Copyright© 2017 by harry lime
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Not quite the Sanctuary City expected when potential Zombies are the protected class instead of illegal aliens. This story will be expanded if it draws an audience.
It was the unexpected Asian virus that swept over the Northern Hemisphere like some sort of final judgement that was the spark that turned Las Vegas into a “Sanctuary City” instead of retaining the time-honored reputation of being “the city that never slept”.
The highly mobile composition of the population was the primary reason for the decay of the gambling Mecca of the west.
The hordes of gambling addicted players and the endless chorus lines of long-legged females scrambling for the top of the heap all headed into the dustbin of extinction when the first outbreaks of the fast moving Asian virus started spreading from the airport and the tour buses filled with the innocent-looking carriers of the life-changing disease that had no name and no cure.
The sheer coincidence of the gender-confused mayor declaring the den of iniquity to be the newest “Sanctuary City” and the arrival of the fast spreading virus made the survivors that hadn’t changed yet into pale reminders of their human form ruefully grimace at the irony of the new designation plastered on every lamppost and bus stop like a symbol of their unavoidable destruction and ultimate surrender to the new order of human existence.
Those victims that didn’t implode from the initial ravages of the new virus eventually recovered to the point of being able to move around slowly and even make simple gestures of comprehension when spoken to by uninfected humans unhappy with their dangerous presence amongst them. The infected could be identified easily by the black circles around their eyes like nocturnal raccoons and the thousand yard stare that was earlier identified with victims of combat-related PTSD. They were NOT in any sense like the “Zombie” monsters of film and comic book fame and functioned with all human systems uninterrupted. Of course, their instinct to procreate was in a shambles and they seemed far less inclined to eat large meals and snacked only on junk food like teenagers with and addiction for instant gratification. Strangely, it didn’t seem to bother their physical appearance except for the weight-loss that was more effective than the chain-smoking of forbidden cigarettes.
The male infected were not too enthusiastic about that unforeseen consequence but the females were all onboard with the program and several overweight females still not victims of the virus inquired of their doctors if they might be given the bug in order to move to a guaranteed svelte figure more appealing to admirers. The only visible side effect of eye circles could be masked by cosmetics and the women considered it a small price to pay for increased sexual activity with younger and more attractive partners.
All concerns about the wave of illegal aliens moving north like some human migration seeking economic success went out the window as the explosion of infected survivors populated every segment of society and every corner of the most popular tourist destination on the West Coast.
Suddenly, the “Sanctuary” concept became synonymous to the actuality of fitting the infected into normal living despite the danger of their “turn” to cannibalistic ravishers of the uninfected human populace. The problem of mixed families of legally uninfected and illegal infected that were required to be quarantined for a minimum of sixty days of observation were exempted on a case by case basis and strict rules of hygienic physical contact were to observed at all times.
Even the call girls that worked the strip and other legal areas outside the city of Las Vegas were exempted from the quarantine provided they used condoms and observed the strict containment of bodily fluids when dealing with a non-infected client. Some of the bronc-riding cowboys from the rural areas liked to disregard such niceties but most of the common-sense oriented city dwellers were more than happy to comply with the regulations designed for their own safety.
The owners of the casinos didn’t care if the players were infected because their money was just as green as the non-impacted players with their superior sense of privilege due to pristine DNA.
The criminal elements found a new industry in providing non-infected female companionship for the infected masses. The most recent demographic survey found that almost two-thirds of the population was infected and that the remaining human population was dwindling with each passing day because the rules were so lax and unenforced under the guidance of the CDC in Atlanta, Georgia. Most of the truly rural areas of mid-America were in compliance with the CDC guidelines, but the big cities and places like Las Vegas were thumbing their noses at the Federal regulations just like they did in other cases of left-leaning inclinations.
Strangely, overweight people were less common and they were considered “safe” by those persons with pristine DNA regardless of their attractiveness quotient or ability to arouse a partner’s libido. Big beautiful women with hefty hips were on top of the menu in houses of ill repute and clients felt more comfortable knowing there was little chance of their virus-free flesh being compromised by the fast moving Asian bug.
A popular coffee house advertised a “Sanctuary” lounge where infected citizens could move freely and mingle with normal people without fear of being arrested by some CDC police or other federal agency determined to cleanse the region of their un-clean presence. It was not unusual to find open-minded readers and coffee drinkers of all categories coupling in dark corners or under colorful spreads on the comfortable sofas and love seats that lined the walls. The satisfied smiles of infected females revealed their inner peace after a tryst with some liberal-minded normal person with a need to express their displeasure with the centralized government that had lost touch with the common citizen.
Johnny Wild was one of those Las Vegas characters that seemed to exist as if by magic in some hidden hideaway and seldom seen in a functioning casino unless he had no other choice.
The truth of the matter was that the mild-mannered, but hard as nails, Johnny was one of those rare individuals that didn’t have much use for money except when the rent was due and he was self-destructive to the point that he knew he would never beat the house because he was a compulsive gambler that would always win until he lost everything. His moniker on the strip was “Johnny Loser” but he much preferred “Johnny Wild-card” because he felt it was far more complimentary. Ever the egoist, Johnny operated on the periphery of the Vegas scene and he constantly struggled to stay in the middle of the herd to avoid being culled out for some unappetizing chore or assignment. He liked to think he was knee-deep in pussy, but he was so transparently shallow that most women with some semblance of common sense avoided his depressing aura of defeatism like the plague and he only succeeded with the tourist babes or the wannabe showgirls that were doomed to sexual “burn-out” on the casting couches of erstwhile studio heads or supposed producers. Most of those jerks were a bunch of phonies looking to get laid in return for promises that never materialized.
He had lived for a long time with Sally, the waitress at the pancake house over on Flamingo, but she had kicked him to the street when she caught him with the teenaged daughter of the Hispanic pit-boss in Sam’s Town. Now, he spent most nights working a shift for some security agency or running chores for the VIP staff in the Luxor that were never intended to be memorialized on some paper trail for future look-back. He took his showers at the Gym down on Fremont renting a small locker for occasional workouts that were more cosmetic than seriously focused in depth of effort. The younger generation was more into socializing and networking than exercise and he seldom entered into conversation with them because the generational gap was far too overwhelming for his liking.
The VIP manager at the Luxor was Helga Heinz. She was quite attractive despite her unfortunate name and he aspired to nail her at some time in the near future. Unfortunately, she was all caught up in the liberal left-wing political correctness of the young tigers of the new generation and she deferred to her demanding bosses in all matters concerning public relations.
This newly exploding crisis of the Asian Virus and the hordes of infected survivors had caused concerns about their bottom line profits and she had instructed Johnny to make certain the prospective guests were comfortable around the infected visitors and that the infected visitors behaved themselves with proper decorum. They were not to eat the other guests and to remain as discreetly “in the closet” as possible whilst a guest at the hotel or the casino.
Johnny was of the opinion that it was all a bunch of crap but he needed the “under the table” money to pay his day-to-day bills and was willing to play “fixer” for any problems that arose during the time of crisis.
He planned to pay Sally back what he owed her from his first envelope even though she had not bugged him for it when he was still in a state of flux over falling from her good graces and sweet loving in her king-sized bed with the fantastic mirror on the ceiling. Meanwhile, he was at Ms. Helga’s beck and call and she filled her custom fitted pants-suit with noticeable lack of panty-lines to mar the curves of her perfectly shaped backside. Johnny suspected it would take a lot of fast talking to get her to pull those things down, but he was willing to make an effort, no matter how long it took or what he had to promise to get her compliance.
She sent him up to the tenth floor with some comp tickets for the infected couple in room 1069 because they had been harassed by some Mexican high-roller for sitting too close to him at the craps table and even coughing on his chips with little consideration for his disgusted look of disapproval at their black-rimmed eyes. Helga didn’t want to offend the player because he was close to being a “whale” when it came to gambling and she knew the infected guests were the bread and butter of the hotel business because they were now in the majority in the tourist demographics.
Johnny had to agree the comp tickets were the easiest way to smooth over the hurt feelings, but he had a gut feeling the infected guests were just beginning to get their feathers ruffled in a way that might mean a big change in the way that Los Vegas conducted business. The “Sanctuary City” aspects of the crisis seemed more important now because the infected group was drawn to Las Vegas in a way that made the term appear directed at them and they wanted the mayor and the town to follow through on the promise of equal treatment in every department. The illegal immigrant problem was of far less concern now because the job market had dried up and the neighbors to the south seemed more inclined to stay at home and hope for a better day.
They didn’t have the Asian Virus problem south of the Rio Grande and that alone was enough to keep the illegal traffic away from the infected areas.
He knocked on the door of room 1069 and it was answered by a pretty young girl in her early twenties with the tell-tale black circles around her eyes and he kept his distance uncertain of her reaction to a strange man at the door.
“Yes, are you here for room service?”
Johnny slowly shook his head from left to right and did his best to put on a friendly smile to offset his rough-looking exterior.
“No, ma’am, I am here because the management wanted you both to have our complimentary packet of free perks for the remainder of your stay. We will furnish free buffet bar and free laundry service for the remainder of your stay and all drinks in the hotel lounge and casino are free as well.”
The girl looked over her shoulder and yelled out,
“Hey, mom and dad, this guy is giving out some freebies for us. I think it is their way of apologizing about that jerk in the casino tables last night.”
He smiled again at the obviously infected young lady and she put on her dark glasses to hide her sign of virus infection and purposely turned her back to him so he could scope out her perfectly toned heart-shaped butt encased in a skimpy bikini thong with fluorescent fabric. Johnny guessed when the lights were down low or off entirely, she was easily found by any groper with doing the nasty on his mind.
“My name is Johnny Wild and I will be happy to escort you to the casino at any time should you want to take advantage of the gaming rooms to use the hundred dollar free chips coupon in the packet.”
The girl held out her hand and in a sexy low voice, whispered,
“My name is Veronica and I am so lonely I can almost cry.”
Of course, that turned him on to the point that he was willing to risk contact with the infected female in a way that would bring him to the point of familiar tingles below the belt and a memory of teenaged youthful vitality that could not be slowed down even by the dreaded Asian Virus.
Her parents were busy in the bedroom and they simply took the elevator to the basement and the private soundproofed room that he knew would mask the sounds of her moans of pleasure.