My girlfriend Jolene and I were staying at the Golden Nugget in Vegas. It was summer, the weather was warm, life was good. Now Jolene is no angel, and we have had our share of fights. Many is the time when the words, “Don’t EVEN bother coming home” and “Your stuff will be on the balcony” have finalized our conversations. But through it all, we’ve managed to remain together.

This trip, we were staying in the south tower of the hotel. I mention that only because the south tower, and its elevators, are located pretty far from the casino floor. To get to our room, we had to walk all the way through the casino and down the glass corridor hall past the swimming pool. But it was worth it for the view to the Las Vegas Strip from the rooms in that tower.

One morning, or rather – it was afternoon because I rarely got up before noon in those days (or any day, for that matter), I woke up and decided that I wanted to go gambling. Right then. Anyone who has had any experience with gambling knows the feeling. When the bug hits, there is no stopping it. I just wanted to get down to the casino floor and get busy. Right away.

Well, of course Jolie, who had been doing little other than lounging around in bed, wanted to go too. And naturally she wanted me to wait for her.

I understood however that that meant waiting another hour and a half while she got all ready, fixed her hair, put on her makeup and decided what she was going to wear. So I just told her to meet me downstairs.

Now that didn’t go across too well, and there was the usual “F. you,” and shoe hitting the door on my way out. But I left without her anyway.

In the casino, I settled at a blackjack table and was there almost two hours before I caught sight of her turning the corner and heading into the blackjack pit. She ignored me, other than to stick her tongue out at me as she walked by.

As she sauntered by, she created a bit of a stir. Now Jolie has always been a beautiful girl, at least before years of partying did her in. But in those days, she still looked really good, and as she tramped past me and settled herself down at another blackjack table, all alone, more than a few sets of eyes turned to look at her. She had on a mini skirt, was tanned all over, and was showing off more than ample cleavage, even by Las Vegas standards. She looked good, I had to admit it.

But I just ignored her and kept playing. I was concentrating on cards, and wasn’t in the mood for any other game.

After not too long, two guys sat down at Jolie’s table – one on each side. It was evident that they had come over not to play blackjack, but to play with her. And of course Jolie was drinking double screwdrivers like they were going to announce last call any minute. By about her third drink, she was leaning really hard towards one of them – a good looking muscle bound type, tanned himself and well dressed in dress slacks and a tight polo shirt to show off his biceps, and he had his hand on her leg. To her credit, if any credit at all is due her, Jolie did take his hand off her thigh the first time he put it there. But by the second time and the second drink, she was smiling and letting him slide his hand anywhere he wanted – which from where I could see, looked like more than just her inner leg.

All the time, she kept looking over at me to see if I was conscious of what was happening, but I kept pretending as if I was oblivious. Eventually I just got up from my table and went over by some nearby slot machines. From that vantage point, as I pushed the buttons and pulled the handles (machines weren’t entirely automated yet in those days, some still retained the old school shaft), I could see everything but she could not see me.

By this time, the guy to the left had departed the table. Jolie was sitting there yucking it up with her new found friend. Some Asian girl had settled in at the third base blackjack position, but it was obvious to anyone that by that point Jolie and this guy had anything but cards on their minds. Suddenly, they got up and headed out of the casino area, down the hall.

Jolie had looked around again before leaving the table, but it was apparent to me that she was pretty toasted. The drinks had clearly done their job, as she seemed to be all lit up.

I jumped off my stool, and headed in the same direction, but around the North tower elevators, which allowed me to cut into the long hallway ahead of them. I pulled into the pool area, and actually walked alongside them the whole way, looking in through the glass walls. Before they could get to our room elevators, I jumped out into the corridor, well ahead of them, and got in myself. I headed up to our room.

In the room, I quickly got into the closet, which was almost opposite the bed. The closet had these sliding doors with slats in them, and I could clearly see out and into the entire room. I settled down, waiting to see what would happen next. I assumed that they were right behind me.

After about fifteen minutes of leaning against the corner of the wall in that uncomfortable space, I gave up and decided to leave. Obviously, I had been wrong – they weren’t headed up. I decided they must have gotten lost at some other bar. I didn’t want to think about the other possibility, that they had headed to his room.

Just as I was about to walk out myself, I heard the plastic key enter the electronic door slot. I leaped back into the closet and closed the doors.

There they were, waltzing right in. They didn’t waste any time. Neither of them even said a word – the guy was taking off his clothes even as he approached the bed, and Jolie just leaned back on the bed, flat on her back and pulled her panties off.

As the guy approached her I could see that he was really well hung. Jolie hiked up her skirt and turned her head to the side and seemed to close her eyes.

He was inside her right away, pausing only to pull on a condom. She just started thrashing about and making all kinds of noises I had never heard when we made love. She was completely out of control.

After a while, the guy turned her over and started slamming into her from behind. The noises she was making were incredible and nothing I had ever experienced coming from this girl that I thought I’d known all these years.

To be fair, I was already aware of at least one indiscretion she had had, with my best friend. They’d gotten together at least a couple of times during a period when I was away in jail, and maybe even while I was around and we were all hanging out together. But I hadn’t been a hundred percent certain that she had cheated on me with him, and anyway – strange as this may sound, it had actually turned me on thinking about it, his getting it on with her. A couple of years later, when I was incarcerated again, I’d even written to him and admitted that my best beat off fantasies in prison involved him banging my girl’s brains out.

But this was different, or at least so I was thinking at that moment. This was happening here, now, right in front of me. This was not a masturbation fantasy – this was my girl giving it up to some stranger without even a hint of protest. Or foreplay for that matter – they’d simply gotten right down to it.

I started getting mad. Really angry. I scanned the closet for something, anything heavy, that I could use as a weapon. I wanted to crash it down on the guy’s head. Maybe even on hers too. But all I could find, after an extensive search, was this luggage stroller that Jolie’s sister had given her. It didn’t seem like a plausible tool. I just settled back and resigned myself to what was happening.

Anyway, I was in the closet of our room. The absurdity of my position was clear. How was I going to come out of there all of sudden and take charge of the situation? It didn’t seem like anything like that was going to happen.

And then, my attitude started to change. As I watched her there getting pounded, crying out with pleasure, I began to get turned on. Pretty soon I had a raging hard that rivaled the one I saw on the guy before he plunged into Jolie. I started to masturbate. I was really excited.

It didn’t take very long before I came all over myself. I stood there, ejaculate dripping from my hand and on my stomach. All I could find to wipe myself off was Jolie’s brand new dress I had bought for her before our trip, hanging right there in the closet. It seemed like a fitting make shift towelette anyway, and I did not really hesitate before using the garment to clean myself up.

By the time I was done, Jolie had shifted her position, and attitude. She pushed him out of her.

“Okay.” She said firmly. “I’m done.”

Obviously she had climaxed, and she was over the whole matter.

The guy stood there perplexed, obviously not yet done himself. He was still stroking his penis.

“What? Come on.” he finally said. “Let me finish!”

“No.” She was already pulling her panties back on, and adjusting her skirt. “My boyfriend will be back up here any minute. We have to go.”

“Wait.” he stammered. “Give me your number. I’ll call you.”

“No.” she repeated firmly. “Let’s GO. Now. He’ll be up here any second.”

And with that, she forced him to get his clothes back on, and they walked out the door together. What a treacherous girl! She hadn’t even let him get his rocks off, while cheating on me. I waited a little while, and came out of the closet. I didn’t even leave the room. I just sat there, smoking a cigarette.

That night as we were getting ready to go out for dinner, she came out of the bathroom grimacing.

“There’s something HARD on my dress. Ewww.”

She got a wet towel and tried to clean it up. Finally, she gave up and wore something else. The stain wouldn’t come out!

At dinner, she seemed apprehensive.

“Where did you go after I saw you gambling in the casino?” she asked me.

I just played dumb. “Nowhere. I was still there.”

I decided to add something. “What happened to that guy who was sitting next to you?”

She turned and looked at me sharply, obviously deciding what she should tell me. Or not tell me.

“Why? Did you follow us?”

I continued to act clueless. “What do you mean? Follow you where?”

She seemed satisfied. “Nowhere. We just – we just walked around for a while.”

I just smiled. I didn’t bother to inquire further. Walked around where? With whom? Why did she assume that I even knew that she had made any connection at all with that guy she had met?

It all just reminded me of the expression about Vegas. About things staying there. I didn’t even tell her about my being in that closet all the time, for many years. And of course by then it didn’t matter, at least not to me. Yes, ours has been an odd relationship.