


Queen of Hearts

by slyc_willie



Category: Erotic Couplings
Published: 2007-10-12
Updated: 2007-10-12
Packaged: 2017-04-27 03:58:50
Chapters: 1
Publisher: literotica.com
Story URL: https://www.literotica.com/s/queen-of-hearts-3
Author URL:
https://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=748325&page=submissions
Summary: Was it just a bet?
Erotica Tags: Bet, Cum, Hotel, Oral, Poker, Redhead, Wager
Average Rating: 4.62






        Queen of Hearts


"Card," I said to the dealer after tossing in my hundred-dollar ante. I took
up the fresh card, adding the eight of hearts to the ten and Jack in the same
suit in my hand. With the deuce, I had a straight flush. I silently thanked my
good fortune, hoping I wasn't giving any tells to the other three players
around the table.  
  
I glanced to the others surreptitiously. There was Cobb, whom I knew pretty
well, a big, bearded guy in his mid-fifties who was as often a drinking buddy
as an opponent. He was chewing his cigar thoughtfully, tilting it up slightly
with his jaw. That told me he had a so-so hand. I figured I had him.  
  
Chicago Joe – he had only visited the Windy City, despite the implication of
his name (I suppose it sounded better than 'East Rutherford, New Jersey Joe')
– held a stoic expression behind his reflective sunglasses, although his left
ear twitched: bad hand. I had him, too.  
  
The third person at the table was only known as Mueller. I had only played
with him once before, and didn't like him too much. He wore way too much
cologne and was always fidgeting. I figure he had Tourette's Syndrome or
something. Or maybe he only faked it to hide any tells. I couldn't read him
all too well.  
  
Lastly was Robin Leakey. I had played with her a few times, enjoyed a few
drinks with her. While she was married – as evidenced by the sizable rock on
her finger – she always hit the casino alone. She was an attractive woman,
exotic, even, with her milky, alabaster skin and short, dark red hair. Her
body was slender, with narrow shoulders and small breasts which were never
encumbered by a bra. That much was obvious by the fact that her nipples were
always erect, pushing through whichever top she wore.  
  
On that night, Robin wore a slinky green V-neck that plunged almost all the
way to her navel. While she did not have too much in the way of cleavage to
show, the looseness of her blouse offered near-glimpses of what I was sure
were very pink and impressive nipples. I had no doubt that Robin's
exhibitionist wardrobe was intentional; anything that distracted the men gave
her an edge. She was a good player, though. She had taken the first round,
after all.  
  
"Bet," Cobb said gruffly, tossing in another hundred. Chicago Joe paused a
moment, then matched the bet. As did Mueller. Robin didn't hesitate, glancing
to me briefly. The few times I had shared a drink with her in the lobby, she
had been flirtatious, but only to a point. Had she not been married – hell, if
she had given me any indication that the ring on her finger was only
ornamental – I'd have let her know my sheets needed warming. But I was a
gentleman, for the most part.  
  
I took up a hundred, then another. "Raise," I said, meeting Robin's eyes.  
  
She smiled slyly. Cobb bristled slightly. "Fine," he said, tossing in his
chips. It went back to Joe, who sighed, slapping down his cards. "Fold."  
  
I smirked. _One down . . . ._  
  
"I'm in," said Mueller, dropping a green chip. Robin followed suit.  
  
"Cards?" the dealer asked. Cobb elected for another, as did I. Robin and
Mueller kept their hands.  
  
My shit four of clubs had been replaced by a queen of hearts. I felt a
moment's excitement as I arranged it, then took a sip of Scotch.  
  
Cobb grumbled and dropped his cards on the table, leaning back. "Fold," he
growled. He glared at me for a moment, then chuckled.  
  
Mueller, stoic as he had been throughout the first two hands, picked up two
green and tossed them casually on the table without a word. Robin started to
reach, hesitating briefly, then added her two chips as well. I tried not to
smile. _No way her hand's as good as mine,_ I knew.  
  
I banked the bet. "Call," I said, and laid out my cards, the deuce acting as
the nine of hearts. Immediately, Robin cursed, revealing her two pair. I
looked to Mueller. He had given me a good run in the previous game – which I
had won – so I wasn't sure if I was about to lose six hundred bucks or not.  
  
Mueller breathed in slowly, then laid out his low straight. Six, seven, eight,
ten and jack of Diamonds. A good hand. But not good enough. He gave me a nod,
stood from the table. "Good game, Mr. Sharpe," he said, then took up his beer.  
  
I nodded back, then leaned forward and raked in the two thousand dollars'
worth of chips. Not a bad return for a six-buck investment and five minutes of
my time. Cobb congratulated me, then added, with a wink, that he would be in
the usual lounge. I chuckled. _Sure, I'll buy you a drink,_ I thought.  
  
"See you guys around," Joe said with a self-deprecating look. "I'm going back
to the kiddie tables."  
  
"Oh, that's what I thought this was," I chided him as he stood.  
  
Joe rolled his eyes. "Ha. Ha," he snapped dryly, then gave Robin a nod before
departing the table.  
  
My eyes drifted to the milk-skinned redhead as I stacked my chips. Thanks to
winning the second round as well, I had a good five grand in front of me. Ten
times the amount I had brought to the table. "You done for the night, as
well?" I asked.  
  
Robin's eyes smoldered slightly, her narrow yet lush lips curled at the
corners. She had to be the most gracious loser I had ever met, which was most
likely due to the fact that it did not happen often. "You know, I have a hard
time reading you," she admitted. "The only tell I've picked up is that your
left eyebrow twitches when you're borderline."  
  
I smiled, sipped my Scotch. "I'll have to watch that."  
  
Robin leaned with her arms folded on the table, her back straight. She may not
have had much on top, but she sure knew how to use what she had. Robin was a
confidently sexy woman, very sure of herself. I imagined her husband as a man
easily controlled by her.  
  
I let myself graze over the exposed portions of her body with my eyes, noting
the faint spattering of freckles on her porcelain skin. Her arms from the
shoulders to her hands were practically brown with the sexy patina, making for
a contrast that I found erotic.  
  
"How about one more game, Nick?" she suggested. "Just you and me. Five-buck
ante, no limit."  
  
I arched an interested eyebrow. "Why the steep stakes?" I asked.  
  
Her eyes twinkled. "Nervous?"  
  
I shook my head with a small laugh. "Just curious."  
  
Robin shrugged. "I'm feeling lucky," she said. But I noticed her temples
moving as she worked her jaw. There was a note of desperation about Robin's
actions I had never seen before. I decided not to think about it; a good poker
player did not let personal feelings influence his decisions. It was not my
obligation to deduce Robin's financial situation and her attendant motives for
gambling.  
  
I picked up a stack of green chips and let them _clack-clack-clack_ back onto
the table. "Sure."  
  
Robin grinned and eased back, giving a nod to the dealer. Blue-backed cards
slid across the table toward us. I took them up as Robin did the same. My
cards were a random mix; three of clubs, seven of spades, nine of diamonds,
ten of spades, and a sharp deuce. I took that last card as a positive sign.  
  
"Ante up," Robin said, tossing five hundred on the table. Her face was blank,
expressionless. I followed her lead, slapped down the three and the seven.
"Cards," I said to the dealer. He shot them to me, as well as two to Robin.  
  
I tossed in another five. "Bet."  
  
Robin's nostrils flared slightly, but she did not hesitate to match the bet.
"Raise," she said, flashing her green eyes to me while dropping one large on
the pot.  
  
I smiled slowly. A reckless feeling rolled through me. "Oh, you are feeling
lucky, aren't you?" I said, matching the bet. "I see your thousand, and raise
you another." I felt pretty confidant, despite the fact that all I had was a
pair of tens.  
  
Robin watched me drop the chips, and swallowed nervously. Or perhaps it was
just for show; I had seen Robin fake nervousness before, to encourage her
opponents to overextend themselves. She glanced briefly to her cards, then
matched the bet. The chips danced on the pile already made. She pulled her
hand back, then took up another stack of green chips. She let them fall
slowly, deliberately. "And I raise you another grand."  
  
I met her eyes, not sure what I saw there. Confidence? Desperation? This time,
it was I who hesitated, and Robin smiled slowly. I considered what I held: a
simple pair of tens. Not the best hand, but not the worst, either. If Robin
was bluffing, if my instincts about her were correct, I stood a good chance of
being thirty-five hundred ahead. And even if not, I would still leave the
table with three times the amount of money I had sat down with.  
  
"Sure," I said at last. "What the hell." I tossed in another thousand. Robin
watched the chips dance in the middle of the table. I got the immediate
impression she had not expected to see that.  
  
Robin breathed in slowly, then lay down her cards. "Pair of nines," she said,
not looking to me.  
  
I let mine drop with a grin. "Tens."  
  
Robin cursed under her breath and sagged back. "Son of a bitch," she muttered.
She looked absolutely crestfallen, and for a moment, I took pity on her. But
just for a moment. This was the nature of the beast, after all. Sometimes you
win, sometimes you lose. I had endured nights in which I had left the casino
with my pockets thousands of dollars lighter myself; I could feel for Robin,
but fair was fair. The game was what it was.  
  
I gathered my chips, called for a steward to take the chips and cash them in.
The young man headed away hurriedly; he was a kid I had seen a few times
before, who knew I was a good tipper. He would have my cash quickly.  
  
Robin stared at her small mound of chips – just over a thousand, little more
than that which she had begun the night – and ground her teeth. She took up
her half-finished glass of Chardonnay and downed it.  
  
"Good game," I said.  
  
Robin licked her lips, then forced a smile. Finally, her eyes settled on mine.
"Yes it was, Nick," she said, then scooped up her chips and left the table.  
  
I watched her go, admiring that tight, round little ass beneath the loose
black skirt she wore. But more than the base and brief sexual thoughts I
entertained about Robin, I wondered as to her conduct. Robin had never given
me the impression that she took gambling any more seriously than I. Yet, in
the space of a single game, I had gained the idea that there was something
troubling her. Something for which she needed money to resolve.  
  
The steward returned with my eighty-five hundred in crisp, organized bills. I
gave both he and the dealer fifty bucks, thanked them both. Then I headed to
the lounge.  
  
***  
  
Cobb was a funny guy; he had a joke for any and every topic. After finding him
at the bar in the casino, we retired to a table and I treated him to a couple
belts of Maker's Mark while indulging in my usual libation of Glenmorangie on
the rocks. Within half an hour, he had my sides protesting with his latest
round of mirth.  
  
"Three guys die, and are waiting to get into Heaven," Cobb said as we nursed
our drinks. "Saint Peter tells the first guy, 'Heaven's pretty close to
capacity. Tell me how you died, and we'll see if we can fit you in.'  
  
"So the guy says, 'I've lived a Christian life. Went to church every Sunday,
even sometimes on Wednesdays. I never hurt anyone, and I was a good father.'  
  
"'Very commendable,' Saint Peter says.  
  
"'Okay, so I come home one day to my high-rise condo,' the guy says. 'Right
away, I can tell something's wrong. I hear noises from the bedroom, sounding
like two voices – a man and a woman – talking hurriedly. I had been suspecting
my wife of having an affair for some time, but I didn't want to believe it.'  
  
"'A terrible thing, adultery,' Saint Peter says.  
  
"The guy continues: 'So I run into the bedroom. My wife is sitting at her
vanity, looking innocent. But I know she's not. So I start looking around, and
notice the balcony door is open. I run out, and there's this guy, hanging off
the balcony by his fingertips, wearing nothing but a bathrobe. I go berserk,
start stomping on his fingers. He lets go, and drops twenty stories to the
ground. But, he hits the bushes, breaking his fall, and I can still see him
moving around.'  
  
"'I'm not really thinking too clearly. I run back into the bedroom, and start
pushing the armoire out the balcony. It's the heaviest thing in the world, but
I am so blinded by rage that I don't care. I shove it against the railing, the
railing breaks, and the armoire plunges twenty stories down and lands right on
top of my wife's lover, killing him instantly. But the strain was so great
that I had a heart attack, and died right there, on the balcony.'  
  
"Saint Peter puts his hand on the man's shoulder. 'That is truly a tragedy, my
son,' he says. 'Heaven has a place for you.' So he opens the gates and lets
the man in.  
  
"The next man steps up, and Peter asks him how he died.  
  
"'Well, good saint,' the man says. 'I have always honored God in all that I
did. Even though I was a lawyer, I defended only people whom I felt were
innocent.'  
  
"'Very commendable,' Saint Peter says.  
  
"'I lived in a high-rise condo, on the twenty-first floor,' the man says. 'I
had just successfully defended a man wrongfully accused of murder, and cleared
his good name. Wanting to relax, I took a shower, put on my robe, and stepped
out onto the balcony to enjoy some fresh air. But the balcony railing broke,
and I began falling. However, I caught myself on the balcony below mine,
barely hanging on by my fingertips. I said a thankful prayer to God for saving
my life, but then this man comes out and starts yelling at me.'  
  
"'He stomps on my fingers, making me loose my grip and fall again, this time
all the way to the ground. But God, it seems, is with me once more, for I land
in soft bushes and have little more than scratches and cuts. Then, out of
nowhere, this enormous armoire falls down from above, crushing me to death.'  
  
"Saint Peter shakes his head with a 'tsk, tsk' sound. 'That is a tragic end to
a good life,' he says. 'Heaven has a place for you.' So he opens the gates and
lets the man in.  
  
"The third man steps up and faces Saint Peter. 'Heaven is nearly full, young
man," Peter says. "Tell me how you died.'  
  
"The man wrings his hands. 'Okay,' he says. 'So, I'm hiding in this armoire .
. . .'" Cobb trailed off, grinning.  
  
I sputtered with laughter, shaking my head ruefully. "Good one, Cobb," I said.  
  
He laughed as well, showing cigar-stained teeth. "Thought you might like that
one, Nick."  
  
I raised my glass, still chuckling. "To good humor," I said.  
  
"Good humor," echoed Cobb.  
  
A small purse fell to the table, just before Robin pulled out a chair and took
a seat. "I hope this isn't a private party, gentlemen," she said. "If it is,
I'm crashing."  
  
The smile never left my lips as I looked Robin over. "And I'm buying," I said.  
  
She pursed her lips a moment, looking to me. "Damn right you are," she said.  
  
I laughed softly, looking around for one of the busty cocktail waitresses in
their tight, sleeveless tuxedo shirts, and beckoned her over. I turned back to
Robin. "Least I can do for taking your money."  
  
"Oh, hey, careful, Nick," Cobb warned me. "The game stays at the table."  
  
I glanced to him with mild admonishment. "You're right," I said. "I—"  
  
"How did you know I was bluffing?" Robin asked quickly.  
  
I looked back to her, noting the fierce glow in her peridot-colored eyes. "I
guessed," I said.  
  
She looked surprised. "You _guessed_?"  
  
I nodded, indicated the cocktail waitress as she stood over Robin's shoulder.
"I guessed," I repeated. "What do you want to drink?"  
  
"Cosmo. Grey Goose," Robin said with skipping a beat. "Did I have any tells?"  
  
I chuckled, peripherally aware as the waitress headed back to the bar. "Why
are you so worried? Everyone has tells. Is that what this is about?"  
  
Robin sat back, sighing heavily. Her eyes roamed over me. "I want another
game. Just you and me. No ante, no bets, just five grand on the line."  
  
I arched an eyebrow in interest, then chuckled. I glanced to Cobb, who gave me
an interested look, then back to Robin. "A casino is the wrong place for
desperation."  
  
Robin frowned, insulted. "I'm not—" she began, then stopped, casting her gaze
down. She worked her jaw a moment, those sexy red lips parting softly. "I can
take you."  
  
I sipped my Scotch. "Maybe," I said. "But I've had a good night. I think I'll
stop while I'm ahead."  
  
Robin glared at me, her green eyes strong, bright, almost intimidating.
"What's'a'matter? Don't you have the balls?"  
  
"Whoa, whoa," cautioned Cobb.  
  
I ignored his words and stared back at Robin. "Actually, I do. Two of them.
Big and full and ready to burst. Why? You willing to do something about that?"
Alcohol and my gambling high were making me feel reckless.  
  
Robin didn't hesitate as she shot back. "Maybe."  
  
"Huh?" muttered Cobb.  
  
I grinned at Robin. "You can't play me, baby," I said, and eased back. The
cocktail waitress returned, set a crimson-tinted martini down before Robin.
The redhead ground her teeth a moment, then took up the fragile glass and
tilted it back. Half of the cosmo was gone when she set the glass back down.  
  
"What is it, Robin?" I asked her. "You've never been serious about gambling
before. You played your hands, took your losses well. Why is this different?"  
  
Robin tapped her fingers along the stem of the martini glass, breathing in and
out. "I need the money," she said. "I need it tonight."  
  
I frowned. "Why?"  
  
She sighed heavily. "I owe money," she said. "I've almost got it all, but I'm
five grand short. I have to have it tomorrow, or . . . ."  
  
Cobb leaned forward. "Or?" he asked.  
  
Robin shot him a look. The fear and anxiety was suddenly obvious on her face.
She didn't say a thing.  
  
"Who do you owe?" I asked.  
  
Robin's lips quivered as she took a breath. "Andre Navokov," she said in a
heavy voice.  
  
Cobb and I exchanged a quick glance and groaned in unison. "Jesus Christ," he
muttered.  
  
"Are you fucking stupid?" I asked Robin bluntly. "You took a loan from the
most psychotic Russian mobster—"  
  
"Yes!" she cried, slapping her hand to the table. "I'm stupid, all right? I
started doing well at the tables, then fell back, and I needed to replace the
money I took from my husband's account so he wouldn't notice! Fucking sue me!"  
  
I sighed heavily, considering my options. "You being level with me?" I asked
her.  
  
Robin lifted her head. Her eyes were swollen, red, glistening with tears that
threatened to burst. "Yes."  
  
I closed my eyes a moment, then reached into my jacket for my billfold.
"Fine," I said, beginning to count through the hundreds. "But you owe me,
Robin. I won't be as bad as Navokov, but—"  
  
"No," she said firmly, grabbing my wrist. Her eyes burned into mine. "I won't
get out of debt with one man just to be in debt with another."  
  
I stared back. "So you want a one-shot game?" I asked. "What if you lose? Then
you'll be ten grand in the hole and even more fucked. Don't put this on me,
Robin. I'm sorry you made a bad decision, but _you_ made it."  
  
"I know that," she hissed defensively. Her hard features relaxed slowly, and
she slid back across the table, taking up her drink. "I'll sweeten the bet."  
  
I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. "How so?"  
  
She gulped down the rest of her cosmo, took a breath to steady herself. "One
round, five large," she said. "Cobb deals. I win, I take your money and pay
off Navokov and go home with my kneecaps intact."  
  
"And if you lose . . . ." I prompted.  
  
Robin stared at the top of the table, licking the edges of her teeth. Her pale
cheeks colored slightly. "If I lose . . . I still get the five."  
  
I snorted. "And what the hell do I get?"  
  
She lifted her dazzling green eyes slowly. "Me."  
  
"Ooo," I heard Cobb mutter in interest.  
  
I blinked, wondering if I had heard Robin correctly. "What was that?" I asked.  

Robin closed her eyes, her narrow chest swelling as she filled her lungs. She
gave me a brave look. "If you win, you can have me, Nick, all night. Any way
you want, as much as you want. I won't say no, I won't have a headache.
Anything you want, Nick. _Anything_."  
  
I felt my libido stirring, making my cock swell in my slacks. "And you still
get your five large," I said.  
  
Robin nodded slowly. "Yes."  
  
I snickered. "Sounds like you can't lose," I said.  
  
She shrugged, then smiled in that confident way I had seen several times
across the green felt of a poker table. "No, but you can."  
  
I fell quiet, contemplating the eight-thousand-plus sitting in my wallet, how
I had come to the casino with only five hundred. If I agreed to Robin's
proposal, I would still head home with over six times as much as I had
invested in the night . . . and, if I won, carnal knowledge of Robin. As a
gambler, I could appreciate the intricacy of the bet. Five grand on the line,
versus Robin's charms and complete submission.  
  
I looked to Cobb for his input, saw the encouraging grin there. If nothing
else, I knew, Cobb wanted the vicarious thrill of having been part of this
deal, come what may.  
  
I met Robin's eyes once more. "I'm a fairly kinky guy," I said.  
  
She nodded. "I know," she said with a sly smile.  
  
I laughed, downed my Scotch. "What the hell. You're on."  
  
***  
  
Both Cobb and I were pretty well 'in' with the casino owner, so it took only a
simple request to get a private room. Robin and I faced one another across the
small, felt-topped table as Cobb took the dealer's post. We did not use chips,
nor cash. The stakes were clear.  
  
"Five card stud," Cobb said, flipping the cards out fluidly. Robin and I
stared at one another as we caught and gathered them up. Her bright green orbs
glittered in the light of the room, fixated upon me.  
  
"No bets, no raises," Cobb continued. "One round to exchange cards. It's put
up, or, uh . . . _put out_."  
  
I smirked slightly at his words, only briefly taking my eyes off Robin to
check my hand. I had crap. Only the queen of diamonds to sit high, if it came
to that.  
  
Robin stared back. "Two cards," she said, sliding her discards across the
table. Cobb cast two fresh ones to her, and she took them up, her eyes blazing
fiercely at me. Her doll-pale cheeks glowed with rouge.  
  
"Two," I said as well, and took up the new cards Cobb gave me. I tried not to
grin as I settled the queen of hearts next to her sister. A high pair. Tough
to beat.  
  
For a long moment, Robin and I simply gazed into one another's eyes. I
relished the thought that I had a chance to bed her, and not only that, but in
any way I wished. As much as I wished. I could see myself as a happy, content,
and thoroughly satisfied man come the morning.  
  
"Call," I said, and set my queens upon the table.  
  
Robin stared at my cards for a long moment, her lips slowly parting. She
looked to her hand, breathed slowly in and out . . . then folded her cards
down. She pushed back from the table and regarded me with an inscrutable
expression.  
  
"What room?" she asked me.  
  
For a moment, I took pity upon her once more. "You don't—"  
  
"What. Room." Her voice was firm, determined.  
  
I sighed. "2112," I said.  
  
She nodded, looking away. "Give me an hour," she said, then pushed up from the
table and left the room.  
  
I looked to Cobb. "You know, I'm not sure if I should be happy or not."  
  
He shrugged, and reached across the table to gather up the cards. "She set the
stakes, Nick. She was ready to accept them. It's the gambler's rule: you never
play if you can't handle the loss."  
  
I nodded. _Sage advice,_ I thought. I stood. "Guess I'd better head back to my
room, take a shower."  
  
Cobb smiled. "Bed her well," he said.  
  
***  
  
It was a little before eleven that night when the knock came. I was clad in
only the hotel robe, smoking a cigarette beside the open balcony door. The
night air that wafted in was cool, but not cold. Far below, I could hear the
traffic of the streets and the faint beat of club music.  
  
I opened the door to find an absolute vision before me. Robin wore a loose,
shimmering silk gown of deepest red, looking like a professional escort. She
smelled sweetly of roses and sported fresh, if minimal, makeup. Her eyes
glowed like beacons as she stared up at me. "Good evening, Mr. Sharpe," she
said in a soft, breathy, sultry voice.  
  
Whatever reservations I may have had regarding our tryst vanished instantly. I
drank in the sight of my imminent lover, enjoying the contrast of the dark
scarlet dress to her pure, pale skin. Arousal coursed through me, overriding
all thoughts of reason or morality. I _wanted_ Robin, and that was all that
mattered.  
  
I said nothing, just stepped aside and let her in. Robin slinked her way into
the room, swaying her hips slightly. The dress she wore had practically no
back; it plunged all the way down, just past the base of her spine, revealing
the swell of her firm, round buttocks.  
  
She turned her head slightly. "Got something to drink?"  
  
I closed the door, stepped up behind her. I felt her shudder slightly as my
hands touched her shoulders. I breathed in her scent for a moment, then
stepped away. "Champagne, or liquor?"  
  
She watched me with a small, nervous smile. "Champagne."  
  
I nodded, took a split from the cooler and popped it open. I filled two
glasses, brought one to her. We clinked, sipped. Her green eyes glowed.  
  
"So . . . what would you like?" she asked.  
  
I glanced to the broad balcony door. "Come on," I said, and took her free
hand. Robin offered no protest as I lead her outside.  
  
The gentle breeze washed over us. Robin stepped to the railing of the balcony,
looking out over the city below. I sat upon one of the lounge chairs, watching
her. Robin seemed to think for a moment, sipping her bubbly. Finally, she
turned around to face me, and smiled.  
  
"Open your robe," she said softly.  
  
I set my glass aside. Keeping my gaze locked with hers, I untied the belt
around my waist and separated the folds of terrycloth that kept me decent. My
cock was already hard, laying upon my abdomen. I settled my feet to the ground
on either side of the chair.  
  
Robin's gaze softened somewhat as she looked upon my nakedness. Her eyes were
riveted to my dick, it seemed. She licked her lips, drained her glass.
Recklessly, she tossed the empty vessel to the corner of the balcony, where it
shattered, and stepped forward. Her face glowed as she slipped off her dress.  
  
"I'll do anything you want, Nick," she whispered. Her dress fell with the
slightest flutter to her feet, leaving her in only her scarlet-colored heels.
"Any fantasy . . . any kink."  
  
I breathed in, trembling with arousal. Robin was, simply put, gorgeous. Her
breasts, while small, floated high and firm, sporting thick, bright pink
nipples. Her torso was narrow, with just a little softness to her stomach that
I found endearing, sloping down and in toward a pubic mound topped with
bright, flame-colored hair. I noticed that her tangerine curls had been
sculpted into a heart shape, with the lower point drawing the eye to a dusky
pink clitoris framed by smooth, fleshy vulva.  
  
"Come here," I beckoned her.  
  
Dutifully, Robin approached, stopping at the foot of the lounge. "What do you
want?" she asked.  
  
I took a deep breath to calm myself. "I want your mouth," I said.  
  
She smiled slightly, and looked to my crotch. "Do you want me to suck your
cock?" she asked, with all the casual aplomb of a submissive.  
  
I shuddered. "Yes."  
  
Robin's smile broadened, just a little, as she settled to her knees. She
leaned over my groin, running her hands up my thighs. She gazed upon my thick
cock approvingly, inhaled my scent through her nostrils. She sighed softly,
then lowered her head, opening her mouth, slipping her tongue out.  
  
I groaned as she licked my cock, dragging her wet tongue from base to tip over
and over. My hands gripped the arm rests of the lounge, and I found myself
pushing my hips toward her. Robin murmured softly, lapping up and down,
breathing hotly on my shaft. Nothing in what she did gave me the impression
that she was not enjoying herself. I even began believing that she wanted our
union.  
  
"Oh, God," I moaned, as Robin sucked my balls into her mouth, one at a time at
first, moving back and forth, then both of them together. Her sucking lips,
her massaging tongue . . . _oh, sweet Nirvana_ . . . .  
  
She panted on my dick, releasing my balls, licking up along the shaft, tilting
it up with her hands. I sighed loudly as her mouth slid down the length of me.
I looked down, watching her engulf me, swallow me, devour me. She paused a
moment as the head of my cock pressed against the back of her mouth. Then she
pushed down, taking it all in. I grunted, feeling the sweet, caressing
tightness of her throat. Her lips pulled at the very base of my manhood.  
  
"Robin . . . oh, Robin . . . ."  
  
She slipped up with a gentle swallow and soft gasp around my cock, but kept
working her lips and tongue up and down the length. Her hands joined the
action, pumping, stroking me and rolling my balls. "I wanna make you cum,
Nick," she whispered, her lips fluttering around the sensitive head. "I wanna
taste it"  
  
I groaned, writhing in pleasure. "Suck it, baby," I gasped. "Make me cum."  
  
She sighed heatedly, then dove down, sucking and pulling with her mouth and
hands. Her movements seemed to be inspired by desperate urgency, matched only
by my own. I languished in bliss, bucking beneath her. Robin moved her head
back and forth, moaning as she sucked and pulled, massaging my cock from all
sides. Her gorgeous green eyes flashed up to mine now and then, twinkling with
mischief and desire. How sexy she looked with her lips wrapped wetly around my
shaft . . . .  
  
"Oh, God!" I cried at last, bucking my hips up, shoving my cock into Robin's
throat. She gurgled a moment, slid back quickly. Hands stroked me fervently,
squeezing with the tightness of a vice, her mouth sucked hard on just the
head. My body exploded with fire as I erupted in her mouth.  
  
Robin moaned as she felt the hot sluices of fluid jetting along her tongue.
She stroked my spurting shaft frantically, swirling her tongue all around the
head. The effect was mind-numbing, maddening, borderline agonizing. I clasped
her head in my hands, unsure if I should push her down or pull her off.
"Jesus, Robin," I muttered.  
  
"Mmm," she moaned, steadfastly sucking me. Robin wrapped her arms around my
waist, taking my dick all the way into her throat. I shuddered, trying to
endure the intensity of the pleasure she gave me.  
  
"Enough, baby, enough," I sputtered, pulling on her head. Robin lifted up,
letting my cock slip from her mouth to fall heavily against my abdomen. She
licked her lips, wiped away the bubbles at the corners of her mouth. Her face
was shiny, glowing with pride at her accomplishment.  
  
"Not nearly enough, Nick," she whispered passionately, sliding her body up
over me. Wet, warm lips crushed against mine. Her breath was fragrant with the
aroma of my seed as she panted. I felt her hot, insistent wetness against my
cock as she straddled my hips. She pushed up a moment, those dark green orbs
blazing upon me. "My turn."  
  
I offered no protest as Robin stood and straddled my chest, bracing her hands
on the back of the lounge chair. She smiled down upon me as her musky-sweet
pussy was poised over my mouth. Her pink lips had flared out, shiny and slick,
showcasing the darker, pursed opening within. For whatever reasons, Robin was
obviously turned on.  
  
I grinned up at her, curling my arms around those slender, milky thighs. "Your
turn," I whispered, licking along the insides of her thighs. Her sweet juice
had trickled out, leaving little trails that I followed with my tongue. But
just as I neared her lips, I would find another trail, then another. Robin
began groaning in frustration, giving me a pleading look.  
  
"Don't tease me, baby," she pined. "Eat me . . . please."  
  
I chuckled, lightly licking along her smooth, wet outer lips. Robin had
enjoyed controlling my pleasure; now I did the same to her. Judging by her
smile, she understood the game, and appreciated it. Her fingers ran through my
hair, but she did not try to pull me into her sex. It was enough for the
moment, I suppose, that she finally felt my tongue along that sensitive flesh.  
  
"Yes, baby, make me want it," she breathed, mouth hanging slack. She rolled
her hips in slow, lazy circles, following some sexual rhythm in her head. I
licked all around her swollen lips, dipped in for a fresher taste now and
then. Each time my tongue licked at her hole, Robin would shudder slightly,
catching her breath. Then she moaned gratefully as I licked and sucked with
purpose, pulling her lips with my own, nipping at them, chewing them, even.  
  
I pulled her down atop me, pressing my mouth to her sweet, tangy pussy. My
hunger could no longer be denied. The game was over; real play now began. I
sucked and devoured her, loving the feel of those soft, wispy orange hairs
beneath my nose, the firmness of her Venus mound, the slippery feel of her
lips gliding around my own. I thrust into her treasure like a pirate seeking
gold, feeling the massaging muscles of her tunnel. My fingers dug into her
thighs, holding fast and firm as she rocked atop me.  
  
She made little noise beyond panting and soft, yearning moans. But like the
chords of a violin, she vibrated and shook, her body tensing and quaking with
the silent music of her imminent release. Gasps of pleasure escaped on hot
breath once, twice, three times . . . then she stiffened, head thrown back,
hands clutching my head close. I felt her pussy contract, then a literal burst
of uncommonly sweet fluid upon my tongue.  
  
"Ahh!"  
  
Robin heaved for breath as she climaxed, grinding her orgasmic cunt into my
mouth, humping back and forth. The lower half of my face became all but
saturated with her juice, despite my fervent attempts to devour it all. I
moved up a bit, covering her clit with my mouth and sucking on it. Robin all
but screeched and jerked back, staring down at me. The porcelain tone of her
skin had become a dark pink on her cheeks and neck. "No, baby—"  
  
I grinned, and pulled her back down. "Yes," I growled, and sucked her clit
back into my mouth.  
  
"Ahh! Fuck!" she cried, arms flailing as if she was not sure where to put
them. One finally slapped to the back of the lounge chair, the other to her
pubic mound, tugging on her flesh, trying to pull her clitoris from my
merciless mouth. But I was not about to let go. When she came again, Robin
literally screamed in painful ecstasy. I heard her echoes flying between the
buildings long after the moment ended.  
  
Her body swayed and she fell back, sagging atop me. I could feel the muscles
of her thighs quivering as I slowly slid her down my body and pulled her up
until she was in my lap. Robin wrapped her arms around me limply, her head on
my shoulder. Her breathing was deep and ragged, her body sweaty.  
  
I settled tender kisses on her temple and cheek. She turned her head, meeting
my lips, then kissed and licked all around my mouth, sucking for a moment on
my chin. Clearly, Robin was not put off by her own flavor. Slowly, yet
noticeably, as we kissed, Robin's passion became rekindled. She shifted on my
lap, pushing up slightly and reaching between us. Deft, slender fingers found
my erect cock, tilting it up. I winced at the heat of her flushed pussy.  
  
"Fuck me," she whispered.  
  
"Don't tell me twice," I responded, then thrust upward, nearly burying myself
with the first plunge. Robin's eyes flashed open, green pools of fire staring
at me. She looked shocked, even perturbed, for a long moment. I wondered if
she was thinking of the husband she was betraying that very moment.  
  
Then her features relaxed, and she smiled with erotic, hedonistic pleasure. I
felt her pussy sucking me in as she ground down, seating my shaft deep inside.
"Oh, baby, I knew you'd feel good," she muttered.  
  
I kneaded her firm, pale cheeks in my hands, bracing my feet on the balcony
floor. "I was about to say the same thing," I said, pushing her back and
forth. Robin and I stared into one another's eyes as we moved back and forth,
my cock sliding within her tight sheath. She made soft, faint whimpering
noises, her features shifting slightly; a twitch of a brow, a parting of her
lips, a momentary glazed look in her eyes.  
  
I rolled forward, lifting us up, and turned about until Robin lay on her back
on the chair. My cock never left the tight, rippling home it had quickly
become accustomed to. Robin gave me dreamy, captivated looks as I held her
legs wide, hands grasping fine-boned ankles, and sunk into her again and
again. I would pull back until just the head of my cock was within her, then
lunge in to the hilt. Robin grunted time and again as I took her. And she gave
herself willingly.  
  
I was sufficiently blessed with enough stamina to keep up the pace until Robin
came again. I was quickly learning that, once she got started, Robin was an
orgasmic machine. She came once, sighing and cooing, then again amid loud
moans and groans, and finally, with a cacophonous eruption from her legs. That
last one did the trick for me. Her cunt squeezing and pulling as urgently on
my cock as her mouth and hands had, I could no longer hold back.  
  
I thrust deep inside her one last time, relishing the incredible rush of
passion as I joined Robin in orgasm. Had I been some ancient warrior, my cry
may have been heard as a battle roar, the guttural declaration of a conquering
hero.  
  
***  
  
Robin was not much for conversation. After regaining our breath on the
balcony, we headed inside, to the more intimate trappings of a king-sized bed.
What we did talk about, as we lay atop the sheets, caressing sweaty skin and
sharing soft, impassioned kisses, was as mundane as what any two strangers
might have discussed in a bar. Robin, it seemed to me, did not want to think
about anything more pertinent than the moment.  
  
And the moment concerned sex.  
  
She went down on me again, despite the fact that we had not showered, and
cleaned my cock of our sticky, mingled fluid. I pulled her atop me in a sixty-
nine, finding Robin's pussy uncommonly wet and sweet. The depths of her womb
had mixed our fluids together to form a thick, unique broth. I did not mind
the unusual flavor in the least, even as I knew that perhaps half of what I
licked from her was my own cum.  
  
I honestly do not remember how many times we fucked that night. It was not
making love, it was not coupling. We fucked. Like animals in the jungle, like
slaves in a pen, we fucked. I took Robin in every position, and she would suck
my cock after each of her orgasms before we switched.  
  
The sun was finally rising by the time we fell asleep – or, rather, passed out
– in the bed. Robin snuggled up beside me, kissing my chest before she drifted
off. I followed soon after, wondering what the morning would bring.  
  
***  
  
I stirred from a kaleidoscopic dream of passion and sighs, sliding my hand
across rich linen sheets. It took my conscious mind a moment to deduce that I
had expected to feel a warm, feminine body, and did not.  
  
I sat up quickly, looking around. The bed beside me was empty, the sheets
tangled and hanging off the side. The pure, clean aroma of soap wafted to me
from the bathroom. I glanced to the clock beside the bed; it read 1:30. PM.  
  
Her clothes were gone, of course; Robin would not have left naked, after all.
In fact, there seemed to be no trace that she had ever been there, save for
the shattered champagne flute in the corner of the balcony. I sat on the edge
of the bed, smiling ruefully to myself. _Of course,_ I thought.  
  
I showered and shaved, dressed casually. I still had one more day at the
casino. But, for the first time, I did not look forward to an evening of
gambling. I was aware that the only thing I wanted to play was the sweet,
rewarding game I had enjoyed the night before. But that was a closed table,
now. I would have to be happy with my memories.  

The lunch buffet was almost done when I made it down to the restaurant. I
managed to get my fill of king crab and lemon-pepper shrimp, then took my
usual table at the outdoor café. Café mocha. Double shot, this time.  
  
"And . . . how was your night?"  
  
I chuckled at the sound of Cobb's voice. He pulled out the chair across from
mine and eased into it.  
  
"It was . . . worth it," I said with a wink.  
  
He arched a bushy eyebrow. "Was it?"  
  
I shrugged. "It was what it was."  
  
Cobb shook his head. He motioned to one of the waitresses, ordered a café
latte. He regarded me a moment, rolling an unlit cigar in his fingers. "She's
gone, you know."  
  
I nodded, sipped my coffee. "I figured."  
  
"You think she'll be back?"  
  
I sighed. "She's still a married a woman," I said. "Last night was . . . a
bargain. A debt earned, and paid in full." I smirked. "And then some."  
  
Cob laughed gruffly. "Are you sure about that?"  
  
I frowned. "What are you talking about?"  
  
Cobb leaned back, scratching his beard. "I've been around a lot longer than
you, Nick. I may not be as good at cards, but I've seen more. I remember when
Arizona Joe bluffed his way out of a flush with Brown-Eyed Bobby. Joe didn't
have more than a ten of spades as the high card, yet he got Bobby to fold. I
thought that was the best bluff I'd ever seen. Until last night."  
  
Confusion deepened my frown. "What are you talking about?"  
  
Cobb's older, wiser eyes met mine. "Three of a kind," he said.  
  
I said nothing.  
  
He leaned forward, grinning. "She played you, Nick," he said with a smile that
was both smug and impressed. "She had three sevens. Three of a kind beats any
pair."  
  
I was silent for a long moment, mulling over Cobb's words. Robin could have
taken my money and left, her 'honor' intact. Yet she did not. She _chose_ to
come to my room. What had happened, had happened because Robin wanted it to.  
  
I smiled slowly. "Oh, she had three sevens, all right," I said, then lifted my
cup. "But I had the Queen of Hearts."  
  
_-finis-_




End file.

