disturbing on so many levels. He was a private eye. He should be able to read people. Yet she seemed to be reading him, looking deep within him.

He couldn’t begin to figure out Sienna Flower, and now she was trying to figure him out? The thought made him harder than he normally was when he exited the club. Tonight he was practically limping as he walked out.

He needed to get laid, stop coming back to Vegas, and leave his thoughts of Sienna Flower at the door.

Of course, he knew he’d be back at the same place tomorrow night with his eyes homed in on one stripper, his dick standing at attention. Weeks ago, he’d paid the concierge at his hotel extremely well to keep him on the weekend list for the Tunnel. Open ended. No need to waste that.

Leaving his rental sports car at the front of his hotel with the valet, Carson bypassed the gaming tables and slot machines and went straight to his favorite bar for a drink. He grabbed a seat at the far end of the bar and nodded at the bartender, Victor, who now viewed him as a regular and brought him a drink without his even needing to order. Top-shelf scotch on the rocks.

Fuck, he was officially a Vegas groupie. The valets knew him, the bartender knew his drink and had it ready as soon as he stepped foot in the lounge, the front desk gave him the same room each weekend, and he was lusting after a woman who starred in Lord only knew how many other men’s fantasies.

If his FBI buddies caught wind of this, they’d never let him live it down. Most of them were settling down, either resolving themselves to living double lives, or trading in their FBI badges for white-collar jobs. Not Carson, he was living the dream. Fast cars, motorcycles, big money, booze, high-end escorts—or dancers, depending on how you looked at it—and his current bullshit case.

He needed to relax and get a handle on all this shit. Carson caught Victor’s eye and then lifted his chin, smiling when Victor made his way over to him.

“Hey, Vic, how’s it shaking? You got any cigars back behind the bar, or do I have to move my ass to a special bar to smoke one?”

Victor chuckled as he wiped his hands on a bar rag. “You’re in luck, buddy, this is Vegas, where anything goes. I just happen to have a few select ones in a humidor under the bar. Let me grab it and you can pick your poison.”

Moments later Carson inhaled deeply, scotch in one hand, a fresh cigar in the other, his view on the casino floor. Actually, he was relaxing for the first time all week, coming down from his dark mood, and found himself not wanting another woman. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to take care of himself either, which was new.

Surprised at that revelation, Carson decided he was content to only finish his drink and cigar before heading upstairs to go straight to sleep.

There was always the promise of tomorrow night, and Sienna locking eyes with him again.





SIENNA’S MOOD dampened when she couldn’t put even the slightest grin on the face of the dark and mysterious guy who’d been watching her that night. He was clearly watching her and only her; this she knew. After years in the business, she could read patrons from afar. Some visited the Tunnel to see the myriad of titillating scenes, whether it be whoever was on the main stage or the vast landscape of lap dances; they were at the club to soak it all in. Others visited to see Sienna. Just Sienna.

This didn’t bother Sienna. She thought it should, but it didn’t. She was bringing in customers, who were often derailed from their mission to see only her and became smitten with another dancer, or two or three. Sienna Flower was a business ploy. She was the draw, a force of nature who brought them into the Tunnel. Once they were inside the club, they couldn’t help but to be sucked into the hedonistic den of pleasure and passion where they could enjoy any number of sexual fantasies.

Not her person of interest, though. The man she had suddenly found both curious and somewhat lust-worthy was gone. He was a ghost after Sienna left the stage, and never engaged in anything more with the other dancers in the few weeks he’d been regularly coming to the Tunnel.

He always quietly exited as she finished her dancing for the evening. Tonight was no different and for some odd reason, Sienna felt isolated and lonesome. This was uncharted territory for her. Being the center of attraction at Vegas’s most popular adult entertainment venue wasn’t only a business move, but also one for protection. Her role as Sienna existed to keep her secure, and embodying Sienna meant she didn’t get attached to anyone.