Ive been to Las Vegas countless times. Ive been there alone, with friends, with family, for bachelorette parties, meetings and conventions.

But Ive neve experienced, done if you will, Las Vegas the way I really wanted to. While visiting friends who live there I partake in a more domestic docile side of the town.

The parties have always been spa, show, swim, sip and sleep kind of trips. For safety sake I wouldnt possibly take on some of the venues ie strip clubs unescorted. There was a time when I thought that it might be an option to hire a date for the night. They pass flyers with photos and stats of straightgaybi men out along the street in the broad daylight.

Securing the company of someone who didnt know me from Eve, that I could be wild and raunchy with and not care, appealed to me.

I never got around to it though and doubt I ever would really act upon the desire. But Im confident that one day Ill have the thrill of participating in all of the sins that give Sin City its name. 90 of the time, unless I have to stay at the host property of a convention, I stay at Mandalay Bay.

It is the southern most property in Vegas and affords breathtaking views of the Strip. They have a great wave pool with a sand beach, a lazy river and shallow swimming pools. Fantastic Asian restaurants, a wonderful spa, a huge walk through aquarium all add to its allure.

I can smell the signature scent of the property as I type this. I would request a room on the 35th floor or higher overlooking the Strip. Their rooms are nothing like what the word usually conlengths in our minds eye. A huge California King bed awaits, armoire with a television that receives both satellite television and music, a chaise lounge and desk. The bathrooms are a little bit of heaven and why I like the property so much. Huge walk in glass and marble shower stall with rain showers and a steam head.

Double basin sink in front of a mirrored wall. Marble soaking tub deep enough to fully recline in or share. You get the idea. But the one thing that continually takes my breath away is the view at night through the floor to ceiling windows. Venice, New York, Paris, Monte Carlo, Rio, Lake Como, ancient Egypt, ancient Rome are all represented in their glory in Las Vegas. Making love in a hotel room in Paris looses its luster when you can have thatand all the others in one town. You could see the Eiffel Tower, the Empire State Building, the pyramids of Egypt, Lake Como, and into the mouth of the MGM Lion all from your private vantage point four thousand feet above the desert floor.

We would dine at one of the restaurants in the hotel. Maybe somethinglight at the sushi bar or more elegant at Wolfgang Pucks or Shanghai Garden. All of the restaurants are intimate in their own right. Shanghai Garden has booths tucked behind twenty foot long strands of glass beads hanging from the ceiling.

Perfectly ironed white table cloths that hang down to the floor.

Svelte Chinese women who never ask but seem to know exactly what you want. You would ask for one of the special booths, which usually always have four or more people in them, for just the two of us.

Graciously the host leads us to a booth and pulls back the glass bead curtain. We slide in the booth and are seated next to one another - able to look out into the restaurant. The beads make a tinkling sound as they swing closed. Hidden behind our glass veil we look over the menu and place our order. Unable to see our legs under the table. Hidden from view by the table cloths.

I slide my hand slowly up your thigh.

I can feel you come alive under the palm of my hand and smile wryly. I begin to gently massage you through your pant leg. The soft silk cushion on the booth slides as you lean back and adjust yourself in the seat.

You lift your arms and fold your hands on top of the table.

I pivot slightly in the booth and place my hand in yours. I begin to slowly unzip you when a waiter parts the beads to offer tea and deliver a condiment tray of chili paste, mustard and soy sauce. Unzipped, I slide my hand into the tight cloth pocket between you and your slacks. I begin to stroke you with a firmer hand and your fingers wrap tightly around mine. So as not to call unnecessary attention to our actions you begin to tell me an elaborate tale of a man you met on your travels. Still holding my hand between yours, you silently guide my actions. Be still, be firm, be strong all silent hand commands understood between lovers. The dinner, although wonderful, leaves us hungry for something more. We take an almost empty electric tram from the hotel to the station at the end of the block. Exit and walk down to the street level. Before us is the New York, New York Hotel and the venue for Zumanity. It is risqu and avant-guard according to the reviews. Those friends of mine who have seen it, say that it is that and so much more. Ive now heard such wonderful and bizarre things about the show that long before leaving Chicago I reserved the most intimate seating for us.

They have what they refer to as their Duo Seats. Described as seats that allow exploration of your own boundaries with no armrest to keep you apart in unique seating for two. The seats provide the comfort and luxury of a traditional theatre seat with out their usual limitations We pick up our tickets and are guided to a plush high backed red velvet couch. It is about the size of my love seat yet lower to the ground and with higher, thinner arms. Our couch for two is angled in such a way that it is neither entirely public nor completely private. A chance to be both exhibitionist and voyeur. We can be as active in our own pleasure as we choose or need to be. Affording the opportunity to play and pleasure one another while providing a modicum of modesty, this couch will be our sexual stage for the next ninety minutes. Will we choose to be simply passive observers of the human zoo enacted around us? The entire premise of the show is to arouse and stimulate, tease and titillate to the point of climax by curtain fall. I have brought you to a sort of erotic, exotic, eclectic freak show. The voice of the narrator starts the show and the house lights dim. The sound of lovers settling in and nervous whispers are all you hear as the first vignette begins.

We are seated comfortably on our couch. You are leaning back with your legs stretched out in front of you crossed at the ankles. I have kicked off my sandals and am sitting up on the couch with my legs pulled up along side my body.

Entranced by your company and my surroundings I can feel myself becoming moist before the show even begins. As the lights come up I notice that we can see profile of the woman on the couch to our left. We will be able to watch her react to the show. If her husband boyfriend lover reaches out to her, we will be able to watch her there as well. I wonder aloud if that means the couch to our right can see part of me. This newfound ability to watch not only the show but another couple as well as be watched is strangely exciting to me. The show flows from one story to another. Some amazing, some beguiling, some even disturbing but all arousing. You pull me closer to you and stretch my legs over your lap.

I am wearing a thin cotton shift dress with a button front sweater. Slowly you run your hand up my calf, over my knee and along my thigh. I turn a little and rest my head on the arm rest of the couch. You tease me through my panties with your thumb. I cant help but move my legs slightly further apart in your lap. I can feel you get hard under my thigh. Still rubbing my personal place with your thumb you slip two fingers under the band of my panties and part my lips. Ever so playing slowly you inch your fingers deeper and deeper into my juicy slit. Im going between watching you watch me and watching the show. The erotic undertones of the music are resonating in my head and the musky scent of others around us invades my nostrils.

Completely unaware that the couple to our right is watching us I continue to writhe on the couch as you fingerme to a rhythm only you hear.

I can feel my body start to beg for your attention. My juices are flowing and my back arches against your hand. I can feel my walls grab for your fingers and hold on to them. I cant help but push my hips deeper and deeper into the couch.

My bare feet are braced on the armrest next to you and you watch them quiver as you plunge deeper and deeper into me. I can feel an orgasm starting high up in my diaphragm and slowly start to descend creating waves of pleasure that wash across me. I close my eyes tightly and bite my bottom lip. I slide my hands underneath the small of my back as I roll my head against the armrest and bear down on your fingers. Trying not to cry out and look nonchalant I realize I am holding my breath and looking into the face of strangers.