Chapter 5

When they finally stumbled out of bed, Alan and Marissa took a shower together and got dressed. It was spring, and while the sun was going to be out all day, the heat wasn't stifling. She put on shorts and a sleeveless polo shirt. She found a hat in her suitcase and dug out her sunglasses. Alan was wearing a pair of cargo shorts and a nice t-shirt.

They got in the car and drove first to Hoover Dam. They met the dam guide, took the dam tour, saw the dam generators, watched some of the dam fish and bought a few dam souvenirs. By late morning, the temperature was up in the mid-70s and they were riding around with the top down on the convertible. Alan had thought far enough ahead that there was a bottle of SPF 30 in the glovebox so they greased each other up and then drove west to the other side of Las Vegas.

While in the car, Marissa and Alan held hands. Several times, Marissa looked in one of the mirrors and found that she had a goofy grin on her face. It was almost a mirror image of the one Alan had.

She and Alan talked, mostly about what else they wanted to do in Las Vegas.

After leaving Hoover Dam, they stopped by Sergio's Italian Gardens Ristorante, a charming Italian restaurant that was off the strip. It came highly recommended from the TGR salesmen.

They sat outdoors and in the shade and shared a light lunch. The staff was friendly and the food was excellent. Marissa only had a salad, but helped herself to some of Alan's pasta.

With the sun still out, they headed west and drove through Red Rock Canyon, stopping at the visitor's center and at a couple of other places to take some pictures.

Marissa watched Alan playing with his new camera and it made her feel good that she had found something for him that he really liked. After a zillion pictures and a couple of chincy t-shirts from the gift shop, they went back to the hotel.

They took a quick shower, washed off the oily suntan lotion and cleaned up for dinner. Marissa put on a yellow sundress while Alan dug out a pressed pair of khakis and a nice polo shirt that showed off his muscular chest and arms.

Heading downstairs again, they picked the car up from the valet and drove over to the Venetian. Alan had made reservations at the Canaletto restaurant. They got an outdoor table overlooking the Grand Canal, a man-made body of water that runs through the casino property, complete with gondolas and singing gondoliers.

Several times she noticed Alan staring admiringly at her legs or her chest, but when he'd talk, he always looked her in the eyes.

After a couple glasses of wine, both were loosened up a little. She ordered the lamb shank with polenta and Alan had a variety of shellfish in a red sauce over a bed of linguini.

"Can I ask you something?" Marissa said.

"Sure."

"What did you want to be when you grew up?"

Alan shrugged. "Mostly the usual. Doctor. Astronaut. President."

"How did you get into academia?"

"Dad was a professor and wrote a couple of books," Alan replied. "He was always around the house either writing his next article or grading term papers. The hours are really good, and since there really isn't a large job market for people with PhDs in history, university gigs are the best thing out there. What about you? What did you want to be when you grew up?"

"A pediatrician," Marissa replied. "I got my undergraduate degree from Guilford in biology and spent a year trying to get into medical school."

"Why didn't you go?" Alan asked. "You don't have to answer that."

"No, it's okay," she said with a slight smile. "I actually got admitted to the program at Wake Forest, but I couldn't get a financial aid package that wasn't loaded up with student loans. So I put it on hold and haven't gone back."

"Would you?" Alan said. "Go back, I mean."

"I don't know," Marissa shrugged. "I've got a little bit in savings and I could probably get some additional financial aid since the government doesn't think I've made any money for the past five years."

Has it really been that long? she thought to herself.

"What do your parents think you do?" Alan asked. "You don't have to answer that either."

"They think I'm a personal trainer," Marissa flashed him a sardonic smile. "Let me ask you something else ... why do you want to open this restaurant?"

Alan's gaze became distant for just a second. He took a sip of his wine. "When Brianne and I met, we were in college at Davidson. She graduated a year ahead of me and we got engaged. She was a fabulous cook and when we moved to New York while I was at Columbia, she worked two jobs so I could go to school. After I graduated, we got married and moved back closer to home. Her degree was in business so she got her MBA and wanted to open her own restaurant. We kept putting it off because we each had loans to pay off and then she got pregnant. Her face would light up whenever we talked about the restaurant, though."

The far-off look in his eyes returned. "She knew what she wanted everything to look like. How the kitchen would be set up. She was so excited about it, that she got me to want it to happen, too."

A flash of sadness came across Alan's face. "When Brianne died, my one regret was that she never got her dream to come true. She gave up so much for me—for us—that I want to make it work. I guess it's my way of holding on to her."

Marissa reached across the table and took Alan's hand in hers. They didn't speak for a long time.

They finished their meal and skipped dessert. They walked around the Venetian, holding hands while working off dinner.

"Let's take a gondola ride," Marissa said.

They headed back to the Grand Canal and found a gondolier bringing his boat in. There was no line. Another couple got out. He saw Alan and Marissa standing there.

"Care for a ride?" he asked in a fairly good faux-Italian accent.

Alan helped her in the boat. They sat down in the plush seats. Marissa sat close to her lover.

The gondolier was funny and engaging. He sang in Italian.

All the while, Marissa felt Alan's hands on her bare shoulders and arms. His touch gave her chills.

When she looked at him, all she could think was, How can I do this? To him. To me.

And then another part of her thought, How can I not?

The gondola slipped back into its berth and Alan helped her out. He gave the gondolier a tip and they headed back to their car.

He started to drive and soon Marissa found that they were off the strip, headed out of town. She didn't think Alan knew where he was going, but she didn't say anything. The top was down and the wind blew their hair around.

Soon, they were well west of town, on a newly paved road.

He pulled into what would soon be a new home development. It was stuck out in the middle of nowhere, but there were streets paved with curbs and sidewalks. They were on a small rise and had a wonderful view of the city down in the valley, but were about five or ten miles away from anything and there was not a soul to be seen.

Las Vegas is one of the fastest-growing cities in the country and in a year or so, this would probably be just another suburban neighbourhood. But right now, it was just a street and a bunch of empty lots. They were all alone.

Alan parked the car on one of the new streets facing west. The sun was just setting over the mountains.

The sky was streaked with reds and yellows. The few clouds in the sky were brilliant.

They sat in silence. Alan's hand was on her knee, Marissa's fingers wrapped around his.

It was starting to cool off, but the temperature was still comfortable.

"Can I ask you something?" Alan said tentatively.

"Sure."

"Do you have any fantasies?"

Marissa looked at him blankly for a second.

"You know," he said quietly. "Sexual fantasies. Is there anything I can do for you? After all, this is our last night in Vegas."

She stifled a bitter chuckle. "No. I don't have any fantasies. Not anymore."

"Done it all, huh?"

"Not quite," she replied, uncomfortable. Marissa never talked to clients about her other jobs. It wasn't anyone's business. Of course, none of her other clients ever asked about the others. She always pretended that whoever she was with was the best she ever had or that she had never taken a cock up her ass before.

Alan sat there for a little while longer. Marissa could tell he wanted to ask her something else, but didn't know quite what to say.

She waited expectantly.

Finally, he looked her in the eyes. "What about other fantasies? Dreams? If you could do anything with your life, what would it be?"

That gave her pause to think.

"I don't know," Marissa replied after a moment. "I'd have to work for myself or in a job that wasn't nine to five. I'd still like to go to med school. Or just be a mommy."

For the past several years, she lived day to day. One job to the next. Marissa owned a house that was now paid for. She had some money saved up. She could quit being a call girl and start a second career. But what? What was Alan getting at?

The truth of the matter is that she liked the money and she liked the predictability of her life. She was good in bed, pretty and knew how to conduct herself among the highbrow clientele she entertained. That made her very valuable to Laurie and enabled her to command a greater price than some of the other girls she knew. Still, it wasn't going to last forever, and she knew that.

"How did you get into ... um, the business?" Alan blurted out. He glanced over at her apologetically. "You don't have to answer that."

Marissa smiled outwardly, but inside, it was like Alan had struck her. In her line of work, this was one question no one ever asked.

Part of it was that her reasons were none of his damn business. A bigger part was that she didn't really want to confront those reasons. She didn't want to acknowledge that she was selling herself for a few dollars. While she called herself a call girl or an escort or even a courtesan, the truth is that she was nothing more than a prostitute. A whore.

"Look ... I was out of—" Alan said and reached for the ignition to start the car.

"No," she patted his hand reassuringly. "It's okay. No one has ever asked me that before."

After a deep breath, she started to speak. "After I graduated from college and was waiting to hear back from Wake, I took a job at a temp agency. The pay was lousy, but it made the rent and the bills."

Now it was her turn to have a distant look in her eyes. "I took an assignment at an insurance agency. After a couple of weeks, I got to know the other folks there and one night, the regional manager was going to a company function and needed a date. He offered me two hundred dollars to go to the dinner with him. I was already late with my car payment and that would cover it. So I went with him. He was young and good looking and after the dinner, he asked if I wanted to go back to his place for a drink."

She stopped to take another deep breath. "I didn't want to at first, so he gave me the two hundred. Then he showed me another five hundred dollars and said if I'd follow him home, he'd give that to me, too."

Marissa's mouth turned into a bitter smile. "Seven hundred dollars in a night. I didn't make that much in two weeks as a temp after taxes. I would be caught up on my rent and my car payment and I'd even have a little left over for me."