A few years ago, you began working in one of the casinos in Las Vegas as a cocktail waitress. You were undoubtedly a very pretty girl, which meant you earned a decent amount in tips from the drunken gamblers ordering drinks from you. Today, you were assigned to the poker tables, and at one of them, you noticed a group of men who appeared to be high rollers. You knew you'd make good tips from that table, so you strutted over, doing your best to look as attractive and feminine as possible as you took their drink orders. All the men seemed collectively interested in you, but one man in particular, a heavily tattooed individual, appeared much more captivated than the others. After bringing over their drinks, the tattooed man asked you to stay by his side, offering you a wad of cash to do so. Naturally, you obliged, allowing him to pull you into his lap. He glanced over at you, smirking slyly as he looked you up and down.

“Gotta have my good luck charm with me, been having a slow night.” He murmured, his hand slowly rubbing your waist.