A Date with two Bombshells

I felt like a king.

To be fair, I wasn’t quite as pimpin’ as walking through the strip club back on the trip, just me, JC and a dozen hot women dressed up for a night out.

Still, though, even dressed ‘regular hot,’ it felt wild to walk into the Sahara with Cassidy and Cattie on my arms. Cassidy was wearing a pair of jeans that hugged her like a second skin, her old and well-loved Converse shoes, and a tight white crop top that hugged her ribs with a looser, high-crop sweater that was pretty much all sleeves, shoulders and hood. Her violet hair was styled loose and ‘messy’ in that way that was almost sex hair but not quite, and she’d gone dramatic but not flashy with her makeup, all in greys and black to colour match with Cattie.

And Cattie had gone Goth Prep for the night, so much so that I’d almost expected her to smile and have fake vampire teeth in. A black and white schoolgirl kilt, knee-high black socks, all-white Vans. Her top was a black and white knit sweater with lots of drapey sort of volume and sleeves that hooked down around her thumbs. She’d teased me before we left by proving that her bust - which was pretty well hidden under the high-necked sweater - was swinging free under there. Her black hair was in a messy updo with the same ‘casual sex’ look that Cass had, and her makeup was done almost the same as my fiancee except she’d gone for a black lip instead of a basic lipgloss.

Sure, we weren’t dressed up in a tuxedo and ballgowns, and we weren’t strutting down the strip in either stripper clothes or Couture, but we looked good, the girls looked fucking hot, and we drew the glances of guys as we walked the sights.

Now, to be fair, walking the Strip is kind of an onerous process. The road itself could get up to twelve lanes across in places if you counted turning lanes, and it was generally busy as fuck. The sidewalks could be even worse. Scratch that - the sidewalks were always worse. Especially in the evening and at night when the worst of the heat of the day was over.

There were dozens of routes people suggested to take when walking the Strip. Every concierge had two or three of them memorized that they could give to visiting guests so they start and end at their ‘home hotel,’ and I made sure to have a couple on hand when I was handling events. But, for all that the Vasoseh was a gorgeous (and luxurious) hotel, it wasn’t a touristy hotel. It didn’t have the kitsch of the main sights. I pointed it out to Cattie as we were walking, but we didn’t stop in.

The route I had planned was designed to maximise two elements - the first was getting to our dinner plans on time, and the second was hitting the more dramatic and romantic spots when the lighting would be best - which generally meant once it was dark.

Cass and I had both prepped Cattie for the walk and what to expect. The crowds, and keeping one eye on what was going on around her even while she was enjoying the views. Pickpockets, aggressive sales and scams, aggressive sex workers, and super drunk people only got more and more densely packed with tourists as the sun set. Anywhere that looked like a great place to get a good view of something was also being staked out by someone who wanted to accost you. It was also… improbable to see everything in one go. You could technically do it, but it would be an all-day affair and you wouldn’t get any time to really enjoy much.

She was coming to live with us in Vegas, though, so we had all the time in the world to enjoy anything we wanted.

We walked the paths, dipping into several of the Casinos just so she could get a look at famous spots she’d seen in movies and TV shows. I strategically bypassed some of the biggest hotels, any one or two of which were flashy and so full-on stuff to do that one or two could fill an entire evening if you know the right time to hit them up.

The issue was that our destination wasn’t exactly near the biggest, flashiest places, and not technically on the strip. Once we got to the Venetian (which we only peeked in because it really was worth a long experience) I ordered up an Uber.

I’m sure the driver hated me for making him come around onto the Strip, but I mean… that’s the job.

“OK, where are we going now?” Cattie asked. “I thought the whole date was on the strip?”

Yeah, buddy, I thought as the driver tilted his head at that, listening in. One guy, two smokin' hot ladies. A date. You heard right.

“One of my favourite restaurants in the city,” I said.

“Mostly because they always comp you our meal,” Cassidy interrupted with a little smirk.

“One of my favourite restaurants in the city,” I repeated myself, waving her off. “We’re taking you to Cook-Off.”

“The… what?” Cattie asked. “Is this like a reality show taping or something? Because it sounds like a reality show.”

“It’s not a show, babe,” Cass laughed. “I’m pretty sure it’s Cook-Off like doing a reduction when you burn off the wine to just get the flavour.”

“Ooooh,” Cattie said. “Right. I guess that makes sense. So what’s this place known for? It’s… sauces?”

That made me groan and roll my eyes. “It’s a steakhouse attached to the Sahara,” I said. “It doesn’t have a super celebrity chef behind it like Flay or Ramsey, but it’s really good and one of those hidden gem sort of places.”

“And Robbie gets free food there,” Cassidy teased me. Then turned back to Cattie. “Not that he’s being cheap or anything.”

“Babe, please,” Cattie smirked. “Got a gift card? Use the gift card. Get free food instead of not free food? Bring on the free food.”

“Well, I don’t know if they’ll comp me tonight or not, but either way, it’s a great place,” I said. “...Though… free does taste better.”

Cassidy let out a long snort as she rolled her eyes at me.

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