Seeing Sasha standing behind the bar at my suite at the MGM
Grand was a bit of a shock, even more so because I couldn’t recall seeing her
there at the party the night before. I
tried to remember what I could while marveling that the huge suite was so
clean. It had looked like late Saturday
night at some sleazy frat house common room just a few hours before and now all
that remained were the neatly arranged bottles of booze that still had anything
in them, stacks of cleaned glasses, and a pair of melons that sported what
appeared to be very healthy hairlines. However, I couldn’t really concentrate
on any of that. My somewhat damaged
brain screamed at to me cut it out, to drink a quart of ice water, take a leak
and go back to bed for the remainder of the day. I made a brave attempt at smiling at
Sasha. She winced.
“Oh, Michael! You look
awful!”
Sasha went over to the wet bar and filled a glass of water
from the tap. She walked around from
behind the bar, which was when I noticed that she was garbed simply enough, in
a Tampa Devil Rays t-shirt and her underwear.
It was a pair of yellow cotton panties and I was surprised that in my
weakened state my feeble mind was able to register such detail. Still, the effect was striking. Sasha had nice legs and while they weren’t
very long, they were quite sexy. I realized that while I had been privy to
prolonged exposure to them when we had fished together in Florida, Long Island,
and Vermont over the years, in the context of this clearly non-piscatorial
setting, this was a far more provocative moment.
“You like them?” she asked.
“Huh?” I grunted, a pathetic comeback, but it was the best I
could offer right then.
“My legs, Michael.
You’re staring at them.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“Don’t sweat it. Just
so long as there’s nothing wrong with them.
Here, drink this. You look like
you can’t even drool.”
I took the glass and swallowed its contents in short
order. As I took the glass from my lips,
I let out a sigh.
“Better?” Sasha asked.
“Not really. My tongue
still tastes like dirty socks.”
“Yeah, I don’t know why you drink scotch either.”
I looked at her carefully.
“How do you know what I was drinking?
Shit, I don’t even remember seeing you here last night.”
Sasha walked back to the wet bar and I was offered a
tantalizing view of the back of those legs.
She filled up another glass of water and motioned for me to come over to
get it from her.
“That’s easy,” she said as I reached for the glass. “Beer alone couldn’t have beaten you up as bad
as you look right now. You don’t like Mount Gay rum or any kind of bourbon, so
that left the Gray Goose or the single malt.
You prefer brown liquid to clear, so I figure you went all in with the
scotch.”
I didn’t say anything.
I was too busy trying to get as much water down my throat as was
possible to comment on Sasha’s deductive powers.
“I got here at the tail end,” she continued. “The only people left were Allan, Kristen,
Bosco and Keith. They were smoking a
joint and telling war stories, so I decided to tidy things up. I don’t think they even noticed me. By the
time I was finished, Bosco and Keith had decided to go to the casino.”
“What about Kristin and Allan?” I asked.
“They spent the night over there,” Sasha replied as she
pointed to the spare bedroom on the other end of the suite.
“What about you?”
“Don’t worry, sweetie.
Your virtue is intact. I went
into your room to see if you were still awake after Allan and Kristin
disappeared and when I saw you in your ‘delicate’ state, I crashed out on the
couch.”
“Jesus, I feel like shit.”
I wandered over to the couch and sat down. Sasha followed and plopped herself down next
to me.
“Small wonder, Michael.
You look like it too.”
“Thanks,” I said as I closed my eyes. I felt a little better actually. I could hear the hum of the refrigerator at
the bar and I could sense Sasha near me.
I remember feeling a little light headed, but very relaxed until just
before my eyes snapped open. I had a
presentation to make in about three hours and I had to meet with Bosco before
that started! I looked to my right,
where Sasha sat. She smiled.
“Looks like that helped,” she said.
“What?”
“You conked out for about a half hour there. Feel better?”
“Yes, but I’ve got to get my act in gear. I have a meeting with Bosco at 8:30.”
“Perfect! That gives
you plenty of time to take me to breakfast.
Go jump in the shower and I’ll see you out here in 15 minutes.”
The next episode of SlipNot will be published on September 8th
If you'd like to read SlipNot in its entirety, GO HERE.
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