Personal Narrative: My Life In Vegas

The clock above my head ticks slowly, the sound ever increasing as the minutes pass by; tick, tick, tick. I normally do not notice the time while I work, usually I am the energizer bunny of workers, in early, out late, always working or willing to, but that day was different; I had a date; a first date to be exact. Finally the time has come for me to go home; I step out into the warm Vegas air, I can smell the familiar scents of fall slowly encroaching on the city. September in Vegas is typically warm, with the average daily temperatures in the upper nineties. I lite a cigarette and walk through the parking garage to my car. My mind was racing; what will he be like, will he be funny, boring; I even allow my thoughts to drift to what he would look like naked.
I arrived home and start preparing. The warm water of my shower feels silky against my skin, forcing all the stress and unpleasantries of work off my body, washing it all down the drain. Washing myself with the soapy, scratchy loofa, a familiar smell, of Plumeria flowers after a nice Hawaiian rain, fills the room, allowing peace to fully engulf me. I dress in a brown and black paisley shirt with long see through sleeves and a sweetheart neck line, , that flattered my bosom perfectly, along with a silky, stretchy, pair of boot cut black pants and some modest 3 inch
Big money goes into making sure all five senses are bombarded and that each tricking the brain that you are the king of the world. The music is delightful and upbeat, there are no words but all the sounds are happy, whimsical, and encourage my feet to tap, to put a little hop in my step; those steps lead me to a slot machine which has its own rhythmic beat that says “Pick me, Play me”. The smell of a tropical island rushes through my nose, instantly stimulating my need to want a