Dude didn’t exactly make the best of decisions.  Not that anyone would argue otherwise, but sometimes, he did things that really drove the point home.  And home was exactly where he should have kept his ass.  He didn’t know how she convinced him to head to Las Vegas for a weekend with her— actually, that was a lie.  All she had to say was “I’m going to Vegas for a Sex Toy Expo, wanna come?” and he and Champ were in her truck with nothing but the clothes on his back and a half-smoked pack of Pall Malls in his pocket.

The ride was fine, even if it was long as hell.  They had the same taste in music and she wasn’t much of a chatterer, which made it bearable.  The only real thing inconvenience was how often she’d have to stop to pee.  He feigned irritation, but her tiny tank was more amusing than anything.  After about 9 hours of driving, they reached Vegas.  Neon lights assaulted them as they drove down the strip.

“You ever been to Vegas?” she asked as he stared out the window.

“Once,” he said, rubbing his finger.  “Worst mistake of my life.”

“Damn, alright,” she laughed, but didn’t ask questions.  “Well, let’s hope this time isn’t as bad.”

That little exchange could have come across as foreshadowing in hindsight, but it was so brief that it was completely forgotten after they reached their hotel.  After they brought in her bags and she freshened up, she decided it was still early enough for them to wander the strip and find something to eat.  She had no plans to staying out all night knowing she had the expo in the morning, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions.  With dinner came drinks, with drinks came more drinks, and the night quickly became a blur after that.

Dude woke up the next morning to the shrill beep of an alarm and Champ snoring in his face.  He heard her groaning beside him, the smack of her hand against the clock, then a clatter as it fell off the nightstand onto the floor.  Pale sunlight crept through the cracked blinds so he could see her toss a pillow on her face when he cracked open his eyes.

“You goin’ to that show?” he mumbled.

“Mmm… Mhm.”

Her response didn’t sound very convincing, but he was too hungover to bother.  Eventually, he heard the old mattress squeak beneath them as she heaved herself upright.

“Oh, Christ,” she said, holding her forehead from the edge of the bed.  “Fuck… Thought I told you not to let me drink so goddamn much.”

“You threatened to shoot my balls off when I tried to take a shot from you.”

She fell back against the mattress with a sigh.

“Dig in my purse and get me some ibuprofen.”

“Fuck, fine…”

Dude pushed Champ off of him with a shove and stumbled out of the bed.  He felt around in the dark for her bag before surrendering and switching on a lamp.  She hissed behind him the moment she was basked in light.  He found her bag sitting on the cuck chair in the corner, but there was something under it… a certificate.  His eyes were so blurry that he could barely make out the words.  After rubbing his eyes, he looked again.

“Oh, goddammit… Not again,” he grumbled, scrubbing his face with his free hand.  He looked up from the paper at the Mistress sprawled out on the mattress with the sheet barely covering enough to keep her modest.  “Your name’s Minerva?”

“Mhm.”

“Guess you should get used to being called Mrs. Dude instead.”

She let out a humorless laugh.

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?  That your way of proposing or something?”

“Nah,” he said and tossed the marriage license on the foot of the bed.  “Looks like we skipped right to the good part.”

She finally lifted her head to look at him, confused.  When he pointed at the paper on the bed, she sat up enough to grab it.  Eyes skimmed it before she collapsed back against the mattress.

“You’re shitting me.”

Dude smirked and rejoined her on the bed.  He grabbed the hand that was covering her eyes, noticing a cute little gold band on the ring finger.  He then lifted his own left hand and saw the same thing.  “Afraid not.  Check it out.”

She stared at their hands in disbelief before getting out of the bed.  He propped himself up, watching her naked form as she walked to her bag to grab the pills, poured two onto her palm, then lifted a half-empty bottle of champagne to wash it down.

“This isn’t your first time, is it?” she asked.

Dude shook his head.  “Nah…  Happened to be how I got hitched to the Bitch.”

She nodded, placing the empty bottle down on the dresser.  She sat on the edge of the mattress, looking at her hand.  He had a weird feeling in his stomach, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t food poisoning from the buffet.  He got up to sit beside her. 

They sat like that for a while in silence, with the only sound in the room coming from Champ who was now curled up in front of the door snoring.  After a long moment, he reached for her hand, holding it in his.  To his surprise, she let him.  They were so small, so soft.  The ones that were so gentle with him when she didn’t think he was sober enough to know.  He didn’t know whose drunken idea it was last night, but he was both grateful and a bit relieved.  He would’ve never had the balls to allow himself to have something like this… Not after last time.  He just hoped she felt the same.

“If it makes you feel better,” he started, breaking the silence.  “…I’m kinda hoping it’s the last time it happens.  Doesn’t feel much like a mistake this time.”

She looked over at him.  There was something in those bloodshot eyes of hers that made his chest ache. 

“You mean that?” she asked, her voice taking on a softness that was uncharacteristic yet natural.

“I do.”

She cracked a smile, looking back down at the ground.  A pink hue dusted her cheeks that was so foreign to him.

“You’re taking this better than I’d expect,” said Dude.  “Swore you were going to trash the room and usher the ‘til death’ part to get outta this when you stood up.”

She laughed and shook her head.

“Nah.  What’s that shit you always say?” she asked, smile spreading wider across her face.  “‘I regret nothing.’”

“Spoken like a true Dude.”  He shook his head, thumb stroking over hers.  This was nice.  He could sit there in that crappy room holding her hand for the rest of the weekend and be perfectly content, but he knew better.  He cleared his throat, trying to regain some dignity after letting her see him so soft.  “So… You heading to that show?  Might have plenty of marital aids there.”

“I might pop in later,” she said before meeting his eyes.  She gave his hand a squeeze.  “Right now, I believe we got a marriage to consummate.”

He hummed as his eyes flicked down her nude form.  He was butt-ass naked too.  “You sure we didn’t do that already?”

She shrugged.  “Don’t remember.  Doesn’t count.”

“If you say so, honey.”

“I do,” she said.

He wasn’t about to argue with that logic.  His hands found her hips and he guided her back down onto the mattress.  This had to be the most gorgeous she’d ever looked with her makeup smudged and her faded hair fanned around her head like a rusty halo.  He parted her legs to settle between them.  As he pushed into her, he leaned down to brush his lips against hers.  Her arms linked behind his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.  The taste of champagne and sleep lingered on his tongue as he slowly rocked his hips against hers.

A moan slipped out of her before she could help it.  He noticed how she was quick to silence herself and he tilted his head.

“What’s that about?”

She looked over to the side.

“Don’t wanna wake the dog,” she whispered.

“Champ?  Fuck him,” Dude laughed.  “That mutt’ll sleep through an apocalypse.  Howl all you want.”

To prove his point, he picked up the pace.  He took hold of her hips and lifted them so he could pound deeper into her.  Nails dug into his shoulder blades as she braced herself.

“Fuck,” she muttered, clinging on with her ankles locked behind his back as he ravaged her.  “Christ… Trying to take me out day one?”

“You wish,” he said through pants.  “As if you’re not meeting every thrust.”

Good thing it was Vegas.  If they were anywhere else, the way the headboard was thumping against the wall probably would’ve got a complaint filed against them.  Their hips met with frenzied snaps, as if each was trying to outfuck the other.  It continued to escalate, both of them panting and dripping with sweat, neither wanting to be the first to give in.  What started soft and sweet lovemaking had quickly devolved into passionate fucking.  That was just the nature of their relationship— their marriage.  And just like how they wound up into this mess, they got wrapped up in the moment and pushed each other over the edge.  There was no telling who gave in first.  They came together— with her holding him close and him buried deep within her.  Both bodies trembled as the shared orgasm claimed them.

Even as they came down, neither wanted to be the first to let go.  They remained entangled in each other’s embrace long after the high wore off.  Maybe Dude didn’t make the best of decisions, but this had to be one of the better ones.