What Happens in Vegas?

Chapter 9

Ed hadn't lived a tame or vanilla life by any means, but somehow he'd managed to reach 46 years old without ever setting foot on a party bus. He wasn't sure what to expect as they climbed the stairs of the nondescript white bus.

"Will you look at that," exclaimed Stede as he entered the bus. There were banks of leather seats all around the outside, a glowing floor, a mirrored roof and a stripper pole toward the back. Behind the banks of seats were a series of minibars, stocked with bottles of hard liquor and mixes.

There were a few people onboard the bus who seem confused by their presence, until a game of telephone brought the twenty or so men on the bus up to speed. Stede almost immediately started chatting up the strangers in the easy, enthusiastically charming way of his.

Ed found himself sitting by himself at the front of the bus, a rum and coke in a plastic cup in his hand. He watched as Stede stood at the back of the bus, one hand on the stripper pole, the other holding a plastic cup. He was chatting with a couple a few years younger than them.

The bus made a slight turn, and that's when Stede learned the secret that stripper poles move. A few helpful hands stopped him from toppling, but he did end up with a bit of drink on his hand.

The two men locked eyes across the bus for a moment. Ed chuckled and shook his head.

Stede tried to make a sexy move on the pole, failed miserably, smiled sheepishly, and instead settled into a seat to continue his conversation with his new friends.

Ed craned his neck to look out the window as the bright lights of the Vegas strip streamed past. Between the pulsating lights of the city and the club ambience inside the bus, he was bathed in rainbows.

"Hey. That was a hell of an audience participation segment."

Ed turned and realized that a young man with dark hair was speaking to him. "Thanks. Gonna be fucking paying for it for days. Take care of your knees, kids. Put a pillow down before you drop for a blowjob."

The dark-haired man laughed and nudged his friend. "I'm Pascal. This is Dane."

"Ed. Thanks for letting us crash your party bus."

"No problem. We had a couple guys tap out, so there was room," said Pascal.

"Look, I mean this in the most respectful way," said Dane as he pressed a hand to his chest, "But you two are a weird couple. Hot, but weird, man."

Ed chuckled and sipped his drink. He glanced down the length of the bus where Stede was getting pole dance lessons from a man nearly half their age. "Since you went there with the age thing, you boys want a little advice from your creaky old elder?"

Pascal and Dane looked at each other and shrugged.

"Sure," said Pascal.

Ed shifted and leaned forward a little. "Don't do what I did and spend your thirties chasing the wrong dick."

The two young men looked at each other.

"What's the right dick?" asked Dane.

"What you want to do..." Ed leaned in and lowered his voice. "...is find yourself a big fuckin' nerd." He pointed behind him to where Stede was undulating his hips in a sort of jerky way that was in no way on the beat.

"Listen, everyone has their own tastes, and he's still kinda hot, but..." Dane sucked air between his teeth. "I don't know, man."

"Hear me out..." Ed shifted a little closer. "For one thing, they're really easy to buy for, cause they've got collections and shit. Stede, he likes clothes...and bugs. One Christmas, I got him this vintage tie bar and cufflink set. They weren't even that expensive, but you'd swear I got him a Rolls Royce." He tossed back a mouthful of his drink. "Oh, and then for his birthday, I got him this bug set in a frame. Went into an antique store and asked the person there for their weirdest display. They pointed me at this thing, that was..." he mimed about the size of an 8x10. "...full of bugs that were all rainbow shiny. What's the word?"