During the Las Vegas renaissance of the early 90s, I worked as a room reservations agent at one of the glitzy new resorts. That’s where I met Amy — the confident, outgoing alluring woman everyone worshipped.
She liked rebellious guys, the kind where friends would ask, Are you sure about him? Nobody had ever labeled me as a rebel, so it shocked me when she invited me to a dance club with her friends.
After several sketchy mixed drinks, we slow danced to techno music. Yup, we were that annoying couple. And then, as if to attract more attention, she wrapped her hands around my cheeks and kissed me — a real kiss.