Waking Up In Vegas

Part 6 - Shopping Trip!

  “I didn’t lose it, the stupid airport did. You’d think that they would have had a better system for luggage after so many people lose their things,” I ranted.

   He smiled smiled at my remark. I loved it when I was able to make him smile.

   “Stop that!” I  once again internally yelled at myself.

   After a few moments, we arrived in front of some big classy store with nice elegant clothing. Oh shit.

   We entered the store and some guy wearing very nice blazer and had a thin mustache over his upper lip walked over to us.

   “Ah, Mr. Willis! Great to see you’re back in town. How may I help you?” he asked and I noticed he had a very snooty way of speaking that I hated.

   “My friend here,” he said, talking about me, “needs a new wardrobe for while she’s in England,” he explaine.

   The snooty man who had the name Nigel on his name tag looked at me head to toe with a very critic look.

   “Indeed,” he agreed with Hunter, though he thought I needed new clothe for another reason.

   That reason being I didn’t dress very well. I was currently wearing a Faber Drive t-shirt – one of my favorite bands – and black low-cut jeans and black high heels that I wore to the casino.

   “Follow me to the women’s departement,” he said and we walked into a small elevator – I heard they were small in Europe, but this was ridiculious, a was forced to be pressed against Hunter – and arrived at the second floor.

   The floor was huge with womens clothing and shoes everywhere. I wasn’t really at my place, I wasn’t one to really dress like the women who usually came to these places. I had more of a rocker mixed with too busy to care style. I liked band shirts and jeans more than blouses and skirts.

   We started looking for tops and that wasn’t much fun for me. I didn’t like most of the stuff and was getting very picky. I went more for the red stuff, red being my favorite color, but Nigel pulled me back towards blue and purple. He said those colors brought out my eyes.

   After a few painful hours, I walked out of the store with Hunter close behind with many bags of clothes that I thought were alright though still not in my style. I felt bad that Hunter paid even if he insisted that he does and that the clothe in that store was much too expensive for me to afford. I still felt like some kind of gold-digger.

   When I sat down in the limo, I was exhausted. I didn’t even bother to asked where we were going next. I just wanted to go to bed.

   We drove for a few minutes and we stopped once more. I looked out the window to see we were in front of the London Hilton.

   “Go in first, to the 24th floor and wait for me there,” he ordered. I gave him a questioning look and he added, “there’d always a lot of paporazzi in this place. If I’m seen taking a girl up to my room, it could be very scandlous, you see. You go in and wait while I make the limo go around the block then come back and so people think that we are just two rich people who happen to arrive near the same time and not together.”

   “Oh, ok. I understand. See you soon I guess,” and I walked out of the limo.

   Some paporazzi were indeed around, hoping someone famous was going to come out, but looked dissapointed when it was just me. I maybe my way into the lobby. It was very luxorious with a high ceiling and nice furniture. I actually felt richer just entering the room, holding all my bags of new clothes.