“Stop staring and come here!” I yelled. He walked over to me and said. “I can tell you’re not wearing a bra, you know.�... My face went from cheerful to irritated how fucking dare him! I mean yeah I wasn’t wearing a bra, but it was 102° degrees when I left the house. My short denim shorts and tight tank top were keeping me fresh; I was so fucking heated by his comment that I had only one way to answer. I got closer to him and slapped him hard across his. First, he not only sounded like The King, but he looked like Elvis too, in his white jump suit, covered in rhinestones and embroidery, with the signature high collar.A native of Las Vegas normally wouldn't have given him a second look, to be honest. There were a lot of Elvis impersonators in Sin City. They would have looked twice at this one, though, because he had a little boy, wearing a top hat, standing on his lap, "driving" the car down the aisle. For some reason, this little boy felt. More

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