Kiki de Montparnasse strip poker set, $225 KikiDM.com
I’m looking at my legs lazy-stiff in the air, my foot melting into the flesh-colored leather of my stilettos, feeling the bed sheet rub against my naked back. I try to keep quiet, hearing him on the phone, breathing, talking to his Black Card concierge.
“So there aren’t any Elvis chapels open this late? Can you keep looking?”
He puts his Blackberry on the nightstand, muzak crackling through its speakers while a distant man searches for a cheap chapel, though we’re already consummating a fleeting mirage of marriage.
He dives deeper in, and my head tips further back, to face our hotel room window. Upside down, I see the few neon blocks that’s all of Vegas most people will ever know: a miniature of a medieval castle, of the Eiffel tower, of New York, New York. Of the world. It glitters, cheap: the city is an overpriced cocktail that people pay for to cure their pleasure-desert thirst.
I smile at him. “You sure you don’t want to wait until we’re married?”
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