Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 9 of 12)

All Rights Reserved ©

September 9

September 9

Today was finally the day! Waking up at 5 a.m. is obviously never ideal, but when you’re heading to Las Vegas, you pull through. I was so excited to get away for the weekend that nothing else mattered. Goodbye to the fucking Clubhouse. I hope you burn down while I’m gone. Fuck, man. I hate that place so much.

After some last-minute packing, I took transit to the airport and checked into my flight without any issue. Actually, the whole thing was pretty seamless. I was in the air, sleeping, and then touching down in Vegas after what seemed like only a few hours. It was great.

Naturally, the first song I heard playing inside McCarran International Airport was “Always Be My Baby” by Mariah Carey. Excellent. This trip was already off to a great start. I found my way to the shuttles, paid my fare, and got on a bus to Bally’s, which is where we’re staying this weekend. Greg and his friend Brittany were only arriving later in the day, so I had a few hours to kill by myself.

The entire process of getting to Bally’s felt like a bit of a blur, but that’s only because there were so many steps involved. In reality, it took me over two hours to get from the airport to the hotel. I was the last fucking stop on the bus. Oy. I wasn’t in a rush to do anything, so it didn’t really matter. To be honest, I was just eager to get on some Wi-Fi and start swiping through Tinder and Grindr.

Finally at Bally’s, I dropped off my suitcase with the bell desk. The room was under Greg’s name, so I couldn’t check in. After that, it was time to hit The Strip. I figured I would wait to start drinking until the others arrived, so I schlepped over to Caesars Palace to do some shopping. Let’s be real here. Nobody wants to be dragged around The Forum Shops while I spend my entire paycheck in the Mariah Carey store. If there were ever a time for a solo moment, this was it. A few hundred dollars poorer, I returned to the sunshine and relaxed outside Caesars.

By this point, I had been talking to a new guy on Grindr for about an hour. A 31-year-old Australian by the name of Hayden, to be specific. Tall, handsome, and looking for banter, Hayden was visiting Las Vegas for a work conference and was staying at the Bellagio.

Eventually, it became clear that Hayden was interested in meeting up. It was one of those moments where every sign was pointing to yes, but I was still very hesitant to go over to this stranger’s hotel room. I mean, I had just gotten off a five-hour flight. I was sweaty, probably somewhat smelly, and not exactly confident in my readiness to be penetrated.

All of that being said, I also had nothing else to do. I wasn’t going to continue wandering The Strip. I was having major buyer’s remorse over my Mariah Carey purchases, and didn’t want to spend any more money. Might as well have sex, I guess! While sitting outside Caesars Palace, I told Hayden that I would meet him in the lobby of his hotel in 20 minutes, and to wait for me there. Life without Wi-Fi is so archaic.

I walked over to the Bellagio. Hayden was nowhere to be found. I don’t say that because I thought he was going to bail on me. No. On the contrary, I knew we would be fucking. I mention it, because it was incredibly awkward and obvious of me to be wandering around the Bellagio lobby for 15 minutes, pacing back and forth like some abandoned hooker waiting for their trick. Finally, Hayden appeared. We met at the elevators, and went up to his room together.

Now, let’s talk about my feet. My feet were so fucking sweaty. All I had were those baby no-show socks, which aren’t exactly known for their absorption capabilities. You know how self-conscious I am about my feet! Fuck! You also know I have no shame, though. Realizing my problem, I promptly asked Hayden if he had a pair of socks I could wear. Hayden laughed it off, despite me being dead serious. Instead of pushing my request and coming off even crazier, I just let it go. Hopefully my feet would calm the fuck down, and stop leaking like a broken faucet.

So, we’re in the hotel room now. A good set-up. Two queen beds, a bathroom, a couch, etc. Your standard layout. I sat on the edge of one bed and Hayden sat on the other, facing me. Now, it was time to perform that weird, yet highly necessary “get to know you” skit where you ask random questions to break the ice. That kind of exchange is totally necessary, right?

Listen. I’m no angel. I mean, I certainly wasn’t new to this kind of encounter. At the same time, it would be almost unfathomable for me to simply waltz into a stranger’s hotel room, take off my clothes, and shove their dick up/down an orifice without talking to them first. I’m not saying it’s never happened before. It most definitely has. However, it’s during those moments that you realize you know nothing about the person and it becomes uncomfortable. Is it so wrong to want to know the person you’re naked with? I don’t know why I am defending myself like this. Calm down.

Things were warming up. Over the course of many questions, Hayden and I got to know one another. It turned out that Hayden was a higher-up at an Australian tech firm in Melbourne. The company flies the whole team out to a different city every other year for a huge conference, and this year they had picked Las Vegas. By this point in Hayden’s trip, the conference was over. Tonight was his last in town before he flew back to Melbourne tomorrow. See? That makes things so much more relaxed.

I told Hayden about myself. We joked about a few different things, engaged in some playful banter, and then I moved over to Hayden’s bed and sat beside him. Following some more small talk, we started to make out. Hayden was a good kisser. The boy passed the test! Good. We started to undress. Things were still looking quite promising. Although, do all Australians have sun-damaged skin? Hmm.

As the hanky-panky routine progressed, I arrived at the jarring realization that I had foolishly forgotten to use the bathroom when I first arrived at the hotel. Now, I was in the awkward position of having to press pause on everything. I needed to escape to the sink and make sure everything was going to be in working order for the shit that was about to go down. Or rather, the shit that was hopefully not going down.

I bit the bullet. Excusing myself mid-kiss, I went to the bathroom and did my thing.

“Is everything alright?” Hayden asked as I emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later.

Oy. Awkward.

“Yeah, it’s all good. Where were we?” I replied, not-so-casually trying to change the subject.

Listen. I know that my escaping to the bathroom to wash my ass is hardly an ideal situation. However, I would rather make a guy wait for me and experience those ten seconds of post-douche awkwardness than have a messy encounter. Especially when there are white linens involved. In my books, that would be infinitely worse.

Now that I’d had my bathroom moment, we could finally get down to business. Fuck. Well, literally. We fucked. I mean, penetration only commenced after some mutual blowing, but it definitely happened. Hayden had a great cock. When he asked if I wanted it inside of me, I was ready. No time to waste! Hayden slipped a condom on, we both lubed up, and now the real fun had begun.

Playing with different positions, we switched things up a few times. Hayden was really good at what he was doing. At one point, we moved to the couch and watched ourselves in the nearby mirror. It was so hot. We moved back to the bed. I was on my back, with Hayden thrusting toward me as we both climaxed in my favorite position. You know I love being on my back.

Honestly, the whole encounter with Hayden was great. Fantastic, even. Oh, my God. I can’t believe that I’d only been in Vegas for three hours and had already been penetrated. This was awesome!

On another note, a hotel room is truly the best place for any sort of sexual activity. You don’t have to worry about anything!

Oh, you dripped lube on the floor? Whatever.

Oh, you need something to wipe up that pearl necklace? There’s a bathroom stocked with fifteen towels.

Oh, you jizzed all over the bed? Just move to the spare and have the maid change the sheets.

I love hotel sex! That being said, I seriously hope the Las Vegas Housekeepers Union provides all of its members with medical-grade latex gloves during their shifts. I’m sure a lot more kinkier shit goes down in Sin City.

The after-sex moments with Hayden were also great. I know, I know. I’m gushing. This was a really positive experience for me, though! The thing is, after a slew of bad, inexperienced, and lackluster encounters with men over the past few years, it’s always so refreshing when I have a great fuck. After all, it’s not like it happens very often.

Lounging in our underwear, Hayden and I continued chatting pon de bed. Eventually, we both got dressed and exchanged our contact info. As much as I love getting to know someone before I have sex with them, sometimes it’s even more important for me to know where to find them afterwards. Remember the last guy I slept with in Vegas during that Coachella trip? Yeah. Exactly. I don’t want a repeat of that moment. Mind you, I was sober this time. It was much different. Still, the point is that I like to stay in touch. You never know when you might be able to facilitate a round two! Plus, Hayden lives in Melbourne. If I ever visit Zoe, I’ll have a guaranteed fuck buddy. It’s a completely brilliant plan!

Before I said goodbye to Hayden, I used the hotel’s Wi-Fi to reconnect with the world. Greg and Brittany had arrived a while ago, and were currently settling into our room at Bally’s. Perfect.

Smelling like semen, but feeling like Nick Papagiorgio from Vegas Vacation when he won his first car, I made my way across the street to Bally’s. After grabbing my bag from the bell desk, I headed upstairs to the room.

Now, listen up. There’s something important to keep in mind with this whole Las Vegas trip. It’s been close to a year since the last time I saw Greg, which really isn’t saying much. Our first and only in-person encounter was an hour-long quickie date at a monster-themed bar in New York City, where an Elvira waitress squirted Jell-O syringe shots into each of our mouths. After that, I went to a loft in Greenwich Village and snorted coke with celebrities. That was the last time I saw Greg. Obviously, there have been many text and phone conversations since then. Nonetheless, there’s always a slight risk involved with this kind of physical reunion.

With my massive suitcase in hand, I knocked on the door. Greg answered, then quickly introduced me to his friend Brittany, who was half-dressed in the bathroom getting ready for dinner. The whole thing was bizarre, but in the best way possible. Greg and I were absolutely fine. I figured we would be. As for Brittany, our meeting was one of those rare, yet totally amazing moments when you completely hit it off with one another. Honestly, it took about 15 seconds. Following our brief introductions, it was like the three of us had just entered a new bond of friendship. It was incredible. Surreal, really. We all meshed so well.

Greg and Brittany have known one another since they were young kids. They’re each 32 now. When you think about it, assimilating yourself into that kind of friendship is risky business. Later, Greg admitted that he was nervous about how Brittany and I would connect. Not because Brittany doesn’t get along with new people, but because she will sometimes dull her otherwise exuberant personality around someone new. Apparently, I am the exception. Greg added that, for as long as he’s known Brittany, he has never seen her take to someone so quickly. I’m telling you, it was like some weird moment of fate. This was going to be the best weekend ever!

As I unpacked my suitcase in the middle of the room like a crazy person, Greg and I caught up. After that, the booze started flowing. Given my last few encounters with alcohol, I wanted to be careful about what I was drinking. I felt like I could keep it cute tonight, though. We drank, freshened up, drank some more, then left the hotel room and hit The Strip. As basic as ever, we ended up eating some artery-clogging, heart attacks on a plate at a Guy Fieri restaurant, where we sipped from our flasks and continued getting drunk.

Here’s the side note on Brittany. The girl is a sex addict. No, really. I’m not kidding. I thought Greg was messing around when he told me this last week, but he was dead serious. Brittany lives a fairly simple life in Texas, but it’s a completely different story when she travels. We’re talking about a premium Tinder account here, people! Brittany will fuck anything with a pulse.

Meanwhile, I wasn’t sure what the situation with Greg was. We’re definitely friends, but were we going to move past that this weekend? I don’t know. As a result, I kept my mouth shut about today’s afternoon delight. Hayden was going to be my little secret for a while. As for Brittany, I didn’t really care about what – or who – she was doing. It’s not my business, nor is it my place to judge. Once I had settled that in my mind, I didn’t think twice about Brittany’s constant sneaking off. If I’m being honest, it was more funny than anything. I’ve never seen someone be so successful with a dating app.

We wrapped up dinner. Naturally, all I wanted for dessert was a Fat Tuesday. Not surprisingly, the other two had no idea what the fuck I was talking about. Following a successful pilgrimage to the Promised Land, I persuaded Greg and Brittany to join me in a high-octane alcoholic slushie with an extra shot on top. You would think I’d have learned my lesson with Fat Tuesday in February. Nope. For someone with an excellent memory, I tend to forget a lot of that stuff. Perhaps it’s because I never remembered it in the first place.

I was drunk, but figured I was okay. I mean, it’s Vegas. Not only that, but this time I was traveling with friends my age, instead of trailing behind a group of Pinterest fangirls who only came to Sin City so they could try out different restaurants. Greg and Brittany were my people.

We ended up at The Venetian and started to gamble. By this point, I had finished my Fat Tuesday and decided it would be a good idea to buy a pack of cigarettes. After multiple visits to Vegas, the novelty of smoking indoors still hasn’t grown old. Of course, this is also the point when you know trouble is barreling down the tracks at runaway speeds.

With Greg and Brittany a few years older than me, they had some Vegas tricks of their own. One of those scams included how to get free drinks from casino waitresses. It wasn’t long before Greg and I were a newlywed couple on our Las Vegas honeymoon. I had a cigarette in one hand and a flute of champagne in the other for the rest of the night. It was hilarious. I was getting progressively drunk, but having the best time. Greg and Brittany were so fucking funny. Everything they said made me belly laugh hysterically.

Then, I blacked out.

Goodnight xo

Continue Reading Next Chapter

About Us

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered publisher, providing a platform to discover hidden talents and turn them into globally successful authors. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books our readers love most on our sister app, GALATEA and other formats.