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A Chance at Passion

By: slyc_willie



"So what's your best pie?"

The waitress smiled flirtatiously at Brett's question, suggesting her response might have been a little more personal than the one she gave. "Depends on what you like," she said. She indicated the menu Brett held. "The full list is on the back."

Brett flipped it over. At just after ten at night, he was not interested in a full course meal. But a slice of pie sounded like the perfect thing to tide him over. He raised his eyebrows at the impressive list before him. "Wow. Pie's kind of your specialty, huh?"

The waitress chuckled. She was a slender young Hispanic woman, with wavy dark hair swept back in a standard ponytail, revealing rather light-toned skin dotted with endearing freckles. "You're not from around here," she commented.

Brett echoed the small laugh. "Just drove in," he said.

"Well, the Double J has the best pie in Texas," she declared. "The whole country, even. Got more awards on the walls than any other diner in Del Rio."

Brett nodded slowly. "So . . . you're saying you give good pie," he responded with a rakish grin.

The waitress didn't back down from his innuendo. "We give the best pie you'll ever have."

He cocked his head, deciding he licked this girl. "What's your favorite?"

"Cherry apple," she responded without hesitation. "Even better a la mode."

"Sold," he said, then let his eyes drift from her pretty face to the name tag that hovered over one of the round, well-shaped breasts outlined in her blue work polo. "Thanks, uh . . . Ino?"

She smiled. "Short for Inocencia," she explained, taking up the menu. "You want coffee, too?"

Inocencia, Brett thought. Why do I get the feeling her name's a misnomer? "Actually, a glass of milk," he said. "Never liked coffee much."

She winked with a sexy pout of her soft pink lips and snapped her server book closed. "Be right back," she trilled, then turned and left the booth, a sexy little sway to her hips as she stepped.

Wouldn't mind seeing what's under those tight khaki pants, Brett thought with a wry chuckle. But as Ino headed around the diner's counter, Brett's attention returned to the reason for his being in Del Rio. He took out the deck of cards from inside his worn leather jacket. The box itself was crinkled and scratched, showing its age, and the cards within fared no better. But in ten years of playing poker, Brett had never been without his lucky deck.

* * * *

"Regular cutie you picked up," commented Mona, the resident matriarch of the Double J as she stood leaning against the counter of the half-full diner. "You see that slick little roadster he's driving?"

Ino rolled her eyes. "No, actually, I didn't," she said as she opened one of the coolers and retrieved a carton of milk. "I was busy taking care of my customers."

Mona's eyes smoldered, her gaze drifting across the diner to Ino's latest guest. "Mmm. I wouldn't mind 'taking care' of that one."

Ino shook her head. "Jesus Cristo, Mona, it's like you're a guy or something. All you think about is sex."

Mona laughed. "Perks of menopause," she said. "Makes you horny as hell."

Ino filled a glass with the cold white liquid. "I'll take your word for it," she said as she returned the carton to the cooler. "Since I won't know for about another twenty years or so."

"Oh, you'll know," Mona said cattily. "In the meantime, let me know if Mr. Roadster there needs some company tonight. Mona's feelin' a little bit frisky."

Ino rolled her eyes again as the older waitress headed away to tend to her own customers. She opened another cooler, one filled with racks of the various pies the diner served, and scooped up a slice of cherry apple. As she did so, Mona's words echoed in her mind, and she found herself briefly fantasizing about her latest customer.

He is pretty cute, she had to admit. He's got that two-day stubble thing working for him, and that leather jacket. Kind'a James Dean like. Regular bad boy.

But then she caught a glint of light from the tiny diamond ring on her finger, the one that reminded her of her two-year marriage. She grimaced and shoved the budding fantasy from her mind.

Keep your mind on work, Ino . . . .

* * * *

As simple as it was, Brett considered Solitaire a nice warm-up before the main event. There was some skill involved, in having to plan moves ahead of time in order to prevent a lockout. In that regard, it wasn't completely unlike poker . . . except that there was only one opponent, which went by the name of Chance.

"Play cards, huh?"

He glanced up at the sound of his waitress' voice. She stood holding a plate in one hand and a glass in the other. "It's kind of a living for me," he said.

Ino set the orange juice and slice of pie at the edge of the table. "Now I know why you're here," she announced. "Going to the Aguilar, right? Seen a bunch of you caballeros heading there. Something going on?"

Brett smirked at the mention of the casino just across the border. "Poker tournament," he revealed.

She snapped her fingers and nodded. "Okay. Gotcha. So, you any good?"

He chuckled. "I win more than I lose."

She pursed her lips. "Always a good thing."

"You play?"

Ino shook her head with a rueful smile. "Only if everyone's drunk and we're playing for pesos."

Brett laughed. "Wanna try your luck?"

Ino scoffed. "Yeah, right," she said, setting down a paper-wrapped straw beside the orange juice. "You'd probably beat me out of my tips, shirt, and pants," she said, then stepped back and started to turn away.

"I like the sound of that," Brett retorted. "Well, the last part, anyway."

Ino paused for a long moment, a long-suppressed feeling percolating in the core of her being. But she forced it down, remembering the ring on her finger, and glanced over her shoulder with a sly look. "Eat your pie, gringo," she said, then walked away.

Brett watched her go once more, unable to push away the feeling of what if that had blossomed in his mind. But he decided he needed to concentrate on the reason for his arrival in Del Rio. Flirtatious waitress aside, he was here for a competition, and he didn't need any distractions.

He slid the plate bearing the slice of cherry apple pie closer, took up his fork, carved off a chunk, and slipped it into his mouth. Even before the tines of the fork left his lips, he was impressed by the rich flavor. His brow furrowed slightly as he considered the taste, the way his tongue felt suddenly awakened. Slowly, deliberately, he chewed the tasty morsel.

God damn, that is good pie . . . .

* * * *

He shuffled the deck, then again, smiling at the sound the cards made as they slapped together, interweaving themselves like well-choreographed dancers. He checked the time on his phone; there were still three hours until the start of the tournament. Why they had to begin it at midnight was beyond his understanding.

He was aware of Ino's presence when she returned to clear away the plate and set the check on the edge of the table. "So, uh, when you win a million bucks, are you gonna remember all us little people?"

Brett snorted in mirth. "Of course not."

She laughed airily, shaking her head. "Whenever you're ready, I'll take care of you." She blushed slightly. "The check, I--"

"Oh, I'm ready now," he said with a wink.

Once again, she fidgeted, nervous energy telling as she shifted on her feet. Her thumb toyed with the wedding band on her finger.

"I have an idea," Brett announced with his roguish smile.

Oh, I bet you do, Ino thought, but she said nothing, cocking her head in expectation.

"Play a hand with me," he suggested. "You win, I pay the check and give you a hundred dollar tip."

She arched a brow. "And if you win?"

His smile broadened. "Then I get a free meal."

Contemplation was evident upon her face. After a decade of reading poker faces, Ino's thoughts were as clear to him as if he had been a telepath.

"Tell you what; I'll even the odds. High card wins." He tapped the deck before him. "You can even shuffle them first, if you want."

Ino's lip curled at one corner. Oh, what the hell, she thought. It's only a six-dollar tab. And it's a fifty-fifty shot at a hundred bucks. Suddenly making up her mind, she slid into the booth across from Brett and took up the deck of cards. The man across from her grinned.

"I love a woman who's willing to take chances," he said gleefully.

Ino shuffled the cards -- with a noticeable lack of finesse, Brett noticed -- then cut the deck three ways before stacking the cards in the middle of the table.

He glanced to the deck briefly. "You first."

Ino reached for the top card, then paused. "High card wins, right?"

He nodded.

Ino's fingers trembled slightly over the deck, a mild rush of excitement tingling through her. This was the sort of thing she used to do when she was single: taking chances. Being free and careless.

With a smile, she snatched up the card and looked at it. She tried not to show her sudden elation, her hope.

Casually, Brett took the next card. His eyes bore into Ino's. "Call," he said.

With a sly look, Ino set her card face-up on the table. The Jack of Hearts. Of the remaining deck, twelve cards could beat it, thirty-nine couldn't. The odds were in her favor.

"Congratulations," Brett said, setting down the Seven of Clubs.

Ino emitted a shriek of joy which was quickly stifled when she slapped her hands over her mouth. "Serious?" she asked, dark eyes glittering.

Brett chuckled and leaned back, digging into his pocket. He came up with a bulging money clip, a five-dollar bill visible. Slipping off the clip, he unfurled it to reveal tens, twenties, fifties and hundreds. He set the faces of Alexander Hamilton and Ben Franklin atop the check presenter.

"Serious," he responded, sliding the money toward her. He slid from the booth with a wink. "Have a good night."

Ino stared after him, still shocked. She looked to the money, then to the retreating form of her unlikely benefactor. And for a moment that spanned an eternity-stretching heartbeat, she considered running after him to express her gratitude in a more intimate way.

But she didn't. She did, however, snatch up the money and watch through the windows as her customer headed to a sleek, dark blue roadster parked before the diner.

She smiled as she realized she had fresh fantasy material.

* * * *

Checking in at the motel took practically no time at all. He had made the reservation online and expected a place like Del Rio, Texas, to be a little slow when it came to e-commerce. But he was pleasantly surprised to find that his room was waiting for him almost as soon as he walked through the door. He handed over his ID and credit card, signed the forms, and was given a pass card to his room.

Though it had only taken him three hours to drive to the border town, he felt he needed a shower. At the least, it would make him feel refreshed and ready for the hours of poker play that lay before him.

He took his time in the shower, taking advantage of free hot water. He shaved his face, then, as an afterthought, his testicles. Stepping from the shower, he carefully groomed the dark hair around the root of his penis. He styled his hair, selected fresh clothes, dressing for both comfort and style. From experience, he knew that even the smallest detail of his appearance made a difference when it came to a good poker game. He wanted to look like a winner, and that meant donning something more than blue jeans and a T-shirt. He opted for the dark silk slacks and matching button-down shirt from his garment bag.

Recalling the waitress from the Double J, Brett hesitated before getting dressed. He considered jacking off to fantasies of the cute Hispanic girl with her young, freckled face, perky young breasts, and delicious, bubble-like behind. But he refrained, remembering a line from an old baseball movie, something about "re-channeling sexual energy," and figured his sexual urgency could just give him the extra edge he needed.

So he dressed. Standing before the mirror in the room, he figured he looked suitably impressive while at the same time not appearing to be too self-efficacious.

While filling his pockets with their usual items, he checked the time on his phone. Even after all that, it was only slightly before ten PM. He scowled. What the hell am I going to do for the next hour and a half? The casino's not even a ten-minute drive away.

He sighed. Get there early, have a drink to relax, hit one of the junior tables to get a feel for the place. That way, you won't be walking in looking like a newbie.

Brett nodded to his reflection. Sounds like a plan. He snatched up his keys and headed to the door.

* * * *

The route to the casino just across the border took him by the Double J once more. The diner sat upon a lonely stretch of state highway, a neon oasis in the dark of night. Brett slowed the car as he approached, thinking once again about his comely young waitress. It wasn't his normal pattern to go after young married women, but something about Ino enticed him. She seemed like she just might be willing to wander from her vows, if given the right impetus.

That thinking, after all, was why he let her win at their little high card game. He knew every card in his deck, and after she had shuffled the cards, he had recognized exactly which card sat on top. The Jack of Hearts had a little tell-tale crease at one corner. He did not know which card was beneath, of course, but the odds were against it beating a Jack.

And he had been right.

Giving up a hundred dollars might have been a bit extreme for some, but Brett had already planned on returning to the diner the next day. He would be greeted enthusiastically by her, with the hope that his previous generosity would be repeated. And that would give him just the opening he needed to seduce her.

In his scenarios, bedding such a delicious prize as Ino after either winning or losing in the first round of the series would be either icing on the cake or a more than decent consolation prize. Either way, it was a win-win situation. But by no means a guarantee.

As his car slowed, and he cast his gaze across the parking lot of the diner, he suddenly and unexpectedly saw her. She stood directly beneath the street light, amber luminescence raining down upon her to cast her skin in an almost sickly light. Still, she looked beautiful.

Conflicting thoughts battled in his mind in as much time as it took for Brett to blink. Even before he realized he had made a decision, he was slamming on the brakes and turning into the parking lot of the diner.

He rolled up slowly beside the street light, pushed the button to lower the passenger-side window. He leaned across the seat. "Hey!"

She glanced his way, looking up from the glowing face of her phone, appearing both perturbed and annoyed before a sense of recognition set in. She stepped closer, obviously on her guard.

"Uh, hi," she responded, stooping to peer through the window of the sleek little car. She smiled, almost gratefully, upon recognizing the face of her most memorable customer of the day. "Oh! Hi! What're you doing?"

Brett shrugged with a smile. "On my way to the casino," he said. "Then I saw you. Need a ride?"

Her eyes darted to her phone briefly. "Um . . . I'm waiting."

He met her gaze. "For your husband?"

She stared back, momentarily grinding her teeth. "A friend."

He rolled his shoulders. "I can be a friend," he suggested.

Ino considered her options. She couldn't call her husband, and her friend Casey still had not texted her back. Casey would, eventually, but how long would she have to wait? And why wait when an offer of a free ride was already at hand?

But another, more disturbing, thought occurred to her even as she reached for the door handle. "Wait a sec," she said. "Are you, like, collecting on me?"

Brett frowned, confused by her words. "Collecting what?"

A flash of foolish embarrassment bloomed within her. "Never mind," she said, then tugged open the door. She slid down into the leather seat beneath the canopy of the raised convertible top, finding herself almost laying back. She snickered as she pulled the door closed. "Never been in a car like this before."

"Nobody owns a roadster in this town?"

She scoffed, then mimicked a man's accented voice. "Cain't haul nuthin' in no roadster."

Brett grinned and let the car roll toward the street. "No, but I can hit sixty in about five seconds," he said, and shoved his foot down hard on the accelerator.

Ino's eyes flew open wide as the engine roared and the world outside suddenly began flying by as if she had been shot from a cannon. Brett worked the clutch with, deft, expert moves of his hand, making each change of gear as fluidly as possible. The wind whirled through the windows, making Ino's hair fly around her face. She had to hold it back to keep from being blinded.

"Ino!" Brett called, laughing. "Ino!"

"What!"

He laughed again over the now-stable engine patter. "You were screaming."

She huffed, blushing as she realized he was right. She joined his laughter. "Medre de Dios, I've never gone that fast!"

Brett glanced to the speedometer. "I'm not even breaking seventy."

Ino's flushed grin was persistent. "Sure felt like you were doing, like, a hundred."

He shrugged. "What are the cops like around here?"

Ino thought a moment. "Unless it's the weekend, they all hang out around the casino waiting for drunk drivers."

Brett pursed his lips with a sly smile. "So, we probably wouldn't meet any around here?"

"No, not really," Ino said, then let out a surprised puff of air as the roadster shot forward once more. "H-holy sh-i-i-it!"

* * * *

Ino's words rushed from her lips. "Ohmigod, that was intense!" She turned in the seat to look back at the sharp bend in the road they had just passed. "I've seen, like, a hundred guys go off the road on that turn!"

Brett chuckled as he eased off the gas, letting the two-seater coast down beneath the speed limit. "If they were driving trucks, I don't doubt it."

She grinned at him. "This thing is like a freakin' roller coaster."

He nodded, glancing over to her. Their eyes met briefly. Ino's heart was still pumping from the drive, her limbs still tingled from adrenaline. But now a different sort of tingle blossomed in a very specific part of her body. She found herself looking at Brett's lips, then at the firm, strong hand at rest upon the gear shift.

"When does your tournament start?" she asked.

"Midnight."

She looked forward through the windshield, watching as a road marker darted past. She knew exactly where they were. She considered her following words carefully before uttering them. "Hey, uh, could you pull over for a sec?"

Brett's brow furrowed. "You okay? You're not gonna be sick, are you?"

She didn't look at him. "Just . . . pull over. There's an old rest stop right up here."

"Okay," Brett said. "Sure."

The rest stop was illuminated in the headlights barely a handful of seconds later. The place had obviously not seen any maintenance in quite a while. The grounds were overgrown and weeds grew through cracks in the parking lot and sidewalks. Brett pulled the roadster into a space before the darkened husk of a welcome center that had not welcomed anyone in at least a decade.

As soon as the car was parked, Ino pushed the passenger door open. She paused before slipping out. "Um . . . you wanna put the top down?" she asked.

What's this girl's game? Brett thought, but he saw no reason to argue. "Sure. It's a nice night," he remarked, pushing the requisite button. As the top lifted and folded itself back, Ino stepped from the car and took a few paces away.


A Chance at Passion



Brett watched her from behind as she stood outlined against the clear starry sky. Then, slowly, she crossed her arms, tugged the work polo free from her pants, and drew the garment over her head.

Brett's arousal spiked instantly. Now we're talking, he thought with a grin.

Ino turned around, youthful flesh turned pale by the radiance of the rising moon. Her natural dusky tone made her look like a tarnished doll hoping to return to its former luster. As she stepped back toward the car, her dark eyes burned into Brett's as she reached back to undo her bra. She tossed both garments onto the seat.

"Beautiful," Brett commented, voice cracked. He drank in the sight of the half-naked young woman before him. Her work shirt had done nothing to flatter the firm, full breasts she possessed. They were a bit larger than he had surmised, and sat high and proud upon the girl's slender torso. Stars had been tattooed above each one, just beneath her collarbones.

Ino leaned with one hand atop the windshield, still silent as she spoke volumes with her eyes. She shifted to step out of her shoes, then straightened and turned in profile. Unsnapping her stretch pants, she slid her hands between them and the firm skin of her hips, pushing both pants and panties down lean, strong legs.

She faced him once more, unabashedly nude. A small dark patch of pubic hair broke the uniformity of her alabaster skin, drawing his eyes to her sex. Even with the limited light, Brett could make out the slightly bulging labia between her thighs.

Brett could almost have been happy to stare at this young woman's brazen nude body and do nothing else. But Ino was not about to give him that option. She crawled across the passenger seat, bringing her face close to Brett's.

"No promises," she whispered.

"None given," he answered back, and no sooner had he done so then Ino was smothering his mouth with her own, needy whimper muffled as she sucked on his lips and tongue. She pressed herself to him, ardently pawing at Brett's shirt. She acted as if sex was something she only remembered from a distant feverish dream.

Her enthusiasm and energy were almost intimidating. Brett kissed her back, hands roaming over her slim naked form. Every touch of his fingertips only excited her more, until she was gasping and panting with need.

"God, I fucking want you," she muttered upon finally breaking the kiss. She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, impatient to see his naked skin.

He cupped her face, making her stop and stare back into his eyes. "Good," he said back. "Because I wanna fuck you."

She grinned heatedly. "Off," she hissed. "Get your clothes off."

He smiled rakishly and shoved open the door, then stepped out. Ino stared at him like a feral vixen, naked form glowing as she propped herself upon all fours in the car. He loved the way the round cheeks of her ass swayed back and forth.

He teased her a bit at first, popping free one button, then another, revealing glimpses of his hairy chest. But her neediness became infectious, and Brett was soon tossing his shirt into the car.

Ino emitted a yearning, mewling sound as she watched his hands unbuckle his belt. She pushed upon onto her knees, cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples, licking her lips suggestively, all to entice him to strip fully nude.

It worked. By the time Ino's hand had drifted down her smooth belly to tickle the strands of wispy pubic hair above her pussy, Brett was fully nude . . . and fully erect.

Ino's lips parted amid a new rush of sexual heat as she gazed upon Brett's cock. It jutted out like a unicorn's horn, with barely a growth of hair around the base, hovering like a lance above smooth, heavy testicles. Never in her life had Ino found the sight of a man's stiff cock a turn-on, but she certainly did at that moment.

She fell back onto her hands and knees with a hungry growl, just as Brett stepped to the edge of the open driver-side door. They booth knew what was going to happen next. Ino licked her lips and parted them wide, and Brett took his head in her hands and guided her mouth down onto his cock.

He sighed as she sucked nearly half his length, bringing up one of her hands to fondle and squeeze his hanging balls. Her movements were a little rough and almost desperate, but that only added to the arousal of the moment. Brett pumped his cock back and forth, fucking her mouth, pushing a little deeper each time.

Ino gagged at one point, jerking back to cough and sputter, a long thick trail of saliva stretching from her lips to Brett's cock. It broke and splashed to the ground. But after a moment of catching her breath and stroking his hard shaft, she was back at it, pushing her mouth down his dick even as he eased it into her throat.

Her gag reflex threatened to kick in, but she forced it down, making herself swallow instead. She felt the entirely new sensation of a stiff, thick cock entering her throat, and was alternately, chaotically, both marveled and alarmed by the tight, penetrating feeling. She could not breathe, but at the same time, she wanted to keep his cock there, so deep within her mouth, feeling the soft hairs of his lower belly against the tip of her nose, his fleshy balls against her chin . . . .

But then she jerked back once again, gasping for air even as she coughed out a mouthful of thick spit that splattered upon the ground. Her eyes drifted up to his. "Never did that before," she said between desperate pants for breath.

Brett smiled and smoothed back her hair. "Let's try something else," he suggested, reaching down to slip his hands beneath her arms. He hoisted her up as he set his left foot upon the floorboard, and settled her small but impressively round ass on upon the closed convertible hatch just between and behind the two seats.

"You tasted me," he said as he lifted and spread Ino's legs, forcing her to roll back onto her elbows. "Now I want to taste you."

"Oh, God, it's been so long since anyone's done that to me," she murmured, willingly parting her thighs even wider.

Guess her husband doesn't do this for her, Brett thought as he lowered his face between the girl's thighs. What a moron . . . .

Given that she had suffered through a full shift at the diner, Ino's sex was rather strong in aroma, a scent that mingled her natural essence of arousal with the more mundane properties of sweat. But though strong at first, the smell of Ino's pussy was not off-putting to Brett. She yet possessed that natural sweet aroma that reflected her youth.

Brett smiled as he delicately parted the girl's pussy lips with his fingers. He had gone down on women with rather meaty vaginas before, but they had all possessed dark, almost unappetizing lips. Not so with Ino, whose deliciously fleshy young cunt glowed a brilliant pink in the light of the moon overhead. The fresh hue of her sex was even more accentuated by the light growth of dark hair that surrounded it.

He licked first along the outer edges of her lips, tasting her sweat, then, as Ino's breathing became ragged, dragged the flat of his tongue up and down her swollen labia, making them glisten even more than they already did. Each swipe of his tongue was like the caressing rain upon the petals of an orchid, making the lips part more and more.

She writhed and gasped, her face pained. Hands came up to clutch her breasts, squeezing them roughly. She gazed down upon Brett's face between her thighs, giving him a pleading look.

He could not deny her. With a knowing smirk, he maneuvered so that he straddled the center console of the car, his knees pushed into the seats. His cock jutted out over Ino's seething, glowing pussy. Pushing it down, he rubbed the head against the pale coral nub of her clitoris, making the girl spasm slightly and suck in a breath. Then he pushed it down even more, feeling the heat of her body as it escaped from the snug opening of her tunnel. It flowed across the head of his cock before he pushed firmly within.

They both gasped at the union. Ino's pussy trembled around the shaft of Brett's cock, stretching to accommodate him. The girl squeezed her eyes shut, mouth agape. She looked almost like a virgin being deflowered, wincing and moaning at the same time. Brett gave her a little more, then a little more still, until his loins were pressed to hers. His hips lay against the headrests of the seats.

Ino squirmed slightly to adjust, pawing absently until she found Brett's hands at her sides. She gripped his forearms. "F-f-fuck me," she whispered.

He managed a chuckle, even as he admired the luscious body before him. "As you wish," he quipped. He slipped back until the crown of his cock was just visible, surrounded by the glistening pink lips of Ino's pussy, then shoved back in. His lover responded with a sharp yelp, then a grin and a groan.

"Oh, Dios mi, Dios mi, fuck me . . . ."

He pumped into her again and again, relishing the squeezing, sucking, pulling motions of Ino's pussy. Never had he enjoyed a lover so snug and eager. He gripped her hips even as she held onto his wrists. Her sweaty back squeaked now and then as her body shifted with each forceful thrust. Brett could tell Ino liked it hard, but even after several minutes of such delicious fucking, she still had not come.

He slowed his pace until he was only gently, languidly, easing in and out of her. They were both shimmering with a thin layer of sweat. Brett allowed his hands to wander up and down Ino's body, caressing her from loins to breasts as if giving a massage. She smiled and nibbled her lips, moaning softly.

"You're not even close, are you?" he asked.

Ino opened her eyes and cocked her head, giving Brett an apologetic look. "I'm sorry," she said.

He smiled, then leaned over and cupped his mouth over a stiff pink nipple, sucking it for a moment. Ino hissed with pleasure. "Don't apologize," he said as he lifted his head. His smile remained. "What gets you off?"

She threaded her fingers through his hair, eyes roaming over his face. "Can I be on top?"

Brett grinned. "Whatever you want," he said.

He straightened, taking a moment to admire the vision of his shaft surrounded by the sublimely fleshy lips of Ino's pussy. Capturing that sight as if taking a snapshot in his mind, he gently eased out, then reached to help Ino up. They kissed torridly, sighing and moaning with passion, before Brett found himself laying back along the length of the trunk of his car. His head and shoulders hung over the end, making his neck strain with the effort of looking up.

Leaning over him, Ino grinned as she stroked Brett's slick cock, making conspicuous smacking sounds. She stared into his face as she licked the dark pink head of his penis, tasting her own essence. For a moment, she sucked as much of his length as she could, drawing off her own juices. Then she climbed up and straddled him, legs fanned wide. With hands supported upon the headrests of the car's seats, she lowered herself onto his shaft, sighing deeply as she was impaled.

The vision was intoxicating. In the stark moonlight, Brett could see the way her labia slid up and down his shaft, hugging him with each stroke. Ino's breasts bounced upon her chest. Her face was slack with passion, strands of hair streaked across her flushed, sweaty face.

She took one hand from the headrest and massaged her clit as she pumped up and down, all the while staring at Brett's face. He found that incredibly erotic. No woman he had ever known had been this wanton, this frenzied, this enthusiastic.

Her lips trembled. "Dios mi," she whimpered. "I-I'm gonna--"

Her words trailed off into a long, gasping howl that culminated in a shriek as she came. Her pussy rippled along his cock, burning intensely, and her entire body convulsed. She sank down all the way onto Brett's cock and sagged forward, slapping her hands to the trunk of the car. She panted hard, breasts heaving, nipples dragging back and forth upon her lover's chest. Her orgasm, it seemed, would never end.

Her energetic abandon inspired Brett's own release, and he only barely managed to utter something vaguely resembling a warning of his impending climax. With a gasp, Ino pushed back and lifted off his cock, grabbing it with one hand and jerking wildly. Brett grunted as he came, releasing a torrent of shimmering, milky fluid that showered Ino's abdomen and splattered onto his own. His lover gasped and grinned and giggled as she watched his eruption, and kept stroking until nothing more came out.

"S-stop!" he begged with a laugh, wincing at the feel of Ino's squeezing hand around the head of his sensitive cock. He slapped his hand to her wrist.

With sated sigh, Ino lay upon him, head upon his chest as she recovered her breath. Brett encircled her with his arms, feeling the tremors through her body.

Wearily, after several moments, Ino lifted her languid face, which yet glowed from her experience. She smiled as if drunk.

"That was pretty intense," Brett commented.

She moved up and kissed him deeply. "It's been a long time since I, uh, came like that," she said. "Or at all, really."

He stroked her hair from her face, trying to read her eyes. What kind of selfish dickhead is she married to? But he kept the question to himself. Now was not the time for journeys of personal discovery.

"Well, maybe I'll stop by for some pie tomorrow," he said.

Ino nibbled her lip. "My shift starts at three," she said.

* * * *

Ino's elated mood faded as the roadster rolled to a stop at the end of the long gravel drive. About a hundred feet or more from the road through the mobile home community lay a rather impressive double-wide, with whitewashed walls and solar panels on the roof. Not quite the trailer park ghetto in which Brett had assumed Ino lived in. There was a red Jeep on oversized tires parked beside the house, as well as white extended-cab pickup with some company logo upon it.

"Ah, mi casa," Ino said sourly, glaring through the window.

"Hey, uh, if you think you're going to get in trouble," Brett began. He faltered as Ino glanced to him, face drawn and dark. The bliss of their coupling seemed to have completely faded. "I mean, if he's abusive, you can stay--"

She laughed sharply. "He's not abusive," she said. "Well, not like that. Not yet. He's just . . . he's not . . . anything. He works all day, then comes home and drinks until he passes out. I think he wanted a wife just to keep his house clean and do his laundry."

Brett did not know what to say. He told himself not to involve himself emotionally. What they had enjoyed -- and probably would again, if he kept cool -- was just sex. He wanted it, she apparently needed it, and that's how it should remain.

"Well, uh--" he began, but Ino thankfully kept him from saying anything trite or embarrassing as she leaned across the seat and gave him a rather chaste kiss on the cheek.

"See you tomorrow," she said casually, pushing open the door. She smiled in admonishment. "You know, if you want to."

He nodded. "I do."

She stepped out, closed the door, then turned around and ducked her head through the passenger window of the car. "Good luck in the tournament."

He smiled. "Thanks," he said, then watched Ino as she trudged down the gravel drive to her home and husband.

* * * *

The screen door creaked loudly as she opened it, making Ino grimace. She only hoped her husband was drunk enough not to notice. Pushing open the door, she stepped into the home they shared as casually as could be. The sounds of a baseball game blared from the game room of the house.

"That you, babe?"

Ino gritted her teeth. "Yeah."

"Long night, huh?"

She sighed. "Yeah."

"Get me a beer since you're by the kitchen, okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "Sure."

* * * *

Panic gripped him once he was away from Ino. The initial plan had been to arrive at the casino early and ease into the tournament with a sense of calm confidence. That plan was now shot. Brett rushed to find his way back to the casino, eyes darting furtively to the clock on his stereo as it blasted out AC/DC's Highway to Hell. It was 11:39 when he got back to the state highway.

The aroma of sex was conspicuous about him, and he did not need that as a distraction. Thankfully, Brett found a corner drugstore that had not yet closed, and jogged in for a package of unscented baby wipes. Sitting in the idling roadster in the parking lot, he unbuttoned his shirt and unzipped his slacks to clean up . . . much to the chagrin of a middle-aged woman heading past to do some late-night shopping.

Without the aroma of bodily fluids adorning his body, Brett felt a little more ready for the tournament . . . if he made it in time. Chancing that Ino's assessment of the local police was correct, he broke half a dozen traffic laws getting to the casino, slowing down only once he spied the brilliant lights of the complex ahead.

The time was 11:53 when he found a parking spot, several rows out from the garishly-lit building. Cursing himself for compromising his entry to the tournament over some piece of ass -- never mind how delicious it had been -- Brett all but sprinted to the front doors. Thankfully, there signs aplenty to lead him past the whirling, twinkling lights of the banks of slot machines, roulette wheels, and junior tables toward a set of double doors at the far end of the casino's lobby.

A chubby bouncer in a tuxedo stood beside an attractive, middle-aged woman beside the doors.

"Texas Hold'em Tournament?" she asked professionally.

Brett smiled. "I hope I'm not too late," he said.

She checked the slim watch at her wrist. "Two minutes to go," she said with a thin smile. "Name?"

"Brett Walker. I've already registered."

She referred to the clipboard she held. Her smile became just a bit more real. She reached beneath the podium beside her and extracted a plastic-sheathed card with a metal clip atop it. "So you have," she said, handing the badge over.

Brett smiled and let himself relax as the bouncer stepped aside. "Thank you."

* * * *

An usher on the other side of the door helped Brett to his table. There were more than thirty round tables in the room, which also contained a small stage at one end upon which a rather portly older man stood, displaying an almost comical handlebar mustache of silver hue upon his upper lip.

Brett took his seat at the table, taking a brief moment to assess the other five players against which he would be playing. They ranged in age from early twenties to perhaps late sixties. Two of them were women, both older than Brett as far as he could tell. They gave him various looks, appraising him even as he did the same.

A steward approached, setting a tray loaded with chips before him. "What would you care to drink, sir?"

"Maker's Mark, double, on the rocks," he responded, shifting in the plush padded chair. The steward nodded and backed off to fulfill the order.

The pudgy man in his impressive suit tapped the microphone before him, resulting in a muffled thumping sound that echoed through the ceiling speakers. "Can you hear me?" he asked, which resulted in more than a few chuckles and one or two hollered responses from the room.

"Alright." The man smiled with a twitch of his mustache. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the first round of the Aguila Casino Poker tournament!"

His announcement resulted in applause and a few uproarious calls from the players.

"My name is Howard Preach, and I am the owner of this casino. It gives me great pride to host the first round of this auspicious tournament, and I wish all of you all the luck."

I'm sure you do, Brett thought with a smirk.

"Unfortunately, most of you won't be making it past tonight."




A Chance at Passion



Dark and guarded laughter followed Preach's words. Brett glanced around his table, noting a few challenging looks. He ignored them casually.

"This tournament consists of three rounds," Preach continued. "Only the winner of each table will go on to tomorrow's round, and only the top six will meet for the final round on Friday. This is a test of skill and luck, from which only the best will emerge."

"Which will be me," declared a hefty, bearded man who sat across from Brett. "So the rest of you might as well fold now."

Brett responded only with an amused look. He'll be the first to go, he thought.

"Dealers!" Preach called with a grin. "Man your stations!"

At each table, a dealer approached, setting a bank and a card shooter upon the table. They took their seats and nodded professionally to the players they were to serve.

"Let the tournament begin!"

Indeed, thought Brett as he straightened in his chair and faced the dealer across him. Let's get this show on the road.

* * * *

The first hand was kind to Brett, and he triumphed with a pair of jacks. The bearded man, to Brett's surprise, was not the first to go; it was one of the women, who backed out with an unfinished straight. She set a fifty-dollar chip on the table to cover the next round of drinks, and walked away with a defeated smile.

Brett barely touched his bourbon throughout the first hand, but took a sip before the second. The bearded man, he noticed, ordered a second drink.

The second round saw the bearded man coming out on top with three nines, to beat out Brett's trio of sevens. A man clad in a gold paisley shirt was excused.

By the third round, it was obvious that Brett and the bearded man -- known more formally as Walter -- were the two main contenders. It also became obvious that Walter was becoming progressively drunk. He was yet to allow that to compromise his playing, but Brett figured it was only a matter of time.

"Come on, kid, let's make this real," Walter said at the start of the fourth round. It was only he, Brett, and the other woman, a rather pretty fake blonde who had remained conspicuously quiet throughout the previous hour. But Brett had already discovered one of her tells; she sucked in her bottom lip when she had a bad hand.

Brett leveled his gaze on the more inebriated man. "How real do you want to make it?"

The man grinned through his beard, showing nicotine-stained teeth. "Next ante's a thousand," he declared.

Brett shrugged recklessly. "Sure." He glanced to the woman; she was already sucking her bottom lip.

The cards were dealt, three down, two up. Brett's face remained impassive as he looked upon the five and seven of hearts. He tossed in his ante, and so did Walter.

The woman made a flustering sound. "I'm out," she announced, setting her cards down and pushing back. "Have fun, guys."

Brett smiled from the corner of his mouth and stared at Walter. "I already am," he said.

The dealer turned over the cards, and Brett noticed the eight of hearts right away. He slid the other two aside, feeling his heart palpitate. If I pull this off . . . .

"Cards, gentlemen," the dealer prompted.

Brett kept his calm gaze on Walter. "Two."

The corner of Walter's left eye twitched. "Two."

Brett smiled knowingly. He had discovered Walter's tell. He took up the cards given him, hiding the elation as he saw the seven of hearts. He pretended to frown, then covered that by straightening and clearing his throat. "Uh, raise five hundred," he said, dropping the chips onto the pile in the table. There was already a good three thousand there.

Walter gulped down the rest of his drink, then laughed. "Stupid punks," he muttered, picking up and dropping the required five hundred worth of chips onto the table. He then picked up another short stack while giving Brett a look. "This is how it's done, kid."

Brett matched the bet without hesitation. "Call, old man," he said.

Walter bristled slightly, beard twitching. "Call," he grumbled, laying down his cards. A pair of tens.

Brett sucked in a breath and effected a disappointed look. "Oh, well," he said, then laid out his cards. "Guess I'll have to try harder."

Both Walter and the dealer stared at the straight before the younger man. The dealer smirked; Walter cursed. Brett grinned rakishly. "Oh. I guess I already did."

"What gave me away?" Walter barked as he leaned across the table.

Brett chuckled and scratched the corner of his mouth. "Might wanna shave your beard for next time," he said, then leaned in to gather the chips.

The dealer offered his hand across the table as Walter stomped away in disgust. "Good game."

Brett shook the man's hand, grinning genuinely now. "Thanks."

* * * *

His companion back to the motel was a dark blue bank bag containing more than eight thousand dollars. Not a bad amount of change, Brett figured, for two and a half hours' work. He'd had the option of placing the money in a casino safe, but decided instead to hang onto it until the the following day, so that he could take it to a local branch of his bank.

Hell of a night, Brett, he thought as the crisp dark wind rolled over him in the roadster. Had some damn good sex, then played some damn good poker. Maybe Ino's your new good luck charm?

He grinned at the thought. Well, if she is, you'll just have to see her again tomorrow . . . .

* * * *

Ino awakened before her husband; she always did. He snored in drunken slumber as his body yet processed the alcohol he had consumed. He would not be up until ten o'clock, at least.

Guilt momentarily gripped her as she sat on the edge of the bed. She could not help but recall the incredible sensations she had enjoyed the evening before. No coupling with her husband had ever come close to such frenetic, orgasmic ecstasy. Given his increased propensity for drinking on a nightly basis, Ino doubted her husband would ever be capable of the sort of fucking she had enjoyed with Brett.

Brett. Just the thought of his name made her smile. She wanted to see him again; she needed to see him again. She could not wait for the following six hours to pass, so that she could be at the diner, waiting for him to show. Not knowing for certain if he actually would was maddening. She wanted a guarantee. She wanted to know she could enjoy his carnal skills at least once more.

"Hrm mrmm mumm muhn . . . ."

Ino looked back with disgust upon her husband as he rolled on his side toward her, expelling a breath pungent with the stench of alcohol. She wrinkled her nose in disdain. How could I have ever said "I do" to you?

* * * *

The time on his phone glowed 3:17 when Brett stepped into the diner. A middle-aged woman whose name tag read "Mona," and looked like she belonged on an old episode of Cheers lead him to a table in a section of the restaurant otherwise devoid of patrons. She set the menu before him after he sat down, winked, and strutted away.

He waited patiently, peripherally hearing Mona call out toward the back: "Ino! Got a customer, honey!"

"Be right there!"

Brett smiled at the sound of her voice, shrill and impatient as it was. He relished the sense of anticipation as he waited. He was not sure if the hours away from him would have given Ino the time to regret her actions. Maybe she would feel guilty about cheating on her husband. Maybe he had found out. There were so many options, so many possibilities, but that was what made the entire scenario as enticing as it was.

She came through the set of swing doors from the diner's kitchen, still tying her apron as she walked. Her eyes were cast to the floor, and she did not see Brett until she was perhaps five or six paces away.

When she did, she stopped cold. Her freckled face became blank. Her lips parted slowly. Beneath the fabric of her unflattering shirt, breasts rose and fell amid a deep breath. Dark eyes quivered. She shifted on her feet.

Though they had shared but a single hour of incredible sex, Brett could tell Ino was aroused. But there was something else, something reticent about the way she looked at him. Perhaps she was just nervous, or scared.

"Uh . . . hi," she said at last, coming up to the edge of the table. Her cheeks were flushed already.

He smiled back. "Hi, yourself."

She glanced around furtively. "What are you doing here?"

He chuckled, the corner of his mouth turned upward. "I'm hungry."

Ino blinked. "Right," she said, then expelled an anxious breath. "You're just a regular guy coming to a diner for something to eat, like any other guy in the world."

Brett nodded, his smile fading. "Hey, if you want me to go--"

"No!" she snapped in response, looking skittish. Her eyes darted away as she made the effort to control her behavior. They drifted back to Brett's as she spoke again. "No," she repeated, more softly, and with more meaning.

Brett gladdened. "Good. 'Cause I've heard this place has the best cherry apple pie in all of Texas, and I'd hate to go anywhere else for it."

Ino nibbled her lip. "So, uh, you liked my pie, huh?"

Brett breathed in, feeling his slacks tightening. "Very much so," he answered. "And I'm pretty sure I'd like some more."

Blush colored her cheeks. "Well, uh, I'll be more than happy to give it up . . . uh, I mean, get it for you," she said, coquettish look decorating her beautiful face.

"My mouth is already watering," Brett said.

Ino gave him a flirtatious wink, then glanced around briefly before suddenly bending over and bringing her face close to his. "I so wanna fuck you right now," she whispered heatedly, then spun about and pranced away.

Brett breathed in deeply, quelling the almost overpowering arousal that spiked through his chest.

* * * *

It seemed strange to Brett that so simple a thing as a slice of pie could assuage not only the real, but also the sexual, hunger. But it really was that good; every bite had him savoring every little nuance of flavor, from the slightly bitter to the poignantly sweet. He took his time eating, cleaning away the crumbs of the latest bite before slicing in for another.

If only everything in life could be this good, this simple, he thought as he licked the tines of his fork following the last bite.

Ino approached him as he finished, having watched the way he had slowly and deliberately devoured the pie. "I swear, if pie could have an orgasm, then that piece you just ate would have," she commented as she took the plate away.

Brett chuckled, easing back in his chair. His eyes roamed over her body. "I sure wouldn't mind another one right now," he said meaningfully.

Ino bit her lip. "Later," she said softly.

He grinned rakishly. "Why not now?"

Her eyes bulged. "I'm working."

He cocked his head. "So?"

Ino huffed. "Don't torture me," she pleaded.

He backed off with a sullen nod. "Sorry."

But an idea blossomed suddenly in Ino's mind. She looked about her section of the diner. The time of day, the day of the week . . . it was pretty slow for the Double J. Not even the early bird crowd of cheapskate senior citizens would be in for about another half hour.

She looked back to Brett, the naughty thought she harbored already generating a twitch between her thighs. "Anyway," she said, taking out a check presenter from her apron and setting it on the table. "You should probably go wash up in the men's room. Don't wanna have sticky fingers for the rest of the day, right?" She accentuated her words with a wink, then stepped away.

A knowing smile dawned upon Brett's face, even as his erection began to return.

* * * *

The bathroom was small, with only a pair of urinals and a single large cubicle at the end, housing a toilet and large enough to accommodate the handicapped. There was a middle-aged man washing his hands at the single sink when Brett stepped in, but he left moments later as Brett pretended to use one of the urinals.

Quickly, he headed to the stall and stepped within. It was clean enough, with an almost pristine toilet and no rancorous odors. Brett waited, standing over the toilet.

He heard the door creak open loudly.

"Brett?"

"Yeah."

A pattering of rapid footfalls echoed in the bathroom before Ino pushed open the stall door. She grinned upon seeing Brett, then all but tackled him, pressing her lips to his in a needy, demanding kiss. Her hands fumbled at his belt.

"We gotta be quick," she whispered heatedly, tugging on his slacks.

Brett kissed her back. "What do you want, baby?"

She grinned devilishly. "I want you to try to keep quiet while I suck your cock," she declared, then dropped to her knees upon the tiled floor.

Brett's head spun, even as he helped Ino loosen his slacks. His belt flung open, the zipper came down, and in a matter of moments his slacks were at his feet and Ino was hungrily, yearningly, mouthing his shaved balls, inhaling his scent. His cock jutted out over her forehead, already at full mast.

With a heated breath, Ino left Brett's balls slick and shimmering with her saliva and reared back, reaching up to grasp and stroke the impressive shaft. She stared at it wantonly, pumping it back and forth. A glistening bead of clear fluid oozed to the tip of Brett's dick; she swiped it away with her tongue, leaving the tip shiny and wet.

"Don't hold it, baby," Ino whispered hotly, her mouth poised over the head of Brett's cock. "I wanna make you come. I wanna taste it."

He groaned, lost to passionate need. "Do it," he grunted, then held back a deep, heartfelt groan of pleasure as Ino engulfed his cock, wrapping it within warm sucking, massaging flesh. She emitted a muffled moan of her own, as if tasting his cock, and feeling the stiff, throbbing tube of flesh in her mouth, was all that she desired.

Brett fell against the wall behind him, settling his hands to Ino's soft dark hair as she serviced him. He loved feeling her head bobbing back and forth at such an insistent, urgent pace. She stroked the shaft while sucking him, bringing up her other hand to cradle and fondle his balls. Now and then, a rush of air between her lips and his penis would make an abrupt sucking sound, but that only reinforced to Brett how eager his lover was to get him off.

Only a few minutes into the exquisite blowjob, Brett was already beginning to feel the teasing beginnings of his orgasm. But the door to the bathroom suddenly crashed inward, preceding a pair of boisterous male voices.

". . . gonna be a damn good fight," insisted one of the voices. "Jimenez ain't lost one yet."

"Maybe, but Storyweather's had twice as many fights. He's more seasoned."

As the two men discussed their assessment of an upcoming boxing match, Brett looked down at Ino, who was frozen on her knees, lips wrapped around the head of his cock. She looked up at him, blushing, smiling with anxious arousal. As the two men outside continued to chatter, she once more began pushing and pulling with her mouth, albeit not quite as energetic as before.

The scene was strangely arousing. All that stood between their illicit coupling and discovery was a thin wall. Indeed, if either of the men had reason to stoop down and look beneath the stall edge, he would see pretty young Ino on her knees. It would not take much to guess what was going on.

The two men washed up and left, cluelessly continuing their discussion. As soon as the door closed and silence once again filled the bathroom, Ino resumed her voracious oral attack, pumping her mouth back and forth along Brett's shaft. Though his orgasm had been kept in check for the previous minute, it quickly began to well again. He began bucking his hips, and Ino stopped moving, allowing her mouth to be used for his pleasure.

Only a few more thrusts of his cock, and Brett was fighting down the urge to groan as he erupted. Ino let out a slight, muffled moan as her mouth was suddenly filled with warm, bittersweet fluid. Her brow furrowed as she contemplated the flavor. She kept her mouth locked around Brett's shaft, feeling every pulse and spasm through the man's cock as he emptied his seed between her lips.

He finally stopped moving, nearly doubling over and clutching Ino's head in his arms. He breathed out heavily. "Holy shit, that was incredible," he muttered.

Ino giggled, letting his penis slip from her mouth, lips pursed around the thick fluid within. She pushed back and looked up at him as Brett straightened. He gave her an almost worshiping look. Her freckled face glowed and her eyes shone with her accomplishment. A single dribble of thick white cum dangled from her lower lip.

Keeping her eyes on his, Ino made a slow, deliberate showing of swallowing the liquid gift Brett had given her, licking her lips afterward for effect. She wiped up the strand of cum from her lip and sucked it clean. Brett watched with dutiful amazement all the while.

"I gotta get back to work," she whispered hurriedly, pushing herself to her feet. She kissed him quickly, then opened the stall door and stepped out. Brett remained where he was, blissfully numb, as Ino left the bathroom.

I think that was the best damn blowjob I've ever had . . . .

* * * *

Panic gripped Ino as she scurried back to the dining room, trying to be as casual as possible. She was aware of the fragrance of Brett's semen on her breath, but had no mints or gum to counter it. She hoped it would not be noticeable.

It was not only because of her naughty behavior in the bathroom with Brett that had Ino's heart pounding with anxiety. It was the fact that she recognized one of the voices of the men who had nearly discovered them.

The voice of her husband.

Indeed, there he sat with his friend Joe, at the table beside Brett's. The two men looked somewhat perturbed as Ino approached, looking sheepish.

"Hey, babe, where you been? We're hungry," her husband said, casually reaching out to smack the side of her ass.

"I was doing some cleaning up in the back," she explained. "Slow part of the day, you know."

"Just so you ain't messing around with the dishwasher or nothing," he chided. His remark made his friend chuckle.

No, I just sucked off a guy who fucks me like you never could, Ino thought in a flash of anger. But she maintained a practiced smile. "So, uh, iced tea?" she asked, then gave her husband an accusing look. "Or beer?"

He frowned. "I'm working, babe," he scoffed. "Yeah, tea. You want tea, Joe? Yeah, two teas." He tugged on his wife's apron. "Hey babe, you're off tomorrow night, right?"

Ino rolled her eyes. "First Friday night off in a month," she said.

"Good. The guys are coming over for the fight. You're gonna take care of us. Gonna need to get some more beer and snacks and shit."

Ino balked. "What? I spend six days a week serving people, and you want me to spend my Friday night handing out drinks to your fucking buddies?"

Her husband glared hard. "Yeah, that's what I want. You're my wife, remember? And don't you ever use foul language with me. And, don't forget I give you a home to live in. Or do you wanna go back to living with your crack-whore mother?"

Ino seethed, but she held it in. There were so many things she wanted to say at that moment, especially considering she was aware that Brett had quietly returned to his table and had been privy to most of the conversation. But she bit her tongue, as she so often did.

"Anyway, get the drinks," her husband said dismissively. "And don't waste any time. We're thirsty."

Ino stepped back, briefly glancing to Brett. She thought -- and hoped -- that the expression on his face was one of sympathy, and that made her feel a tiny bit better about herself as she made her way back to the ktichen.

Now I know what kind of asshole she's married to, Brett thought. Sitting surreptitiously at his table, he was able to observe the two men. Ino's husband faced him past his friend. The man was hefty, probably around Brett's age but already going bald. He had round, boyish features that told of Mexican and caucasian heritage. His words, his gestures, the clothes he wore bespoke a simple, hardworking life. Brett would normally admire that in a man.




A Chance at Passion



But not in a man who treated his wife like a serving wench.

"Still gotta crack the whip on her sometimes, huh?" asked Joe of Ino's husband.

The man shook his head wryly. "She'll come around," he declared. "Or she's gonna get tossed out on the curb."

Brett listened to as much of the macho banter as he could. He sighed heavily. Why did this suddenly have to become complicated?

Signing the charge receipt, Brett left a generous tip, then turned the restaurant receipt over and quickly scribbled something upon it. Closing the check presenter, he stood and headed out of the diner.

* * * *

It was a little after nine o'clock when she called. Brett felt the buzzing of the phone in his brand-new slacks as he sat at a blackjack table in the casino. He snatched up the phone with a smile, even though he did not recognize the number. He knew it had to be her.

"Ino?"

He could almost hear the relieved smile on the other end. "My shift's done. They let me go early since it's so slow."

"Are you still at the diner?"

"Yeah. Do you think--?"

"I'll be there in about ten minutes."

* * * *

She simply could not keep her hands to herself. As soon as she was in the car and they were driving away from the Double J, Ino leaned across the seat to kiss and suckle Brett's neck. Her hands roamed, one of them pulling Brett's free hand to her upper thigh, the other groping for the rapidly-swelling bulge in his slacks. She had his cock free and was stroking it while stealing steamy kisses before they arrived at the decrepit old rest stop.

"I thought ahead this time," Brett said with a wink after cutting the engine.

Ino's eyes glittered naughtily. "Oh, yeah?"

With a knowing smirk, he stepped out of the car, not bothering to tuck his erection away as he came around to the trunk. Ino giggled at the sight of her well-dressed lover with his cock bobbing through the unzipped fly.

Brett popped the trunk and took out the flannel blanket he had purchased that afternoon. "I thought maybe it'd be nice if we stretched out a bit," he said, taking the blanket to an unbroken part of the parking lot.

Ino watched him, feeling more than just sexual arousal. The previous evening, she had not been certain if she wanted to give herself to this stranger. Now she was sure she did. More than that, she saw in Brett the kind of man she had always longed for, but never thought truly existed. At the young age of twenty, she had determined for herself that knights in shining armor didn't exist . . . so she had settled for the burly man-at-arms who, if not promising happily ever after, at least promised better than what she had.

Now, two years later, the man of her dreams -- or so it appeared -- had come serendipitously into her life, without promises, without lies, without anything other than reckless forthrightness.

"Ino?"

Brett's query brought her back to the moment. She saw that he had the blanket laid out upon the ground, and he lay reclining on one elbow, turned toward her. She smiled affectionately.

"Sorry," she said with a touch of embarrassment.

"Looks like your mind's a little occupied," Brett suggested.

"What? No," she said quickly, then repeated herself, more firmly. "No. I'm fine. I was just . . . thinking about something for a sec. Nothing worth talking about."

Brett pursed his lips with a slight nod. Don't want to talk about your husband and how he makes you feel, he thought. Wouldn't want to ruin the moment, right?

"So, uh, you want something to drink?" Brett asked. "I brought some water, sodas, even a bottle of Southern Comfort."

Ino smiled, but it faded as arousal took over. "No," she said, standing from the car and pulling her shirt over her head. "I just wanna get naked with you."

Brett grinned, then lay back and unbuckled his slacks.

* * * *

From one moment to the next, it was difficult to tell if they were making love torridly, or fucking with abandon. Ino was as voracious, aggressive, and needy as ever, and once their clothes were out of the way, and the moonlight washed their bodies in its almost purifying, pale radiance, there was nothing to keep them from satisfying any and every desire they had.

She settled atop him in a sixty-nine upon the blanket, murmuring with affection as she stroked the cock which had earlier that day relinquished such a surprisingly satisfying gift. She had never enjoyed the taste of semen before she had met Brett, and perhaps it had been the circumstances of that first taste that made her adore it so, but she now wanted to taste it again.

But her yearning stroking and sucking upon his cock was interrupted by the delicious diversions of Brett's tongue and fingers upon her aching pussy. Ino already knew her lover was skilled when it came to servicing a woman that way, but he was doing things to her she never imagined she would enjoy.

He licked from her swollen clit, along her pink, bulging lips, and even beyond, to the firm ridge of her perineum and the tight, virgin anus beyond. At the first touch of his questing tongue against the surprisingly sensitive opening, Ino faltered, whimpering, taking her mouth from Brett's cock.

Oh, God, that feels good! she marveled. Automatically, she tilted her hips down, giving Brett easier access to her rear opening. She pushed up with her hands and down with her pelvis, gasping when Brett's tongue actually pushed just past the tight sphincter of her anus.

She rolled her hips in tight circles for several moments, giving in to the sublime naughtiness of having a man tonguing her asshole. It was such a deviant, dirty, delicious sensation.

But then she descended upon him again, submerging his cock in her mouth with a hungry growl, inspired by her lover's ministrations upon her backside. So hungry and eager was she to work Brett to orgasm that she did not realize he had moistened two of his fingers until he was pushing one against the entrance of her vagina, the other against her anus. Incredibly, she felt both her holes invaded at the same time.

She snapped her head up, Brett's cock popping from her mouth. The rumbling stirrings of her orgasm surprised her.

"Madre de Dios," she whimpered, grinding back.

And then he latched his mouth to her clit, sucking fiercely, swirling his tongue about in firm, insistent motions. His fingers penetrated deeper into her depths. She could feel them touching between the thin wall of muscle dividing the two heated tunnels.

Ino shuddered, slack-faced, panting. Never in her life had she ever experienced an orgasm unless she was astride a man, or laying back and fingering herself. But now, even in such a position that rubbed her knees raw, she could feel the near-volcanic eruption building.

She started bucking. "D-don't stop," she begged, grinding against Brett's mouth, his fingers. "Oh, fucking God don't stop!"

Brett had no intention of doing so. He kept sliding his fingers in and out at the same steady, rhythmic pace, never ceasing his oral worship of Ino's stiff, needy clit. She rocked and bucked and trembled atop him.

She came with a howl that frightened coyotes for miles, throwing her head back and shoving down against Brett's mouth. Both her tunnels clenched tightly around the digits invading them. The explosive force of her orgasm was unlike anything she had ever known before, and she huffed, sighed, panted, and giggled her way through it.

She did not even know that Brett had rolled her over, onto her back upon the blanket, and shifted positions. As she lay quaking with aftershocks, he spread her legs apart and insinuated his cock against her seething, glowing pink pussy. She was still spasming as he pushed inside her. The contractions of her inner walls nearly made it impossible for him to enter her fully.

Nearly.

She came to amid the realization that he was inside her, and fluttered her eyes open with effort. Brett was leaning over her, gazing down upon his lover with the satisfied smile of a hunter having taken his prey. But Ino was a prey who very much wanted to be taken.

In a state of drunken satisfaction, Ino passed her hands over Brett's strong arms, his chest, his abdomen. She loved the way he felt atop her, within her. She tilted her head to look down at the amazing union of cock and pussy. Never had that sight seemed so beautiful to her. Her gaze drifted back to Brett's.

"Don't ever stop fucking me," she whispered.

He grinned, then leaned down for a kiss that was ardently returned. He kissed and licked her neck, making the girl purr, then made his way down to her breasts, sucking each nipple in turn. Ino writhed beneath him, insistently grinding her hips against his. She seemed to be trying to get every last inch of him inside her, and then some.

Brett had been holding back long enough, and knowing that he had the time, decided he could let loose the flood of his own passion. Pushing her lean thighs back so her knees practically touched her armpits, he drove into her hard and fast, making Ino yelp and gasp and growl. As hard as he gave it to her, the harder she seemed to want it.

Finally, with a long, loud groan, Brett slipped his cock from Ino's slippery tunnel and pushed out over her abdomen. Thick milky streams of cum lanced from his cock. The first jet splattered squarely upon Ino's chin and lips. Subsequent spurts spattered her neck, breasts, and belly. Ino gasped and giggled, watching gape-mouthed as Brett inundated her body with his seed.

But he was not done. Even as the last dribbles of pearly fluid leaked from his cock, he shoved it back inside her, to let her inner muscles milk him dry. Ino stared in amazement at her lover's virility, but offered no protest.

After a few more thrusts, Brett pulled out and reached for her. "Turn around," he ordered.

Ino did so eagerly, slipping over onto her hands and knees. She arched her back, looking over her shoulder at Brett, offering up her cunt in the most lewdly arousing way. Breath poured out between clenched teeth. Shimmering semen dripped from her chin and lower lip. "Keep going, baby," she demanded.

But he hadn't been waiting for her compliance. Gripping the firm cheeks of her ass, he lined up his cock with her saturated pussy and pushed back in, all the way to the hilt. Ino emitted a loud cry as he filled her, but still, she shoved back, wanting everything he could give and more.

The still, humid air was silent save for the wet, feverish smacking of sweaty flesh against sweaty flesh as Brett pounded into the young vixen over and over. He gave in to the moment, becoming nothing more than an animal, and Ino responded in kind, grunting and grinding back.

Yet again, she felt herself beginning to come in a way in which she never had before. Feeling Brett's cock forging deeper and deeper within her, the hot rush of release coursed over her body like a flash fire of the most intimate and pleasurable sort. As she came, pussy clenching hard upon the cock inside her, she reared back, hands off the ground, head to the sky, and announced her carnal joy to the stars overhead.

At the edge of bliss himself, Brett snatched her arms in his own, pulling her against him. He wrapped one arm about her torso, the other just beneath her chin, and exhaled a long, deep, satisfied sigh as he poured forth his passion deep within Ino's womb.

For long moments, they shuddered together, neither of them aware of anything other than the fact that they were alive. Their bodies trembled and shook, sweat and other fluids trickling down their bodies and limbs.

Finally exhausted, they fell to the blanket upon their sides, holding one another close.

* * * *

Brett awakened first, with a start, lifting his head above Ino's shoulder. He looked about, having expected, for a moment, to be in his motel room. But the cooling night air, the buzz of insects in the trees, and the uncomfortable ground beneath reminded him of where he was.

He looked to Ino, cradled tightly against him in his arms. She seemed so sweet, perhaps even innocent, despite the dried fluid upon her chin. He kissed her forehead, making her murmur. He kissed her nose, making her smile.

"Ino."

She shifted, pushing against him, and cuddled his arms more tightly.

Brett chuckled, then pulled his arms away from her amorous clutches. He swept strands of hair away from his lover's face. "Ino. Wake up."

"Hmmm . . . ."

He rolled his eyes. "Ino!"

Her eyes snapped open with an accompanying expression of alarm upon her face. "Que pasa!"

Brett cupped her chin, tilting her face toward him. "Hello, beautiful," he said.

Her features relaxed. She smiled sanguinely. "I was having a dream," she said. "We were having sex on a beach in Mexico."

He gave her an affectionate look. "Sounds good," he said. "But we gotta go."

Ino pouted for a moment, but then she seemed to remember the circumstances of the coupling. She shot up, looking anxious. "What time is it?"

"Time for us to get going."

* * * *

Brett had thought ahead on a number of fronts, one of them being a means to cleanse themselves of the tell-tale residuals of sex. A thick package of medicinal wipes did the trick. He and Ino both used several of the fragrant cloths to wipe their bodies of the residues of sex. Ino seemed a bit distraught when she needed more than one of the thick tissues to clean the fluid from her vagina.

"You came inside me?" she asked as she sat upon the open edge of the passenger door, legs splayed wide.

"I didn't plan on it," Brett said from behind her, cleaning his own genitals. "Hey, I'm clean; I promise."

Ino looked at the streak of milky fluid upon the sanitary towel in her hand. "It's not that," she said. "I just . . . ."

"Just what?" Brett asked.

She cocked her head back with a disarming smile. "Nothing," she said, then offered a kiss.

* * * *

The room appeared much smaller to Brett as he entered. Partitions had been pulled in, so there was just enough room for the six round tables and the small stage at one end.

He was glad to have arrived a little earlier than the previous evening. The stakes where higher tonight -- double the ante -- and he wanted a bit more time to assess the other six gamblers at his table. As with the evening before, the majority were men, with only one woman. She was, Brett realized, quite attractive and probably in her early thirties. She wore a low-cut top that accentuated the size of her undoubtedly fake breasts. Brett's immediate assumption was that the woman relied on her sex appeal to help her game.

But fresh from Ino's passionate embrace, he could not help but compare the woman across the table to Ino's simple beauty, to find the fake-breasted woman lacking.

Mr. Howard Preach stepped onto the small stage, garish mustache twitching. "Welcome to the second round of the Aguilar Poker Tournament," he announced to much lighter applause than the previous evening. "Tonight will determine the final six players for tomorrow's game. That game, in turn, will determine who walks away with five hundred thousand dollars."

Brett's heart palpitated at the thought of winning such a prize. In his years of playing poker, the best night he'd enjoyed had earned him just over forty thousand dollars -- less than ten percent of what he could potentially walk away with from this tournament.

Easy there, tiger, he chided himself. Don't think about the prize. Think about the game. Don't get distracted. Don't even think about how damn good Ino tastes when she's squirming on your face . . . .

Brief arousal shot through his groin. Fuck, he thought, shifting in his seat.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Preach continued, raising his hands to the air. "Round Two will now begin!"

* * * *

The first round did not bode well for Brett. He was nearly called out on a bluff, but one of the other men at the table, a cocky kid younger than he, couldn't keep his eyes of Miss Fake Tits and ended up losing the round.

After a short break, Brett came back stronger, winning the hand soundly and raking in about three and a half thousand for his troubles. With that victory, his confidence remained high, winning through the rest of the hands until it was just he and Miss Fake Tits.

"You ready, hun?" she drawled in a distinctive -- but fake, Brett was certain -- southern accent. She adjusted her top, a move designed to bring Brett's attention to her breasts rather than his cards. But Brett could only be amused.

"Ready as a hound dog on a rabbit chase, ma'am," he shot back, effecting an even more exaggerated southern accent than hers. Brett noticed the smirk on the dealer's face. Miss Fake Tits narrowed her eyes and glared. Brett winked back.

If she had been affected by his barb, she did not show it. However, she did seem to take longer to decide on her cards than usual, and Brett noticed what he hoped was one of the woman's tells: she sucked in her bottom lip when she arranged her cards.

Brett kept his face stoic as he looked over what he held. He had a good chance at either a basic straight, or three of a kind. He had two nines already, and if he magically received a third, he would have more of a leg to stand on.

"Cards?"

"Two," said Miss Fake Tits.

Brett thought briefly, then made up his mind. Fuck it. Win or lose, I'm still thousands ahead. "One," he said.

He took up the new card after it had been passed to him. What the freakin' luck, he thought, setting the Nine of Hearts against those of clubs and diamonds.

"Mr. Walker?" the dealer prompted.

"Raise," he responded, dropping a thousand dollars worth of chips onto the already substantial pile. Then he shrugged and added another stack of like amount. "What the hell," he said with a cocky smile aimed at Miss Fake Tits.

"I see your raise," she said, placing the chips in the center. "And raise you again. Two thousand."

Brett flashed a wink. If you're gonna go, go with a smile. "Two thousand," he said, dropping the chips on the table. "Call."

The dealer cocked a brow. "Sir, Ma'am, cards, please."

Brett lay out the three of a kind, giving Miss Fake Tits a challenging smile.

She stared for a long moment, then sighed deeply, setting out a pair of queens.

"The round to Mr. Walker," the dealer announced.

Brett eased back with a disbelieving grin. "All of a sudden, I feel like lighting up a really expensive cigar."

Miss Fake Tits stared at him as a steward gathered and arranged Brett's chips in preparation for checking out. "So, uh, how about a friendly wager so I can get me some of my money back?"

Brett cocked a brow. He loved having the upper hand. "Such as . . .?"

She pouted her lips and effected a smoldering look. "Such as, something I'd rather propose in private."

Brett chuckled, which grew into a snicker, then became a laugh. He was still laughing when the woman stood and left the room in a huff.

"Nicely played, young man," came the voice of Howard Preach, appearing at the edge of the table. "Did well with the cards tonight, too."

Brett grinned, then took a breath to flush away the almost undeniable sense of invulnerability he felt. He pushed himself to his feet to accept Preach's outstretched hand. "Thank you, Mr. Preach. It's been a fun ride so far."

The short-statured man chuckled wryly. "It's going to get even more fun," he said ominously, taking a gold-colored card from inside his blazer. "This will get you into my private suite here at the casino tomorrow. Three o'clock. Don't be a moment late, son, or you forfeit."

Brett took the card and nodded. "I'll see you then."

"In the meantime," Preach said in a more cheerful tone. He raised his voice for the other five winners to hear. "Drinks are on me all night."

* * * *




A Chance at Passion



Preach's offer was not exactly generous, since anyone actively gambling got free drinks. Brett decided to call it a night, perhaps hit a drive-through for a late night snack. He wanted to get enough sleep to be sharp and focused the following day. In a way, he was glad that the last round of the tournament would be during the day rather than at midnight. Win or lose, he would be done with Del Rio by dinner.

Which would only leave the question of what to do about Ino . . . .

His sudden thought of her made him reach for his phone. He had turned it off during the game as per house rules, and now switched it back on while making his way toward the casino doors. Sure enough, there were two messages from his lover. The first had been sent perhaps ten minutes after he had dropped her off at home. It simply read, "good luck."

The second had come just under twenty minutes earlier: "I am so wet for you right now. I can't stand it. All I want to do is make love to you."

Her message aroused him, but he hesitated before responding. His gaze focused on two particular words: make love.

How serious is she taking this? Brett wondered, stopping in the middle of the casino's lobby, surrounded by flashing lights and a cacophony of sounds. Hell, how serious am I taking this?

She's a married woman, Brett. An unhappily married woman. She probably wants out, and maybe she thinks she's falling for you. Maybe she thinks you're gonna take her away from the shitty life she's trapped in.

Question is . . . are you? If you win tomorrow, and you've got half a million in your pocket . . . that'd be enough for any two people to live on for quite a while. Long enough to decide where to settle down . . . .

The conundrum nagged at him as he headed toward the doors and out into the warm night air. Finally, halfway to his car, he stopped and sent back a short message. "I keep thinking about you, too."

He checked the time on the phone -- 2:24 AM -- then tucked it back in his jacket.

It vibrated just as he reached his car. He had not expected that. At such a late hour, he would have thought Ino would be asleep in the bed she shared with her drunkard husband.

Standing beside the roadster, he took out the phone to see the message she had sent.

"I masturbated twice tonight thinking about you. I licked my fingers after and it tasted different because you came inside me. My husband's passed out and won't wake up for hours. I want you."

Despite his reservations, Brett could not ignore the sharp and sudden arousal that gripped him. He could just pretend he did not get the message, he knew, and head back to the motel for some much-needed sleep. He needed to be fully rested and ready the following day.

Logic told him to just let it go and get some sleep.

But his reckless mind would not let him listen to logic.

* * * *

This is stupid, he told himself. There's reckless, and then there's stupid, and this is definitely stupid.

Mental berating notwithstanding, Brett stopped the car just past the entrance of the drive leading to Ino's house. He pulled off the gravel road and cut the engine, then stepped out into the still night air. He could hear crickets chirping and the occasional rustle of some small animal in the darkened grass, but nothing else. The homes in the spacious park were all darkened for the night.

He looked for the large cedar Ino had mentioned in her text, finding it standing between the edges of her property and that of another tenant of the park. He approached warily, cool, damp grass crunching beneath his shoes. As he stepped closer, he could make out the swinging bench suspended from the limbs above.

Like a ghostly manifestation, a figure emerged from around the far side of the tree's thick trunk. Even in the deep shade provided by the tree, Brett could tell it was Ino. More than that, he could see she was totally and unabashedly nude.

He took in a deep, calming breath, but it helped little to assuage the rapidly-growing sexual need within him. He slowed in his steps, watching his lover as she slid onto the hanging bench. She casually lifted and spread her legs wide while facing him. One of her hands settled between her legs, upon the delectable young cunt Brett had come to treasure.

He stopped several feet away, watching Ino as she stroked her thick, dark pink lips. Knowing she had his rapt attention, she slipped a finger between her folds, then brought it to her lips. Through the gloom, she stared at his face as she sucked the tangy flavor from her finger.

"I want you," she declared huskily.

Brett did not respond with words. Instead, he approached his unabashed lover, nearly pressing himself between her thighs as he reached out to snare her fine-boned ankles. Almost rudely, he pushed her legs back, making Ino gasp. His hands then slid down her inner thighs as he dropped to his knees.

The fragrance wafting from her sex was strong, feral, almost overpowering. Her pussy was swollen and pink and more than obviously wet. The fleshy lips overlapped the dark, spritely hair surrounding her labia and glistened in the dim light.

He latched his mouth to her pussy and sucked deeply, making them both moan. Ino did, indeed, taste a little different, Brett decided. Stronger. Perhaps he tasted a bit of himself upon those sublimely sleek lips. He did not care. He devoured her as a starving man would feast upon the most delicious buffet, sucking, licking, digging, pulling.

Ino whimpered and moaned, slapping her hands to the back of Brett's head, wanting to get off. But just as he could detect the tells of opposing gamblers, Brett could tell when Ino was about to come. And just at the apex of her sexual high, he suddenly jerked back, his mouth as dripping as her pussy, and lurched to his feet.

He had unzipped his slacks while servicing her, and now his cock was thick and stiff and ready. Just as Ino was about to protest her denied orgasm, he shoved himself inside her, making the broad swing creak and moan, echoing the sounds his lover now made.

Ino sighed deeply, a sound mingled with a staccato, girlish whimper as Brett's cock dug deep within her. She looked up at him with complete adoration.

He leaned over her, slipping a hand behind Ino's head to tilt her face up for a kiss. Their lips and tongues dueled feverishly as he pumped back and forth, each thrust harder and firmer than the last. The bench swing croaked in protest. Ino's legs danced and trembled.

"Make me come," she pleaded, her voice soft, hoarse, distant. "Please."

Brett responded only with a grin and a growl, fucking harder and harder, his balls slapping against her buttocks, his cock squelching with each determined thrust within her snug tunnel.

Around them, the air seemed to become charged. The wind picked up. The sharp aroma of ozone filled their senses. Brett ignored it all, focusing upon his union with Ino.

All the while, her eyes stared into his, a constantly pleading expression within them. But then they suddenly closed, and her features twisted. Her body quaked and stiffened, vaginal muscles gripping tight around Brett's cock. He knew she was on the verge, and to send her over, he settled his lips against her neck and sucked.

"Oh, God!" Ino cried, convulsing in orgasm. She shook back and forth, making the swing protest against the strain. Her pussy clamped down around Brett's cock, as if wanting to keep it inside forever.

But just as Ino's orgasm played out and she began to ebb down, Brett thrust a few more times within her before pulling out. His cock stiff and wet, shimmering with his lover's fluids, he stroked himself to climax. Spurts of milky fluid splattered onto Ino's breasts and heaving stomach.

She giggled at the feel of his warm offering, and suddenly doubled up, bending over to suck the head of Brett's still-gushing cock in her mouth. She moaned at the taste of his semen, and pulled him closer to make sure his penis remained in her mouth until his orgasm had run its course.

Brett smacked his hands to the back of the swing, trembling and on the verge of losing balance. His cock burned within Ino's mouth, especially given the way her tongue massaged it, coaxing out every last drop of precious fluid he had to give. She pushed him back gently, just enough so that the very tip of his cock graced her lips, and swallowed with a soft, contented sigh. Then she engulfed him almost to the root, running her hands up and down his body.

He finally drew back, penis softened and spent. She gave the head one last loving lick and leaned back, smiling sublimely.

"I never liked the taste of it before," she revealed with a sigh, looking up at him. "But if you wanted to do it in my mouth every time, I'd love it."

He chuckled, still euphoric, and cupped her face. "You're an amazing woman," he said.

She grinned with pure affection. "I love the way you look at me."

He settled onto his knees once more before her, smoothing his hands up and down her pale, toned thighs. The satisfied flesh of her sex seemed to wink at him, as if to suggest further consummation. He kissed the edge of her pubic mound, feeling the soft wet hairs against his lips.

"You didn't tell me how you did tonight," she said.

He looked up at her with a crooked smile. "I won the second round," he told her.

Ino grinned again and clapped her hands together girlishly. "Yay!"

He laughed. "Still one more round to go," he said. "Tomorrow at three in the afternoon."

"Not at midnight?" she asked.

He shook his head with a wry chuckle. "I should really be getting some sleep right now."

Ino's face darkened, looking apologetic. "Oh, God, baby, I'm sorry."

Brett shook his head. "Don't you dare apologize."

"But--"

"But nothing," Brett said firmly, pushing up to kiss his lover. He did not mind the stickiness of her lips, the lingering flavor of his own semen. "You're my good luck charm."

Ino smiled sweetly and touched his cheek, gazing dreamily into his eyes. "What're you gonna do if you win the whole thing?"

Brett shrugged. "It might be bad luck to think about that, you know," he said.

She laughed softly. "What do you win?" she asked. "I mean, if you, uh, win?"

He smiled. "Half a million dollars."

Ino's eyes bulged. "Seriously?"

He nodded. "Yup."

"Wow."

He laughed. "'Wow' is an understatement," he said. "And I don't think I'm gonna win the whole thing. Best I can hope for is to at least break even and walk away with the winnings I've already put in the bank. Seriously, what I've already won from the first two rounds has made this trip worth it. But not as worth it as meeting you."

She both swooned at his words and gave him a you're-full-of-shit look. "So, what if you do win the whole thing?"

Brett shrugged, casually caressing Ino's naked legs. He ducked his head to plant a kiss upon her glowing pink pussy. "Actually, if I did, I figured I'd go full pro," he said. "Cash in my car, buy a nice little RV and go on the road, hitting every casino with a tournament."

She smiled. "Sounds nice," she said.

"Nice for a pipe dream," he responded. "Truth is, I'll do my best, but I won't win the big purse. I'm okay with that. This has still been the best tournament I've ever been to."

She touched his lip with her thumb, eyes roaming across his face. "You'd really sell your car?"

He laughed. "Yeah, probably."

"I like your car," Ino said absently. "Some really nice things've happened in it."

Brett smirked. "In, on, around," he said. "Tell you what; if I win the tournament, the car's yours."

Ino bit her lip, staring into his eyes. "Pinky swear?"

He nodded and raised his hand, curling his little finger. "Pinky swear."

* * * *

If ever there was a day in which Brett was ready for anything, that Friday was it. Despite finally making it to his motel room bed at just after four in the morning, he awoke refreshed and smiling a little before ten. With hours to go before the final round of the poker tournament, he made a deposit at the bank, did some light shopping, and gradually made his way back to the Double J diner for a slice of cherry apple pie.

The flirtatious middle-aged waitress, Mona, greeted him with a randy smile and told him, before he asked, that Ino wasn't working that day and that she would be taking care of him. Brett chuckled at first, but the woman's blatant come-ons nearly became annoying.

Still, he savored every bite of the pie, having come to the conclusion that it was as much a determinant of his good luck as coupling with his favorite, sexy young waitress.

Just as he finished the last bite of pie, Mona appeared to clear the plate away. "You know," she drawled in her trailer trash accent. "Something occurred to me while I was watching you eat."

Brett wiped his mouth with a napkin and regarded the woman dubiously. "What's that?"

The corner of her mouth curled as if she had gained the wisdom of the ages. "You don't do nothing halfway."

He frowned in confusion. "Is that good or bad?"

She laughed softly, assessing him once more with her eyes. "I know lots'a people around here," she said in a quietly ominous way. "I hear just about everything that goes on in this town."

Brett watched her, effecting his poker face. "Okay."

Mona smacked her gum with a self-efficacious smile. "You been doing pretty well at the Aguilar," she said. "Sent some people packing. They say you're pretty smooth."

Brett smiled back, cocking his head. "Have to be."

Mona nodded. "Uh-huh. Sure do. But there's a big difference between hearts on a card and hearts on a person."

He stared back, stoic. "Not sure I know what you mean."

Mona slid into the chair across from him, boldly meeting Brett's eyes with her own. "Not that it's general knowledge at all," she said, then laughed to herself. "Hell, I'd be surprised if anyone else has picked up on it . . . but you and Ino . . . that ain't no stroll in the park. I figure you already know that."

Brett said nothing, not knowing who this woman was beyond her name and occupation.

"You ain't gotta say a thing," Mona continued with a casual wave of her hand. "Don't need to. But Ino ain't exactly happy where she's at."

"No kidding," Brett said.

Mona smiled, appearing glad that Brett decided to join the conversation. "You know what she's looking for."

He pursed his lips. His eyes drifted away. "A way out."

A wink dusted the mature woman's eye. "Now, I ain't gonna dare to think I know what either you two are feeling, but I got suspicions. And I gotta wonder if my baby girl Ino's gonna ride off into the sunset, or if she's just gonna get left behind to watch another sun go down."

Brett didn't respond. He did not know what to say.

Mona stood and slipped a check presenter from her apron, setting it down upon the table. "Whenever you're ready, hun."

* * * *

Brett was of two minds when he entered the casino. Part of whim was concentrating upon the battle of wits that lay ahead, while the other wrestled with his choices concerning Ino. Win or lose, he knew, Ino would be hoping in some doe-eyed fashion to be carried away from her life of minutia. Brett had all but promised her that through his actions.

Damn it, he cursed himself as he made his way through the casino, fingering the gold card in his hand. All I wanted to do was play some fucking cards . . . .

A series of ushers pointed him in the right direction, and he found himself being guided along a short carpeted hall to a rather unassuming door. Stepping through as it was opened for him, Brett looked upon a private parlor. There was a single large round table in the middle of the room. The opposite wall was a bank of windows looking out upon the Mexican desert.

Howard Preach in all his diminutive glory was there to greet him, offering an empty hand. "Mr. Walker," he said with a twitch of his mustache. "Welcome to the final round."

Brett managed a smile, banishing, for the moment, all other thoughts that did not relate to card-playing. He shook Preach's hand. "Are you playing?"

Preach barked in laughter. "Oh, hell no," he declared. "I'm a businessman."

Brett winked. "Me, too."

* * * *

The six of them sat quietly, professionally, anxious around the table. Brett let his eyes drift over each of the four other men and one lone woman -- unlike Miss Fake Tits, this one was modestly dressed and into her sixties, not at all what Brett would want to see posing in a mechanic's photo calendar -- finding each of them a par above the opponents he had faced the previous two days, if only by dress alone.

"Gentlemen and lady," Preach said as he stood off to one side of the room. He held no microphone this time. "This is the final round in the Aguilar Poker Tournament. My congratulations to all of you for making it this far."

Light, scattered applause followed the man's words, but Preach waved it away with an amused look. "I don't care what happens tonight," he said. "As long as it is fair and just. The six of you are the best this tournament has brought, but only one of you can win. Let it be a respectful win." He took up a glass of champagne, identical to the one before each of the players.

"Salud."

"Salud," responded the gamblers.

Carelessly, Preach hurled his glass toward the hearth of the corner fireplace. He grinned. "Let's get to it!"

* * * *

Brett stared at the cards in his hand. The only bright points where the seven and nine of hearts. Two hearts, he thought. Is that supposed to mean something? I'm one heart and Ino is another? Nine minus seven is two, which is how many years she's been unhappily married . . . .

"Cards?" asked the dealer.

"Two," Brett muttered, tossing cards across the table. He slapped up the fresh ones, finding a seven of clubs.

Okay, so Ino's the seven, and I'm the nine . . . there's two of her and one of me . . . two different ways her life can go . . . what the fuck am I thinking? Get your head out from between her legs, man!

Brett was barely aware of what was going on around him. He was operating on automatic. When there was a raise, he put in his chips, and when the call came, he laid down his cards.

He did not have the best hand, but neither did he have the worst. A rotund fellow in an impressive suit swore under his breath and rose to cash in his remaining chips. Brett looked up to the man briefly, as if wondering what was going on, and sipped his bourbon.

Clear your head, damn it!

The following hand was equally semi-disastrous. Brett ended with a pair of tens, barely beating out a pair of nines and keeping himself in the game. For Brett, however, nearly losing twice in a row was tantamount to folding and walking away.

"I need a moment," he announced, abruptly pushing back from the table and standing.

"Mr. Walker, we cannot stop the game once in progress," Mr. Preach warned.

"Then deal my cards," Brett replied, taking a few steps and turning away. He stared out across the serene desert view, imagining a playful young Ino, as innocent as her name implied, growing up with such surroundings . . . only to find herself trapped before she had even finished the first quarter-century of her life.

It's not my responsibility to take care of her, he thought angrily. She's not my responsibility. She's beautiful, she's sweet, she's an incredible lover, but I didn't come here to save someone from misery. I came here to win.

"Mr. Walker, if you do not take your seat, you will be considered as forfeiting. You will lose."

Brett's eyes narrowed. Mona's words resounded in his mind, a snippet of the conversation they'd had. "You know what she's looking for," she had said. And you said, "a way out."