PE#5 Vignette External

Sleeping is my favorite sport, but sleeping in an opulent penthouse suite between lush-soft bed linens is better than getting three wishes from a genie.  Further enticing me with goose down pillows and the soothing scent of lemon-verbena, I press my face into the bedding and inhale the freshness.  I’m in heaven.

Early this morning we drank coffee and enjoyed room service breakfast.  I’m not a big morning eater, but the juicy fruit and mouth-watering croissants were delectable.  Keno ate his three hard-boiled eggs and downed an energy drink.

“Nectar of the gods,” he said.  “Protein and energy.”

Wrapped in our plush robes, Keno and I watch CNN.  His laptop balanced on his lap to check his stocks.  He seemed pleased with himself—confident.  That’s what I love about him.  With minimal effort and high energy he enjoys seizing the day.

After taking quick phone call, he showered while I delightedly stayed in bed.  Fifteen minutes later, dressed in gray pants and white dress shirt, sans tie, he slipped into his polished loafers.  Buff and tanned naturally, he smiled when he caught me watching him slip on his watch and collect his wallet and keys from the desk.

Hopping out of bed to give him a hug, he enveloped me in lemon-verbena.  “Hmm…you smell good.”

“It’s the soap.  Or the towels.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have to check in at the casino, and then I’m running an errand.”

He retrieved his wallet, pulled out a card and handed it to me.  “Here’s a gift for anywhere you want to shop.”

“But…”

“Did you bring a swim suit?”

“No.”

“Okay—get one and I’ll meet you at the pool around noon.  I rented a cabana for us.”

“But…”

“We’ll have lunch there.”

“What I’m trying to say is…I have some money.”

“Yes, I know, but this is a gift.  I’m happy you’re here.  Buy whatever you want.  It’s yours.”

“Fine.  I’m just saying.”

“I’m just saying, I love you.”

“I love you, Keno.”  I kissed him.  “You know,” waving the card, “a girl can always use a pair of shoes.”

“Whatever you desire,” He laughed.  “See you later at the cabana.”

“Wait.  How much is this worth?”  I was embarrassed to ask.

“A thousand.  If you need more, use my credit card.”  He motioned to retrieve his wallet.

“God no.” I ran my hands through my tussled hair realizing I must look hideous.  “This is a lot…but thank you, sweetie.”  He said it was a gift so I didn’t feel too much like a hooker.

“Later, babe.”  And he was gone.

Crawling in between the sheets again I languished there with coffee and my thousand dollars.  I never had a thousand dollars to spend on just me.  What to do with a thousand dollars?

I showered in the massive glass and marble bathroom and scrubbed myself in the heavenly scent of lemon-verbena.  There was even a soaking tub I planned to make use of soon.  I’m definitely taking some of this soap home.

I slipped into my ‘on sale’ JC Penney poppy-colored polyester dress and my discount leather sandals to go shopping for a bikini.  No woman likes shopping for swim wear.  Your flaws can’t be hidden and it’s never the right time.  Either you have a tummy bulge, or your butt looks too big, or the thighs are jiggly...I could go on and on.  However, my issue is I’m stick thin, white as snow, and I might as well be a boy.


Trolling the lobby shop windows after viewing the conservatory gardens, the smell of flowers trailed everywhere.  Fascinating giftware and jewelry twinkled under the overhead lighting.  Gold bracelets and gems stones glittered like stars with price tags conveniently hidden.  I’m guessing to prevent sticker shock.

The clothing store was divine, the lighting subdued and the music just lively enough to be noticeable. Uncluttered racks and display cases with Las Vegas style unlike what you see in any other city, all arranged with a creative merchandising edge. 

A sophisticated young woman fashionably wearing a sleeveless black dress and sky high stiletto heels offered her service with a smirky smile and gleaming white teeth.  Dark eyes loaded with mascara, framed by feathery ruby red hair almost could have been mistaken as a mannequin.

“I need swimwear.”  I announced with a blush.

She scrutinized me as if I was Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.


Eight hundred dollars later, I stood in front of the full length mirror in the hotel suite.

It’s amazing what a metallic ice blue bikini with secret push up bra can do for the ego.  Jennifer, the sales woman, insisted I get the matching linen beach cover up—a long flowing dress of the same color with shiny blue buttons.

I slipped on the new silver sandals, grabbed sun screen, a key card, and stuffed them into my drawstring handbag.  It was only eleven o’clock, but I intended to enjoy a swim before Keno arrived for our pool luncheon.


A man pacing the hall followed me to the elevator.  I smiled and said hello to him.  Short and stocky, his pocked marked face and angry frown made me feel uncomfortable.  I chose to ignore him but his squinty dark eyes bore holes into me and his sweat glands must have been working overtime to the point I tried to hold my breath, ever grateful for a young couple who got on the next floor to share the agonizing ride.  The cheerful people remained when I got off at the pool level.  I forgot about creepy guy and took a deep lungful of Vegas air.



My very own cabana boy escorted me to the outdoor shelter.  A muscular Nordic type by the name of Sven.  He brought me orange juice and stark white towels.  He was ours for the afternoon and would bring lunch as soon as Keno arrived.  The cabana consisted of a striped chaise, two lounge chairs, and a small refrigerator.  The surrounding curtains closed for complete privacy, if needed. 

So far, I was the only occupant poolside, so I was unafraid of my scantily clad body.  I plunged into the sparkling chlorinated water.  I’m not a strong swimmer, but I sure can float.

The refreshing water invigorated me so I dove down to the bottom of the pool pretending I was a mermaid crossing underwater to the other side.  I came up and gasped for air.  Barely getting a breath my head was shoved down beneath the water and held.

I struggled to get away from the pressure on my head.  Panicking at the thought of drowning, I guzzled in the watery abyss and the forceful weight released a few seconds.  Then the voice.  “Where’s Keno?”

Sputtering and coughing up gulps of water, I was unable to answer.

Rough hands on my shoulders, short stubby fingers with hair covering the knuckles squeezed.  “Where’s Keno?” he demanded in a gravelly voice.

“I don’t know.”  I coughed.

My head went under again.  I twisted and fought to get air.  With minor loosening, my eyes and nose came up above the water.

“I want my money.”

I gargled underwater, before he let my head up enough for me to talk.  “What money?”

“The money I was robbed of.”

“I don’t have your money.”

“But Keno does and I want it back.”

Where’s the dumb-ass cabana boy?

Tugging at the hands imprisoning me, I fought to scissor kick myself away from the crazy bastard.  Urgent screaming filled my mouth with water and I was submerged again.  Strong hands clamped around my neck and squeezed with a vice grip.

I drifted, the bright light blinding and welcoming.


The pressure on my chest was tremendous.  Gunk spilled from my mouth and more gagging shot water spewing from deep within my lungs, causing paralyzing pain.

“Juliet!  Juliet.”

Keno?

Lying on my side gasping, things moved in slow motion.  Someone wrapped and strapped me onto a gurney.  Everything blurred, but I heard sirens.

I am so pissed off!