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The Strip Ch. 01

By: sugarRae



If a dog is man's best friend, then surely a car is a woman's best friend. A car gives you independence, safety, pride of possession, status, all those nice things. But the mirror has two faces, and a car can also get into some situations you wouldn't exactly seek out for yourself.

My own black early-eighties Cherokee was my pride and joy throughout my happy years at Hamner. It was old, true, and rather banged-up, but it ran well and I kept it very clean inside and out. It was big enough for several friends to pile in so we could go off on adventures of all kinds, from a trip to Florida to simple midnight runs for doughnuts.

I say it ran well. Until the day I noticed a slight, but nonetheless persistent irritating rattle that seemed to come from the dash. It wasn't constant, and you couldn't hear it at all if the radio was up loud enough, but it was noticeable when starting or stopping the car and especially when turning sharply. I had a look-see under the hood, but my automotive knowledge is limited mainly to tire inflation, tuning radio stations, and pumping gas and all those areas looked to be okay. The washer fluid level was okay. 

I had to face the fact that I would have to take my baby in somewhere to be looked at and fixed, and that would undoubtedly cost me bukku dollars, which were not exactly in abundant supply. That's where Krista came to my rescue.

Krista was a girl in my dorm who could always be counted on to know the best place to go to get any goods or services at the lowest possible costs. A lot of people mistrusted her advice after the debacle of the place where you could get dirt-cheap Buffalo Wings that sickened half the dorm, but I went to her with my car trouble, and sure enough, she came through. She promised to do some research and get back to me.

A few hours later, I was sitting in the lounge watching Montell chatting up overweight drag queens battered by their partners when Krista came sidling into the room. She slunk past me and, spy like, tucked a scrap of paper into my hand and then vanished again. She really liked that Mata Hari shit.

I unfolded the paper and read the words "Moe's Motors, ask for Pee Wee." Oh, joy. That was a pair of names to inspire confidence if I ever heard one. Moe's Motors turned out to be located in a rather seedy part of town. I spoke first to an equally seedy-looking character who introduced himself as Moe, who didn't take the toothpick out of his mouth the entire time I talked to him. In fact, I never saw him without it. For all I know, it grew there. "Could I talk to Pee Wee?" I asked. "I've got a Cherokee with a rattle."

"Pee Wee ain't here just now."

"Oh, well, can you tell me when he will be in?"

"Judge says he could be out in eight months with good behavior." I must've looked crushed, because Moe said quickly "Don't worry though, Miss. Duane can take care of you."

Have you ever noticed that, about car types? They never take care of your vehicle, they take care of you.

"Okay, thanks, where do I find Duane?" I asked.

"Right behind you" said a new voice. I turned around quickly. I'm not sure what I expected to see, probably a Moe look-alike. I found myself facing a guy about my own age, well over six feet and very "built." His hair, in my much-admired ponytail, was a little blonder than mine. And the eyes were... omigod, omigod- absolute ice blue, and looking straight down into my dark hazel ones.

I felt my cheeks burning hot pink and had to make an effort not to let my jaw drop or my mouth spread into a silly love struck smile. I am quite sure Duane, and most likely Moe too, took notice of this, though they didn't say anything about it.

I went through my spiel again as Duane and I walked out to my jeep, all the time trying not to stare. He wore jeans that were quite tight, and left little to the imagination. They'd have looked better without that cheesy pseudo-Western shirt he had chosen to go with them.

"Start her up," Duane ordered me and I hastened to comply, only dropping my keys twice. The rattle was not audible outside the car, so I suggested we drive around the block a few times. True to form, whenever I braked or turned, there came that that faint but undeniable rattle.

I was rattled myself, driving around with Duane's blue gaze seemingly pinned on me. He sat sidewise in the seat listening without comment and watching me at the wheel and occasionally asking me to brake or turn. Suddenly, he popped open the glove compartment.

"Hey, what are you doing?" I asked, somewhat alarmed. I turned my head to look at him, and he was holding a metal box of Altoid mints and a wrench.

"There's your mysterious rattle," he said, and balanced the box of mints over two fingers with the wrench propped on it. Sure enough the two metallic surfaces clattered faintly against each other. I have never felt like such a moron in my life. What a fool I was, and an expensive fool at that. Swallowing hard, I asked, in the voice like that of a chain-smoker overcome by fear "How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing," came the reply. I raised my eyebrow at him, skeptically. "Nothing at all. If you'll agree to go out with me some time."

Talk about lucky! No actual car problem and no charge for finding that out, except if you call a date with a hunk a price. I didn't. "Oh thank you so much! You've made my day! Of course I'll go out with you. I could even do it tonight if you wanted." I damn near sang my response. 

He did want that, and suggested dinner at Applebee's (he had coupons for it that needed to be used) and afterward maybe we'd hit the Strawberry Moon. 

That was fine with me. I didn't know what the Strawberry Moon was, probably some bar or club or other. Strange as it may seem, I was not familiar with every establishment serving alcohol within a fifty-mile radius of the college. But what the hell, first time for everything, right?

As soon as I got into my dorm, I tracked down Krista in the laundry room. "I need your help," I said.

"Again?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, choosing to ignore her tone and the eyes rolled upward. "I need wardrobe advice. I have a date tonight, with a hunk. We're going to Applebee's and then some place called the Strawberry Moon. What do I wear? I've never been to that place before. It's not too formal, is it?"

Was it my imagination, or did the great Krista's expression flicker slightly? Did that eyebrow go up a millimeter, did the corner of that mouth try to turn up in a knowing little smirk? Naaah. Course not.

"Amy Rae," she pronounced solemnly, "The only rule at the Strawberry Moon is and always has been, ANYTHING GOES. Whatever you wear will be fine."

I wondered briefly at her odd emphasis and the now-definite smirk she was wearing, but I dismissed such thoughts, thanked her and left. As I crossed the threshold I distinctly heard her mutter "Some hunk." I put it down to simple jealousy.

Duane picked me up at the front of my dorm promptly at six-thirty. He was driving a Ford truck of the variety I would describe as a testosterone tank. A shorter girl would have had trouble getting up into it, and nobody could have done it decently in a skirt.

Dinner went without a hitch, and Duane told me something I'd long suspected. To wit: men, when they are taking a girl out to dinner, like to see her eat red meat and dessert, rather than pick fussily at a salad and sip diet Coke. It did my heart good to hear it.

"You still okay to try the Strawberry Moon?" Duane asked me. There was a funny little twitch to his lips when he said it. I nodded and said "I'm game"-like deer in the head lights. 

So we drove off out of town, a little way out of the Blue Ridge Mountains. By this time I was finally beginning to get the picture that the Strawberry Moon was a disreputable place and good for a laugh. I figured it would be some rinky-dink redneck dive where a lot of fights broke out and guys spit on the floor. Well, I can handle that.

So imagine, if you will, my surprise and chagrin when Duane bulled the truck into a parking space in front of a small squat structure over which, besides the glowing neon-red strawberry, was the bold legend: "LIVE NUDE GIRLS!!! TOPLESS, BOTTOMLESS, GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS!"

After taking this all in I turned to stare at Duane. He sat behind the wheel, the engine still running, apparently waiting for my reaction. Plain as day, I saw I was being tested; a trial by fire, as it were. If I objected, Duane would probably turn around and drive me back home, but I was damned if I'd fail the test.

I took a deep breath and said "I'm gladit's "Live nude girls." I wouldn't be very interested in dead ones." With that, I opened the passenger door and hopped out. Duane shut the motor off and caught up with me, taking my hand as we crossed the lot to the door.

"Nothing much throws you, does it?" he commented.

"Not much," I agreed.

I'd never been inside a strip joint before and I have to confess I was a little disappointed that it wasn't fancier. A big bouncer who looked like Osama Bin Laden's long-lost younger brother gave us the once-over and waved us on in without checking ID. Inside was dim, smoky, noisy and hot. A few dozen redneck types plus maybe three blowsy-looking women were scattered about on straight chairs and at wobbly tables. Onstage, under colored lights flashing in a spastic pattern, a skinny white girl was wiggling and bobbing to the accompaniment of that strip-joint staple "The Thong Song."

The girl wasn't bad-looking, though she was too thin. She had long straight brown hair and at the moment was wearing a Confederate flag G-string and cowgirl boots. I liked the G-string. She was not a good dancer however, with little sense of rhythm, and her boots seemed too cumbersome for her. There was a metal pole at center stage and she would occasionally grab onto it and swing around it, or rub her small pointed breasts up and down on it. The metal of the pole was probably cold, and I could see her dark nipples standing out hard.

I threw back a couple of watered-down drinks while the Rebel Flag girl shimmied out of her G-string. This place wasn't kidding when it advertised itself as bottomless. She'd done something to her pubic hair, shaved or trimmed it into a rough heart shape that she must've thought was cute. It wasn't. She grabbed the pole high up, boosted herself off the floor and wrapped her legs around it, pressing her open cunt against the metal pole. I could tell from her face that it felt good to her. I began to think it might feel good to me too. I was hot in that airless room.

Duane was in a chair next to mine and watching me intently. I smiled at him to show I was cool with this whole situation. He leaned over and confided "That one on now, that's Brandi. Not a bad person but she's got a drug habit and that's how come she's so scrawny."

Brandi finished to polite applause and gathered up her scattered clothing and walked offstage. About five minutes later a blonde girl appeared in a long slinky red gown and started dancing to "Vogue." She was actually”voguing” to it, and was very graceful. Duane told me her name was Roxanne and she'd been a few years ahead of him in high school. I was surprised he knew so much about all the strippers.

While Roxanne was doing her thing, a couple other girls were circulating around hustling drinks, chatting and I saw one of them land on a guy's lap and squirm for a few minutes with her tits in his face. That, I gathered, was a lap dance. And when I saw that, I made my mistake.

"You better not try and get me to sit for a lap dance," I said to Duane, and his gorgeous eyes lit up immediately. Oh, I could watch those eyes all night, would do about anything to get that blue light fixed on me.

Before I knew it, big blonde Roxanne stopped by. She and Duane hugged like the old friends they were and then she nodded at me and said "This one's real pretty, who is she?"

"This is Amy Rae. She's sort of a beginner, never been to a place like this before.""I liked your routine," I added honestly,”You have got some good moves there."

Roxanne thanked me graciously as I slipped a dollar bill into the frilly garter on her thigh. I may have been a beginner, but I'd read enough to know what was expected of me. Then Duane beckoned Roxanne over to him and they went into a huddle, whispering and snickering together in a way I didn't much like.

I had just begun to grasp what was going on when Duane hitched my chair closer to him and Roxanne straddled my lap. I made a single feeble effort to get up from under, but it was too late.

Roxanne was what they call zaftig. She was taller than me by a couple of inches, and very curvy; big breasts with the little sag that comes from extra weight, narrowish waist, long muscular legs and big round ass. Not the Kate Moss type at all, but earthy and quite attractive. Her hair was a light honey-blonde and curly, and her skin was clear and rosy. Healthy good looks, you might say.

She rested her hands on my shoulders and rotated her butt on my lap while keeping most of her weight on her feet, planted on the floor on either side of my chair. Her fleshy tits pressed right up in my face, the nipples a light coffee color and a tattoo of a red rose over the left one. She smelled a little sweaty and also of breath mints and Passion perfume.

I sat stiff and uncomfortable at first, feeling myself blushing deep red. I became aware of men gathering around us to watch and some of them stepping in close to tip Roxanne, tucking the bills into her leg bands or down the top of her boots. Sometimes a hand would brush against me in the process and I had no room to flinch away from it.

Duane must've sensed I was having a hard time, because he got up and stood behind my chair and stroked my long hair, lifting it so it was off my neck and running his fingers through it. It was somehow soothing and I began to see the humor of the situation I was in, and also to enjoy the attention we were getting.

Naturally Roxanne was the center of attention,but I overheard several favorable comments about me from our audience. "Good sport" said one gentleman. "Looks real good-natured" said another. "Nice legs" was another opinion. And suddenly I felt a hand slide between Roxanne and me and stuff a folded bill into the front waistband of my black jeans!

With that, my inhibitions vanished and I began moving my hips in the seat in time with Roxanne's so that we were essentially dancing together. I put my arms around her waist and one hand on her butt and the crowd went wild, and more hands reached between us to tip us. Some of the hands accidentally-on-purpose brushed against her or my breasts, but neither of us objected to the gropes. They were getting their dollar's worth. Duane was still standing behind me and he had slid his hands under my thin purple sweater, with his fingers under the shoulder straps of my bra. The sensation sent chills through my body and I could feel my nipples getting hard and my pussy juicing up.

At last the song ended and Roxanne stood up off my lap, laughing and wiping the sweat off her forehead. I stood up too, and before I could talk myself out of it I reached out, pulled her in close to me and kissed her full on the mouth. She seemed startled, but then hugged me back hard and slipped her tongue briefly against mine. Our fans roared their approval, stamped, clapped and whistled.

I noticed that Roxanne had left a damp spot on my jeans and I headed for the ladies' room to take care of it. On my way, men kept stopping me to give me more tips. I got bold and began lifting my sweater so they could stash the bills in the front of my black bra. It wasn't a push-up bra, so I had to ask Duane to follow me and hold my breasts together to make a cleavage to hold my winnings. Just before I got to the bathroom door, I turned to face the room and made a sweeping bow.

Duane and I rode back to my dorm in a companionable silence. He parked in our dorm's parking lot and we kissed for several minutes. He moved quickly to the next level, kissing and sucking on my neck till he'd raised a hickey. I stopped him when he started to undo my bra. The dorm's porch was lit up and crowded with the usual nicotine addicts, even at that late hour, and some things you don't do where your friends can see you. So we kissed a few more minutes and I finally got ready to say good-night.

"I really had fun tonight," I told him, truthfully.

"You don't have to say that just to be nice. Not too many girls like that kind of thing."

"No, I really did have fun. Plus I made $57. And had a good dinner and some good company and fine kissing." Southern girls always know just how to put a little sugar and spice into it.

As I got down from the truck, Duane said "I bet you could do a great strip dance yourself sometime. It wouldn't necessarily have to be for a big audience."

I smiled modestly and said "Oh I don't know about that." But as I walked into Hilltop Hall, I had the feeling that not only was I capable of doing a strip dance, I also would be doing one fairly soon. For an audience of one. 

The Strip Ch. 01



This is a rewrite of 'Vegas', combining both Books. While maintaining the theme, it offers a completely different and fresh take for the main characters.

Grateful thanks go to the best editor in the world – thesoundandfury - not only for his editing, but also for the constant encouragement, suggestions, and for helping me to become a better writer. 

Chapter 1: Beginnings

Daniel Stone wearily pulled into the loading dock and parked the truck by the heavy iron doors across to the right. The small, ugly concrete loading area could only cater for four trucks at any given time, but tonight it was empty. No problem in negotiating into the small parking spot.

He sighed. How much sleep had his Internet poker addiction cost him in recent weeks? Last night had been no different. And Grace's performance tonight would result in another late night. His girlfriend had a marvellous voice, though so far she'd not yet broken through into the big time. She would. That indefinable star quality meant it was only a matter of time. 

Okay, country acid house was an unusual sound. Definitely not mainstream. But Alabama 3 hadn't done badly, had they? 

And the sexy Lisa Welles had taken the genre to a new level. The hottest ticket since Britney Spears in her prime—and that was nothing compared to the following she had in Europe—Grace had modelled her style on the blonde superstar.

Yet Daniel knew their voices were very different. He was convinced his girlfriend's was every bit as commercial – if she could just get that first break, success was just around the corner.

The youngster's stretch as he alighted from the truck was laboured. God, his body ached. It took only a moment to open the vehicle's back door. The night workers would shortly be loading it up again for the next batch of deliveries, but that would be somebody else's problem.

Jogging across the hard concrete into the tiny depot's office, he poured himself a plastic cup of water from the machine on the wall. It would fall off soon if it wasn't repaired. It was unusual for the tatty front office to be empty. Slim would be somewhere around, he always was.

The thin owner had a fearsome reputation. Although Daniel and Slim got on well enough, the younger man was always on his guard. His employer's hard, dark eyes gave a hint of the continually scheming brain. Keep on his right side, Daniel constantly told himself.

From the stories he occasional overheard, the dark haired youngster was aware that a few of his fellow delivery drivers did after hours side jobs for Slim. God knows what they got involved in. If there was something dirty going on in this part of London, his boss had something to do with it. 

Daniel was only too aware he'd be drawn into that line of work if he weren't careful. Slim had often commented on his tall, solid frame and suggested he could 'help him out'. The money would come in useful, certainly. But the crinkly haired young man was careful to distance himself from such activities. Like Grace, he had his own dream. 

Stick to what he knew while he waited for a break of his own. One day, he'd become a professional poker player. He just needed a bankroll to give himself the opportunity to prove himself.

That's why he'd taken this job. A driver for one of the local delivery companies wasn't quite his ideal position. He often laughingly compared himself to Matt Damon in the movie, Rounders. In the movie, Damon took the job to earn back the money his character had lost playing poker. With Daniel, it was to make money so that he could join the circuit. 

If it weren't for his girlfriend, he'd already have started down that route. Taken what he had and used it to bankroll himself. He knew he could make a good living. Grace didn't feel the same way. If they wanted to continue to afford to live in the cheap, rented, London apartment, they needed a steady income. He'd have to get a real job, she'd insisted. 

One day he'd prove her wrong. Until then, he'd pleased her by taking a job for the Parcel Express business. When his Internet bankroll was large enough, the sky would be the limit. 

He glanced around. Where the hell was Slim? He needed to sign out and make his way to meet Grace. That's when he heard the noise in the small back office. He ambled across, glancing through the small window in the middle of the badly veneered brown door. 

There was just enough light in the back room to make out the moving shapes. Slim sat on the wicker chair, his head nodding slightly. He was facing away from the door. So was the naked girl writhing on his lap.

***

"Yeah, baby," the dyed blonde gasped, gyrating on his lap. She loved the reverse cowgirl position, delighting in the way her snug little pussy swallowed him whole. For a second, she closed her eyes, lying back against his chest as he fondled her huge tits. 

She enjoyed her evening sessions with the businessman. He paid her well to do something she loved. Fucking. Doing it in the dark of the back office added a bit of romance. She didn't get much romance. Her groan as his hands tweaked her nipples turned into a throaty growl. 

Her eyes opened again, staring into the stained mirror on the cheap brown desk in front of her. A small, bronze filing cabinet sat to their right, the three items of furniture being all the small room could accommodate. 

Geez! She loved watching herself being fucked. She also loved an audience. And the young man's face peering in through the small window in the door was a helluva turn on.

"Oh, yeah," she gasped, more to the face than the man beneath her. A chance to put on a show.

She began to gyrate, moving like a lap dancer, her eyes glued on the eyes that peered through the small window. Her hips rotated in tight little circles in Slim's lap. Her hands covered his, encouraging him to mash her tits harder. When Slim began to groan, she leant forward, easing her ass upwards before slamming it back down on him again.

"Fuck, honey," the panting man gasped. 

She repeated the manoeuvre. Again. Then once more. 

Slim's hands redirected to her slim hips to steady himself. Taking advantage, she clutched her magnificent swells, pulling on her long nipples and showing them to the refection in the mirror. Even in the semi dark of the room, she was pretty sure the peeping tom could see.

Arching her back, she changed from her slamming, downward thrusts to circular rotations again. "Like that, baby?" she asked.

"Yeah," panted Slim. 

But it wasn't the thin business owner she was speaking to. It was the face at the door.

Her hands left her tits to run through her dirty, blonde hair. So what if the roots were showing? Men found that sexy. She pulled it high on top of her head as she jammed back down on him, making sure Slim's long dick burrowed as deep into her sex as he could possibly go. 

She flexed her legs, digging her feet into the linoleum as she began to bounce. Just like Tigger, her favourite cartoon character. A childish smile covered her young lips. She often thought of Tigger when fucking. Boing! Boing!  

Over and over, she pounded down on the badly puffing man. Her full tits danced erotically with each thrust. If the guy watching wasn't stroking himself by now, he wasn't human.

She arched her back again, pushing her shoulders back against Slim's. Her blonde hair bounced across his sweaty chest. His breathing was laboured now. 

Maybe his heart would give out? God, that would be a real turn-on. Fucking someone to death.

"Gonna cum, baby?" her vibrating voice gasped. She repeated the words. Over and over. "Gonna cum? Gonna cum? Cum for Donna—" 

She glanced in the mirror again. Damn, the face at the door had gone. Probably cleaning his cum soaked pants. 

Slim's voice brought her back to the task. "Gnh… I'm there—"

With an athletic grace that defied her chubby body, she swung around and dropped to her knees. Just in time to catch the first blast of cum as he detonated inside her eager mouth. 

Her sex twitched with each burst, the slick muscles tightening each time she sucked in another rope of pearly seed. She knew what to expect. He couldn't stop. Not in her sexy mouth. He never could.

His hips jerked with each successive explosion. Her hand slipped onto her clit. Rubbing herself furiously, she came almost immediately. 

***

Lauren Buchanan wasn't proud of herself. But she'd do what she had to do. She had an okay voice, but nothing compared to the extraordinary tone of her older sister. Forming a duo had been Grace's idea, but it had never really worked. Daniel had been right. Lauren's voice was insufficiently different for them to become successful.

Grace had turned solo and Lauren's departure from singing was the best thing she could have done. At first, she'd pooh-poohed Daniel's suggestion that she should consider modelling. Yes, she had a great body. But thousands of women her age had. Then, she'd put her toe in the water.

The characteristic that stood her out from all other aspiring hopefuls, she knew, was the same fierce determination to succeed as her older sister. She and Grace were so alike. Once she'd decided on her new career, she was totally committed. And now, remarkably, her personality, body and single-minded obsession were paying off.

It had been difficult to begin with. Of course it had. Finding a reputable agency hadn't been easy. Eventually, a small London organisation had taken her on. The Greek owner had said he was taking a chance with her. Demetrius had been as good as his word.

Of course, it wasn't just her figure that had swayed him. Lauren knew that. Her ability to flirt was a major factor, too. She was almost embarrassed at the way she'd come on to him. But all was fair when trying to make it in the modelling world. 

He'd tried it on with her. Of course he had. Most men did. So far, she'd been able to keep the Greek at bay but right now, her resolve was weakening. Especially with the offer he'd just put in front of her.

"It's guaranteed, beautiful Lauren," Demetrius told her.

"Guaranteed?"

He strutted across the wide expanse of his pretentious office. Lauren had never seen a desk that large, and the green, curved leather chair was a perfect match. The long couch she was sitting on would accommodate four people, and the drinks cabinet to the side was always well stocked, and frequently used. Tonight was the first time he'd offered her a drink. 

She had to admit, he was an impressive sight in his dark blue tailored suit and crisp white shirt. Some six feet five, hairy and barrel-chested, he towered over her as she looked up at him from her position in the corner of the green leather couch. Demetrius liked his furniture to match.

"Absolutely. I have Vegas connections. An agency over there wants a fresh face. A British look. They love the portfolio I sent over to them. Now all that remains is for them to test you. In Vegas. All expenses paid. You can't lose, beautiful Lauren."

She laughed nervously, shifting her bottom uneasily on the seat. Was he actually serious? Vegas? So soon after joining the Agency? Was this a wind up? "Yeah, right," her dry voice eventually said.

His eyebrows went up in that theatrical way of his. "Didn't I tell you I'd look after you?"

Her head slipped to one side. Her eyes narrowed. She smoothed the short skirt down from where it had ridden up her thighs. Demetrius' eyes homed in on her legs. He didn't miss a thing. "Ye-es," she slowly agreed, sipping the gin and tonic he'd supplied her with earlier. She hated the drink, but hadn't wanted to offend him.

"And I've delivered, haven't I?" he smiled. It was that superior smile she hated so much. "Two photo shoots so far." 

The huge, bald man removed his jacket and hung it over the chair next to the couch, brushing a couple of imaginary hairs from the lapel. When he suddenly swung back to look at her, he caught her eyes on his body. 

Damn! If Tommy showed more interest in her, she wouldn't be feeling this horny. How long was it since she and her boyfriend had fucked each other's brains out? Too long. Sex had become routine. Boring. Their whole relationship was boring.

For a moment she wondered what Demetrius would look like naked? He didn't get that body without working out. Her heart began to beat a little faster. "You're being serious?" she asked.

The huge Greek nodded. His hands went to his hips. "That's what I told you, beautiful Lauren."

Her excited brown eyes ran down a body she knew was posing for her. She'd always loved his imposing physical presence. "Okay."

The huge Greek laughed. "Okay? Is that all you have to say, Lauren? I'm offering you a chance of the big time, and all you say is okay?"

The blonde felt herself flush. Yes, that was ungracious. If the Agency owner was being truthful, this was the opportunity of a lifetime. "I'm sorry. I really am. I wasn't thinking, Demetrius. It's… just—"

"Too good to be true?"

Her head jerked up. Studying his face, she saw nothing that indicated he was playing games with her. She should have known. The Greek may be many things, but he'd always been straight with her. "Yes—" 

"Beautiful Lauren," he began, walking towards her, his gaze never leaving her deep brown eyes. "The road to success is paved with pitfalls. But what I am offering you is the opportunity that my other models would scratch your eyes out to get. The choice is yours—" 

The beating in her heart made her think it would burst from her chest. "Demetrius, I'm sorry," she apologised again. "You know this is what I want. What I've always wanted."

His smile turned into a knowing look. "There's just one thing, beautiful Lauren. You know what it is." 

The blush in her face turned to bright red. Surely he couldn't mean—

"You've been flirting with me ever since you came to the club. Teasing me." He sat back against the small wooden table, folding his hands over his chest. "All to get your own way. And I've given you everything you've asked, Lauren. Every time you fluttered those pretty eyelashes. Didn't you think the day of reckoning would come?"

He loved these situations. Exerting control. It wasn't the first time he'd set such a trap. He'd lusted after that spectacular young body ever since he'd first seen her. If she allowed him to fuck her, she'd be the perfect material for the American Agency to mould. The blonde would look superb on video, that was for sure.

Lauren opened her mouth to speak. Words wouldn't come out. What could she say? She had been a cocktease. Deliberately so. It had always worked with other men. That's how she usually got what she wanted. Now it had got her Vegas. But there was a price to pay.

Her eyes went back to the Greek. He was nodding, strutting towards her. As he walked, his chunky fingers went to his crisp white shirt. Pulling the ends from his trousers, he began to unbutton it.

"No!" Her response was instantaneous. Her tone was firm. Still, her eyes feasted on the muscular chest as he ignored the protest and uncovered himself. Her tongue involuntarily flicked across her full lips. Her hands crossed nervously. He had some body.

His knowing eyes held hers as he pulled the shirt from his shoulders, flexing his muscles. "Think of it this way, beautiful Lauren," he smiled, his hands moving to his D&G belt. "I've delivered on every promise I've made." He pulled the unfastened belt through the loop in his trousers, theatrically dropping it to the floor. "And you? You've flirted with me. Your eyes have promised everything. Delivered nothing."

"I haven't—" His eyes stopped her protest. Bright blue, they were almost beautiful. 

"Oh yes, you have," he contradicted, unzipping the trousers and stepping out of them. For a moment his eyes left hers as he folded them carefully across the chair. Standing there in just white boxers, hair covering his muscular chest and his big, broad arms - he looked magnificent. 

Five seconds later, the boxers were on the floor too. Even half erect, his penis was very impressive. Much longer and chunkier than Tommy's. It began to lengthen steadily as he dropped his hands back to his hips. She let out a soft gasp of appreciation.

With a start, she realised he was speaking again. Her brown eyes pulled away from the monster.

"So now, beautiful Lauren," he said, his rapidly hardening penis bouncing obscenely as he stepped closer. "You have two choices. Deliver what your eyes have promised. Just once. And I'll open the doors to Vegas." 

With another step, he was there. In front of her. His penis was gloriously erect. 

Her mouth watered. Yet her throat was dry. Was there a way of closing the Vegas deal without giving him a blowjob?

This was her own fault. She knew that. She had flirted. She had teased. Now it was payback time. There was no way she was going to turn down the opportunity he'd given her. But in her heart, had to admit it wasn't solely Vegas that were driving her actions. 

It was the cock throbbing no more than a foot away. It stood full and proud now, the swollen, purple, head glistening with anticipation. Her eyes dropped to the hairy hand that was now stroking the veiny shaft. She knew she wanted it. She was wet for it.

One hand thumped her glass on the side table, and then circled around his powerful ass. The other wrapped itself around his girth. With a thick growl of arousal, her wet mouth descended. His stroking hand left his manhood and his chubby fingers wrapped themselves in her golden locks. 

She choked a little as he shoved himself deep into her throat. He allowed her to pleasure him for some time before he pulled her head away.

"Lie back," he told her, dragging her head up so that their gazes met.

Her eyes narrowed. Wait a minute! A blowjob was one thing—

***

Daniel was feeling the cold. The night air ruffled his dark hair. But standing outside was the best option considering what was going on in Slim's small office. When his boss appeared at the depot door, then ambled over to him, he realised he'd seen that cheesy expression before. Now he understood why. 

The depot owner's trademark loud blue suit and yellow shirt still looked newly pressed, despite the lateness of the hour and the pummelling he'd just taken. Daniel didn't know what had kept him glued to the door for such a long time. But when his hand had begun to stroke his erect cock, he'd known it was time to pull himself away.

Slim greeted him with his familiar lop-sided grin. His trademark gold bracelet fell coldly against Daniel's wrist as they shook hands. "You make all your deliveries today?" he asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

Daniel nodded warily. Always the same question. Slim was a hard taskmaster and he'd never return to base without having completed his duties. He wanted to stay on the right side of his employer. He needed this job, for the time being at least.

"You know me Slim. If I hadn't, I wouldn't be back here." 

He glanced at his boss to make sure he hadn't relapsed into one of his notorious bad moods. But Slim was affable enough. So he should, that blonde was pretty hot. 

The thin man removed a packet from his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. The gaudy lighter he used to light it was typically Slim. "Ah, yes. We need more workers like you Daniel." Slim eyed the younger man as he blew the thin stream of smoke directly upwards. "You know, if you ever want to increase your take, all you have to do is ask." 

His black eyes widened as he extended the invitation. He didn't offer that sort of opportunity to just anyone, only when an employee had gained his full confidence. Daniel realised he had to be careful. Not just with his words, but also with his tone.




The Strip Ch. 01



"Sorry Slim. I appreciate the invitation - as I always have. But I don't have time to become involved. I'm a delivery man, plain and simple." 

The owner laughed. "And you're a very good one at that. You are a fine young man, Daniel. But one of these days, I'll convince you!" He leant over, conspiratorially adding, "And I promise, you'll make much more than you will ever do through your poker games." 

Daniel nervously grinned back. He was uneasy but needed to stand his ground. "Thanks, Slim, but—"

His employer's hard, calloused hand took his arm, stopping him before he could speak further. He wasn't going to take no for an answer without pressing the point. "Tonight. I've a job that would be perfect for your skills. Something a man of your build could handle with no problem." 

Despite the garlic-flavoured breath in his nostrils, Daniel kept a straight face. "Thanks, Slim, but I have to go watch my girl tonight." 

He crumpled the plastic cup he'd been holding; aiming for and hitting the dirty grey waste bin some ten feet away. 

Slim's eyes followed the cup into the bin. "Good shot," he whispered. "The girlfriend! How's her singing going? Has she made the big time yet?" 

"Not yet, Slim. But soon—"

His employer was no longer listening. "Donna," he shouted, looking over Daniel's shoulder. "Come here."

The young blonde swayed her hips with an obvious exaggeration as she exited through the tiny depot door and walked across to the two men. Her eyes were full of knowing. Daniel felt himself blushing. Her bouncing, naked body was burned in his mind.

"You stay and help with this job tonight," Slim hissed, "and Donna will take care of you afterwards. How's that for a good deal?"

"Mmm," the young woman smiled, her gaze looking directly at Daniel. Her eyes crinkled around the corners. "Or maybe you'd just like to watch me and Slim?"

Slim laughed. "Yeah. Watch. That's a good one." 

The blonde raised her eyebrows. Her mischievous eyes never left Daniel's face as it coloured further. They were telling him one thing. 

He cursed himself, how the hell had she seen him?

***

Lauren breathed softly as she felt the Greek's big hand ease between her legs. His fingers glided deliciously over the warm, sensitive flanks of her inner thighs. She flopped down on the couch beside her, feeling his surprisingly soft lips on her neck. Involuntarily, she eased her curvy hips forwards, her breathing beginning to quicken. 

Whatever Demetrius had in mind, her arousal was so high she'd find it difficult to stop him.

The naked club owner allowed his knuckles to brush against the hot, damp crotch of her damp thong. She couldn't help herself. Despite the discomfort of her position, her long legs opened wider in encouragement. 

With a feather-light touch for such a giant, he rubbed his fingers over the black lace protecting her sex. Over and over, tracing the contours of her oiled vulva until she began to pant softly with arousal.

This bastard was experienced in the art of seduction. That much was clear. She knew he'd have her begging for it before too long.

Her nipples jutted like pegs through the thin, green top. Sharp shivers of pleasure ran through her as his gentle fingertips found her clit and stroked the swollen bud through her wet thong.

Her eyes opened. Demetrius' head had moved from her neck and his gaze was fixed on her every expression. She needed this. "Please…" she gasped, opening her legs wider.

His smile widened. The bastard was fully in control. He knew it. He revelled in it. She couldn't help herself. Her hand moved to his forearm, urging him on as he stroked her slippery sex through her increasingly soaking thong. Her mouth let out a whimper.

She moistened her lips with her tongue. Her breath was coming in soft, panting gasps as he kept up the pressure. Maybe he wanted to make her cum before she went down on him? Perhaps he didn't want to fuck her after all? 

Her mind twisted in relief and disappointment at the thought.

Oh God! His fingertips had worked under the material, through the blonde hair, and had found the jutting bulb of her clitoris. His circular patterns took her close to orgasm.

"Lift up your top," his voice breathed in her ear.

Her hands rose slowly, yanking the thin top upwards. With only a second's hesitation, she dragged it over her head. Her cleavage pushed against the material of her half lacy, cup bra.

"Good girl," his voice whispered. "Now let me see Lauren's beautiful tits."

The front fastening made it easier for her to release her breasts. They bounced free as she yanked the bra open, trembling gently as they settled after their release. Her aroused eyes looked down at the lewdness of her exposed body. The sight only inflamed her further.

The Greek's mouth sucked in a nipple at the same time as his fingers pressed harder on her engorged vulva.

"Oh, God—"

"You like Demetrius pleasuring you, beautiful Lauren?" he asked, his mouth slithering back to her ear. "Here. Taste."

The fingers left her sex and slid upwards to her mouth. His thigh slid between her legs. She licked eagerly, eager to taste her own juices. As she sucked on one finger, then the other, the panting woman realised that she was moving her lips in tiny, circular motions against the Greek's thigh. She tried to hold still, then immediately started sliding against him again, embarrassed but unable to stop herself.

His fingers pulled away and the Greek replaced them with his mouth. His tongue swam between her lips. She welcomed it in, sucking on it like a cock. His moan excited her further.

 His thigh moved from between her humping legs, to be replaced by his hand. It flipped her skirt upwards and gripped the waistband of her flimsy thong. With a violent, tug, he ripped it from her body.

He was going to fuck her! 

She thought of her boyfriend. She thought of Vegas. She thought of the thick cock that was sliding against her blonde landing strip. This was wrong. This was dreadfully wrong. It was wonderful, too. 

Instead of voicing the thought running through her head, she followed the needs of her body. Her long legs opened, spreading across the couch, inviting him in. 

"Guide me," he murmured, his voice husky with excitement.

***

Grace sat quietly in the grubby, small dressing room. Two chairs and a small dressing table filled the room. It was only a few minutes before her performance, but instead of focusing ahead, her mind had drifted back to the barmy summer evening when she and Daniel had first met. 

Neither had originally intended attending the charity barbeque. That was fate. They'd watched one another for a while before talking. They'd talked for a while before fucking. That was three years ago. She'd even wondered if he'd be the one she'd marry.

Look at them now.

The early days had been fun. Exciting. For a long period, the sex had been great. Not any longer. Getting together had been so spontaneous. Shortly after their first meeting, they'd searched for a place to share. A tiny, one bedroom London studio was all they could afford. Things would get better, she'd told herself. They hadn't.

She was well aware her voice was special. But success still eluded her. Daniel had made nothing of himself, other than developing a fixation on poker. He dreamt of the World Poker Tour and World Series of Poker, and of rubbing shoulders with the greats – the Brunson's, Chan's, Hellmuth's and Ivey's of this world, he'd often said.

Whoever the hell they were!

She, on the other hand, lived for her music. Her yearning to make it into the big time was almost an obsession. She wrote as well as performed. Her work was excellent. She knew that. All she needed was a chance. One break. Instead, she was singing at this small club.

Don't knock it, she sighed to herself. Robert, the owner, loved her. So much so, she might have married him had he not been gay. 

But success was just around the corner. She had to believe that. Her earlier conversation with Robert had rekindled her hope.

"I'm throwing a party at mine," he'd told her. "You're the guest of honour. Lisa Welles will be there. She'll tell you all about what it takes to make it. May even have a few contacts."

Grace had nervously laughed. Contacts? Was he actually serious? Lisa Welles! The country acid house star she'd modelled herself on? What on earth was she doing at Robert's party? 

"Don't worry, Grace," the camp club owner laughed. "All will be revealed in due course!"

***

Lauren whimpered softly with each unhurried thrust. The huge Greek fucked her slowly and effortlessly. Her sleek body was barely able to absorb each long stroke. She lightly squeezed his buttocks, feeling him shiver at the sensation of her long, sharp fingernails pressing on his skin.

Within the first three strokes, she'd experienced her first orgasm. Her second was bubbling. His hairy forearms stretched either side of her head, her defocused eyes savouring each thrust. By locking her feet around his muscular ass, she was able to pull him as deep as he could go. Each time he bottomed out, her climax sneaked a little closer.

"Put your arms around me," he commanded softly. 

She slid her slender arms obediently around his immense shoulders. Her slim, painted fingernails stroked his hairy back as she abandoned herself to the approaching orgasm.

When her hips began to tremble, she tightened her grip around the massive, working shoulders. The Greek was panting heavily above her, rhythmically thrusting back and forth in her hot silk. 

Lauren wanted it to go on forever.

It wasn't just the exquisitely overwhelming feeling of fullness as the Greek fucked her. It was the way she was completely submissive, pinned like a butterfly to the couch by his gigantic frame.

His hairy buttocks were hissing against the smooth flanks of her inner thighs. Her feet pulled him closer, encouraging the wonderfully relentless pistoning. He was a fucking machine - back and forth, deep and deeper. She couldn't hold back. The waves of her second climax burst over the shore. Her body shuddered. Her fingernails dug into his thick shoulders.

He turned his head to savour the sight of her orgasm. The hands that slid into her silken, brown hair turned her head to face him. Her dull eyes struggled to focus. Demetrius grinned down at her. A triumphant smile. He'd made her cum again.

She squeezed her internal muscles and his grin turned into a lustful grimace. That wiped the grin from the wonderful bastard's face. 

When she squeezed again, his mouth opened. His balls tightened. She knew his orgasm was approaching. She wanted it. Wanted his cum. His thrusts accelerated, imperceptibly at first. Soon they were forcing her open lips to quiver with the effort of absorbing him. 

She whimpered as his thrusts quickened. Her feet tightened further. Her curvy hips squirmed beneath his immense torso. She wanted his juice. 

"Cum, baby." Her voice was soft, like a mother talking to a child. "Cum for Lauren—" 

The huge Greek shuddered to a halt deep inside her. His body straightened like a board. A soft cry of ecstasy escaped his lips. A split-second later, his roar filled the room. 

His weight sagged onto her slim body. He cock continued to gently slide in and out of her as he came in long, thick squirts. His sperm hosed inside her, coating her internal walls.

"Oh, yes," the young model gasped, holding his still shuddering body tightly against her. That had been incredible.

"Well, beautiful Lauren," he eventually breathed, the last of his semen drawn out from his heavy balls. "You've just booked your passage to Vegas." 

His long tongue slid back into her soft mouth.

***

The small, serviceable, blue Fiat was bought courtesy of Daniel's Internet poker winnings. A tangible demonstration to Grace—and himself—that he had what it takes. It didn't seem to make any difference to her. His poker preference was becoming an anathema to his girlfriend. As if she felt it was the cause of their problems.

Unfortunately, their relationship troubles went deeper than that. With a sigh, he pushed them to the back of his mind. There would be plenty of time to dwell on them later.

The hour it had taken to get home, shower, and reach the North London club had passed quickly. As usual, he had to slowly circumnavigate the narrow streets, searching for a parking place. Much to the annoyance of other traffic. The vacant spot a few streets away was ideal and he squeezed into the tight space before hurrying across the cobbled stones.

He was pretty much bang on time. 

If the homemade sign around the scruffy looking dog's neck was to be believed, the guy sheltering in a nearby doorway was homeless. Pausing only to drop a few coins into the dirty cap, he hurried inside the club.

As usual, it was alive with people. The atmosphere was always vibrant at 'Bobby's Champagne Lounge.' It was advertised as an escape from the typical London nightlife scene, offering a more refined alternative to the full-on party atmosphere. 

That was pretty much spot on.

With the loud tone of hip-hop and techno music supporting the atmosphere, he eased his way through the throng. The neon lights bathed everything in an eerie glow; making it difficult to appreciate the stylish décor that Robert prided himself on.

With just enough time to purchase a beer at the long, backlit, crowded main bar, he collected his drink and sidestepped through the crowds of people gathering around the stage. The closed he got, the more difficult it was to push through the throng, with people unwilling to give way to any interloper. Their reluctance didn't stop him. He wanted a clear view.

Glancing at his watch, he saw his timing was perfect. Eleven o'clock. When the curtains parted, the thin microphone at the front of the empty stage sent a thrill through Daniel. Not long, now. The instruments for the backing band were in place and when the curious backing group of musicians took to the stage, each of them a master in his own field.

The applause as the brown haired woman joined them was deafening. It always was. Grace had already developed a heavy following, the noise indicating that most of them were present tonight. She looked incredibly sexy in the tight waistcoat and lacy elbow length white gloves. 

The tall and slender brunette didn't have a natural beauty. But a short time in her company had quickly made Daniel appreciate that her sexiness came from within. Her vibrant personality, and up-for-anything attitude, enhanced her attractiveness. Only then did you appreciate the slender body and the perky breasts. The first time Daniel had sampled it had been like unwrapping a Christmas present. 

He watched her left hand run through the shiny brown hair and wished he could turn the clock back. Recover the spark that had ignited them three short years ago. Their current problems were a temporary phase, he convinced himself. Success for either would rekindle their relationship.

As the applause died down, Grace extended her slim, long arm and pulled the microphone down to her full lips. "Hi, my name's Grace. I'm here to sing for you." 

Her husky voice brought another prolonged round of applause, and she glanced down at him in his position to the right of centre. He always stood there. The smile she flashed was reminiscent of those from their earlier days. It had become more rare in recent months. 

Within seconds, she had the crowd hypnotized with her voice and the way she clapped her hands and bounced her bare waist and hips to the beat of the music. Holding the mic in both hands, and then pulling it free, she danced across the stage as she built up the pace.

Within a couple of songs, the waistcoat was unbuttoned, and then removed, revealing only a camisole top underneath. Swinging around, the camisole narrowed into the top of a thong that disappeared into the top of her low-rise jeans. God, she looked sexy. 

The oversized aviators—unashamedly stolen from the Lisa Welles persona—came off and on dependent on the song and her mood. 

The crowd swung, danced, whistled, cheered and swooned as the evening went on, the lit screen behind Grace capturing every move. The stage-lights jumped in time with the beat, with the base guitarist and then keyboard player, both given reign to show their talents.

Every time they went into a solo, she turned her back to the crowd, legs spread wide, arms stretched high above her head. Her hips ground sexily from side to side, every red-blooded male's eyes drawn to the top of the thong that disappeared into her jeans and imagining exactly what that pert bottom looked like. She was sex on legs.

The high heels were an unusual accompaniment to her jeans, but Grace felt they were her own trademark. As she began to sing again, she paced across the stage. Alternately, she held the mic out to allow the crowd could join in from time to time, or clapping her hands and swaying her hips with each heavy thump. She was really into it, so were the crowd. 

She had them in the palm of her hand.

At moments like this, the same thought ran through Daniel's mind. Why the hell hadn't she'd yet been discovered? Her voice was so good, so commercial, that all it needed was a single break. To find a way of reaching the right ears. Being seen by the right people.

Maybe she should audition for the X-Factor? She'd always shuddered whenever Daniel had made that suggestion. Country acid house and Simon Cowell just don't go together, she always complained.

The owner led the applause after Grace's encore, walking on stage and engulfing her in his usual bear hug. The hour and a half had passed quickly, and everyone appreciated the extra twenty minutes after her brief break. Stepping back, Robert pointed to Grace and then led a fresh round of applause. With a bow and final wave, Daniel's girlfriend gracefully made her way from the stage, throwing him a beaming smile as she did.

He loved it when she felt that way after a performance. Their sex was always great when she felt this high. And after his earlier voyeuristic experience, his libido was demanding action.

***

Where were people when you needed them? Lauren was as excited as she'd ever been in her life. She'd just received the fucking of her young life, and was guaranteed a trip to Vegas. Even if the audition didn't work out, it would be a wonderful experience. But she'd be doing everything in her power to take advantage of the opportunity.

Yet—as she nervously paced the floor in her modest flat—her frustration was boiling over. Where were people when you needed them? She just had to share the news with someone close to her!

Her boyfriend would have finished work by now. He'd promised to call her. It wasn't the first time he'd reneged—and she knew why. He'd be in a bar somewhere. She'd really had a gutful of Tommy. The next time she saw him, she'd get him to return the key to her apartment. 

Maybe then he'd pay more attention to her?

Her thoughts returned to her sex with Demetrius. Maybe it had been better that Tommy was out of the way? She thought she'd feel more guilt. Instead, she was already wondering when she'd have another opportunity with the huge Greek. Sheeeesh! 

Nor could she share the news with her parents. Well, she could. They'd say the right things, of course. But they wouldn't understand. 

Who else? Her best girlfriends were all on holiday together, cruising in Europe. She'd be with them, too, had it not been for the timing of the last photo shoot. 

She swallowed the remains of the bottle of bubby she'd opened no more than half an hour ago. Celebrating by herself wasn't quite what she'd had in mind. But it was better than nothing. 




The Strip Ch. 01



Grace was performing at the club tonight. And Daniel would be on his way there. Or maybe she'd finished her performance by now? God, the champagne had got to her brain. For a few seconds, she looked at the phone. Should she call him? 

No! The two of them might even be fucking each other's brains out at this very moment? Her thoughts went back to Demetrius again. Yes, definitely, she needed to experience the huge Greek's cock again.

Damn! Where was that other bottle of champagne? The one Tommy was keeping for a special occasion. You didn't get any more special than this. It was in the cupboard in the corner of the kitchen. Yes, that's where he'd hidden it! With a delicious giggle following her along the hallway, her slightly intoxicated legs found the way. 

Popping the cork, the giggle turned into a heady laugh as the liquid spat out and onto the carpet. Who cared? Refilling her drink, she carried both bottle and glass to the bathroom. A bubble bath was just what she needed. She could relax and think of Demetrius. And Vegas—

***

"You were wonderful tonight," Daniel murmured, pausing at a red light and leaning across to Grace. 

"Thanks," her cheery voice said, as she slid her head towards him. "I blew a couple of notes, but I do appreciate the praise."

She returned his kiss with a passion he wasn't expecting. Her cold hand slid around his neck, keeping him there until the sound of a car's horn behind him told him the lights had changed to green.

His earlier melancholy thoughts disappeared and his cock lengthened in an anticipation of the night ahead. As he restarted into the heavy London traffic, he wondered how quickly he could get them home.

Sitting back, she gave him a sexy smile before deliberately uncrossing and re-crossing her legs. Even in the dimmer light of the car, her actions drew his attention to the lacy tops of her nude coloured silk stockings.

The size of his erection increased. Reaching out, he ran his hand along her toned leg, sliding it up along the silk and onto her flesh. 

"Shouldn't you be concentrating on the road?" she laughed. The question didn't prevent her opening her legs a little to accommodate his probing hand. 

"I'm a man," he grinned, digging his fingertips into the soft flesh. "I can just about do two things at once."

Her growl was one of appreciation. Resting her head on his shoulder, she reached out to check his cloth covered erection. "Mmmm. That's a good boy," she growled. "You're going to need that later. Wasn't tonight great? 

"Fantastic. When you've produced your first album, you'll have to mention it in all your interviews," he joked.

Grace didn't answer. Her clouded eyes weren't just from her arousal. Her first album! Would she ever get to that stage? Was there even a small chance of those dreams becoming reality? 

A crack of thunder pulled her back from her thoughts. Peered out of the grimy window, she took in the threatening clouds that had been building throughout evening. Within minutes, the sky finally opened and frustratingly slowed their progress. By the time they reached the flat, the torrential rain was hurtling against the car. 

"Oh, by the way," she shouted as they parked outside the building, her voice almost drowned out by the driving rain thundering off the roof. "Robert's invited us to a party. Lisa Welles will be there. Fucking Lisa Welles—"

Daniel kissed her. "Tell me inside," he suggested, nodding at the heavy raindrops bouncing from the car. "We'd better make a dash for it." He counted, "One, two, three," as a cue for their race to their door. 

The short distance didn't prevent their soaking, the water dripping from their clothes as they pushed through the floor to their flat. 

"It's a shower for me," Grace rasped, holding her arms wide to show him how wet she was. 

She casually dropped her jacket to the floor and, smiling into his staring eyes, unbuttoning and dragging the waistcoat from her slender frame. His mouth dropped open slightly at the wet camisole. The teasing look as she shimmied out of her jeans sent a twitch to his cock.

It grew to a throb as she twirled, allowing his eyes to feast on her semi naked body. The all in one piece of lingerie clung to her wet body.

With an exaggerated swing of her hips, she swayed towards the bathroom. "Later, sexy," she grinned, glancing back over her shoulder.

***

Kay Kristen answered the transatlantic call on the second ring. "Demetrius! How are you?"

The huge Greek's belly laugh tumbled down the phone. "I'm exceptionally good, Kay. Thanks for asking. How's Vegas?"

"Vegas is good, Demetrius. It could be excellent, depending on your news?"

"Oh, yes, Kay," the big man smiled. "Vegas is excellent."

"Mmmm. That's good, Demetrius. You know my standards are high. I loved the photographs—tell me about her."

The huge Greek stared into his bedroom mirror. Wetting a finger with his lips, he smoothed first one eyebrow, then the other. "She knows her way around, this one. Flirted with me continually to get what she wanted. But has a sexy kind of innocence, too. And determined. Very determined. Knows her own mind. And she's obsessed with making it big."

She growled. "Sounds almost perfect. But this determination—"

"I know what you're gonna ask," he interrupted. "No, Kay. That won't present any problem. She knows her place—and besides, she'll do anything to advance her career."

"Anything?" Kay Kristen's voice held a hint of amusement.

The Greek caught the intonation and laughed. "Absolutely, Kay. That was the brief you gave me, wasn't it?"

"Yes, Demetrius. It was. And you know how I like the brief followed to the letter, don't you?"

The Greek paused. There was a hint of something… warning… in the voice. But then he already knew Kay Kristen wasn't to be fucked with. 

Well known as the owner of one of America's largest modelling Agencies, the sophisticated brunette also had a large stake in an Adult Film Company. That was less well known. While women were falling over themselves for the opportunity to create a career in the porn industry, getting someone with special qualities wasn't easy.

Kay only wanted special people. That's how profits increased dramatically—and where her modelling agency came in. Contacts across the world were paid to do what Demetrius was doing. By attracting stunning, uninhibited women, she had realised the secret to success. It was well worth the fees she had to pay to people like the Greek.

"Kay, have no worries," he assured her. "I've… checked her out personally."

The woman's shrill laugh assaulted his ear. "Oh, Demetrius! You do take the job seriously. Or is that a little side benefit? She succumbed to your charms, did she?"

His laugh mingled with hers. "Yes, my dear. But not without giving it some thought. This one knows what she wants."

"She's unattached?"

"A boyfriend—they live together. From what I can tell, the relationship's on its last legs."

"Even better, Demetrius. Make the arrangements. The normal terms. Nothing if we reject her. The usual fee if we take her on. And a large bonus if we successfully help her career change."

The large bonus registered in front of the Greek's twinkling eyes. "Kay, she'll be worth her weight in gold. Believe me."

Checking his appearance in the mirror one final time, he bid her goodnight and ended the call. He'd make the arrangements, as asked. And he'd sample the goods again before they were finalised. 

Just to make sure, of course.

***

The soft kiss on his lips brought Daniel out of his light sleep. He opened his eyes to the sight of his wet clothes on the floor beside the small couch. Only his Calvin Klein black boxers protected his modesty.

Raising his gaze, he saw Grace smiling down at him. Only the white fluffy towel covered her nakedness, if only just. 

"Sleepy?" she asked, unwrapping the towel and allowing it to drop to the floor. His eyes widened at the sight of her hard nipples. The look on his face didn't escape her attention. "The shower is all yours if you want," her gravely voice told him. "Or did you have something else in mind?" 

A tiny drop of water released itself from her left ear, landing silently on her rounded, right breast and tantalisingly making its way down to her erect, dark, nipple. 

Daniel's body instantly reacted. His voice was thick with arousal. "Why Miss Grace," he growled in his best Rhett Butler accent. "I do believe you're trying to seduce me?" 

Grace played the game, switching her accent to a deep Southern drawl. "Why, Mr. Daniel. I do believe I am. I hope that doesn't upset you?" Her hands rose to cup her breasts. An eyebrow arched. 

He leapt from the couch, his eager hand grabbing hers. Half stumbling, he dragged her behind him to the bedroom. A caveman claiming his mate. The bed springs rocked as they fell on the mattress.

"I do believe Mr Daniel has something for me?" her mock Southern accent teased.

But Daniel had finished playing. His lips found hers, their kiss urgent. When his hand ran along her inner thigh, Grace opened her legs to allow him more freedom. He willingly took it. Her gasp turned into a moan as he found her slippery clit. She detonated when the two fingers jammed inside her.

Daniel's teeth found her lower lip, tugging it down. Her hands dug into his crinkly hair as he finger fucked her through her climax. When he flicked her g-spot, she began to spiral upwards, flooding his hand with her honeyed juices as she came a second time. 

It took a short time for her to recover. When she did, she'd swung around and dragged his boxers off. When her mouth engulfed his rockhard cock, he flopped back on the bed and allowed her to take control.

She moved quickly, never keeping still, a snake devouring its prey. The hand pushing down on his chest kept him in position as her tongue began flicked along his hardness. He'd given—it was his turn to receive.

She took him as far inside as she could, the head of his cock touching the entrance to her throat. Her spare hand caressed his balls. His body jumped but the hand pushing down on his chest kept her in control.

Daniel's feet dug into the mattress, allowing him to thrust up. Grace choked for a second, but quickly adjusted to take his cock into the back of her throat. With a growl, she began to suck with a purpose and a passion, as much for her satisfaction as his. It took no time. 

"I'm close," he gasped.

Grace hesitated, torn between the need to taste his cum and her desire to be fucked.

"Grace… I'm gonna cum—"his strained and urgent voice warned.

With a reluctant snarl, she pulled away, dragging her mouth up to his. Their tongues fucked. Her fingers gripped his ruffled black hair, pulling it down to her swells, dragging him from one to the other. He sucked each dark, hard nipple in turn, responding to her rough, guiding hands.

Grace gripped tighter, her fingertips digging into his scalp. Daniel's mouth sucked harder, his tongue swirling and nipping around each erect bud. Her movements were violent now, allowing him only a couple of seconds before yanking him to the other saliva covered breast. 

"Now, Daniel," she eventually gasped. "Fuck me now." 

With a silent glance, his hands hooked under her knees and dragged her legs up and over his shoulders. When he aligned his hardness with her glistening opening, Grace wrapped her small feet behind his ears. A sign she was relinquishing control. 

He easily slid in, grunting as he did. 

Grace's calf muscles tightened against his broad shoulders as she bit down on her lower lip. Her bottom bounced on the firm bed as he began to fuck her. Her voice was a hiss. "Yessss!"

Daniel pinned her willing body to the white sheets. The pace of his rhythmic thrusting increased. Grace wanted more. 

"C'mon, baby. Fuck me—" 

Her hands reached for his hair, dragging his head upwards while she adjusted position. With a grunt, her long legs slid from behind his head. With more freedom, she spread herself, opening herself to better accept his raw thrusting. This was better—

Daniel accommodated her new position without breaking the urgent pumping of his hips. His lips and tongue slid down her bouncing breasts, running over the velvety smooth skin. Her ass lifted from the bed as his hands cupped her buttocks. Resting on his knees, he went into overdrive.

"Yes, Daniel. Yes, baby. Like that—" Her hands spread either side of her, gripping the sheets. The bed bounced in protest. "Yes! Like that!" 

Her hands released the sheets, reaching up to comb through her sweaty hair. Her feet dug into the mattress, her ass pushed upwards. Their bodies slapped and their gasps intensified. The muscles in Grace's thighs screamed, growing tight. She was there— 

"Ngh, fuck!" The third orgasm ripped through her. She bit her lower lip, attempting to stifle her torrid climax. She'd so needed this.

Daniel dropped her ass back onto the bed. Leaning forward, his knees and toes dug in for extra purchase as he went for broke. The new angle put the path of his cock head right up against her clit. With each pass, the swollen ridge nudged over her love button. 

Oh fuck! She couldn't be cumming again? That made four, but who was counting?

Daniel gave an animalistic growl. His hands went to her bouncing tits, mashing them together, pulling them apart. His head went back. His face tightened. His eyes slid into the back of his head. 

When he exploded, he seemed to cum forever. One burst followed another. His jerking body wouldn't stop jerking. 

"Yes, baby," she gasped, her hands pulling his clenched face to her shoulder. Her words comforted him like a mother would a child. "That's it… that's it. Ssssh. That's it, baby."

***

Lauren loved sleeping in the nude. The feel of clean, cool sheets against her skin was luxurious. That sensation had always been a turn-on for her. Right now, the hand caressing her vulva was a turn-on, too. 

She'd been dreaming of Demetrius. And now his hand was pleasuring her again. How had he got into her bed? That finger felt so good, slipping inside her wetness. With a scrumptiously, hazy laziness, she began to come out of her deep sleep. Turning onto her back, she sighed. Her legs parted wider. Her wetness increased. What a delicious way to be roused. 

Then she smelt the drink. 

"You bastard!" She spat out the words, glancing at the bedside clock. Two o'clock in the morning and her drunken boyfriend had let himself into her apartment. She was instantly wide-awake. 

Her hand flung out to push his pawing fingers away. Rolling onto her side, one hand grabbed his dark, wavy hair. Her claw-like fingers dug into his scalp, not caring that she was drawing blood.

"What?" he slurred, his bloodshot eyes wincing as her other hand reached out to flick on the bedside lamp.

"What?" she mimicked, her voice full of snarling rage. "I'll tell you what, Tommy. You were supposed to be phoning me tonight. After you finished work."

"I… I worked late—"

Her twisted face conveyed her disgust. "No, you didn't Tommy. You were drinking. I can smell the drink on you. And fucking perfume! You bastard!"

"Baby—"

"I'm not your baby, Tommy," she spat out, swinging round so that her feet dug into his sides. She pushed hard—the loud thump as he landed on the floor reverberating around the bedroom. 

Her eyes honed in on the pathetic sight. In his drunken stupor, he was still half dressed, his white tee shirt stained with drink, his shrivelling cock flopping out of the gap in his dark boxers.

"Not any more," the blonde continued. "You think you can just roll in here and fuck me? After spending the night drinking and pawing other women? Forget it!" She was on her feet now, giving him what would be his final glimpse of her naked body. Vegas awaited—a new life. She'd had enough of this one—that was for sure.

"Give me my fucking apartment key back," she snarled, picking up his clothes and searching through his pockets. She held it up triumphantly. "Now get your fucking ass out of my life—"

***

Four o'clock in the morning and Daniel closed down the computer with a deep sigh of satisfaction. Despite their intense lovemaking, he'd been unable to sleep. An Internet poker session had been just what he'd needed. He reflected that this one could be life changing.

He was only too aware that his poker aspirations had become a barrier between him and Grace. Well, one of the barriers. But he could turn that round. Achieving poker success could make the difference for them 

At first, Grace had been supportive of his poker aspirations. Just as Daniel had supported her singing hopes. To avoid disturbing her, he'd often found himself playing poker into the middle of the night, convincing himself that sleep was an unnecessary luxury.

Unbeknown to his girlfriend, he'd gradually built up a nice little stack. It had paid for their car. It would also provide the bankroll that would allow him to follow his dream. And his performance over the last couple of hours could well be the breakthrough he needed. He could feel it in his water. His play had been superb. Even better than normal. He'd—

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Grace's words cut into his thoughts. His head jerked around to the naked woman framed in the doorframe. His cock instantly reacted, pushing against the white robe. Even in her anger, she—

"Well, Daniel?" It was the tone rather than the words that cooled his ardour. Like a slap across his manhood. Why was she so angry?

"Couldn't sleep—" he began, but she wasn't listening. 

"You're working in three hours," she spat, her nude body stalking across towards him. "No wonder you're always so tired. I don't think Slim's going to be impressed if you're late. Do you? He's not someone you want to cross. And we need that job—"

"Grace—" he unsuccessfully tried to cut in.

"Don't tell me! You weren't able to sleep after we fucked? I didn't satisfy you enough? Is that it?" 

"Fuck, Grace, you were fantastic," he soothingly began. "But listen, it was like fate. A satellite tournament was starting. Fist prize a shot for a 10,000-dollar seat at the World Series of Poker. The World Series of Poker in Vegas, Grace!" 

Her face contorted in rage. Her hands went to her hips. "I knew it! You were playing poker! Fucking poker!" 

"Grace," he exhorted, his eyes wide, his voice softening further in an attempt to defuse her anger. "I won the bloody thing—"

For a few seconds, she paused. Her mind began to tick over, taking in his words. "You... you won us a trip to Vegas?"

Daniel jumped up, pulling her into a hug. "No, not yet—" he softly explained, pausing as he saw the frustration rise in her eyes once again. "But I won free entry to a six hundred dollar tournament. All for forty dollars. If I finish in the top three in that one, we're on our way, babe." 

Grace snorted, dragging herself out of his arms. "And if your Aunt was your Uncle—" 

For a moment it appeared as if she was going to burst into another tirade. Then she paused. Her shoulders sagged. Her eyes changed. Almost a look of resignation. As if she didn't have the heart to pour cold water on his enthusiasm. Men could be such boys!

"Okay," she said, stepping back into his arms. She pulled his hands to her naked tits. "If you win us the trip, I'll quit moaning about poker. Right now, since you're wide awake," she murmured, stroking him to full hardness. "You can fuck me again before you go to work."

Turning towards the bedroom, he winced as she pulled his cock towards the door. "Fuck, Grace!" he gasped.




The Strip Ch. 02



Edited by NaughtyMike

Duane and I continued to date after our memorable visit to the Strawberry, but nothing more was mentioned about the possibility of my performing a strip-tease. He had no way of knowing that I was very busy practicing my dancing and experimenting with various music and clothes.

We saw each other several nights a week and made out at the end of each date. I allowed Duane reach up under my top and caress my breasts through my bra, but I always stopped him when he tried to slip his hand down my pants. As much as I wanted my kitty petted, I was saving it for a special occasion.

After two weeks of dating and increasingly desperate kisses and fondlings, I finally told Duane that I would spend the night with him at his place, a double-wide he shared with a  guy named Darby. The few times I'd been by, Darby had either been out or had not bothered to come out of his room to visit. He had only nodded and mumbled a semi-polite greeting when we were first introduced. A more charitable soul than I would probably have called him shy. I just called him an unsociable cuss. Take your pick. But no matter, I was confident Darby would not be in the way on the “Big Night”.

On the appointed evening, Duane and I went to a movie and then came back to the trailer. I'd told him I had something planned, but I refused to elaborate, no matter how Duane tried to sweet-talk me. Oh, I how loved being the Woman of Mystery!

The first thing I did when we got inside was to have Duane show me how to work the stereo. He had a fairly big new model that looked complicated enough to drive the space shuttle. He said he'd paid just $150 for it, but he didn't seem eager to say just how he'd managed this wondrous feat. I got the distinct it was in some way illegal, immoral, or fattening.

Once I had the basics down, I arranged the three songs I had chosen to dance to, without letting Duane see what they were. Then I got him a beer from the fridge to keep him occupied, and I took myself and my duffel bag into the bedroom to change.

On the way, I tapped on Darby's door, stuck my head in and said "Look Darby, me and Duane are alone out here, got it?" Darby didn't even look up from his computer, just shrugged and muttered "Yeah, yeah, I heard you, whatever." Satisfied that he was out of the way, I headed on in to get dolled up.

When I emerged from the bedroom, Duane was sitting on the couch drinking his Budweiser. When he saw me, he did a double take and stared. "What are you supposed to be?" he wanted to know. I just smiled mysteriously.

Duane had good cause to be startled. I'd gone into his room looking like I usually did, in tight-fitting camel toe jeans, a T-shirt and sneakers. But I'd come out in a short white skirt, a red, white and blue floral-print blouse tied beneath my breasts and my favorite bright-red four-inch stiletto heels. I was quite the sight if I must say so myself. 

I picked up the TV remote and channel-surfed with the volume off until I found one of those Japanese cartoons on cable, the kind that's mostly those flashing colored lights that can give you seizures if you look at them directly for too long. That was the closest I could come to disco lights, and with the room lights turned off, the effect wasn't half-bad.

As I turned on the stereo I looked at Duane to see his reaction. The penny had dropped and so had his jaw. I think he'd probably pretty much forgotten that he'd suggested I strip for him, but he was remembering now. 

The first song I'd chosen was Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar on Me." As it began, I suddenly felt nervous, a little stage fright, butterflies in the stomach. Duane was staring at me so intently with those amazing icy blue eyes of his, I felt like I had a big camera and spotlights trained on me. To keep from freaking out, I pretended to myself that nobody was actually watching me. It was time to set the butterflies free. 

 I moved around the center of the room, concentrating on the music. Every so often, I'd let my fingers brush the inside of my thigh, on my ass or across my breasts as if by accident. Once, as I got more comfortable, I put my finger in my mouth, sucked on it, and then ran the wet finger down between my breasts. Toward the end of the song, I removed my first piece of clothing. I turned my back and bent forward slightly, so that Duane, if he cared to, could see up the back of my skirt and catch a glimpse of my red panties. They were tight against my ass and pussy. I was sure he could see an outline of my swollen lips through the red satin material. 

 In that position I undid the front of the little blouse and stood up, turning as the garment slid off my shoulders. Underneath it I had on a white lace underwire bra, the fabric so thin that my peach-colored nipples were plainly visible, made even more so when I rubbed them between my fingers to get them to perk up. I think I heard Duane sigh longingly at this point, and I risked a glance at him to check his reaction. He was watching me with his full attention, and thee was a noticeable lump in the front of his to-tight jeans. I was clearly having the desired effect. The butterflies had clearly left.  Come to think of it, my own Miss Kitty was beginning to wake up and take an interest in the proceedings.

My second song was now starting. It was that old standby, "Cradle of Love" by Billy Idol. It has a fast beat and is perfect for stripping. I picked up the tempo and really got into it, bumping my hips and wishing I had tits big enough to bounce around. But I think that when the angels were handing out jugs, I thought they said mugs and wanted mine small and cute.

Dancing around in my bra, it was now it was time to shed my skirt. I undid the button at the top and teasingly shimmied it downward, a little bit at a time. Finally I stepped out of it with my left leg while keeping it on my right. Then came the move I'd had to practice for ages to get it as exactly right. I extended my right leg, at waist level and twirled it a little, like a can-can dancer, letting the skirt sail off my high heel and fall onto the chair where I'd dropped my blouse-perfect. Of course I would've stood a good chance of falling and breaking my neck if hadn't strategically placed myself next to the TV so I could brace one hand on it while I did it.

I was now clad only in the heels, my barely-there bra and my tight red panties which had some notable dampness at this point. I'd worked up a bit of a sweat dancing, and my skin glistened under the purple and red flashes of light that were just then emanating from the TV screen. Duane’s eyes were glued to my every move. He watched me as I shook my ass and rubbed my pussy while I danced. His eyes followed my hands up to my breasts as I squeezed them together to form some cleavage. I then rubbed my fingers again over my peachy nipples as long as they were there. Duane didn’t miss a move.  I decided that a little audience participation was called for the next step.

"Are you still with me, Duane?" I asked rhetorically. His nod and drool signified that he was. I walked over to him, (I'd intended to employ the ubiquitous ass-in-the-air stripper's crawl here, but thought better of it when I saw the state of the carpet) leaned over and said "Then help me off with this, would you?"

Duane gleamed like a kid on Christmas morning. He was so excited he couldn't find the clasp to open my bra, even though it was right in the front. He had to run his hands slowly all over my tits several times before he found it. Once the bra was off, I stood fast and let him get a real good look at what he just liberated. He squeezed them to test for firmness and rubbed his thumb over each nipple just to make sure they responded properly. He was about to move in for a taste test, but I wasn't allowing that quite yet.

I was gently reclaiming my breasts when I heard a noise behind me and spun around. Fucking Darby stood in the living room, mouth agape, staring at me like I was Thanksgiving dinner and he going to get some. "What the fuck are you doing out here?" I demanded, too annoyed to mince words. His mouth worked, his eyes remaining on my tits the whole time. I hate it when a guy won't look me in the eye.

"Only... going... beer" Darby stuttered lamely, still ogling. He adjusted his pants but not before I saw what he meant to be concealing.

"Well, go on the wagon for tonight!" I snapped and shoved him back into his room. I my heels I was at least three inches taller than the little fuck and he didn't resist when I banged his door shut. 

When I returned to the living room my third song was just starting. It was "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails. That song is slower, which would give me a much-needed break from dancing so fast. I was getting hot, and Duane was too, apparently by his bulge. He'd had doffed his T-shirt somewhere along the line. 

"Closer" is also quite long. It's also the one that rhymes violate with penetrate with desecrate and the chorus contains the refrain "I wanna fuck you like an animal." In other words, just exactly what I had in mind. I had Duane remove my red panties while I stood in front of him, sideways so he had to reach around me to get the other side down. I backed away and slid them the rest of the way down and off, not trying any fancy twirls this time.

Now I was down to my final concession to modesty: a tiny, almost transparent white lace thong. It barely covered the essentials. I thought it looked especially nice on me since I shaved all my pubic hair off and the material fit tight over my pale smooth pussy lips.

I swayed and pumped my hips to the music for a minute then decided to take the plunge. I slid out of the thong and approached my audience of one, who stared rapturously at my uncovered pussy, the lips of which were now extremely puffy and wet. I was aching for some cock. 

I squatted down o the floor next to where Duane was sitting on the couch. He was sporting quite the boner and I quickly undid the fly buttons on his Levi's. His cock almost hit me in the eye when it bounced free. I would say it was maybe nine inches, moderately thick and without a curve.

I made my oral approach from the side, so Duane could watch the colored cartoon lasers lighting up my face and his dick at the same time. I started licking the shaft candy-cane fashion, up, down, and spirally, and then around and around the head like it was the very best ice cream cone, making alluring little slurping sounds all the while. It would have made a great porno pose. To bad Darby missed it. 

I was all set to move to the front and take that bad boy all the way in my mouth, but then Duane did something that surprised me. As I began to shift positions, he suddenly grabbed hold of me, lifted me up bodily and set me down on my back on the coffee table in front of the couch. It was a wooden coffee table with a glass top. The table had seen better days; one leg had evidently been broken and was now wired in place. I'd thought about lying down on this table during my show and perhaps fucking myself with the neck of a   beer bottle, but I'd changed my mind once I'd seen that busted leg.

Duane didn't seem to be much worried about breaking down the table, as he just plopped me down on it like a sack of potatoes. In the same motion, he lifted my legs and set them on the couch and then slid down onto the floor between them, where he proceeded to bury his face in my pussy.

I went "Ohhhh!" without meaning to at the first lick directly over the red button. Duane didn't waste much time teasing. He went right for the gold. While he was licking and sucking on my clit, he slid two fingers inside and pushed up firmly. In less time than it's taken to write it, he had me coming just as hard as I've ever come, before or since. I juiced all over his face. This did not deter Duane as his tongue kept working over Miss Kitty. I was feeling a bit faint as the blood left my head. 

He kept at it till I finally gasped "Okay! Stop!" While I tried to get my breath back, he licked/kissed his way up my body to my tits where he would suck on the nipple of one and knead and squeeze the other by hand. I could feel myself building up to another climax when Duane suddenly left my tits alone and leaned up to kiss me on the lips, hard. I tasted myself, a first. I didn't even care. I don't think I've mentioned yet that Duane was/is an excellent kisser, but there it is. I could have done that for hours, but he had other ideas. Without preamble he suddenly thrust his nine inch dick inside of me. 

He was not particularly gentle, not at all, and it knocked the wind out of me so that he had started a furious thrusting rhythm by the time I recovered enough to wrap my legs around him and keep up .I'd never been a real big fan of roughness, but right now I wouldn't have traded what I was getting for anything. I am sure the table felt differently. That poor old piece of furniture squeaked and groaned alarmingly. At least, I think the table made most of the noise.

I didn't realize I'd been sort of chanting "Fuck me, fuck me!" till Duane said right in my ear, sounding just slightly aggravated, "I am fucking you, what's it feel like? Now hush up!" So I did, I hushed up. I could feel his big cock inside me, tearing my pussy up. I knew I would walk funny the next day.  We both came, seconds apart, him blowing a load that felt the size of Lake Superior up inside me. His hot cum filled me to the brim. 

My own orgasm felt like a free fall and an earthquake rolled into one. Afterwards, we lay on the carpet (to spare the complaining table further mistreatment) and rested. My tape had long since stopped and the radio was playing a commercial for Dunkin Donuts. I'll never look at a Coolada the same way again.

Finally Duane stood up, helping me to my feet after him. We wobbled off to the bedroom and tumbled into bed. We were completely spent, worn out. As I settled down, Duane, without being prompted, reached out and pulled me in close to him, so that we lay spoon-fashion with his face nuzzled into my hair. He was out like a light almost immediately.

I was just dropping off myself when I heard Darby come out of the shower and go into his room. I had completely lost track of him in all the excitement. I heard his mattress creak when he got in bed, and then other sounds which I had no trouble deciphering. He made no attempt to hide his whimpers and gasps and heavy breathing, and even less of an attempt to hold back the loud groan he finished up with. I think he did some peeking from his room when I wasn’t looking.



The Strip Ch. 02



This is a rewrite of 'Vegas', combining both Books. While maintaining the theme, it offers a completely different and fresh take for the main characters.

Grateful thanks go to the best editor in the world – thesoundandfury - not only for his editing, but also for the constant encouragement, suggestions, and for helping me to become a better writer.

Chapter 2: Vegas Awaits

Tonight was the night. Three seats at the World Series Main Event were on offer, together with two 'consolation' prizes. But the cash for fourth and fifth places didn't interest Daniel. Yes, they'd help his poker bank balance, but the only prize in his mind was a seat at the World Series. 

Minor obstacles were the other one hundred and twenty-one entrants - all looking for their own piece of glory. 

Daniel leant back in the cheap computer chair. Being so uncomfortable kept him alert. So he convinced himself. The tournament bell was only a few minutes away, signalling the start of a journey to his destiny. Focus, he told himself. Get in the zone. 

He hardly noticed when Grace silently slipped in from the bedroom. Leaning back against the white bedroom door, her rasping cough achieved its purpose. He jumped as he swung the low-backed computer chair. 

Her arms crossed pose told him she was still pissed off. She still wanted him to accompany her to Robert's party tonight, even though he'd explained his predicament several times. He'd told her—if he was to get to the World Series, it was now or never.

He gave a low whistle as his eyes ran across her black, cocktail dress. "You look fantastic," he blurted.

"Thank you," came the deadpan reply. Yes, she was definitely still pissed.

"Look, Grace—"

The way she slowly pushed herself away from the door stopped his protest. No point in pouring oil on troubled waters. As she took a step forward, his eyes were drawn to her cleavage as her breasts spilled over the low cut top. She still made his cock harden more quickly than any other woman. 

"So… you're definitely not coming with me tonight?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"I can't, Grace," he replied, struggling to contain his frustration. "We've had this discussion several times now."

"Yes, Daniel," she agreed, her voice heavy with disdain. "Because you're going to win us a trip to Vegas. While I attend the biggest dinner of my life. Alone—" 

It was a stand off. Both knew they'd played out this scene before. Daniel didn't reply. What was the point?

"Well?" she quizzically asked, knowing how difficult she was being. It somehow made her feel better.

"Well what?" His voice was becoming exasperated.

"Is poker more important than me? My career?" 

It was an argument he couldn't win. "You know it isn't," he responded, rising swiftly and closing the small distance between them. 

The stare she shot at him stopped him as if he'd walked into a bulldozer. He tried to ignore the piercing gaze that threatened to take him out. "Grace, if I finish in the first three, we win a trip to Vegas..."

"And how do you rate your chances?" she asked. "You told me there are well over a hundred people playing. Most have paid $600 for the privilege, you said!" 

She was being unreasonable. But damn, she felt like being unreasonable.

He attempted to take her in his arms but her step backwards set up an invisible barrier. Only the bell signalling the start of the tournament interrupted the uncomfortable silence. Their eyes simultaneously jerked towards the small computer screen. 

"Grace," he began.

His girlfriend ignored him. Picking up her coat from the nearby chair and draping it over her arm, she headed for the door. "Daniel…" she husked.

He smiled at the strapless back that was walking away from him. It would have been unlike her to go without wishing him good luck. "Yes?"

"Fuck Off."

***

The limo Demetrius had sent was closing in on its destination. Lauren sat quietly, wondering what to expect. His message had simply indicated she should be at his house by eight. For celebratory drinks, it had said. And to provide her with full details of her Vegas audition.

What to wear? Understated or ostentatious? It had been on her mind since she'd received the invitation. In the end, she'd gone for a loose, designer dress that showed off her long legs. 

Mind you, if it weren't for the thin, spaghetti straps, it would seem only the gravity of her perfect tits held it up. His eyes would pop out when he saw her. And light blue was so her colour. 

She'd hoped it would be more than a few celebratory drinks. It had been a week since she'd thrown her boyfriend out of her flat. She hadn't as much as spoken to Tommy since. That meant it was a week since she'd had sex. Since Demetrius had fucked her. 

The blonde hoped the Greek was going to fuck her again tonight. She knew he was married—but was his wife going to be at home? She had no idea. Somehow, that just added to her excitement. It would be a night of hot sex or embarrassed frustration.

If all else failed, the limo's chauffeur looked hot. Quite a stud, in fact. And his eyes had been all over her body as she'd walked to the vehicle. If Demetrius didn't fuck her, she'd make sure they stopped somewhere quiet on the homeward journey. 

She needed some serious action. 

*** 

Play was cautious. Not only were very few moves being made, the pace of play was slow. It was understandable, considering the stakes.

While most players were content to focus on the tournament, others were anxious to posture. It seemed that quite a few had already played at the legendary Binion's Horsehoe Casino in downtown Las Vegas. And a number had performed at the plusher Rio, located just off the Strip. 

With the Rio Hotel having recently taken over from Binion's as the home to the World Series of Poker, that was more relevant.

Daniel ignored the table chatter. He was unusually confident, feeling an almost eerie sense of calm. As far as he was concerned, the Practically Poker prize of a round trip airfare, plus accommodation, was there for the taking. He would need a fair share of luck, certainly, but his game was razor sharp. 

He just needed to avoid any silly mistakes— 

***

Demetrius was salivating in anticipation of the evening ahead. He had been since issuing the invitation. 

He needed to make sure that Lauren had what it took. Not to be a model, she'd already proven that. But did she have the attitude—and was she uninhibited enough—to become a porn star? And of the quality that Kay Kristen was looking for? Tonight was another step to finding out.

But that was almost secondary to his need to take this woman again. 

Not that he was short of good-looking women to fuck. In his position, they fell over themselves. Saw it as a way to advance their careers. Naturally enough, he took advantage. Who wouldn't? 

Especially as his wife didn't object. On the contrary—she enjoyed watching the videos of her husband taking one innocent after another. It enhanced her arousal. Sex between them was so much better when they fucked while watching the hidden video screen opposite their bed. It lifted their fucking up a level—hot, basic and raw. 

What made tonight different was that this blonde wasn't like the rest of his conquests. There was something about a woman who didn't realise how sexy she was. About a reluctant woman, who gave herself despite it being against her nature. When she realised this was the way to success.

Yes, Lauren had tried to play him. Get what she wanted with her womanly wiles, without going that extra step. Until last week, that was. But when she'd realised she had no option, she'd given herself willingly. And now, she'd had a week to think about things. 

During that time, he'd learnt she'd finished with her boyfriend. Good girl. The gift of Vegas would have insinuated itself in her mind. The excitement would be building inside her. She'd also have remembered the sensations created by Demetrius' cock. They always did.

The question wasn't whether she'd let him fuck her tonight. It was how far would she go?

***

Grace had felt uncomfortable from the moment the unkempt driver's eyes had undressed her when she'd entered the taxi. It made her shiver. His insistence on smoking throughout the journey hadn't helped her mood, either. Only when he'd dropped her outside the apartment complex did her spirits lift. The building was certainly impressive enough.

She refused to give the lecherous old guy a tip, dropping the exact fare into his grubby hand as she left the smoke ridden interior and stepped onto the adjacent kerb. The clean air smelt wonderful. 

The brunette was only too well aware it wasn't only the taxi driver who'd wound her up. She was still seething over Daniel's indifference. Okay, her attitude may have been unreasonable—but his chances of success in the tournament were slim. Yes, he was good. But not that good! 

Her female instinct intellectualised the situation as yet another example of poker coming first. Tonight was important to her. Tit was the chance of a contact that could launch her career. Lisa Welles, for God's sake! In truth, it made no difference if Daniel accompanied her or not. Other than as a gesture of moral support. That wasn't the point, of course. 

She was rapidly approaching the end of her tether over his poker fixation. It was beginning to drive a massive wedge between them. 

Why couldn't he see that? 

Two deep breaths later and she'd determined to put all other thoughts behind her. Concentrate on tonight, not anything else. Not anyone else. Her confident strides across the plush lobby were designed to flush any negative thoughts away. By the time she'd stepped out of the elevator on to the impressive, wooden panelled floor, she was focused. 

Taking the few steps to Robert's apartment, she ran her hand through her shining hair. Knock 'em dead, she told herself.

***

Without cards, Daniel resolved just to stay out of trouble. They'd come eventually. By making the occasional move at the right time, he'd managed to remain around average in chips for both the table and tournament. No chances. Just playing his opponent. 

But when a bad beat damaged his stack, he realised this was going to be more difficult than his earlier confidence had suggested.

He needed some help—some piece of luck to break the shackles. It came in the form of the King of Diamonds-Queen of Hearts. The board flopped Queen-Queen-Ace and after enticing calls from two over ambitious players on the turn and river, his tournament—at last—was up and running.

The next opportunity arrived with the blinds 100-200, and a 25-chip ante. Dark Warrior, to his left, had been aggressive throughout. The trick was choosing the right moment to attack the table bully and chip leader. His opponent could break him. He could double him up, too. 

It took twenty minutes before the opportunity arose. The Table Bully tried to steal Daniel's big blind for the umpteenth time. Daniel called with Ace-Five suited. Yes, it was a moderate hand, but it had potential and against this guy, he could even be ahead. 

The flop was beautiful: Ace-Two-Three, two diamonds and a club. 

With top pair and a straight flush draw, Daniel checked to the aggressor. On cue, Dark Warrior tried to take the hand there and then with a pot sized raise. Daniel thought it through. Either the Table Bully had missed, or possibly also held a flush draw. He hoped so. He gave a Hollywood pause before calling the bet. 

The turn produced the seven of diamonds. The nuts!

Unless the board paired on the river, he was home and dry. How to extract maximum value? He bet half the pot, hoping to make it appear as if he wanted to prevent a big bet. The most basic of moves.

Either the Table Bully fell for it, or he'd hit his flush too. He went over the top with another pot-sized bet. There was only one move, but Daniel gave the impression of thinking for a long time before he pushed all-in.

To his surprise, the Bully made an immediate call. 

A set or two pair would make Daniel vulnerable to the river. When his opponent turned over King–Queen of diamonds, his prayers had been answered. Daniel's stack was approaching 20,000 chips. Just like that. 

The Bully went out of the tournament next hand, overplaying pocket Queens. Daniel smiled to himself. Those who live by the sword—

***

Lauren was feeling heady—how much champagne had she already consumed? She was happy. Her expectations had been met—they were alone. Demetrius's wife and kids would love to meet her, the huge Greek had explained, but they were at her sister's for the weekend.

How convenient!

When he'd offered to show her around the large, mansion-style house, it soon became clear he'd meant the bedroom. She stood just inside the door to the impressive suite, taking yet another sip from the expensive flute.

Her gaze floated around the enormous room, homing in on the wonderful four-poster bed. She'd never seen anything quite so grand, other than in her favourite movies. Then there were the mirrors. Watched herself make love had always been a masturbatory fantasy of hers. Tonight would be her first time! 

Her moistness turned to wetness.

The quiet click behind her indicated that the huge Greek had closed the door. When one hairy hand slid to the velvet curve of her hip and caressed her through the soft silk, she felt her body react. The other was pushing her thick, flaxen blonde hair to one side to allow his lips to descend on her neck. The sensation sent shivers through her. 

Lauren rolled her head to one side as his lips slid behind her jewelled earlobe. When the Greek slid his tongue along her soft skin, she allowed a soft moan to squeeze through her parted lips.

"You like?" he whispered into her flesh.

Lauren was unsure whether he referred to his lips, the room, or the bed. Her groan of approval covered all three possibilities.

This man would soon be fucking her again and she so wanted that thick, hard cock inside her again. When he ran his tongue unhurriedly across the muscles of her slender neck, it was as if he was revelling in the feel and taste of her flawlessly tanned skin. She tried to turn towards him but his hands held her in position. He was doing this his way. She loved that.

When his hands slipped upwards to cup and caress her breasts through the thin material of the dress, her head fell back, her body trembling in anticipation of the pleasures to come. The hands were easing the straps of her dress from her shoulders, allowing the dress to pool at her feet. 

She loved his gasp. Going without underwear had been a brainwave.

The huge Greek wasn't wasting any time. But then, she hadn't expected him to. At last his large hands turned her to face him. Halfway there, his head bent and his mouth ran over the velvet skin of her swells. 

His hands joined his mouth, cupping her superbly firm breasts as his tongue ran feather-light around the edge of one brown nipple. 

"Demetrius—" she gasped in delight as his teeth pulled on the hard bud. 

For a second, the blonde wondered how many women he'd entertained in this way. She quickly decided she didn't care. Yanking the back of his shirt from his trousers, her hands slipped under the material, allowing her long fingernails to slide through the hairs covering his sinuous flesh. 

Emboldened, her other hand dropped to his cloth-covered erection. The huge penis slowly began to lengthen against her palm. It would be in her mouth again, soon.

Her movements didn't distract the huge Greek. She loved having her tits pleasured and her body tensed as his teeth enveloped one of her nipples again. A gentle bite. She relaxed again as his lips sucked on the erect bud. This man knew how to please a woman.

Her nipple began to swell in his mouth. "Oh, God—"

Her hands went to his hair, but he gently removed them, standing straight again and nodding across the room. "The bed…" he instructed.

She walked to the four-poster with a swing of her hips, allowing his eyes to feast on the provocative sway of her peachy ass. He waited until she'd spread herself across the scarlet sheets before undressing, enjoying the way her eyes widened at the sight of his impressive cock. 

Glancing around, Lauren saw the thrusting member reflected in each of the mirrors covering the walls. It was surreal… and extremely erotic. She raised her curvy body up onto one elbow, watching as he reached for a bottle from the antique table by his side. Her eyes narrowed in an unspoken question as he unscrewed the cap and walked towards her.

"You like massage, yes?"

Her deep brown eyes gleamed. "That would be wonderful, Demetrius." Despite the still early hour, the evening was just getting better and better.

The Greek smiled as he poured oil onto his hands and worked them gently against each other. The mattress bounced a little as he sat beside her. 

"Yesss…" Lauren couldn't help the gasp. The feel of his slippery hands caressing her velvet-smooth breasts was sensational. 

"You like, beautiful Lauren?" the huge Greek rhetorically asked, kneading her supple flesh. 

One big hand left her, streaming more oil over her rapidly lengthening nipples. Her eyes slowly glazed with pleasure as he expertly manipulated her gleaming, pliant breasts. God, she was so wet!

Without a pause in his expert manipulations, Demetrius crept onto on his side and slid a meaty thigh between her legs. 

Lauren knew what he was offering. She tried not to. Show some restraint! But she couldn't stop herself. Within seconds, her curvy hips were rotating against him. The friction on her clit was divine. Her undulations back and forth on his iron-hard thigh increased. 

"Look," he told her.

Her mouth fell open as she followed his gaze to the mirrors. An out of control blonde woman was fucking herself on the thigh of a hairy giant. Lauren whimpered helplessly as the sight took her over the edge.

It was all too much. Her body arched. Breath left her in a shivering gasp, almost suffocating her as the giant orgasmic tide swept through her shuddering body.

***

Robert answered the door. His grey eyes widened into a broad smile when he saw Grace. Planting a warm kiss on both cheeks, he allowed her to float past him into the apartment. The size and opulence stunned her. Marble flooring. Marble furniture. Underfloor heating. 

The camp club owner rolled his eyes as he read her thoughts. "I know! Everybody loves it! I've great taste, don't I?" He gave a shrill laugh at his own little joke, though the sparkle in his eyes conveyed his pleasure at her reaction. 

"It's fabulous, Robert," she told him, her head swaying this way and that as she stared around her.

"Thank you, darling. But what about you?" he added, as he took her coat. "You look hot in that dress. If only I wasn't gay!"

The doorbell took his attention away. "Mingle! Mingle!" he waved, opening the door to greet his next guests.

Grace's almond coloured eyes scoured the room, quickly falling on some of the crowd from the nightclub. She headed over to the spot by the large, balcony window where they stood, collecting a glass of bubbly from one of the hired-in waiters on her way. 

The woman that intercepted her was stunning. The soft, blonde ringlets piled on top of her head complimented her glistening, tanned skin. And that makeup—and the way it accentuated her sultry, light blue eyes—was so perfect. As for the short, gold, glittering evening dress, Grace would never have dared wear such a deliciously low plunging neckline. 

"Hello," the woman nonchalantly said, blowing another smoke ring from that delicious looking mouth. "I'm Lisa." 




The Strip Ch. 02



Grace tried to compose herself. Lisa Welles was probably the most successful recording artist of the previous two years, with three number one albums Stateside and numerous music awards. Grace had modelled herself on the beautiful artist, who along with Alabama3—who'd started that genre—was the only other country acid house artist in the world. 

"I'm... I'm Grace." 

Lisa smiled, her right hand brushing away the blonde lock that had tantalisingly fallen across her right eye. "I know, I've seen two of your performances at Robert's club. He was right—with a voice like yours, and that face and body to match, you just need a break." 

"Tell me about it," the singing hopeful laughed. "I've been looking for a break for longer than I can remember."

"Why do you think I'm here?" the blonde superstar murmured, emphasising the point with a raised eyebrow. 

"What… what do you mean?" Grace asked, trying to register the meaning. Lisa couldn't be there to see her! Could she? 

The beautiful singing star ignored the question. "Do you know this is where I started." 

"In England?"

The blonde gave a delicate, feminine laugh. Her hand went out, catching a waiter on his way past and securing two more glasses of champagne. "Not just England, Grace! Three short years ago I was performing at Robert's club!" 

Grace's jaw dropped. "You're joshing—"

"It's true," Lisa grinned. Her blue eyes sparkled deliciously as she leant in to the other woman, as if imparting a secret. "Three years ago," she whispered. "Then I got a break in Vegas. Robert recommended me. If it wasn't for that man, I'd still be at his club—"

Grace laughed, raising her glass in tribute. "Then I'd be out of a job."

The megastar shook her head. "I doubt that. Grace, your voice is every bit as good as mine." Her upraised hand stopped the objection. "Believe me, it is. If you get the same break as I had, your career could follow a similar path. I might be able to help—"

The brunette stared at the singing star. Was this a wind up? Her chest tightened at the thought. "Lisa—"

The blonde shrugged her bare shoulders. "Think big, honey. How much do you want success? What are you prepared to sacrifice? 

Grace thought of her life. What wouldn't she give up? Anything had to be better than her current existence. Existence – that was a good word. She existed, not lived. "It means everything, Lisa. I'd give up everything I have for my career. I was born to sing." 

The smile that met her words promised everything. "Wonderful, Grace. My trip to England was to search for new talent. Call in existing contacts. Find someone new. With promise. Each Angel is expected to unearth at least one."

"Angel...?" stammered Grace.

Lisa's eyes briefly clouded over. As if she'd let the cat out of the bag. "It doesn't matter for now," she dismissively said. "The point is that we're always seeking talented new female singers. Robert enthusiastically mentioned he had a potential star on his hands. He was right!"

***

The Greek's gleaming eyes watched Lauren's gleaming hips rise from the bed. He's seen it so often. His gaze flickered for a moment between the blonde and the hidden camera recording each move. Despite her orgasm, Lauren was making a concentrated effort to maintain contact with his thigh. It was fruitless. 

Easing his leg from between her thighs, he shifted position above her. He'd allowed her to fulfil her need. Now for his. His movements were surprisingly graceful as he adjusted his huge torso across the recovering woman. Resting his hairy buttocks lightly on her washboard stomach, the Greek was careful to make sure his knees took his weight.

Her gasp indicated the blonde's instant awareness of his intentions.

Within seconds, he'd nestled his heavy erection into her slippery cleavage. Sometimes, they objected. He liked that—forcing himself was an aphrodisiac. This one didn't and he liked that too. Another tick in the box. Kay would be so pleased.

He pushed her firm breasts together, enveloping his veiny tower.

Her grunt was followed by a whimper of excitement "Oh—My—God!" 

The Greek smiled as he slid his erection between her oily breasts. His balls rested comfortably against the plump undersides of her near perfect swells. The way she so readily accepted the position filled him with satisfaction. If she was concerned, she didn't show it. 

She really was going to be the most perfect little acquisition!

He slid forwards until his chubby cockhead emerged from the top of her shining globes. His gentle back and forth thrusting made him pant slightly. It always did. His eyes stayed on her startled face. It wasn't easy finding a perfect partner for titfucking. Next to his wife, this one was close.

Demetrius' technique was impeccable. He knew that. Ease them into it. Make them beg for it. He panted more loudly as he unhurriedly fucked her tits, delighting in the friction against his thick girth, and the way her eyes conveyed her excitement. 

"So good, beautiful Lauren," he encouraged, his hands still stroking and squeezing her slippery tits. "Look—"

She did, raising her head to stare at the glistening cockhead between her fleshy tunnel. With each re-appearance, its dark colour made an erotic contrast to the flawless tan of her glistening cleavage. 

"Look—" he told her again, nodding across to the mirrors.

Her eyes followed his gaze, with ten erotic reflections of a huge, hairy man titfucking a blonde slut on the bed. She groaned at the sight. Was she really a slut? His slut? She luxuriated in the thought.

Demetrius' smile was lustful. Her ready acceptance, the sexy contortions of her face, the wildness in her eyes as she watched their reflection, combined to take him towards the end of his journey. 

His pants grew louder. His thrusts grew faster. Her bullet-hard nipples pushed into his palms. When he squeezed her swells more tightly, her hands reached up to cover his. He frowned. Didn't she understand there was no stopping him now? 

But he'd misread her intentions—she was urging him on. 

The sexy model was as into this, as he was. Her hands squeezed his more tightly, raising her head to better watch his efforts. The Greek followed her gaze, staring at the fabulous, shining breasts as his huge erection relentlessly plunged between them. The sight, and the blonde's complicity, was suddenly too much. 

He roared like a beast as he came—an animal establishing its authority in the wild.

The first long rope of semen shot over her slim shoulder, landing in her thick blonde hair. His second burst landed underneath her chin. The Greek panted his pleasure; continuing to fire over her neck and chest in long, warm rhythmic jets. It seemed his deep orgasm would never stop. 

When it eventually did, his eyes smiled down at her. "Rub it in." 

For a second, Lauren stared at him, as if attempting to comprehend his words. Then she realised what he wanted. With a sexy smile, her slim hands went to the creamy manjuice, gently caressing it into her supple breasts, across her chest and up to her shoulders.

He nodded approvingly, his eyes gleaming down into hers. The wild, lustful, abandoned look had remained on her face. When she raised her hands to her mouth, and slipped one cum covered finger after another between her sensuous lips, he felt himself begin to harden again.

Kay was going to love this girl.

***

The demise of the Table Bully had changed Daniel's fortunes. His Two-Three off-suit bluff next hand somehow took the pot. Pocket Aces won the next. He showed both hands, sending a clear message to the table that he was unpredictable. Challenge me and risk all your chips— 

It allowed him to win more than his share of pots with average hands. 

He remained the chip leader when he was moved to a different table. It often happened - pit the big stacks against one another. In this case his nearest competitor's were Wonderman and Raven. 

Normal convention was to avoid confrontation. There'd be plenty of time for that later. Pocket queens changed his mind. 

He put in a sizeable raise, only for Wonderman to go over the top, pushing all-in. Daniel thought for a long time before instinct told him to fold. It was a big lay down. Wonderman showed his pocket Kings. 

"Yes!" Pumping his arm into the empty air may have been childish. But Daniel still felt good. That hand could have cost him a lot of chips. 

Pocket eights saw him make a similar raise the following hand. Three times the big blind. The same sequence followed. Wonderman went all-in. Daniel paused then folded. His opponent showed again—Big Slick. 

One hand later, pocket Kings gave Daniel the chance to release his frustration. When he made the same raise, Wonderman moved all-in for the third successive hand. Just like that. Daniel had him! His opponent had become too ambitious. He'd made one aggressive move too many. 

He was about to get his comeuppance. 

Even as Daniel's finger twitched towards the green 'call' button, a thought appeared from nowhere. The words once uttered by T J Cloutier. 'When someone goes all in three times in a row, he's got Aces the third time.' 

Why it came into his mind at that precise moment, he didn't know. But in a nano-second, he was convinced. This guy has Aces. The more he thought about it, the surer he became. There was no reason to it – just instinct. It was a no brainer. Call and he was out of the tournament. 

The on-screen alarm sounded, jerking him out of his thoughts. The ten seconds in which to make his decision weren't needed. 

When Wonderman showed his pocket Rockets, it was the third successive confirmation he'd made the correct laydown. By all rights, he could—and probably should—have been out of the tourney with any of those last three hands. But whilst his chip stack was dented, he was still alive. 

Daniel smiled to himself. Hellmuth had once ragged he'd only folded Kings preflop once in his career. You and me both, Phil!

***

Grace had had too much to drink—way too much. She and Lisa had paired off, talking about everything there was to discuss about music. The blonde continually made references to Grace's future, without being too specific. It excited the hopeful singer. 

Just being with Lisa excited her. Sitting opposite the spunky singer at a table on the outside balcony, her temperature was rapidly rising. Lisa's sparkly evening dress was so short; whenever she uncrossed her legs her skimpy black panties were on display. 

Grace wasn't into women, but there was something about this girl. 

"What?" Lisa asked, fumbling in her bag. 

Grace laughed. "You're so different to what I expected." 

"What did you expect," the blonde asked, tipping out some white powder onto the table.

The brunette's reply was a gasp. This wasn't the wholesome image the country singer had cultivated. "Lisa—" 

The superstar smiled sexily as she busied herself, drawing the coke into two lines.

"Lisa—" Grace gasped again, glancing around. Her hand nervously pulled a loose strand of her back behind her ear. 

"Losers," the blonde dismissively retorted, rolling a bill and quickly doing a line. She sniffed sharply, rubbing her nose and licking her lips. 

When she handed the bill to Grace, the singing hopeful took it in her unsteady hand but sat still, as if frozen.

"I can't," she pleaded. Like everyone else, she'd smoked the occasional joint. But coke?

Lisa snorted, her dreamy eyes staring into those of her new friend. "Grace," she snapped, her voice firm and brooking no argument. "You said you'd do anything for your career—"

The brunette hesitated, attempting to equate taking coke with singing success. If Lisa partook, it couldn't be bad. Could it? 

Brushing another loose strand away, she leant forward and hesitantly snorted the remaining line. What would Daniel think? As the powerful narcotic began to create unexpected sensations, she realised she didn't care. This was what singing stars did.

"Good girl," Lisa smiled, as if Grace had passed some sort of test. "Come on, let me show you something," she whispered, grabbing the brunette's hand even as the chemical buzz was hitting her new friend. 

Grace wobbled as she stood up, unsteadily following Lisa through the main room and up the curved staircase. God, how big was this place? Upstairs, Lisa homed in on a door to the left, ushering the brunette inside and flicking on a soft light.

Grace felt disoriented. The room was swimming. Leaning back against the door to steady herself, she realised little fireworks were going off in the back of her brain. She felt wonderful. Turning to Lisa, she smiled. "This is a bedroom."

Lisa nodded. "My bedroom."

"You're… you're staying here?" the brunette asked.

"But of course," Lisa replied, slipping her dress down her body as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Only the small black g-string covered her nakedness. "I always stay with Robert when I'm in London."

Grace gasped. The superstar was even more perfect near naked than she was clothed. There wasn't an ounce of excess fat on the country acid house singer. Everything was so tight and feminine. Her eyes returned to the small, perky tits. They curved upwards, topped by quite delicious dark nipples. But it was the angel tattoo on her right swell that caught her attention. "Lisa… that angel—" 

This was surreal. She realised she was speaking in a matter of fact way, as if being with a near naked woman in her bedroom was the most natural thing in the world. It was, wasn't it?

The blonde sauntered across the distance between them, stopping just short of the dreamy woman. Her expression was provocative, one meticulously plucked brow raised, the corners of her full lips turned up in amusement. "That coke is kicking in?" she asked.

Grace nodded. Then she giggled. "It must be—"

Lisa raised a hand to Grace's face. Her fingers caressed the soft cheek.

"Lisa," Grace began. "Why've you taken off your dress?"

"More comfortable, honey," Lisa smiled. "Want to remove yours?"

Grace thought for a second, then her head nodded as enthusiastically as a dog in the back of a car. The coke made her feel happy and Lisa's suggestion was such a good idea.

The blonde had unzipped the back and allowed the dress to drop to the floor almost before Grace realised what was happening. Then her hand was slipping around the back of the brunette's head. She brought Grace's lips to hers, satisfied that the sexy young woman's acquiescence. 

Grace moaned. Lisa's tongue was soft and wet as it flicked along the brunette's lips. It was gentle at first, but then the kiss deepened. Harder, more passionate. The naked breasts pushing against her own thrilled her. Her nipples rose, responding to the erect buds pressing against hers.

"Want it?" Lisa asked.

Grace's eyes were dreamy. "It? What?"

When Lisa's hand cupped her swells, the haze began to lift as she at last realised what the country singer had in mind. She opened her mouth to speak, but when Lisa's lips moved quickly to her neck, then upwards to nip her earlobe, all that came out was a moan. 

"Ever been with a woman?" Lisa asked, her tongue licking around the soft lobe. She smiled at the brunette's shuddered response. Grace's mouth opened again, but still no words came out. There wasn't a need for any. The soft shake of her head provided her answer. 

"Good," the blonde breathed into her ear. "You've never lived until you've experienced a woman's touch."

Grace's eyes widened. A mixture of excitement, fear and lust coursed through her. She couldn't! Not with a woman! 

The fingers Lisa slipped beneath her thong changed her mind. The blonde's touch slithered along the ridge of her wet labia. It teased her clit, circled then flicked her swollen bud. She rested her head back against the door as Lisa stiffened two fingers and pushed them inside her.

"Ngh—" Her shriek was violent, torn from her throat. She exploded immediately, her orgasm so quick and hard she blacked out.

***

"That was impressive," Demetrius told the model as he licked along her stomach. "How often have those tits fucked a man?"

The blonde suddenly looked bashful. As if she was only just realising what they'd done. "I haven't, Demetrius…" she confessed. 

The huge Greek gave a smile of satisfaction. That shy look would look great on camera; he was sure of that. He'd check it out with his wife, later, after Lauren left. 

The fingers of his right hand gently flicked her cum covered nipple as he slid his left through her soft, blonde hair, slowly pulling her head to his shaft. "I don't take long to recover," he growled as his cock began to unfurl. "Maybe you can help speed up the process?"

The huge Geek smiled as she enthusiastically went to work, taking his thick girth between her lips. Her low growl tickled across him. For a moment, he experienced a pang of regret she was heading for Vegas. They could have such fun together. When her tongue began to flick along his rapidly thickening cock, he let out a soft groan. 

Their reflections in the mirrors reverberated around the lavish bedroom. The sight made Demetrius' cock jump in her mouth. Lauren coughed at the reaction, but her eyes told him she wasn't going to be deflected from her task. The young blonde took him as far inside as she could, the head of his cock bouncing against the entrance to her throat. 

She spluttered again, but quickly recovered. One hand dug into his ass, while the other dropped to caress his balls. 

He dug his fingers into her scalp, displaying his growing pleasure. "Yesss, beautiful Lauren. That's good—"

 Encouraged, she took his thick cock back into her throat again. She sucked with a purpose and a passion, one that said – make me a superstar. He would, but not the way she expected. He instantly grew another inch as the thought tickled him.

Her long tongue created a wonderful friction along the underside of his shaft. Both of her hands gripped his ass, her fingernails digging in as she worked on her personal mission. Demetrius gripped her hair, pulling her head up so that their eyes met. He nodded across at the wall. Her deep brown eyes followed his gaze to the mirrors. 

It spurred her on. Her eyes stayed on the mirrors as she went back to work, her enthusiasm increased by the erotic reflections. Slowly, Demetrius began to buck his hips against her face. Her fingernails dug deeper, drawing blood from his hairy buttocks. 

He tightened his grip on her hair, close to the point of no return. Not yet, my beauty! Not yet!

He dragged her mouth away, lifting her shuddering body like a mannequin and placing her across his lap. His hands eased her into position, allowing her to feel his ramrod-hard weapon against her wet opening.

Adjusting her hips, she eased down on his crown. His size was initially a problem for her, but by taking him in a few inches at a time, she sheathed him halfway. Her pause allowed them both to get used to his size, before she pushed herself down again.

"You like that, Demetrius?" Lauren teasingly asked once the huge Greek completely filled her. 

He nodded. This was what he wanted. For the first time, he'd allowed her to be in charge. Let's see what the blonde could do.

She didn't disappoint. Leaning backwards, she allowed his gaze to feast on their union. Her vulva stretched around his girth, protected by the thin, blonde, landing strip. It pulled around his cock each time she rose up off of him. The huge Greek groaned with every flex and gyration. 

Her full breasts swayed gently with each downward thrust and his hairy hands rose to cup them. When her inner muscles tightened, Demetrius knew for sure a big bonus would soon be coming his way. He'd use some of it to buy her videos. 




The Strip Ch. 02



Then his eyes flickered to the mostly concealed two little red lights either side of them. Soon, he'd have his own private recording. 

With an agonizing slowness, the sexy woman built up the pace. When the Greek matched her movements, powering up into her, her hands locked behind his head and she leant backwards for better penetration. 

Watching her face as she fucked him, his cock twitched inside her. She was even hotter than he'd expected—not many women were able to bring him to boiling point so easily. He redirected his hands from her tits to her slender hips. Time for Demetrius to exercise control!

He lifted her easily, almost to the point his cock pulled out of her, and then pile-drived the luscious model back down onto his lap. Lauren was taken by surprise as control switched between them in a nano second.

His huge penis slid deeper with each bounce, penetrating as far as he could go. Lauren flexed her legs and gasped. Her eyes widened in shock and amazement. He'd seen that look before. Total surprise at Demetrius' ability to fuck into their very souls. 

The hairy Greek gave a snarl. Soon, she'd be begging him to stop.

Instead, she surprised him. It took her a few moments to gather her wits, but then the blonde was fucking back—moving with all the energy she could muster. Over and over, they pounded one another, his hairy forearms gripping her athletic legs as he bounced her.

"Yes… Yes…" It was impossible to distinguish whose desperate cries they were. 

Demetrius whipped her body harder and harder down on his lap. Lauren arched her back, pushing her ass down with each thrust. The sweat dripped from his forehead. Her blonde hair bounced on her shoulders.

They were close. Very close. Lauren's eyes closed. His focused on their reflections in the mirrors.

With one final thrust, they both detonated. Lauren's sex twitched with each burst, her slick muscles tightening each time she sucked another rope of creamy manjuice. The gasping blonde model's body jerked and trembled as she spilt her cum over his. 

They were both still cumming thirty seconds later.

***

Daniel's fingers scratched the back of his neck as he returned the phone to its cradle. Grace must be well and truly pissed at him if she was refusing to answer. Or maybe she was caught up in something that was pre-occupying her? The party must be progressing well.

Taking a sip from his mug of freshly brewed coffee, he picked up an unread poker magazine. It would fill in a couple of minutes while the tournament was on its short break. 

Chris Moneymaker was featured on the front cover. 'The Moneymaker Effect' caption was emblazoned across the former world champion's face. 

Daniel reflected that poker had changed considerably since 2003, as the result of that unlikely victory. Moneymaker had qualified in a satellite that year, subsequently carrying off the $2.5 million first prize for his outlay of just thirty-nine dollars on PokerStars.com. 

Since that time, the world champion had faded badly. But his legacy lived on. Because of the boom he unknowingly created, millions of new young Internet players became addicted to the game. 

Daniel was one of them. And with two thirds of the field eliminated, his own dream of competing at the World Series was nearing fruition.

***

The first thing Grace realised was that she naked. On a bed. How'd that happened? What had happened? The second thing wasn't so much a realisation, as a feel. The feel of a tongue playing around her lips.

"Welcome, back," the woman breathed against her mouth. 

It was Lisa's voice. The blonde kissed her again, her lips as soft as a feather against hers. When the phone rang in the background, Grace recognised the tune. It was Daniel. "Lisa…" she began.

"Ssssh," the superstar whispered, snaking her tongue into the brunette's mouth again. 

Grace did as she was bid, closing her eyes and enjoying the sensuous feel of their lips on one another until the ringing clicked off. The world slowed down—she knew she should be thinking of Robert and his party; of Daniel. But the lips seducing hers, the drug in her body and her first girl-girl orgasm, all combined to keep her exclusively in the moment.

Then Lisa was moving. Slithering down her body. Grace's heart trembled at the sight. The first touch of the brunette's tongue on her sex was intoxicating. Her jaw tightened, her gasp more like the hiss of air escaping from a radiator. Then it turned into a scream as her second orgasm of the evening consumed her. 

"So noisy," Lisa murmured, her slurping mouth drinking in the juices. "That should impress the partygoers downstairs. Want another one?"

It was the words as much as the country superstar's mouth that captivated Grace. She never wanted this to stop. She opened her legs wider, feeling the temptress lifting her legs, draping them over her perfect shoulders. When Lisa leaned forward, sliding her tongue across her clit and vulva before pushing it inside, she let out a loud wail.

"Lisaaaa!!!" she cried as the blonde alternated her focus from vulva to clit. 

Her hips pushed up, her ass lifted from the bed. Supporting herself with just her elbows shoulders, she began to hump the country star's face. For the first time, she was a participant, other than just a cum machine.

"Yesss," she hissed, her teeth clenched as she arched her back and linked ankles for better purchase.

Then the superstar's fingers joined her lips. One, two, three—seeking and instantly finding her g-spot. This woman knew exactly what she was doing. When she stretched her thumb to rest in the tight cleft between Grace's cheeks, rimming her anus, the brunette exploded. A third time, then again. Too many to count. 

***

Fortified by several mugs of caffeine, Daniel was in a rhythm of playing solid, sensible, poker. He'd made a point of staying out of the way of the clear chip leader. Raven had position on him. 

But with selected aggression against others, he'd begun to increase his chip stack again. He was feeling comfortable. In control. Halfway through the session, a new player was transferred to the table. Arnie's chip count was similar to Daniel's. 

With the blinds at 300-600, and a 50-chip ante, Daniel was dealt pocket fives. He flat-called Arnie's opening raise. Four times the big blind was unusual, but nothing to scare him off. 

Raven called, too, but folded to Arnie's continuation bet on a rainbow flop of Four-Five-King. 

Daniel thought carefully about his next move. He loved his set of fives, but the two spades worried him. He didn't want to be outdrawn and after only five hands at the table, he had no idea as to Arnie's style. 

Nor did Arnie have a feel for him. That made his mind up. He moved all-in. 

The long pause convinced Daniel his opponent would fold. He was draining the last of his coffee when Arnie surprised him. 

He called with Ace-King. Both hearts. 

Daniel was ahead by a street, but the Ace on the turn made him nervous. Very nervous. Another Ace or King would end his tournament.

His silent prayer to the poker gods paid off, though the sight of paint made his heart flutter for a second. The Queen not only helped him remove a potentially dangerous opponent, it put him in second place in the tournament. 

Easy does it!

***

"Two questions," Lisa murmured, handing Grace a glass of water and flopping down on the edge of the bed.

"Questions?"

The blonde nodded, her eyes a mixture of amusement and arousal. "Mmmm. If I fixed you up with a one night spot in a Vegas club, would you take it?"

The brunette's jaw dropped at the same time as her eyes widened. Vegas!

"You'd have to pay your own expenses, I'm afraid. But you'd be paid and it would put you in the shop window. The same one that gave me my opportunity."

Grace couldn't contain her excitement. She wasn't going to pass this opportunity. Her chest tightened. Maybe this was the time to end her and Daniel's relationship? Start out on her own again? Her half of their joint savings would fund the trip. 

"Lisa… that would be wonderful! Where?"

"Samuel Smith's. It's a well-known club in downtown Vegas. I was given the same chance three years ago. They liked me so much I was given a regular spot. The rest is history. This'll give Daniel an opportunity to look at you, see how the audience react."

Grace drained the water, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand when a little spilled over. "Do you think—?"

The country singer leant back on her elbows, her naked body provocatively displayed in all its glory. Despite her deep tan, she didn't have any visible bikini lines and every inch from the contours of her small, perky breasts down to the smooth-shaven mound were intoxicating.

"Do I think they'll like you?" she finished Grace's question. "Oh, yes. They're gonna love you Grace. You have all the qualities to become an angel." Her hand went to her right breast, her soft fingers tracing across the angel tattoo. "Which brings me to my second question—"

Grace sat up. The look in Lisa's eyes was one hundred per cent arousal. "Yes—?"

"I need to understand how much you want this, Grace." She opened her legs, provocatively displaying her glistening sex. "Show me—" 

Grace licked her lips as her eyes honed in on the sweet pussy. Could she? It was one thing being made love to. But giving! That was something different. Her head exploded in thought. Vegas! What an opportunity. And this woman. Lisa Welles—superstar. What an opportunity, too. 

Time to show her appreciation.

"Yes?" Lisa asked. It wasn't really a question. More of a statement. She moved quickly, like a panther, swinging a leg across the brunette's body. Her hands found Grace's hair, roughly yanking her head upwards as she lowered her clean-shaven mound. 

Grace felt a shiver run through her body. Yes. Use me. Be rough. Fuck me hard. Her hands gripped Lisa's asscheeks as the blonde lowered her wetness to within a fraction of her mouth.

Her tongue willingly reached upwards. Following her instinct, she lapped across the wet sex, bringing a growl from the country star.

"Higher," Lisa commanded, yanking Grace's head a fraction upwards.

The brunette understood. For some reason, an image of Daniel came into her mind as her mouth sought out the slippery clitoris. If he could only see her now— 

Lisa purred like a cat as the inexperienced woman pleasured her. Her hands gripped the brunette's locks more tightly as she used the virgin face to fuck herself. She began to pant. So close… so close…

Grace felt the delicious wetness envelop her face. Lisa's hips were undulating across her forehead, nose, lips, chin. She could hardly breathe. Her eyes closed, revelling in the submissive position. 

Then Lisa's body was shuddering, trembling and shaking. When she came, Grace found her way to grip the blonde's hips tighter and force her tongue inside the jetting sex.

Lisa's moan changed into a long wail—

***

The short break helped Daniel clear his mind. Selective aggression was the key. If the cards came, he'd play them hard. Otherwise, he'd pick and choose his spots. Adapt to how the game unfolded. No need to take unnecessary risks. Winning wasn't important. A top three spot was.

He used the two minute break to freshen himself in the bathroom. Feel good, play good. 

The King was the first to exit, his pocket Aces failing to stand up to the river card. With eight players remaining, Daniel's pot of gold was creeping ever closer.

Three hands later, Stargazer went all-in in early position. Everyone folded to Daniel, in the small blind. With Big Slick suited staring at him, it was a no brainer. Stargazer had played conservatively, but was running out of chips. He could have anything.

'Anything' turned out to be the Nine-Ten of diamonds. Although the flop gave his opponent some hope with a flush draw, the turn and river didn't help. Ace high won the pot. Seven players remaining.

Twenty minutes later, Daniel's dream drifted closer. Dancer pushed all-in and got two calls. Daniel was happy to fold his Three-Four off suit and watch the hand unfold. Pocket Aces. Pocket Kings. Pocket Queens. Unbelievable! 

The Aces prevailed and HitWoman tripled up. Daniel knew this woman was dangerous—they'd regularly played together at the cash tables. She was good, but so was he! Five players remaining. 

Good money was guaranteed should he go out in either of the next two positions, but fourth or fifth place were not options for Daniel. It was top three or nothing—as simple as that. And he scented blood. 

His pocket sevens deserved a standard raise. Axe Man called. The flop of King-Queen–Queen was no help. 

Axe Man made a small raise. Instinct made Daniel stay with him.

The turn card was an eight. Axe Man made a similar sized bet. 

That made no sense. Daniel pondered for a short time, attempting to put his opponent on a hand. He might have been slow playing. If so, Daniel's hand was probably dead now. 

His uncertainty brought caution. He just called. 

The river was another seven. Daniel's full house was almost certainly ahead. When his opponent made another small bet, it made no sense. Was he trapping? King-Queen or Queen-Eight would kill him. 

Daniel put him all-in. Good luck to the guy if he'd suckered him along. Axe Man called and displayed his Ace–King. Daniel sighed. He'd been well behind until the river claimed another victim. Now there were four. 

Next hand, Daniel decided to go after the remaining short stack. With two folds to his small blind, he put Kara all-in, even with a 'Doyle Brunson.' The Ten-Two hole cards were named after the great man, who won back-to-back world titles in 1976 and 1977 with that starting hand. 

Kara called with pocket fives and when the flop came down Ten-Jack-Seven, the short stack was on his way out. Two rags sealed his fate and, at long last, Daniel had done it! 

He experienced a sense of euphoria. He and Grace were Vegas bound! She may have been pissed with him when she'd left for the party—he couldn't wait to see her face when she returned.

Taking a moment or two to gather himself, he picked up the phone and called her again. Still no reply. No problem. 

He'd wait for her in bed, instead.

***

"Harder!" his wife cried. "Fuck my ass harder, Demetrius'!" 

Her naked, heavily sweating body writhed on all fours as her husband drilled down into her tight asshole. They were both noisy when they fucked. But her love of anal sex brought the worst—and best—from her mouth. Especially when they were watching the big screen.

Playing on the giant high-def screen on the wall across from the four-poster was a scene he'd watched twice before his wife returned home that evening. He'd also watched it when he called Kay Kristen again.

The symmetry of his wife watching him fuck Lauren's ass, while he fucked hers, wasn't lost on either of them. The main difference was that Lauren's was peachy whereas his wife had put on a few extra pounds some time ago. It mattered not. Demetrius loved full figured women.

At this point in the video, the huge Greek was raised up on one knee, his hands on the blonde's hips, pulling her back onto him while he drilled inside her back passage. She was an anal virgin, Lauren had told him. 

Not any longer.

On screen, the sweat was dripping from him onto the model's back, just as it was now onto his wife. 

"Harder!" she gasped, her hand working her clit. "Harder, Demetrius!" Her voice was little more than a high-pitched shriek.

He plunged against her, feeling his orgasm seconds away. His swollen balls bounced across her plump labial lips. His hands left her hips to reach under her and grab the pendulous tits that were swinging back and forward. No-one had breasts like his wife. Oversized and overripe. Delicious. 

He shut his eyes as he barked out his climax a second after Calista. He loved the sound of his wife's howls when she exploded. He'd loved Lauren's moans, too. Kay Kristen would be so happy.

***

Kay Kristen's wide smiled was tinged with lust as she watched the couple fuck on her king sized bed. The call from Demetrius had been timed perfectly, especially his intention to forward the video of him and the girl in action. It was a long time since a newbie raised her arousal levels, but this little blonde hottie had certainly done it for her.

Jimmy and Rachal were the perfect choice to seduce the newcomer into the world she had planned for her. The two models had performed in the occasional blue movie themselves, but were of more value to Kay as the instruments that brought naïve young women into her world.

With his hard body and Tom Cruise crew cut, Jimmy was pretty much irresistible to most women. Getting them a little high didn't do any harm, of course. And the ebony skinned Rachal was the most perfect foil, with her predilection for women as strong as for men.

The fact that the two of them were, currently anyway, in love with each other was perfect, too. Made them easier to manipulate. Not that they needed much influencing. They loved their 'jobs' almost as much as the rewards it brought them.

The sight of the ebony skinned beauty's undulating body as she fucked down on her prone boyfriend on her bed was intoxicating. She floated across towards them, shedding her red gown on the way. 

Rachal turned her head towards her as she felt the now naked woman's hands on her shoulders, meeting Kay's pouting lips in a passionate, over-the-shoulder kiss. She was close, and that brought her even closer.

When the older woman's hands cupped her tits and stroked those deliciously long nipples, the panting model had to tear her mouth away, trying to breathe as the orgasm swept through her now jerking body. 

Without hesitation, Kay dragged the woman down off her boyfriend and pushed her flat on the bed. She tongued her way down the model, settling in between her slender thighs then shot a coy look at Jimmy. 

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she asked the Tom Cruise model, raising her ass to encourage him into position behind her.

He needed no persuasion, sliding home with practised ease as Kay went to work on his girlfriend's clit. Within seconds, they were in a race. Which woman would cum first?

Kay's two fingers rammed in and out of Rachal's clutching wetness, her tongue bouncing the blonde's slippery clit with each pass. Jimmy's thrusts had already hit the mark, forcing her face further into the dark body's oily pussy, at the same time as taking Kay towards her own nirvana.

When the Agency owner came, she pulled her head away in an attempt to let her scream out. Rachal was having none of it, her long fingernails wrapping in the dark tresses and jamming the woman's face back. 

The ebony skinned model arched her back, threw her hips upwards one final time against the wonderful tongue, and then allowed her second orgasm to claim her, even as her boyfriend began to fuck Kay again.

***

"That's simply wonderful," Grace eventually cooed, her thoughts taking a different direction to those when she'd entered the room. An all expenses paid trip to Vegas. It fit perfectly! 

Returning home, she'd been concerned that her eyes, ruffled dress, demeanour, our even her aroma would give her away. Despite her shower, she could still smell Lisa on her body. The thought of spending the night with the country singer had been tempting, but there were too many variables.

She hadn't been able to bring herself to answer Daniel's second call, and had dreading facing him when she got home. In some ways, she'd been hoping he'd be asleep. Then she could then tackle the question of their future relationship with a night's rest behind her. Breaking up wasn't going to be easy. But it was necessary if she was to get to Vegas and follow her dream. She hadn't wanted that conversation tonight.




The Strip Ch. 03



This is a rewrite of 'Vegas', combining both Books. While maintaining the theme, it offers a completely different and fresh take for the main characters.

Grateful thanks go to the best editor in the world -- thesoundandfury - not only for his editing, but also for the constant encouragement, suggestions, and for helping me to become a better writer.

Chapter 3: Arrival 

Rosie Faulkner looked at the ceiling. Is this what her life had come down to? An overweight, heavily panting senior citizen, thrusting down into her sinewy body? The only saving grace was that he hadn't been fucking her for long. And he didn't look as if he was going to last much longer. 

Her hands reached up, closing behind his neck, her fingers softly stroking his salt and peppery George Clooney hair. The thought of the film star suddenly changed her perspective. She closed her eyes and wrapped her feet around his heavily sweating back.

"That's it baby, that's it. Fuck me, darlin'. Fuck me, George!"

"Barry…" he corrected, sweat dropping from his forehead as he burrowed his head down against her shoulder. From the way he was grunting, he was close to either an orgasm or a heart attack.

Coming to Vegas was the start of making a better life for herself. How had it come to this? Initially, she'd signed up for the club as a dancer, not quite understanding the type of dancing required. But after a short time, she quite enjoyed it. Exotic dancing was a turn on, even though stripping may have been a more accurate description.

Some of the girls did more, of course, after Big Eddie set them up with so called clients. What was she thinking, most of them did—she'd been the rare exception. Not that the girls thought of themselves as prostitutes. They 'serviced' clients, not fucked them.

It was a million miles away from how she'd been brought up. And not something she'd ever consider. Not until she'd met Charlie, that was. Her gambler boyfriend had gotten himself into debt with some of Vegas's more notorious private clubs. Six months ago, he'd found himself five thousand dollars in the hole with no way of getting out. 

The loan sharks he'd been borrowing from were breathing down his neck and threatening pretty unpleasant outcome if the money wasn't repaid.

From there, it had been easy to fall down the next rung. Every other girl was doing it. They needed the money. Charlie told her it wouldn't be for long, just until 'they' got themselves on their feet. So she'd started 'servicing' clients, too. Geez, she could just see her mother's face—

"Want me on top, George," she asked, getting rid of the negative thoughts as easily as she pushed back the strand of red hair from across her left eye. She slipped out from under his sweat-coated body even before he could correct his name. 

Her dangling, fake diamond belly piercing caught the light as she crawled from under him and across his plump body. The image of a beached whale came into her mind and she quickly shook it away. George Clooney, she told herself. George Clooney.

Her full, freckled breasts danced as she settled herself. Just as she took his chubby cock in her hand and prepared to slide it home, another thought came into her mind. Reacting to her instinct, she jerked her body upwards, her silky wetness making a damp trail across his stomach and chest. This was strictly against the rules, but what the hell—

"Make it good and I'll finish by fucking your brains out, George," she grunted as her lithe thighs settled either side of his face. Her freckles almost bounced on her skin as she clamped them around his head. 

She knew she was in big trouble if he objected. Ming and Big Eddie would both throw her out. She'd seen how cold and clinical they'd been with other girls. For a brief second, she wondered if her instinctive moment of instantaneous rebellion was such a good idea.

Then, her overweight lover stretched his neck upwards and ran his tongue across her clean-shaven sex. Yesssss—

She gave a moan as she ground her clit down onto his fat lips. Close your eyes, she told herself. Close your eyes and think of George Clooney. 

George proved up to the task. His arms curled under her thighs, groping at the taut swell of her hard ass. Her muscles flexed as she rode his face. 

"Fuck, baby! Yesss!" She leant backwards, resting one arm on the bed as the other circled his chubby erection behind her, still hard in her hand. She jerked him in time with her undulations. 

From nowhere, her orgasm sprinted through her body, her sex drowning his mouth and nostrils in syrupy liquid. Fuck! Where did that come from? She rarely came with a punter, not even the rare good-looking ones.

The freckled redhead didn't wait for her body to recover. Still basking in the satisfaction of her climax, she swiftly moved back down his body, pressing her full and warm breasts into his sweaty chest. The overweight man had surprised her. Now for his reward.

Even as she sheathed him, her thoughts returned to her situation. Another couple of months, that's what she'd give herself. Another couple of months and she'd change to legitimate employment. God knows what. 

Unless something good happened in the meantime. Tonight, she'd be a hostess at the WSOP introductory party. Maybe they'd have better-paid jobs? She snorted to herself. Fat chance. Where would she earn more money than she did now? Legitimately? With a resigned sigh, she turned her attention back to the punter beneath her. Time to finish him off.

"Come on, George," she whispered, jerking down on his hardness. "I'm gonna take you to heaven."

Three downward thrusts were too much for the old man. "Barry…" he grunted, seconds before splashing her insides.

***

The non-stop flight from London, Gatwick was circling around Las Vegas, awaiting approval to land at the McCarron airport. 

It had taken a few phone calls to ensure that Grace's guest spot, and Lauren's photoshoot, coincided with Daniel's trip to play in the World Series. Even at the last minute, there was some doubt. But Demetrius's intervention had saved the day. Lauren fucked him again as his recompense. Though with a cock like his, it was her reward, really.

The flight had passed relatively quickly. Daniel had enjoyed the sister's excited chatter, and then buried himself in one of the poker books he'd brought with him. It was probably tempting fate to brush up on The Endgame, but you never knew!

Harrington's book was interesting. When he'd made it to the final table in 1995, the other players had rejected his proposal of a nine-way settlement. He'd tried to convince them this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for them to share the final table prize money. With no takers, he won the full million himself. 

What were his chances of making the final table this year? His sarcastic laugh at himself attracted the attention of the two sisters.

"Talking to yourself?" Lauren teased with that sexy smile of hers. "You've gotta keep that noise down!" She nudged Grace before returning to their conversation. 

They could talk! The two beautiful sisters had engaged in excited conversation for the last hour, frequently laughing out loud as they talked. And every hot-blooded male eye was on the two women. At times he felt as if he was escorting two movie stars. 

Maybe they'd change their attitude if he were successful? As supportive as he was for Grace and Lauren's once-in-a-lifetime opportunities, he felt the poor relation. Neither woman cared too much about his search for destiny. It was as if they felt he was there to look after them during their pursuit of fame. And play a little poker as well.

Well… perhaps. But he wouldn't be leaving Vegas without giving it the best shot that he could. Things had moved on from 1995. Simply reaching the Final Table this year would make each player an overnight millionaire. That might just rescue his and Grace's relationship! Things had improved recently anyway -- they'd been fucking like newlyweds for the past couple of weeks.

He pulled the Practically Poker documentation from his flight bag and flicked through it. He'd been drawn to play in the second flight, on Day 1-B of the Main Event. Because of the size of the field, there'd be two Day Ones, a slight reduction from recent years.

The combined survivors would make it to the official Day Two. 'Survivors' was the right word. Stay in the race, and then the tournament really started.

***

Although she and Grace were heady with excitement, Lauren kept an eye on Daniel. He was the older brother she never had. The wannabee model was worried about Grace's confession she would have ended their relationship had it not been for the Vegas trip. She was using him. 

She understood Grace's perspective. She and Daniel spent less and less quality time together. He was working long hours. So was she. In their spare time, her sister travelled to various clubs pursuing her dream. Yes, Daniel watched her whenever he could. But in between, Grace told her he was constantly playing poker. 

It had become more and more frustrating for her 'big' sister.

Maybe this trip was just what they needed? A reward for Grace, for her patience with Daniel? And if she was a success in her one night's performance at Samuel Smith's club, perhaps that might rekindle their flame? She hoped so.

In truth, Lauren had always thought of them as an unlikely couple. Grace was so outgoing, always an extrovert, willing to do anything to enjoy herself or advance her singing career. Daniel was more laid back. Seemingly happy to see where life was going to take him. That attitude was an anathema to her sister.

The blonde stared past the excited chatter of Grace to observe her surrogate brother. His head was buried in a book. Probably about poker. Her glance shifted back to Grace's animated face. Yes, they really were an unlikely couple. It was such a shame. 

Her sister's eyes flashed at her as Grace fluffed up her silky, brown hair. "You haven't heard a word!"

Lauren grinned, her deep brown eyes staring into her sister's. Grace had always been able to read her mind. "I have…" she protested.

Grace's laugh stilled her objection. "No you haven't, little sis. What were you thinking?"

The blonde sighed softly. Her glance across at Daniel told her he wasn't listening, but she leant closer to Grace nevertheless. "That I really liked Daniel," she confided, her voice a soft whisper.

Her sister pulled away for a second, turning around in the cramped seat so that she could look directly into Lauren's face. "Yes, I know. But I've told you, it's all but over, Lauren."

The blonde's eyes widened. She pushed a lock of hair back behind an ear. "But—"

Grace shook her head. Her voice lowered to a hiss. "Too late, little sis. It's too late. The fire's gone out."

Lauren's gaze shot past her sister to make sure that Daniel hadn't overheard. He was in conversation with an older man across the aisle. The way the guy was looking at Daniel's book, it was clear he'd found a fellow poker aficionado.

"Then why—"

"You know! He won the trip," Grace said simply, with a shrug of her shoulders. "The flight and accommodation is paid for."

Lauren recoiled slightly against the small window behind her. Her sister had always been brutally honest with her. "That's the bit I'm struggling with, Grace! It doesn't seem fair." 

Grace's almond eyes narrowed. "It's fair, Lauren. I'm thinking of it as saying goodbye in style."

***

She sat back in her seat as the airplane commenced its descent. Was Lauren right? Was she using Daniel? Grace knew the answer even before she asked herself the question. But she hadn't any regrets. The visit to Vegas wasn't costing Daniel anything. It just meant she was delaying telling him her decision to end their relationship.

If she needed any justification for playing him along, it came when he told her he'd decided to 'invest' around a thousand dollars of his 'saved' poker winnings so that he could play in a competition before the Main Event. To gain experience, for fuck's sake! 

His attempts to justify it as coming from his money, his poker winnings, were insulting. He'd never once confided he had a separate bankroll from his winnings. And yet he'd known how tight money was for them both. It had been the final straw!

The strange thing was that she and Daniel had fucked more in the short time since he'd won the trip, than they had in quite some time. How ironic! It was nothing to do with their relationship. Or even Daniel. It was the thrill of anticipation at what the future held.

She thought back to Lisa's recent London concert. Inviting Grace as her guest of honour had been such a fucking turn on. Later, in the hotel suite they'd shared, the country diva had fucked Grace all night. Even now, the thought of the strap-on sent little shivers through the brunette.

You have the voice, Grace, the blonde had told her. No question about that. Now you have the opportunity. But before you go, you need to be sure how much you want it.

Grace had laughed at first. She wanted it with all her heart. When she'd told Lisa, her voice had shaken with the intensity of her feelings. Nothing would stop her!

Lisa's next words hadn't stopped her. But they'd made her pause. Grace, do you know how many cocks I've sucked? How many men I've fucked? Just to get to where I am now?

It had made Grace think more clearly about her aspirations. Was it really what she wanted? If that's what it took? 

The brunette felt herself blushing. Her desire for success was all consuming. Not only would she do anything to make it as a singer, the thought of giving head or fucking a stranger was a fantasy she'd always had. To do that… and guarantee fame and fortune—

She pressed her thighs together in the seat. God, she was so wet at the thought. She'd been turned on ever since. And night after night, Daniel had reaped the benefit.

"You okay?" her sister asked, noticing her shuffle in her seat. It wasn't like Grace to be nervous of flying.

Despite the seat belt, Grace manoeuvred around so that her back was to Daniel. The thought had been with her for some time. If sex was a prerequisite to opening doors, how had Lauren secured her audition?

"Tommy," she whispered into her sister's ear. "Don't you miss the sex?"

Lauren coloured. "It… it hasn't been that long—"

Like a good sister, Grace instantly detected her nervousness. "Yes it has," she insisted. "You told me you two used to fuck like rabbits. How long have you been without it?"

Lauren's blush turned to deep red. Grace knew instantly.

"I thought so!" she said, a little too loudly. When her younger sister's eyes warned her to be quiet, she lowered her voice. "Demetrius!"

Lauren nodded and laughed. "Talent alone isn't enough, even when you're as hot as I am, big sister."

Grace smiled a contented smile. She knew as much! "Was he good?"

"Like a bull," the blonde whispered, glancing around to ensure Daniel wasn't party to their conversation. Thank goodness for that guy across the aisle who was still regaling her surrogate brother with tales of his own poker exploits. "You have no idea—"

"From the smug look on your face, I can imagine," Grace responded, playfully tapping her sister's tanned knee.

"It's a shame Robert's gay," Lauren laughed, her voice now a conspiratorially low whisper. "Otherwise you might have had the same benefits!"

Grace's low laugh told her sister there was something up. Her words confirmed it. "Lisa Welles is gay, too."

For a second, Lauren didn't catch on. When she did, her eyes widened. "Grace—"

"Well, not gay," Grace confided, her almond coloured eyes gleaming at her sister. "She's bi."

Lauren's mouth half opened in shock. "Grace! You didn't! Not with another woman?"

Her older sister leered at her, playfully running a finger along Lauren's exposed thigh. That black skirt really was too short. "Better be careful, little sis," she teased. "It looks like your sister is bi, too!"

Lauren slumped back in her seat, in shock. Sex—with a woman! She felt moist at the revelation. The seeds had been sown.

***

The smoke from his fat cigar filled the air. Samuel Smith was pleased with himself. Swinging around in the ridiculously large leather chair in his sumptuous office at the back of the club, he plonked both feet on his oversized desk.

Samuel Smith's had just made its first million in a single year. That excluded all the extra circular activities that brought in millions more. Extra circular activities! He laughed at the thought. He'd built up the biggest vice operation in Vegas, and despite the attempts of Big Eddie to muscle in on his market; he'd pretty much established himself as the dominant force.

Yes, Big Eddie had caused him a headache when the low life gangster opened Midnight Hot, a rival club located just off the Strip. But despite the undoubted success of that new nightclub cum brothel, it hadn't impacted on Samuel Smith's profits.

The so-called turf war he'd feared hadn't been a war at all. More like a minor skirmish.

In fact, not only had Samuel Smith's nightclub remained the leading attraction in Vegas, his expansion into the escort business had proven immensely successful. Once his son returned to Vegas, he'd groom him as his successor. For now, Joshua was broadening his horizons in Europe. In less than a year, he'd be home again. Samuel couldn't wait.

He picked up the phone and tapped in a number, congratulating himself that everything in his garden was rosy.

Carly answered. The spiky, black haired woman knew instantly it was her employer. "Hello, baby," she breathed into the phone.

"I'm waiting," he simply said.

"Not for long," she mumbled, with that always present hint of mischievousness in her voice. 

It took her less than a minute to make her way from the club floor. Samuel's slacks and white boxers were already resting around his knees. There was no subtlety with the club owner. Never had been.

Belying his fifty years, the stocky club owner was invariably ready for action. His impressive black cock was already erect, rising majestically from the thick expanse of thick, curly hair. 

The young woman smiled and tugged up her white tank top, exposing her unfettered breasts. Samuel returned the smile as his hungry gaze devoured them. They both knew how turned on her full, pear like swells made the Vegas renowned businessman. 

"Don't have much time," he mumbled, nodding at his cock. 

His dark eyes glowed as her shapely leg straddled him. Leaning forward, he couldn't resist taking an erect, deep pink nipple into his mouth. Young flesh was what kept him young. And there was never a shortage in his profession. 

His mouth moved back and forth between each breast, turned on by her moans as his teeth pulled on each hard bud in turn. She may have been able to get off from just having her breasts sucked, but he needed to hurry the process. 

His black hand dropped between her legs, rubbing her through her tight jeans. It took no time. Her moans signalled the onset of her climax and her shuddering body confirmed it had arrived. He continued to suck her tits as she came on his working fingers, loving the way her hips continued to hump his hand as she crested her summit.

Immediately, Carly knew what was expected. He hadn't summoned her just to give her pleasure. That was a bonus. She pushed his hands away and lowered her head, taking his black erection between her soft lips. Samuel placed one large hand on the back of her head as he moaned, tightening it in her spiky black locks as she began to mouth-fuck him. 




The Strip Ch. 03



Damn, this girl was good. Every bit as good as any he'd ever had. He'd miss her when he sent her undercover. But those instructions could wait until she'd satisfied his need. His body was already succumbing to her working mouth. 

His shaft pushed against her throat as she slid her pink lips all the way down to the base. He grunted as she took him to boiling point. Her eyes danced upwards into his, daring him to try not to cum. They were in their own private battle. The spiky haired woman was racing him towards his orgasm whilst he tried to last. There was only one winner.

She left his black shaft with a slurp, but his groan of disappointment turned into one of pleasure as she widened her mouth around each testicle. She sucked gently from one to the other as his grip in her hair tightened. He fucking loved the way she never held anything back.

Then she was on the move again, never still. Her lips and tongue gently ran around his purple crown. Her soft hazel eyes grinned up into his as his breath caught in his throat. The spiky haired woman plunged back onto his ramrod stiffness, deep-throating him again. 

In an instant, they both knew he was there. "Going to cum for Carly, baby?" she teased, a string of saliva dangling between her lips and the tip of his hardness. She stroked his pulsating shaft with her hands as she spoke, working the spit into the soft skin.

She took just the head between her lips as her fingers stroked his glistening length with short jerking movements, just the way he liked it. It was enough. He'd taught her well. His body jerked as his thick seed surged into her greedy mouth. Her soft lips took every last burst, her head pumping on his shaft until he had nothing left to give. 

Only then did she look up, grinning as she slowly licked and cleaned the African American's diminishing manhood.

***

Grace and Lauren were like two eager children, their excitement spilling over during the twenty-five dollar cab ride from the airport.

Cruising along the Strip, they'd stared out of the frighteningly clean cab windows at the sky scraping Manhattan landmarks atop the New York, New York hotel; the large Eiffel Tower above Paris hotel; and the quite magnificent Bellagio and, next door, Caesar's Palace. 

Even the long registration queue at the Rio hadn't fazed them. After checking in their luggage, they'd decided to stroll along the Strip to take in the sights. The raw heat was mitigated as they called into the cool air conditioning in hotel after hotel along the way.

Even the down to earth Daniel was impressed by the gondola ride the girls insisted on experiencing in the Venetian, despite their laughing off his assertion they'd soon run out of money if this were an example of how much things cost.

"Can't we change hotels to this one?" they chorused, with heady giggles.

He understood their enthusiasm. The Grand Canal Shoppes; the Venetian Living Statues, and the small, string orchestra performing in St. Mark's Square left them all spellbound. 

The Forum shops in Caesar's Palace were next on the sister's agenda. If the Venetian was expensive, the impressive shops gave them no respite. They'd already spent the best part of an hour contemplating the rhinestone-studded shoes at Stuart Weitzman. 

Daniel's intention after their late flight had been to make up for the lack of sleep with a short nap prior to that evening's Practically Poker pre tournament introductory party. He wanted to be in good shape for tomorrow's pre Main Event tournament.

With Lauren's modelling audition scheduled for later that evening, he'd made the same suggestion to the tow sisters. When they laughed at him, he left them to it. They'd return when they were ready. 

***

Big Eddie flipped over his cards. "If you can beat two pair, then you've got me," he announced. 

The kid across the green felt practically shook with nervous excitement. Eddie smiled. Rosie's boyfriend's tells were so obvious he might have been playing with his cards face up.

"Three kings," Charlie announced sheepishly, turning over his pocket pair.

Big Eddie sat back in his chair and softly clapped his hands. He was known for his outbursts and the wide-eyed kid seemed to be prepared for one. Instead, the gangster pushed the stack of chips into the pot and congratulated him. "You played well, Charlie. I'm impressed."

"That's… that's it?"

"That's it. The five grand is yours. You won it, fair and square. Now go settle that little debt of yours." 

Charlie licked his lips, hesitating one more moment as though he expected to walk from this unbelievable dream. When it didn't dissipate, he quickly began loading his chips into a plastic rack. This would repay his entire debt to the loan sharks who were putting so much pressure on him.

Or maybe he could repay half the debt. With Rosie turning tricks at the Midnight Hot club, they were earning good money now. Perhaps he could keep half the money back and use it to fund more gambling. He was sure he could make good money; he just needed a little luck.

***

Carly sighed happily as she licked around his spent cock. Looking after Samuel was investing in her future. She'd lived in various parts of America at different times, but Vegas suited her down to the ground. Each time she'd moved on, it had been to better herself. Or escape from the damage she'd done. Her last boyfriend had called her a psycho bitch. He was right.

Her natural talent was for manipulating people, men and women. Sex had brought her everything she had. Her body was her weapon and her instrument. The sleazier side of life was her territory. She'd manipulate her own mother if it got her what she wanted. It hadn't been necessary. Not yet.

The spiky haired woman had also learned that the way ahead in life was to foster relationships with the people that mattered. Foster relationships? Her insides shook with laughter. Fuck them silly was a more accurate description. Fuck them so well, that they couldn't do without you.

That's why she'd spent some time wheedling her way into Samuel Smith's affections. She wasn't stupid enough to think that the older man would ever marry her. But he would take care of her financially. He was her gold mine.

Leaning back down, she continued to clean around the fifty year-old's cockhead until she was satisfied she'd cleaned every last drop. Only then did she sit back.

Her soft hazel eyes stared into his as she lit a joint and inhaled the contagious aroma. When she passed it to Samuel, he lazily stroked her naked breasts as he took a long pull.

"Damn, Carly, you're amazing," the African American murmured. 

She chuckled. "Best you ever had?"

Samuel loved her confidence. "You're up there baby," he responded, unwilling to give her that ultimate complement. Keep them in their place. "No doubt about that!"

He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling. There was something on his mind. "What?" she asked.

"I want you to do something for me," he softly said, tweaking a nipple.

She flinched as she pulled on the joint again. "I want that, too, baby. I'll give you ten minutes to recover and then we can fuck again." 

He smiled but ignored the comment. "I want you to get a job at Midnight Hot." 

Her eyes widened as her mouth fell open. He'd surprised her and she didn't surprise easily. "Of course. But… can I ask why?"

Samuel smiled. Deference. He liked that! "It's competition. My sources tell me Big Eddie's up to something. I need someone on the inside, just to keep their eyes and ears open."

They both knew what she was thinking as she stared at him. She belonged here, with Samuel. 

"I know that, baby," he answered her unspoken question. "But I need someone there. Some insurance."

She knew there was no option. His dark, searching eyes confirmed that. "Okay," she complied. She'd find a way of turning this to her advantage.

"Good girl. I'll take care of you when you get back. But I need someone to find out what's on his mind. Big Eddie likes his broads, and I can trust you, Carly. You're just what I need."

She smiled sweetly. It disguised the feelings swilling around her insides. Too fucking right, she was just what he needed. "I will," she whispered, handing him the joint as she dropped her head to lick down his hard, black stomach. She smiled to herself as her lips began to nuzzle his testicles and her hand stroked his hardening cock. Take care of her? She'd strike a hard bargain!

"Oh, fuck," he moaned as she rolled his heavy globes in her mouth.

"Ten minutes are up...." she smiled, looking up into his eyes.

***

There wasn't anything that anyone could teach Big Eddie about gambling. The son of a classy gambler who epitomized the world of Old Vegas, he'd inherited his father's money when the automobile accident tragically took him a couple of years ago. He'd inherited his nouse, too.

Having spent most of his time being a young and spoiled rich kid in Europe, he'd moved to Vegas to take over his father's club. He lacked the integrity of his father yet had still been successful, and this young kid would never be a match for him if he lived to be a hundred.

What had attracted him to the youngster was his association with Rosie. He knew everything about the girls at his club, had fucked some of them, too. The redhead was an exception. The young woman had a heart of gold and was about as different to his other girls as she could get.

He'd been amazed when she'd asked to turn tricks—until he'd worked out why. Her good for nothing boyfriend was in debt, big debt. And rather than take responsibility like a man, he'd whined at Rosie until she'd eventually given in. But that suited Big Eddie fine. He wanted Rosie, and if he had to remove Charlie from the picture to get to the sassy young redhead, then he had no problem with that, either.

"Tell me, Charlie, do you enjoy playing poker?" he asked as they shared a quick drink in one of the side rooms at Big Eddie's club.

The stocky young man hesitated. It was clear that he enjoyed it, but it had also gotten him into a lot of trouble. Eddie also knew that he'd vowed to Rosie that he'd stay away from the casinos. It had taken the gangster a lot of convincing to set this up. "It's fun," he eventually responded.

"I think you like it more than you let on," Big Eddie suggested. "And you're good at it." He sat back in his chair and pretended to think. "If I set you up with a stake, would you be interested in making more money than that?" He nodded at the rack of chips in Charlie's hand.

"I... you know, I can't." Rosie's boyfriend was saying no, but it was pretty clear to anyone watching that he didn't mean it.

"Rosie doesn't have to know. You could make a lot of money..." Charlie licked his lips. "Tell you what. Don't make up your mind right now." He reached into his wallet and pulled out a business card with the address of a poker lounge on it. "If you're interested, go to this address tonight, around 10. There'll be fifty thousand in chips set aside for you. We split the winnings. Sound fair?"

Charlie's eyes blinked at the size of the stake. "You'd spot me fifty thou?"

"I believe in you," Big Eddie nodded. Being good at lying was useful for more than just poker. Charlie took the card and stared at it. "Think about it," the gangster encouraged. "No pressure."

"Thanks… thanks very much!"

"Good luck."

***

Naturally enough, The Practically Poker introductory party was being held at their hotel. That's where all their qualifiers were being housed. 

Harrah's, the world's largest gaming company that owned the Rio had bought out the rundown Binion's Horseshoe in 2005. In one stroke, the World Series of Poker's image had moved upmarket and the rich, blue and red Rio became the new host to world poker's most prestigious event.

Daniel followed the bright internal signage to the Practically Poker suite. It took only seconds to realise that he was one of the early arrivals and that, even in his smart casual attire, he was overdressed. The small number of badly dressed individuals epitomised the approach of most poker devotees and rather than appear too conspicuous, he decided to wait until more poker hopefuls arrived. 

Retracing his steps, he passed time by taking in a show in the main casino area. The series of floats suspended from the ceiling were spectacular, as were the performers, clad in exotic masks and brilliant costumes. Daniel watched entranced as the procession slowly made its way around the casino floor. But one part of him wondered what he was doing there. 

A London lad, caught up in the greatest poker event the world had to offer. Self-doubt crept in. Was he up to it? Pull yourself together, he told himself as he pulled himself away from the colourful spectacle and made his way back to the suite. 

The numbers had dramatically increased in the half an hour he'd been away. The dress sense hadn't. Dirty, well-worn jeans and an assortment of tee shirts and baseball tops appeared to be the order of the day. His black jeans and crisp, red, short-sleeved shirt stood him out. 

Why did he feel he was letting down the poker fraternity?

***

Girls being girls, it had taken Lauren a good couple of hours of trying each outfit, several times, before she and Grace were satisfied with her appearance. Staring into the tall mirror in the Agency's bright reception area, they knew they'd made the right choice.

The bright red halter dress was perfect. Short and tight without being too obvious. And red was her favourite colour. She was unsure whether she'd have to strip, but the burgundy bra and matching thong were sexy. 

Bring it on!

The striking looking woman who answered a few minutes after they'd rang the bell on the empty desk, smiled broadly. The sisters couldn't help but stare as she walked across the floor towards them. Every single part of her—from the short, raven coloured hair, piercing dark eyes and slim figure—looked chic.

"I'm Kay Kristen. Please call me Kay," she smiled in a warm but definitely superior way. "This is Dan." The photographer behind her nodded pleasantly. "You don't mind waiting a while do you? Dan and I are just checking through some details. We won't be long."

With another smile, she'd swept back the way she'd come, photographer in heel. The two sisters glanced a nervous glance at one another while they waited. The butterflies had prevented that. But now, ten minutes later, Lauren's puzzled face spoke volumes. 

Had Kay Kristen disliked her? Maybe she wasn't what they were searching for? Perhaps her audition about to reach an abrupt and unwelcome end even before it had started? 

***

If this were the last time she'd get to fuck Samuel for a while, Carly was determined to make it one to remember.

Imprisoning the African American's saliva covered cock between her firm breasts, the way her hands manipulated her fleshy tunnel as she eased herself back and forward made him growl like a cougar sensing a kill. 

Kneeling across his lap in the dark leather chair, she had the perfect angle to slide his erection between her soft swells. His head went back, only for the spiky haired woman to dig her fingers into his wiry, dark hair and jerk his face towards her. She knew what her soft kisses along his neck did for him.

Masturbating his cock, tongue flicking along his skin, she could feel the rhythmic thump-thump of his heart. Having such control over the powerful man was like someone feeding her an aphrodisiac. She'd 'controlled' many sex and women with her sexual wiles. But none as important as this one.

Leaning back, she permitted his aching erection to bounce free. Her narrowed eyes made sure she had full contact with his as she lowered her pink, glossy lips to his throbbing manhood. They were both aware of her unspoken command. Watch, baby, she was telling him. 

He rewarded her with a sudden intake of breath. The way her expert tongue went to work frequently brought that sort of reaction. 

Samuel alternated between throwing his head back and jerking it forward, watching as she went through her full repertoire. Lips, tongue, fast pace, slower, cock, balls -- she didn't miss a trick. 

"Damn, girl," he groaned a few minutes later as she pulled away. His shuddering told her he was close. 

Her kiss stilled his objection. "No, baby, It's too early to cum," she teasingly whispered as she flung a shapely leg across his lap, lowering nut to bolt. "Let Carly fuck you there—"

The chair made a whoopee cushion sound under their combined weights. For a brief second they laughed, then their combined lust took over again. Samuel gripped her tanned hips as she sank exquisitely down, slowly engulfing his long black length into her tight body. 

Leaning backwards, her hands slid up her toned body, trailing them across her soft breasts before locking them behind her neck. For a moment it looked as if she was hypnotised, eyes closed, soft growls, her upper body swaying back and forward. 

Her sex drew circles on his cock. She sheathed and almost unsheathed it. "Tell me, Samuel," she sexily whispered, leaning forward and pulling his head against her tits. "How much do you enjoy this?" 

Starting at the tip of his shaft, she contracted and expanded her internal muscles around him. The ripple effect shot all the way down his manhood. Caught totally off guard, his fingernails dug into her thighs. His hiss was as if someone had pricked a balloon. 

Carly purred like a cat, delighting in the way his eyes glazed. She took his face between her hands and smiled. As his glazed eyes stared back, she did the pussy ripple again. A low growl indicated the fifty year old was clinging on to his sanity. This would teach him to send her away on a mission. He could think about her until she returned.

Knowing he was close, she began to focus on getting herself there, too. He owed her that. Easing up until just his dark cockhead was inside her, she jerked back down. The friction as his shaft dragged across her clit took her a step closer. That was too good! 

She repeated her movement, moving unhurriedly up and down. This was her time. "Hold on, Samuel," she gasped. "Hold on, baby." 

The whoopee noise grew louder with each downward thrust. This time they didn't laugh, they groaned. The noise almost matched Samuel's whimpering. The fifty year-old was on the fringe of his orgasm, denied only his willpower and the way Carly eased off when one more step would have taken him over the edge. 

Her arms wrapped around his sweating neck. Her eyes were glazed slits of passion. Her low growls grew in intensity. "I'm close, baby."

The spiky haired woman moved rhythmically. She wanted this to continue but knew she wouldn't last much longer. Time to build up the pace. The speed of her down-thrusts increased as she fucked him hard. The smooth flanks of her inner thighs were aching, but didn't falter as they pistoned relentlessly back and forth.

"Squeeze 'em," she gasped.

His hands found her swinging breasts. Her nipples were deliciously hard against his palms, but the speed of her movements was such that he was unable to keep hold of them. It made no difference. The straining hands behind his aching neck tightened. Her body came to a shuddering stop. 

Then someone pressed the detonator button. 

The intense silence was filled with a long wail, starting low and finishing loud. Every part of her body gripped him as she trembled. The thickset man took it as his cue. For the first time, he was in control, even if it was only for a few seconds. His grip on her shuddering hips tightened. 

He began to pile drive the sexy woman in his lap. He went from zero-to-sixty in half a second, his hands slamming her down against his heavily sweating legs. Her growls began to reverberate around the room. Maybe she'd reach another orgasm before his arrived? Neither was far away. 




The Strip Ch. 03



The sweat dripped from Samuel's forehead. His eyes began to roll. Carly grabbed back the initiative, flexing her legs and moving with all the energy of her twenty-two years. 

"Come on baby," her vibrating voice chanted, over and over again. "Come on… cum for Carly—" 

Samuel lost himself. He gave every ounce of effort his fifty years allowed. His heart worked overtime. Then he exploded.

Carly's sex twitched with each burst of his hot cum inside her sucking body. Her slick muscles tightened each time she sucked another rope of manjuice. The club owner couldn't stop, his hips twitching with each explosion as she gratefully accepted each further explosion.

"That's it, Samuel," she whispered, tightening her hands around his neck. "I want you to remember that until I return—" 

***

The good looking young women distributing flutes of cheap champagne were dressed in skimpy South American carnival costumes. The redhead that approached him was the most attractive of them all.

"Back again?" she asked, her sparkling green eyes shining at him

"Excuse me?" 

"You arrived half an hour ago," she explained, her smile broadening as she handed a champagne flute to him. "But you didn't stay." 

He took the flute, raising it as if toasting her. "Well, you people certainly know your business. To tell the truth, I felt a little self-conscious with so few people around. Not to mention overdressed!" 

The attractive redhead laughed again. Those sparking eyes stayed on his. "Just so we're clear, I'm not one of 'you people'. And the reason I noticed you back then was because you did look so smart. And handsome!"

His face coloured instantly. "I'm sorry..." 

"No reason to apologise," she shrugged, her amused smile not leaving his eyes. "So then, what do you think of my outfit?" She took a small step backwards, allowing his eyes to feast. 

Daniel tried to keep his gaze on either the skirt, or her headpiece with fruit. He was successful until she arched her back. The deliciously freckled, up-thrusting breasts called out to him as they spilt over her low cut carnival style bra. He was lost in a lustful sea of admiration.

"I see you like," she teased, with a deliciously, throaty laugh. "And just so you know, I'm impressed by what I see, too." 

Before he could respond, the cough an older man in a Practically Poker suit gave into the microphone grabbed their attention. "Looks like you're about to get started," she told him, flashing him a smile over her shoulder as she sashayed away.

The suave, experienced, grey haired Executive had begun his spiel when Daniel dragged his gaze away. That was quite an ass, too!

After a brief introduction, the aging Executive gave a sweep across his handlebar moustache and got to the heart of it. If any of their qualifiers made it to the final table, they'd be paid a bonus of two hundred thousand dollars. Half a million would be paid to anyone making it to second or third place, with twice that much for the winner. 

A cheer, and then a babble of excited chatter followed the audible gasp at the news. Naturally enough, he explained, the requirement to sign the Terms & Conditions would ensure each person displayed the Practically Poker logo throughout the Main Event. The travel bag filled with Practically Poker clothing and other goodies was their immediate reward.

Formalities over, the drink flowed. Poker stories abounded. 

The Practically Poker people focused on ensuring their name received maximum publicity. The players each had their own qualifying story to tell. And those who had been there before were determined to regale anyone who would listen with their previous experiences.

Eventually, Daniel had had enough. Shortly after the loud cowboy in sleeveless tee shirt and white Stetson joined his group, he edged away. The guy'd had more than enough to drink, and alternated between ogling the waitresses and telling increasingly absurd tales of his status on 'the circuit'. 

Time to return to his hotel. Maybe Grace and her sister would be back there by now? Time to find out how Lauren's audition had gone.

***

Kay Kristen's confident return to the reception area was as impressive as her first entry. "Okay, Lauren," she announced, flouncing back to the centre of the long, rectangular area. "Walk to the opposite end of the room, turn around, stand there, and walk back."

It was a command, not a request. It was also Lauren's territory. 

She worked her body to maximum effect as she strutted to the far end of the room, stopping beside the large portrait of Kay on the cream wall. Swinging around, she wondered if the dramatic pause was a few seconds too long, but put everything into the walk back across the room.

"Very good, Lauren. I like the style," the Agency Head enthused, gracefully perching herself on the thick arm of the chunky, leather couch. She appeared oblivious to the way the opening in her pleated skirt displayed the lacy top of her black stockings. 

"Thanks," the nervous young woman beamed back.

Kay nodded, as if her compliment had needed no response. "Lauren, you come with a wonderful recommendation. I regard Demetrius' view very highly. A fine judge of talent. He sent some of your work to us. Seeing you in the flesh, I'm even more convinced."

The younger sister was so happy she felt she could cry. Steady girl! This was neither the time nor the place.

"I've a job you're perfect for," the Agency Head continued, her piercing eyes focused on the potential model as if studying every reaction. "We're helping launch a new magazine, Lauren, and need a face for the cover—one that hasn't been seen before. We're looking for a series of face and body shots, for the inside pages. Interested?" 

Lauren didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Her mouth dropped open.

Kay Kristen gave a soft chuckle. It was a warm noise. This girl was perfect. Sexy. Innocent. Attractive. Naïve. And that video that Demetrius had sent through. She'd enjoy tasting this girl herself. Maybe she'd fuck Demetrius, too? He might be worth looking up next time she was in England.

"The publishers are hard task masters," she continued. "They're looking for someone fresh, young and inexperienced. Everything we've sent them so far has been rejected." 

"They won't reject you." It was Dan's voice from the side of the room.

Kay's smile filled her face. "We're pretty sure they'll be knocked out by your looks. And your body. We need some photographs now to show the publishers you're what they're looking for. Any questions?" 

***

"Hi," the redhead said, stepping in front of him. "Going so soon?" Her smiling green eyes focused on his, as if searching for something. 

Her inspection made Daniel's cock lurch and he desperately tried to keep his eyes on her freckled face, rather than drop to her impressive breasts. They didn't follow instructions. 

Rosie smiled, she liked the shyness. This guy was so different from the majority she came across, on and off duty. With an inward giggle, she arched her back in that way of hers that made her tits seem like they were trying to burst out of her bra. "Want to sample them?" she teased. 

"Wh… what?"

"The canopies!" she innocently added. "You haven't had anything to eat."

His sigh was either relief or disappointment. "No," he smiled, his eyes telling her he was unsure if he was being played with. "I'm fine."

For a few seconds, she allowed the silence to build. Her raised eyebrow told him she was waiting for him to take the initiative.

"You work for Practically Poker?" he asked.

"Off and on," she replied. "My main job is a dancer at one of the clubs. Midnight Hot."

Daniel nodded. "Dancer?"

Rosie smiled. "Yes, I'm a hottie…" She smiled to herself at the confused look on his face. And there was that blush again. So adorable! "That's what they call us. Midnight Hot—the dancers are hotties!" 

He nodded slowly, he'd have to brush his ideas up if he was going to spar with this one. "The name fits," he grinned. "Been in Vegas long?" 

Not the most original question she'd heard, but it would do for starters. "I've been out here for a couple of months. Seeking fame and fortune," she confided, making sure her breasts brushed against his arm as she leant closer. "I graduated last year. Thought Vegas might be the start of making a better life." 

Daniel nodded. "And—"

This time, her smile was wistful. "Early days," she sighed. "Early days."

The person stumbling into his back interrupted their conversation. He turned to see that Stetson was more drunk than ever. The man lurched against Daniel again, almost toppling the two of them. Daniel caught him by the arm and balanced him upright. 

Rosie would have let him fall. She'd seen his type before. 

"Hello, sexy," he slurred, leering at her. "Doin' anything later tonight?" 

She fixed her challenging gaze on Daniel. "I'm hoping so," she responded. Ignoring their drunken friend, she placed a slim hand on Daniel's arm. "Would you like me to show you around the hotel?" 

"Er… I'm staying here," he told her. "Just arrived today."

"Good," she responded, linking his arm as she guided him out of the door. "A guided tour would be perfect, then. I'm Rosie, by the way." 

He knew it was a way of getting her away from the drunk. She linked his arm as she guided him out of the door. "I'm Rosie, by the way." 

"Daniel," he smiled. Yes, he should be getting back to Grace, but somehow he didn't want to leave the redhead just yet.

She gave him that smile again. "Daniel!" she repeated. "From England. I just love the English accent. Tell me about yourself, Englishman."

*** 

As Kay explained the poses required, she picked up a small container from the table beside her. Flicking it open, she scooped a small amount of the white powder and held it towards Lauren's nose. 

The shocked young woman's eyes widened to saucers. Coke? Surely not! But it was. Offered to her as if it was candy. The Agency owner leant forward and almost conspiratorially whispered, "This will help, Lauren. I assume you want to be successful?"

"Yes… yes, I do want to be successful," Lauren hesitantly responded. She didn't want to damage her chances, but there was no way she wanted to get into drugs. "But I'll pass if that's okay?" she timidly added.

No, it wasn't okay, but one step at a time. There'd be plenty of other opportunity, and Kay needed the girl to imbibe if her plans were to reach fruition. She smiled sweetly and inserted her slim finger between her own glossy lips, rubbing a little on her gums. Set the right example!

Her movements were slow, sensuous, allowing the blonde's big eyes to take in each movement. Corrupting an innocent was such a turn on!

"Take the dress off," she murmured, making sure Lauren watched as she licked the residue from her finger, like she was sucking a cock. 

The girl took a deep breath before unzipping her red dress. Stepping out of the garment, she passed it into the brunette's outstretched hand. Kay carefully draped it over a chair, her dark eyes drinking in the voluptuous sight in front of her.

The photographs didn't do her justice. Neither did the video. Standing demurely in the burgundy plunge bra and matching thong, she was as hot a prospect as Kay had ever seen. And she'd seen plenty.

Under the woman's critical gaze, Lauren felt as nervous as she'd ever been. She hesitantly pulled the right strap of her bra back into place as it fell from her shoulder. The way her nipples pushed through it didn't help. 

It took half an hour to complete the shots, but it was time well spent. Although Kay didn't need the photographs, it was important to identify how the young woman reacted to instructions, presented her body.

She was impressive. Not just that she was anxious to please. It was the way she responded, she was comfortable in her own skin. And that combination of innocence and sexiness! No—not just sexiness, it was almost lewd the way she naturally moved, as if offering herself.

This girl was a real find. That was certain. With just a little manipulation, she'd have her in front of a movie camera before she knew it. In fact, they were shooting a movie within a week. 

God, that would be perfect!! Her body grew moist at the thought.

Kay picked up the red dress, but held onto it rather than immediately return it to the girl. "That was excellent, Lauren," she murmured. "You looked so comfortable with your body. Are you?"

The blonde's excitement got the better of her. If this woman wanted confidence, she'd give it her. If she wanted sexiness, she'd give her that, too. She wanted this job. Resting one hand on her cocked hip, she ran the other through her hair. "Very," she smiled; enjoying the way Kay's eyes devoured her body.

The growl the brunette gave told them both they were on dangerous ground. The Agency owner was close to taking advantage. She could have the young model, there and then. She could almost smell the girl's arousal. But rushing things was dangerous. One step at a time— 

With a resigned sigh, she reluctantly held the dress out. "Better get dressed." 

***

The sexy young woman was easy to talk to. Very easy. She'd listened attentively to Daniel's story, and somehow he found himself explaining everything about the build up to his Vegas adventure. 

The way she'd continually held his arm, squeezing it gently whenever she had a question, felt pretty natural, too.

"So, this Grace," she smiled, stopping him in the quiet lobby area before returning to the suite. "Are you in love with her?"

He hesitated. What to say? They had been in love. But things were changing. He wasn't a fool. That spark was missing and they had to find it again. "We used to be—"

Rosie nodded. That way she had of at him made the Englishman feel she could read his mind. No fooling this girl. Were all American women like this? "When did you say she perform at Samuel Smith's?" she continued. "Tomorrow night?"

Daniel nodded, trying to keep his gaze away from the breasts she kept rubbing against his arm. "It's her big opportunity," he mumbled

The redhead smiled. The club he mentioned was well known as a superior version of Midnight Hot. They'd lost a few girls there recently. "And her sister -- Lauren? Her modelling audition's tonight?" She began to walk again. "Hmmm, we could have three new stars on the Vegas scene."

Daniel's eyes creased. Three? 

Her laugh confirmed she'd read his mind. "Of course! A singer, a model—and a poker player. Want to get your travel bag and goodies?"

He nodded, time to get back to his room and see if the sister's had returned. Following her through the double doors and along the confusing corridors, he heard the buzz of noise from the suite ahead of them.

Instead of continuing all the way, she stopped one door removed and with a challenging look, she pulled him inside. This was wicked, she knew. She had a boyfriend, after all. But then Charlie had coerced her into having sex with clients at the club. Was this so different?

For a second, Daniel wondered why she didn't flick the light switch on, but her lips on his gave the explanation. Her kiss was softer, yet more passionate than Grace's. 

"Rosie—" he gasped, but her hand between his legs stopped him. His denim-covered cock grew instantly under the stroking fingers. 

"That feels good, Englishman," she murmured, leaving him stupidly wondering if it was a question or statement.

Whichever, she was right. But this was wrong. "Rosie! We shouldn't—"

His gasp was louder when her hand left his erection. Disappointment or relief? But then they were on his, dragging them to the tits she'd free from their covering. God, they felt incredible. He couldn't resist, kneading the twin beauties, pulling the hard nipples between thumb and forefingers.

"Yessss," the redhead hissed, sliding a hand back down to unzip him and fish his cock through the gap in his jeans.

Reason told him to stop now, but his cock was sending other messages to his brain. His head hit the wall as he threw it backwards. Even in the dark, he could sense her lustful smile as she slid down between his legs and sheathed his hardness between her lips.

"Let yourself go, Englishman," she mumbled, as her hot mouth temporarily slurped off him. "You need this as much as I do." 

She was right. He did. But that didn't change the fact that this was wrong. With a superhuman effort dredged up from somewhere, his hands slipped under her arms, dragging her slender body upwards.

"Rosie! You're the sexiest woman I've ever set eyes on. But I can't… I just can't. I'm with Grace—"

To his surprise, when her mouth found his again, it wasn't a kiss designed to change his mind. It was tender, long and warm.

"A man with morals," she muttered, pulling back and stroking his crinkly hair. "The more I get to know you, Englishman, the more I like."

***

"I'm very pleased, Lauren," Kay told the blonde, leading her back through to the reception area.

The younger sister couldn't help her beam of happiness, despite trying to disguise the shudder of pleasure from Kay's words. Be professional, she told herself, but still the inane grin wouldn't disappear. This was working out better than she thought. Both Kay and Dan were pleased with her. And the way the brunette had checked out her body! Maybe she could use that to manipulate her way to the top?

Kay Kristen smiled at the way the blonde preened herself. She'd deliberately laid it on thick. Make the blonde feel good. Help her sense the big time. Make her hot for it. Desperate, even—

"Tell me, honey. I only want models that're willing to sacrifice everything. I can't make you a star unless you have that need inside you."

The blonde reacted the way she wanted. Desperation covered her face. "Kay, I want this more than anything," she pleaded, grasping the raven haired beauty's arm to emphasise the point. "I'll work as hard as possible."

"Perfect," Kay sweetly smiled, disguising her feeling of triumph. "How long are you in Vegas."

Lauren glanced at Grace. She'd almost forgotten she was there. Their return air tickets would see them leave in a week.

Her sister smiled back. Watching Fashion TV on the large screen hadn't been the most invigorating way of passing the last hour, though the chilled chardonnay had helped. She'd savoured three glasses.

"I'm here for as long as you want me," she answered, swinging her attention back to Kay. 

"Good!" came the brunette's firm answer. "We'll know tomorrow if the agency want you. If they do, we'll shoot the day after."

"The day after—?" Lauren couldn't disguise her surprise.

"Oh, yes. We're already running out of time. I assume that's fine with you? We'll sort out the money and terms later. You won't be disappointed." 

Kay's voice brooked no argument. She wasn't going to get one. "Absolutely," Lauren beamed, running a hand through her blonde tresses. "That would be fantastic, Kay."

"Absolutely," repeated Grace, as the two sisters made their way from the building five minutes later. "Abso-fucking-lutely!!" 

Kay Kristen licked her glossy lips in anticipation as she watched the two sisters climb inside the taxi. If her instincts were correct, this young woman would reach the top of her profession. It just wouldn't be modelling. 

*** 

Charlie couldn't believe what he'd done. He kept staring at the river card, as though he could change it from a heart to a spade with his mind. He glanced down at his hold cards again. His flush came up short, the chase was over.

"Good game, son," the greasy haired old man laughed across the table. The rest of the guys around the card table joined in. In truth, it wasn't a good game at all. They'd brutalized him. He'd never lost fifty thousand grand so fast. Fuck, he'd never lost that sort of money at all! This card room had taken it before he'd finished his first beer.




The Strip Ch. 04



This is a rewrite of 'Vegas', combining both Books. While maintaining the theme, it offers a completely different and fresh take for the main characters.

Grateful thanks go to the best editor in the world -- thesoundandfury - not only for his editing, but also for the constant encouragement, suggestions, and for helping me to become a better writer.

Chapter 4: Hello and Goodbye

Lauren and Grace were unused to luxurious splendour such as the Pinot Brasserie. That had made their leisurely breakfast in the Venetian restaurant even more enjoyable. The short taxi ride from the Rio was a minor inconvenience -- this was an early celebration, Grace told Lauren. If Daniel were wasting a thousand dollars in a pre-Main Event tournament, she'd spend a little extra on her and her younger sister.

Grace had no doubt Lauren would be offered the modelling assignment. Kay's reaction had been a clear indication of that. Of course she couldn't confirm anything there and then, but that woman was nobody's fool and wouldn't have gone to the trouble she had, if there'd been any doubt. She knew her sister felt the same way, even though she was afraid to admit it. Tempting fate.

"Maybe," she told her sister. "But let's wait 'til I get the call from Kay. That's when I'll start to believe it's gonna happen."

"You should've stripped naked, Lauren," Grace laughed. "That would have guaranteed the job."

"Are you kidding?" the younger sister grinned. "I think I'm getting fat, don't you?" The both threw their heads back and laughed at the absurdity of the remark. There wasn't an ounce of excess fat on the blonde woman. "But I wasn't far off naked, Grace. Down to my underwear. Thank goodness we put on the sexy stuff."

The brunette's eyes widened and she grabbed her sister's arm. "Lauren!" she gasped in disbelief. "You only have sexy underwear!"

"That's a point," the younger sister laughed, leaning into Grace so they couldn't be overheard. "You know something, she offered me some coke! Can you believe that?!"

"Coke?!"

Lauren nodded solemnly, her brow furrowing in confirmation. "And you shouldda seen her face when I stripped! Grace, she looked like she could eat me there and then! Do you think she's bi?"

"How would I know?" her sister answered, one eyebrow raised. The wicked glint in her eye suggested she'd anticipated the next question.

Lauren returned the secret agent-type look. "You're the one in the family with experience of women," she laughed, glancing around to make sure they weren't being overheard.

Grace playfully punched her sister's arm. "Well, possibly not for much longer, honey. If Kay gave you the eye, it must mean she wants some of that pussy—"

"Pussy?" Lauren laughed. "Grace, you're awful!"

"I'm serious," her older sister told her, tapping her wrist. "This is Vegas! What if that's what it takes?"

Lauren's humorous expression changed in an instant. "You know the answer, Grace, my career's as important to me as yours is to you. I'd fuck a donkey if that's what it takes!"

"A donkey?" her sister cried, almost doubling over with laughter.

Lauren began to laugh, too, and held out her upraised hand. "You know what I mean," she said, running her other hand through her blonde locks. "Besides, you've already told me what it was like with Lisa. Maybe I'm curious and want to try, too?"

Grace sat up, holding her hurting sides. "Give me that tissue," she blurted, snapping it from Lauren's hand and wiping the tears of laughter that were rolling down both cheeks. "You've always been curious, sis! Ever since you stole my first boyfriend."

The blonde grinned nervously. That wasn't a conversation she wanted to get into. They'd had enough conversations about that particular night. "Anyway, Grace, how about you? You nervous about tonight?"

"Terrified," her sister replied, dabbing the corner of one eye. "Simply terrified!"

Lauren curled her lip in sympathy. She understood. "You're sure you don't want me to go along with you to your meeting with Samuel Smith?"

Grace shook her head and swivelled in her seat as she called for their check. "Don't worry, little sis," she sighed. "You just stay by that phone until you get the call. I'll face Samuel Smith myself this afternoon, you just make sure you're supporting me tonight." She glanced at her watch as she pulled out her credit card. "Meanwhile, let's get back to the Rio. I need to dress to impress!"

"Samuel will love you," Lauren told her, with a wistful look. "And you'll be wonderful tonight. Both Daniel and I will be there to support you, Grace."

Her sister threw back her head and snorted. "Daniel? You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

The way she spat out the words shocked Lauren. "Grace—"

"No, Lauren, don't defend him. He wasn't with me when I went to the party at Robert's. And he's not here now, he's already downtown registering for his tournament today. The one he's wasting a thousand bucks on. He's told me that if he does well, he'll be playing 'til late. My fucking Vegas debut and he might not be there. How's that for support?"

"His poker got you out here, Grace," Lauren's soft voice wasn't taking sides, just trying to keep the peace. Until recently, Daniel had been good for her sister and she hated to see it end this way.

Grace shook her head. With a sigh, she calmed herself, but the coldness in her voice confirmed the finality in her words. "Don't! I know you're trying to help, Lauren, but you're not. It's over between Daniel and me; it has been for some time. The only question is when."

For a few seconds, the two sisters stared at one another. Then Grace's features softened. "And in the taxi," she murmured, "you can tell me all about this donkey complex of yours—"

***

The World Series had left the rundown Binion's Horseshoe Casino in 2005, the first time in its thirty-five-year history it wasn't being held at the place where it all began. But the choice of the former venue as the host for today's pre Main Event tourney was a delight. Sampling both venues in Daniel's Vegas visit was almost too much to ask for.

The time it had taken since registration had come as a shock. He'd assumed he'd quickly be in action, rather than filling time wandering around Fremont Street, just taking everything in. Eventually growing tired of people watching, the coffee shop had killed another hour and now, with the innocence of poker youth, he guarded his chips closely as he wandered across to table fifteen.

He'd expected the whole experience to be more fulfilling somehow. In what way, he wasn't sure. But surely it should be more glamorous than this? One hundred or so badly dressed individuals, all making their way around the room as they closed in on the noon starting time.

He was the second person to reach the table. The old, thin guy looked in his eighties. Wearing a button up shirt, blue jeans and a white Stetson, he fitted into the environment, every bit as much as Daniel didn't. 

"First event," the old-timer asked after Daniel introduced himself.

The young poker hopeful gave a rueful smile. "It's that obvious?"

The older man grinned as he put one hand on Daniel's shoulder and shook his hand with the other. "It shows, but then we've all got to start somewhere, son. Make sure you stock up on food and fluid," he instructed rather than suggested. "Not too much, but enough. It'll keep you alert."

"Thanks, I will. I take it you're a regular."

The old-timer's grin changed into a wry smile. "I've played one or two. Not so much nowadays, though." The wrinkles spoke volumes. Unlike the Stetson wearer at the Practically Poker party, this one was sitting as if it'd been made for this very man. Below it, the greying eyes smiled reassuringly at the novice. "Better rest my legs," he said, indicating his seat across the other side of the small table. "Good luck, young 'un," 

Daniel shook the gentle hand yet again. "And the same to you, sir. Could I ask your name?"

"Slim. Just call me, Slim," he said.

It was half an hour later, in the middle of a hand, when it hit Daniel. He stared again at the old guy across the table. For fuck's sake! He'd been taking to the legend that was Amarillo 'Slim' Preston. 

***

Big Eddie had enjoyed his oysters. But they were always wonderful at the Paris hotel, and the Mon Ami Gabi restaurant was one of his favourites. Oysters increased his libido and the only thing on his mind was which of his girls he was going to fuck. Early afternoon, his club easily could spare someone for a couple of hours.

That redhead was as cute as hell. And had a body to die for. Rosie. Yes, that was it. Rosie. Then there was the Brazilian. Dolores looked like she'd be as dirty as hell. As for the new Swedish blonde—

Fuck! So many women. So little time.

The young kid dropped the stolen purse as he ran straight into the well-fed man. "Hey," the gangster growled, catching him by the hood of his light grey jacket. The unfortunate youngster couldn't have timed things more badly. 

The spiky haired woman was on the two of them in an instant. As she bent to rescue her purse from the pavement, the young kid flung out an arm, catching her across the left side of her face.

Big Eddie's grip tightened on the scruffily dressed hoodie, painfully twisting one of his hands behind his back. The woman took advantage, raising her black stiletto and with surgical precision, kicking the young kid between the legs. When he bent over, her hand crashed across his cheek.

"Tit for tat," she triumphantly sneered, her normally soft, hazel eyes blazing at him and then at the gangster. "Are you with this little bastard?" she asked.

His laugh answered the question. "Lady, do I look like I'm with him?"

For a few seconds, her eyes continued to spit venom, before softening into a grateful smile. "In that case, thank you. You saved me a couple of minutes."

"I saved you a couple of minutes?" the gangster repeated, cuffing the youngster until he stopped struggling. "Just explain that one to me."

"That's how long it wudda taken me to catch up with the little bastard," she muttered, "My first day in Vegas and I have to endure this crap."

"First day? Tourist?"

The spiky haired woman shook her head. "Looking for work, though," she said, holding her hand to the red mark on her face, "if this turns into a black eye, I don't think that's very likely, do you?"

The gangster's eyes ran across her body. The red blouse and low rise jeans looked liked they'd been sprayed on. This one would have no trouble finding a job - that was for sure. "What kind of work?"

"I'm a dancer."

"I have an idea," he told her, pulling the young kid back as he tried to make a run for it. "But first, what do you want doing with the kid?"

"Let the little bastard go," she snapped, glancing at their captive and hoping he wasn't too badly hurt. "I'm not interested in dealing with any cops."

The youngster speeded down the street as soon as Big Eddie let go of his hood. The two of them stood for a moment, watching him go. Her idea of using her nephew was a brainwave. So much for Samuel thinking it would be difficult for her to work a route into meeting the gangster. 

"What's your idea?" she prompted, wiping a bead of perspiration from her brow as she turned back to her target. 

"I'll give you a job," he told her, straightening his tie in a way she presumed he'd seen at the movies.

"You?" she grunted, playing her part to perfection. "What sort of job?"

"Dancing," he responded. "You said you were a dancer. You can start later tonight. See what you're made of."

A hand swept through her spiky hair. "See what I'm made of? And who the fuck are you?"

Big Eddie laughed, his eyes sparkling as they ran across her again. "I'm a club owner who offers jobs to ballsy women."

Carly took a step back, letting him see she was sizing him up. Samuel hadn't told her he was this impressive. Overbarbered perhaps, but she liked the effect. And that goatee! She'd always had a thing about goatees. 

"If you're interested, follow me," he told her, turning on his heels. 

She liked the take it or leave it approach. His shoulders and chest were so broad they swayed when he walked, in that sort of rolling gait peculiar to heavy men. It took a few steps to catch up with him. 

This could be more interesting than she'd anticipated.

***

Being invited to Samuel Smith's mansion had been a surprise. Grace had expected their first meeting to take place in his office. Not that it mattered. With a chance of fame at stake, she'd have met him in a downtown brothel if he'd asked.

She and Lauren had spent some time deciding what she should wear, eventually settling for the dark blue suit and a snug white blouse. 

The professional look suited her circumstances, while the short, tight skirt gave her the sex appeal Samuel Smith was probably expecting. She quickly undid another button of the blouse, making sure her tanned cleavage was on full display.

Glancing around the large living room, she wondered what was keeping the club owner. Her sigh reverberated around the room as she pondered on what had brought her here. Lisa Welles had been as good as her word. Like her sister, she was so close to the big time. It was impossible to describe how much she wanted this. 

"So good to meet you at last, Grace." Samuel Smith's voice was warm. 

She hadn't even realised the club owner had entered the room. She released her thoughts and turned to the voice. She hadn't expected him to be black. Crossing her legs, making sure to give the smirking man an eyeful, she mumbled, "Thanks… er…" 

"Samuel. Just call me Samuel."

"Thanks, Samuel. Let me tell you how appreciative I am for this opportunity." 

 He nodded. "Good," he began, taking and lighting a large, Havana cigar, "I have this feeling we'll be good for one another." 

Grace's almond coloured eyes ran across him as he poured two glasses of bourbon. Despite his lack of height, there looked to be an impressive muscular frame under that suit. He nodded at the glass as he handed it to her. She took the cue and sipped at the amber coloured liquid. 

It burned her throat.

"To business, Grace. Understand that what I'm about to say, I told Lisa Welles before you. And Dorothy Jackson before her. And Connie Melrose before that. You've heard of them all?"

Heard of them all? He was talking about some of the biggest selling diva's of the last decade. "Of… of course."

"D'you know what they have in common, Grace?"

The baffled woman shook her head. She hadn't expected the man to be all business so quickly. Maybe after a few pleasantries? She'd planned out what to say and now she wasn't being given the opportunity.

"They all started at Samuel Smith's," he went on. "How about that. I gave them their chance here. But not only that, Grace, I set up record contracts for them after they finished their spell here. Guaranteed them success, Grace."

He threw back the rest of his bourbon and poured himself another. Grace sat quietly, unsure whether a reaction was required. It wasn't.

"I made them an Angel, Grace. Do you know what an Angel is?"

"Well, Lisa explained that—"

He wasn't interested in her response. "An Angel, Grace," he said, continuing to pace back and forward in front of her, "is the seal of approval. Once a woman becomes one of Samuel's Angels, success is guaranteed. You hear that, Grace? Guaranteed." He threw back another throatful of bourbon. "How much do you want to be an Angel, Grace?"

"More than anything, Samuel. I want it more than anything."

For a moment he stopped pacing, holding her eyes as he took a long drag on the cigar. "But there are two sides to the bargain, Grace. Don't you want to know what's expected of one of Samuel Angels?"

Another sip of the bourbon helped her dry throat. Lisa had told her this question would come. Just say no, she'd cautioned her. Let him see it doesn't matter to you what it takes.

"No, Samuel. I don't need to know. I'll do anything."

His face turned from a question mark to a beam of delight. It was clear she'd given the right answer.

"Good girl. Because if you had, you'd have been out of that door before I could finish the rest of my drink." He threw it down his throat to emphasise his point. "All Angel's do exactly what they're told, when they're told. That's the deal. So it doesn't matter what, does it, Grace?"

"No, Samuel." She made her voice sound much more confident than she actually felt. A feeling of being out of her depth started to overwhelm her, but that was exciting, too.

"Once an Angel, always an Angel, Grace. Understand?"

She nodded. "Yes."

The look on his face sent a shiver through her. "Drink up," he told her. She did, fighting back the tears as the liquid burned the back of her throat. Even as she choked it down, he was refilling their glasses. "Have you heard of Tina Ferragmo, Grace?"

"Yes. Of course." Everyone had heard of the rock chick who so tragically died from a drug overdose two years ago.

"Tina was an Angel, Grace. Then she decided she wanted out. She hadn't listened properly when I told her an Angel is an Angel forever. Tragic." He sent a plume of smoke skywards, allowing the implication to sink in. "So, I'll ask one more time. I can guarantee you fame and fortune, Grace, but are you sure you want to be one of Samuel's Angels?

The shudder that ran through the brunette was unlike anything she'd ever felt. A mixture of deep fear, but there was an intense arousal in there, too. Her body grew moist even as her heartbeat began to settle. 

"Well?" he asked, watching every flicker that passed across her face.

"Yes, Samuel," she answered, taking another drink for additional confidence. "Yes, I'm sure."

He smiled at the young, hot singer. He knew his power was a turn on for women. This one looked incredibly tempting in that saucy little power-suit of hers. Long legs, shiny, loose dark hair. And tits large enough to push open her blouse. His cock stirred at what came next. The opportunity to sample the goods. 

"I've already got the news out to some important business contacts. They're looking forward to hearing you tonight. From what Lisa tells me, you could be the best of them all."

He stood, looking down at her. Towering above her confirmed he was in complete control. When her eyes displayed that growing realisation, he slipped off his jacket and began to unbuckle his belt.

"This is the start of a wonderful adventure, Grace," he manipulatively confirmed. "The opportunity to reach the very top." As his slacks dropped down to his ankles, he pulled his black cock from his boxers. Even semi erect, he was impressive. "Now why don't you show me how much you want this?"

His hand went to the back of her head even as he took a step towards her, slowly pulling it to his thickening shaft. As expected, there was no resistance. She was a sensible girl.

***

Daniel knew his continual folding wasn't lost on any of the other players. It wouldn't have been on him. But playing tight had been the secret to his success so far. Four hours, and two sessions, in, his chip stack was healthy. Not enough to take liberties, maybe, but sufficient to give him space to wait for premium hands.

One of the benefits of his tight play was the opportunity to watch the other players, pick up on their styles and possible tells. The other was that when he did attempt to steal, it had worked perfectly. So far.

When the bland, conservatively dressed bespectacled character on his right raised yet again in early position, Daniel called in the small blind. The man belied his appearance and had been pretty loose and very aggressive. Mid range suited connectors didn't often hit, but when they did—




The Strip Ch. 04



The flop came Five--Six-Nine. Bingo!

He checked, allowing Mr. Loose and Aggressive to raise. It was smaller than Daniel expected. Half the pot. 

Easy does it. Just call.

The King on the turn was safe enough. He hoped it helped his opponent. This time, he decided to represent it, betting just over half the pot.

His opponent pushed up his sunglasses, allowing his eyes to focus on Daniel. "Hit the King?" he asked.

Daniel kept his head down, trying to put a tremble in his voice. "No."

He heard the grunt. "You wouldn't lie to me wud ya?"

Glancing up, he allowed the man to see what he hoped looked like an embarrassed smile crease his lips. "Would I?"

His opponent grunted, falling for the trap. "Yeah, you would, kid. All in." The man cursed as Daniel insta-called and turned over his Six-Seven. When he showed his pocket Kings, a gasp ran round the table. Another King, or a paired board, would still see the Englishman lose the hand. "One time," his opponent shouted as he jumped up, his chair clattering to the floor behind him.

The two of hearts brought Daniel's overloaded heartbeat back to normal. He hadn't quite doubled up, but it wasn't far short.

***

Samuel Smith moaned as the hopeful young singer continued to work on his cock. His tightened hand behind her head was unnecessary—her low growls confirmed that. When her tongue began to flick along his hardness like a snake searching for its prey, he knew how much he was going to enjoy this one in the coming months. 

She took him as far inside her mouth as she could. One hand dug into his ass, whilst the other dropped to caress his balls. The African American moaned again. The fingers he dug into her scalp displayed his growing pleasure. 

 Encouraged, she took even more of the thick cock down her throat. As she sucked on him, her long tongue created a wonderful friction all along the underside of his shaft. Both of her hands gripped his ass now. Her fingernails dug in as she made it her mission to get him there. 

For a moment, he dragged her head upwards so that he held her gaze. His nodding head told her to keep watching him as she went back to work. Her arousal outweighed the fear she felt. This was a position she enjoyed. He slowly began to buck his hips against her face. 

When her fingernails dug deeper, threatening to draw blood from his hard buttocks, he tightened his grip on her hair. "Yes, honey. Oh yes—"

A final suck of her mouth, fondling of his balls, took him there. Grace gave out a guttural moan as he fired the first blast against the back of her throat. She growled her approval, almost greedily accepting burst after burst of his creamy tribute. It took a while for him to finish, and even longer for her to come to her senses. 

With a feeling of astonishment, she realised she was close to orgasm herself. What she saw when she looked up at him took her aback. "You're still hard!" she gasped. 

"You didn't think we were through yet, did you?" he murmured. "My cock doesn't think so." He stared down at her, setting the cigar he'd continued to smoke on the table next to him. From above, he could see the edge of her blue satin bra, which barely contained her full breasts. "You like tats, Miss Songstress?"

Samuel Smith's lips curled as he watched her watch him remove his expensive silk shirt. She looked hungry. Just the way he liked them. He reached down and helped her to her feet, pulling her against his hard musculature. Their lips met for the first time. 

She moaned at his aggression. 

Flinging himself into her vacant seat, he stared up at her. Grace knew what was expected. Harnessing her nervous energy, she pulled off her little blue blazer. Blobs of cum were spattered down the front. She ran her hands down the front of the low-hanging blouse, smoothing it over her voluptuous upper body. 

He kept eye contact as he began to idly stroke himself, watching as she put on a show, slowly unbuttoning her sleeveless blouse and shimmying out of her little skirt. He fucking loved Vegas.

"Very nice," he nodded, scratching his chin and doing a little twirl with his finger. She spun for him, showing the sculpted splendour of her wonderfully toned buttocks. "You're your ass is designed for thongs!" 

"Do I please you, Samuel?" she asked, turning back to him. She leaned forward, giving him an eyeful of her deep cleavage. 

"You will any minute," he grinned.

Her pretty little face faltered a little, but Grace knew her role. Reaching behind her, the brunette unhooked her bra and let her tits bounce free. "Does it involve these?" she asked, cupping the tawny flesh and squeezing her breasts together. Samuel Smith licked his lips. "Or this?" She pulled her thong over her hips, letting the blue scrap catch around her slim ankles.

"Baby, your body is the shit!" he complimented, unable to help himself. Her healthy tan was complete, not a single bikini line to mare the perfection. Even the smooth lips of her pussy were golden brown beneath her narrow landing strip. She was somehow both slender and curvy with tits he couldn't wait to feel wrapped around his black cock. 

But right now, he needed to tend to more immediate needs.

He reached out, clumsily grabbing at her. Grace easily dodged him, turning her back to him coyly and wiggling her ass. So that was her game, eh? He took a different approach, leaning back in the chair and putting his arms behind his head. She glanced down at his cock, then up his face. There was that hunger again.

"Come on," he said, "show me how much you want to be an Angel."

Shivering, she sat back into his lap, guiding his cock between her legs and across her slippery vulva. She flipped her long, dark hair as she looked back at him, catching his eye with the innocent look he was beginning to love. 

"I'd love to cum on Samuel Smith," she said throatily, giving a different meaning to his words. Her eyelids fluttered as she sat down on the club owner's manhood.

Her pussy was snug yet welcoming. And she knew how to grind her body better than a lot of strippers he'd been with in the past. He leaned close, nipping her earlobe as he enveloped her tits in his large hands. "Welcome to my world, Grace," he growled.

***

"Torch the place," Big Eddie told Desmond as he ended the call and threw the cell phone onto the couch. 

For a thirty year old, he'd surprised himself by how well he's stepped into his dad's shoes. To not only continue his late father's business empire, but also make it even more successful, was impressive. That made the brick wall he'd hit so frustrating. A brick wall called Smith.

In his more reasonable moments, he understood why the man had taken such a dislike to him. His new Midnight Hot nightclub was in a better location than the Smith's more established club, and was in direct competition. But there was enough action to go around. 

Why should the bastard get greedy?

The war of words that had begun some time ago, had been followed by a few minor skirmishes. Nothing serious. But heading that way. It wasn't in his interests to inflame things further, but with Smith throwing a smothering blanket over his operations, he wasn't going to allow himself to be bullied into submission.

He'd tried to ignore it at first, he really had! It wasn't in his interests to involve himself in conflict. Well, the phone call he'd just received from Desmond changed all that. Smith had stolen some of his better girls, paying them over the odds to transfer their allegiance to his club.

He had to respond, and it would be devastating. Within forty-eight hours, Desmond would be delivering a message Smith would never forget. With a burnt out shell of a club on his hands, it would remove him from the equation. There'd be no more fucking around with Big Eddie!

He ran a hand through his dyed black hair and admired himself in the mirror. He liked the colour, it disguised the grey that was beginning to creep through. Grey! At thirty! 

Employing Desmond as his number two had been a good move. So what if he wasn't the sharpest tool in the box? He knew the Vegas scene, knew how to get things done. And he was as loyal an employee as Eddie could ever wish for. Getting him out of that jam had paid big dividends.

Suddenly, he felt better, and when the door opened behind him, his sense of well being increased. He hadn't needed to call on one of his girls for afternoon entertainment after all. The spiky haired damsel in distress he'd rescued outside of Paris had eagerly agreed to come back to his house. They always did. Chicks like her loved men with power.

After excusing herself to freshen up while he took Desmond's call, here she was, posing against the door in just her lacy bra and panties. Even better, the look in her eyes was telling him she was up for it. 

The white material provided a perfect contrast to her deep tanned skin. When she provocatively unhooked and dropped the bra, he gave a low growl. Those majestic tits were worth every penny she must have paid for them. He'd use her until he was bored and then move onto the next on his list to fuck. But his rapidly lengthening cock told him he wasn't going to be bored for a while yet. "Come here, baby," he growled, draining the Jack Daniel's in one gulp. 

Thank God for that kid trying to steal her purse.

***

The way Rosie's head was throbbing indicated her frustration. Headaches were always the first sign. And lately, it was Charlie who was the source of her aggravation. His gambling habits had led to her current situation - she wasn't a prostitute, what the hell was she doing?

She'd thought she was in love with Charlie. How stupid was that? He'd turned out to be just another deadbeat poker player, who's gambling habits have gotten him, not to mention her, into a heap of trouble. Their relationship was suffering as a result, but that wasn't the worst of it. Her life was spiralling downwards, out of control.

She'd only agreed to his pleading on the basis he'd stop his gambling lifestyle. And she'd been foolish enough to believe him! The bastard had promised to call her last night and when he hadn't, she'd given him the benefit of the doubt. But his failure to contact her this morning told her one thing. He was gambling again!

Wandering into the Horseshoe, she'd have it out with Charlie when she found him. For once and for all. That's where he'd be, she was sure of that. Playing poker with the other deadbeats. How often had he told her it was his favourite casino? Old Vegas was kinda run down, so very different than the glitzy poker rooms of the strip. 

That's where the fish were, he said, full of young wannabees or washed out, older players. Perfect for him to make a killing! 

Except that he hadn't, not in the way he expected. It was her that he was killing. Damn, her headache was worsening! Where the hell was he? The Binion's casino was pretty busy, just as Charlie always said it was, but there was no sign of her boyfriend. The place was just full of people like him, with ridiculous dreams of making it big. 

Easy money, that's what they thought. She hated the whole scene.

***

The ringing tone blew Lauren's thoughts about Grace and Daniel out of her head, like a leaf floating in the wind. Dropping the fluffy Bellagio towel, she glanced at her nakedness in the long mirror before picking up the phone and flopping on the bed. Her shower could wait.

"Hi Lauren, I'm pleased to have got you. Is it convenient?" Kay Kristen's voice sounded upbeat. That was a good sign.

The nervous blonde ignored the lump in her throat. "Yes, of course" she replied. "I've been waiting for your call." Her heart was pumping so hard she felt dizzy. Don't start any small talk, her mind pleaded. Tell me the news… tell me the news.

"I was hoping you'd be free for dinner this evening?" 

Dinner? Was that to give her the good news, or let her down gently? A long sip of water from the tall glass freed her throat, allowing her to reply. "I'd love to, Kay, I really would. But my sister's singing at Samuel Smith's. I can't miss that."

"My, my—" The Agency owner's voice was a deep growl, even sexier than Lauren remembered. "Can't you catch her another night?"

"No, she's only booked for tonight," Lauren quickly explained. "It could be the break she needs."

The wannabe model felt her heart stop when Kay paused. Then the woman was speaking again. "We mustn't miss that, I agree. What time's she on?"

We mustn't miss that? "Around ten, I think."

"Yes, makes sense. Putting her on in a non-risk spot. But listen, Lauren, I know a wonderful little restaurant nearby. We'll eat there early, and get to the club in plenty of time to watch Grace perform. How's that sound?"

It would have sounded wonderful if Kay would only tell her she'd got the job. What was keeping the woman? It had to be bad news! "That sounds perfect, Kay," she lied, trying to cover the nervous wobble in her voice. Just perfect."

The Agency owner's next words lifted the cloud. "It sounds like it's going to be a wonderful evening, Lauren. The magazine people loved you. We can discuss the details over dinner, but you start shooting tomorrow." 

"My God," the blonde gasped. Kay's voice was so matter of fact that the excited woman blinked twice to clear her head. "Mrs Kristen— Kay— That's absolutely wonderful. I don't know what to say, except… thank you so very much. I… I won't let you down, I promise."

"I know you won't, Lauren," Kay Kristen responded, her voice warm and comforting. "Dependant on how well the shoot goes, there's a longer term contract waiting for you. But understand, I'm quite demanding, and I take no nonsense from my models. Please me and the future is bright, Lauren. Upset me and you'll be out of the door so quickly—"

"Kay… don't worry," Lauren cut in. "Really," she babbled, "I'll put myself in your hands completely.

The Agency owner smiled to herself, a soft, knowing smile. "You'll be a star in no time," she breathed down the line. "It'll take two or three days, all full sessions, until we're finished, but we can talk about all that tonight. Dan will be with me and we'll meet you in your hotel reception tonight at seven thirty sharp. Don't be late—"

***

Daniel had been so focused, so in the zone, he'd lost track of time. The announcement of the break took him by surprise, was it really six thirty? A hand gently touched his shoulder. Swinging around, Slim was grinning at him, looking as cool as he had six and a half hours ago.

"I've been watching you play, kid. You've got something," he simply said. "Stay patient. You've made the money. Next stop the final table. Just stay patient." With that, he ambled off to the rail towards his cheering section. 

Daniel's eyes followed him. Did Amarillo Slim just praise him? He watched the old fella speak to a couple of onlookers before his gaze was attracted to a face on his left. Smiling at him. My God—

Rosie was astonished. It was a loud shout from the table that had first made her glance across. She recognised his face immediately. Her first thought was that he'd been a nice memory from the night before, nothing more. Maybe she should just leave and that would be that? Another deadbeat poker player was the last thing she needed. 

But there was something about the crinkly haired young man that made her feel he was different. She couldn't go without talking to him again. "How's it going, Englishman?" she smiled, instantly forgetting about her throbbing head. 

"Rosie—" His smile widened as he hurried across to her. Those freckles were a real turn on. 

"Pleased to see me?" she asked, "I'm surprised you recognised me with my clothes on."

Daniel felt himself colour as a couple of spectators swung around at her words. Ignoring the amused stares he gave her a hug. In white tank top and shorts, she looked a different kinda sexy to last night. But she looked sexy all the same.

"Yes, it's good to see you," he enthused, though his beaming smile had already given away his positive reaction. "How are you?"

"I'm good," she answered, her search for her boyfriend somehow falling to the back of her mind. "I thought it was tomorrow the Main Event started?"

"It does, though I don't play 'til the day after," he told her. 

Rosie felt a tinge of annoyance bring back the throb in her head. "So, you're playing her until then? Make yourself rich?"

His laugh was unexpected. "Hell, no, Rosie. This is a small tourney that'll give me some practice for the big one. I need all the practice I can get!" She nodded, and the way she raised an eyebrow made Daniel think he's surprised her in some way. "What're you doing here?" he asked.

"Good question," she sighed, her shoulders sagging a little as she glanced around the room.

She looked so vulnerable in that instant that made the young poker player want to give her a hug. Don't go there, he told himself, remembering the way her breasts felt in his hands, her mouth on his cock. 

"Hey," she told him, waving a hand in front of his eyes to break the thought. "Come back to me!"

He laughed, "sorry, I was just remembering something—"

She laughed that infectious laugh. Suddenly Charlie didn't seem so important anymore. "I can guess what," she smiled, twirling a loose strand of red hair. "But you're an Englishman with morals, remember?" She gave a rueful smile and the moment's silence felt surprisingly comfortable. "So, this tourney, Englishman - how's it goin'?"

"Better than expected," he proudly smiled. "I've made the money." 

The redhead's eyes creased in amusement. "Made the money? Sounds good, but what exactly does that mean, Englishman?"

Daniel grinned. Without makeup, she was even more attractive. "I've cashed." Her blank look made him laugh out loud. "Okay, I've won some money."

Her green eyes widened. Was it possible that they could sparkle more than they already were? "How much?"

"A couple of thou so far. But if I stay in the tourney for a while longer, I might double that."

"Wow," she laughed, maybe this guy really was different to the average poker player? He spoke in such a soft, respectful way, it made her feel warm inside. That's when it hit her. Charlie made her feel bad about herself, this man made her feel worthwhile. "Gonna treat me to dinner?"

His answer stuck in his throat. What would Grace think of that? "Er—"

"Here," she said, handing him a card. "This is my club. Pop in and see me soon. You can watch me dance."

Daniel grinned. "Why is it I think that might be memorable?"

Rosie laughed that contagious laugh again as she dropped her sunglasses from the top of her hair, covering those mischievous eyes. "It'll blow your mind." 

***

Carly was all over Big Eddie. Men liked variety, so did she. Reaching for his saliva covered cock, she stroked him back to full erection. He'd cum hard in her mouth. They usually did. She'd always been able to work out a man's 'weakness,' with this man it was her mouth and his balls and finger in his ass. He'd squealed then cum like a geyser.

Pushing him against the back of the chunky Crate and Barrel sofa, she crawled onto his lap and fed him her tits. Her breasts gave her power over the average hot-blooded male, that's why she'd had them done. Or rather, why she'd persuaded Samuel Smith to pay for them.

Feeling a nipple invade his mouth, he clamped down on it, suckling it, biting it. She moaned loudly as he attacked one hard nub, then the other. Men couldn't resist her tits, her long nipples. "Yes, yes, bite them! Fuck!"

Her hands moved to his hair. It was obviously dyed. That always made her smile. Men with dyed hair weren't usual her thing, too vain. This one was different. She'd taken a liking to his body. That made Samuel's task bearable. What the fuck was she supposed to find out, anyway? 




The Strip Ch. 04



She took her time as she flexed and gyrated in his lap. There was plenty of time. When he wanted her to go faster, she slowed, and when he tried to ease the pace, she fucked him harder. It took her fifteen minutes to bring him to the boil, and once she had him there, she athletically swung her body around so that she ended up underneath him. 

She loved that surprised look on his face. 

Giggling like a schoolgirl, she pulled his head down to her breasts again. Men liked the schoolgirl effect. Thrusting her hips upwards, she allowed his naked cock to rub directly against her velvet smooth sex. Each time he tried to enter she twisted away, and just as he began to lose his temper, she sheathed him with a gentle undulation of her hips.

"What kept you," she giggled, digging her hands into his hard ass. "C'mon, baby, what are you waiting for… do me!"

He reacted with a snarl, rocking forward and sinking deeper inside her. 

"That's better," she mumbled, her heels finding purchase on his buttocks and pulling him down into her. "So good, Eddie! You're the biggest I've ever had!" Wait 'til she told Samuel that one!

"I'll fuck you, you bitch," he growled, but as soon as he established a rhythm, she twisted again. Her right leg swung up and over his left shoulder, then her left over his right.

"Yes, baby, do me good," she moaned, her submissive position allowing him the pretence of being in control. He responded with another snarl. fucking her harder. Just what she wanted. Make her cum first, and then give him what he needed. She giggled to herself. She loved sex!

It took him ten minutes to make her cum, a look of conquest splitting his face as she growled and shuddered her way through the orgasm. "Yeah baby," he triumphantly cried, dipping his head to suck a nipple into his mouth. "That good, baby," he asked, seeking approval. 

"The best, Eddie," she moaned, dropping her legs to pinch his sides, "the best!" Men were such fucking boys. He didn't even know her name. She'd told him often enough. He'd know it before she dumped him and returned to Samuel, that was for sure. 

"You fucked me good, Eddie," she told him. "You fucked Carly good. Say it, Eddie… you fucked Carly good!" Her legs closed around his back as she spoke, her heels pushing down on his ass so he bottomed out inside her.

"I… fucked… Carly… good," he obediently repeated, gasping with each word as she took back control. Arms around his back, legs around his waist, she began to fuck upwards, moving like a well-oiled piston.

She could tell he was close, his panting and the way he squeezed his almost colourless eyes told her that. Later tonight, she might even let him fuck her ass, if he remembered her name. 

Right now, she wanted his cum. "Close, Eddie?" she asked, dropping her feet onto the bed in preparation for her next manoeuvre. "Close, baby?"

"Oh God…" he groaned in response, feeling his balls shiver.

She ran her fingers through her spiky black hair, already wet and sweaty. "Gonna cum in Carly's mouth? Want Carly to suck that seed? Tell me, tell Carly—"

With a contortionist's upward, circular twirl of her hips, she took him there. As soon as his eyes rolled upwards, she was on the move again, unsheathing him just in time for her wet mouth to descend on his cock.

When the depth charge exploded in her throat, she swallowed his manjuice like a pro, her soft hands tugging at his balls to extract every drop. When the gangster was spent, she pulled back, sitting on her shapely haunches, and wiped her mouth. 

"The best, Eddie! You're the best—"

***

Five players remained. Daniel's first ever World Series tournament, and he was in the final five! How the hell had that happened? Okay, the entry numbers had been surprisingly small. With the Main Event scheduled to start the next day, that was no surprise.

Even so, there had been some quality in a field consisting primarily of Internet players. Three of them were in the final five.

Hellmuth had gone earlier, after ridiculously wearing a soldier's uniform and announcing he'd soon be on his way to Afghanistan to 'entertain' the American troops. Someone who couldn't 'even spell poker', of course, had knocked him out. How often had the worst loser in poker used that line?

Phil Ivey and Jennifer Harman had been knocked out, too, both the victims of bad beats. Harman's pocket rockets had actually been cracked by Six-Two. And then there was the impressive Amarillo Slim -- the old timer had just failed to make the final table. 

And yet, here was Daniel, in the last five? It was unbelievable; maybe Rosie's visit had brought him luck?

His keen gaze circled the table and took in his four opponents. Chris Moneymaker held the chip lead, glowing with the confidence of someone who was beginning to re-establish himself. The barren spell he'd endured since winning the 2003 Main Event was slowly becoming a distant memory. 

The remarkable veteran, Doyle Brunson, was second in chips. At his age, too! The seventy-two year old was a phenomenon and it was such a privilege to be playing at the same table. Daniel Stone competing with Texas Dollie! It was an impossible dream, come true.

Daniel was roughly equal in chips with the other two players. Erik Seidel was generally recognised as one of the best players never to have won the Main Event, though he had finished second to Johnny Chan in 1988. In 2008, he'd finished in the same position in the Aussie Millions Main Event.

The intriguing personality in the final five, notwithstanding the credentials of the others, was the blonde woman. Like Daniel, Holly Willoughby was new to the poker scene. Rumour around the table was that Johnny Chan had coached her, but no one really knew. But it wasn't simply her background that had all eyes trained on the thirty-two year old.

The impressive wraparound deep, black sunglasses made it impossible for opponents to study her eyes. But it wasn't the sunglasses that were her key weapon. It was her magnificent breasts. Dressed in her trademark black, the attractive woman was braless. With a button too far undone, the sensual swell of her impressive cleavage was constantly on display. And clearly, her high jutting tits needed no form of artificial support. 

Many an opponents' concentration had been broken throughout the day. What else could be expected with that deep cleavage, and the outline of her pointed breasts? Daniel had been no exception. Since reaching the final table, he'd regular found himself caught up in the spell cast by those mouth-watering tits. She knew it, too! 

With the restart seconds away, he pushed the image away. His concentration needed to be total - should either he or Holly win, they'd be creating history. No other player had achieved a win in their first WSOP event. Not to Daniel's knowledge, anyway.

The beautiful blonde's play had shown she was capable. Daniel was determined to show he was, too. With just an average slice of luck. 

He glanced across the table. Darn! Concentrate, you fool! But Holly's magnificent breasts were even more impressive than they'd appeared throughout the day. Or was he just feeling horny? Last night's encounter with Rosie was playing on his mind. He may have just stopped himself from being unfaithful to Grace. But in his mind—

His gaze returned to the blonde. Her nipples were pushing through the deliberately thin material of her black blouse. Geez!

Eventually drawing his eyes upwards, he met her smile. Darn! Her dark glasses hid her eyes, but in that instant he knew she'd been watching him. Advantage Holly Willoughby, he thought, trying to draw his gaze away. No wonder she'd enjoyed such a good tournament. It was so hard to stay focused when that woman was around. 

"You okay?" she smiled at him, keeping the pressure on. The way she leant back in the chair accentuated the outline of her swells against her black silk blouse. 

Daniel couldn't prevent his eyes from following the movement. They both knew it. "I'm good," he responded, trying to keep it casual.

"You're usually quiet when you play," she mysteriously added.

"Usually?"

"When we've played together."

"Played together?"

The blonde laughed. "You're doing a parrot impression, Daniel."

"Parrot?"

Her laugh grew louder and the blush that'd crept up on him earlier deepened in colour. She had him by the short and curlies.

"We haven't played together, have we?" How could they? This was his first tournament. And he would have remembered her from one of his cash games back in London.

One blonde eyebrow coolly raised itself. "We qualified together," she explained. "Surely you remember?"

The light went on in Daniel's mind. They'd played at the same table a few times on the internet. And in the final qualifying event that had led Daniel here. "You're HitWoman?" he gasped.

"Mm-kay," she laughed, raising the sunglasses so that they rested on the top of her long, wavy tresses. "And you're Desperado!" 

***

Despite his gruff exterior, Samuel had treated Grace well. He hadn't needed to take her over to his club and personally show her around the place. It made her feel special. She'd never previously been in such powerful company and she had to admit it was an aphrodisiac. 

This was the man who held the key to her future success and she'd do anything to please him. If that meant fucking him every day of her three month contract, she'd do it willingly. She'd meant what she'd told him.

Standing on stage, introducing herself to the audience, their session seemed a long time ago. She was as nervous as she'd ever been in her life. "Hi, my name's Grace. I'm here to sing for you," were simple words, but once spoken, she had to perform. That was the scary piece. 

And yet, the rehearsal's had gone well. The unexpected resident band had surprised her with their ability to pick up on her music. They were so natural, it was as if they'd been playing country acid house forever. It had all appeared so simple, so straightforward this afternoon. 

It didn't now!

When Lauren, Dan and Kay arrived halfway through her first song, she was wondering whether she could make it. Her knees were trembling and her voice was hesitant. Their arrival changed all that. 

Her sister's beaming face told Grace all she needed to know - Lauren was about to make it in the big time. Samuel had promised that to her, too, but it was important to her that she proved her worth. She returned the smile as she sang, her eyes acknowledging the friendly wave from Kay and Dan. The butterflies began to recede. This was her time!

"Okay," she shouted into the mic as she began her second song. "Want to join in? Raise those hands and clap—"

Hands raised above her head, the crowded club mimicked her. She'd deliberately included Power in the Blood this early to get the audience into her music. It was perfect for the occasion.

If only she'd worn her usual sexy gear. She'd thought of that, but somehow Vegas had demanded something different. More refined, she'd thought, though looking around her, she realised her jeans, camisole and waistcoat would have been perfect. Still, the white halter neck dress was good, too. It hugged her curves and made her feel special.

If the way she was dressed was different to normal, her moves weren't. They were what made her who she was. 

She held the mic out to allow the crowd to join in from time to time, even though few of them knew the words. They would when she was famous! Clapping her hands, she swayed her hips with each heavy beat. This was her, owning the stage, pacing from one side to the other. It may have been an American audience, but they reacted the same as at home. 

Every so often, she turned her back to the crowd and rotated her ass, legs spread wide, arms stretched high above her head. It was her trademark and it sent the place into a frenzy. The crowd picked up on her moves, swaying and bouncing in time with the beat of the music and sway of her perfectly formed derriere.

She chose Monday Don't Mean Anything as an encore and the audience roared, committed believers. Those who'd been seated at the start of the performance had been on their feet for some time, joining the rest of the crowd who'd been standing throughout.

Lauren, Kay and Dan were on their feet, too, with the normally placid photographer unexpectedly putting his fingers between his teeth and whistling loudly. Others followed. The reception was overwhelming, way beyond her wildest dreams.

Her sister joined her minutes after she came off stage, Kay and Dan too. "Wonderful," the Agency owner told her. "Quite wonderful. One talented sister is remarkable. Two are outstanding."

"Thanks so much," Grace beamed, still high on adrenalin. "I appreciate you both coming out to watch me."

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world," Kay smiled, pushing a hand through her silken hair. Her beaming face turned to Lauren. "Though I'm afraid it's time for Dan and I to make our way back. We've a heavy schedule tomorrow, Lauren. We won't be starting 'til the afternoon, but will be working late. Hope you're up for it, honey?" 

Lauren's face was alive with excitement. The news of her contract, the wonderful dinner, Grace's performance, and the excitement of the moment all shooting through her like a drug. "You bet," she replied, her dreamy eyes smiling into her new employer's. "I can't wait, Kay."

"Neither can we," the Agency owner told her with a smile. "Right, Dan?"

The photographer nodded, holding his hand like a gun. "I'll be shooting you all day!" he joked.

***

"So, welcome to my club," Big Eddie told Carly, sweeping his arm around the busy dancing area. The bar was doing a heavy trade and all of the tables close to the stage were occupied. "You're up for a session, tonight? Show me what you're made of?"

Carly laughed aloud and batted her eyes at the gangster. "Why, Eddie, I thought I'd being doing that for the last couple of hours."

The thickset man laughed too, enjoying the joke. "Think of that as an audition," he gruffly said, eyeing her breasts. "There'll be a few more before I confirm you as a permanent acquisition to Midnight Hot.

"Eddie," she told him, turning and running her eyes around the club floor. The place wasn't as sophisticatedly decorated as Samuel Smith's, but the images of dancing girls all around the walls did have a certain sexiness to it. 

She swung back to Big Eddie. "You can audition me as often as you want, honey. In fact, I'll be expecting it." It wasn't just the sex, she told herself, how else would she be able to discover what was going on?

The gangster laughed again, straightening his tie in that film star way of us. Suddenly, one of the hands was on her ass, pawing the bottom so superbly outlined in her sprayed on jeans. Close his eyes and he could still see her naked, peachy ass. Not to mention those tits. 

"Well think of this as an audition, too," he slyly said, nodding at the redhead gyrating on stage. "Get changed and get your ass up there with Rosie. Show me what the two of you can do together."

***

Play had been cagey since the restart. None of the remaining players were willing to take too many risks at this point. Not with a WSOP bracelet riding on it.

Things changed an hour after the break. Erik Seidel lost a big pot to give Doyle Brunson a small chip lead over Moneymaker. It left Seidel dangerously low in chips. Daniel expected them to go into the middle next hand, but to the table's surprise, his raise accounted for only half of his stack.

With pocket Jacks, Daniel put him all-in. It was inevitable.

Moneymaker and Brunson quickly folded. From the rueful smile on Seidel's face, Daniel knew that after Holly folded, he'd be a strong favourite to win the hand. 

Holly didn't fold. Her softly announced, "All-in," took everyone by surprise.

Daniel's deep sigh conveyed his frustration. This was a tournament changing decision—doubling up would give him a comfortable chip lead. Calling and losing would all but put him out.

Pushing his chair back, he looked across at Holly as she eased herself back in her seat. The move gave him an unrestricted view of her breasts. Damn her! Being aware of her concentration-breaking tactic didn't make it any easier to avoid it. As much as he tried to focus, her twin peaks and the nipples that pushed against the thin material were dominating his mind and thoughts. 

He suddenly laughed. Maybe her hard little buds were some sort of tell? 

"Something amusing you?" she gently asked, one eyebrow raising above the frame of her deep sunglasses.

He shook his head and looked down at the table. Ignore her. Get control of his thoughts again. She wouldn't risk all her chips with a bluff—calling Seidel told her he had a hand. If she had Ace-King he'd be a 6-5 favourite but from what he knew of her internet play, she'd be unlikely to make the move with Big Slick. 

That meant Aces or Kings. Possibly Queens. All three hands beat him.

He threw his cards in and despite being pot committed Seidel surprised him by doing the same. That was a no brainer. Daniel turned his attention back to the blonde. "Can't quite decide if you had Aces or Kings?" 

She slowly raised her sunglasses, just enough to let him see her brown eyes. "Fishing, are we?" she smiled before instantly dropping them back.

Seidel went the next hand, his pocket two's staying ahead until the river.

Five minutes before the next break, the Londoner looked down to see the Ace of diamonds. He casually flicked up the corner of his second hole card. The second Ace was black. It was an opportunity to double up, if he could entice someone into the pot. Easy does it! 

Brunson, under the gun, was first to play. His pause told Daniel he had some sort of hand. That was good. Make it a big raise, he silently pleaded. Give me the opportunity to come over the top. His prayers were answered, but not in the way he expected. 

"All-in," Brunson eventually announced.

The loud hum running around the galleries sent a shiver through Daniel. He glanced at the hordes watching, then at the TV cameras. God, he really was in the big time! He didn't need to think, but with Holly and Moneymaker behind him, he hesitated. Let them think he was weaker than he was. You never knew, he might tease someone else into the pot.

He hoped his eventual "Call," sounded reluctant. He was putting his tournament on the line and it appeared he was uncomfortable doing so. 

Moneymaker folded immediately as expected. Holly didn't—she was up for action right now. The additional buzz that spread around the room after her "Call," charged the air with electricity. With Texas Dollie dominating their chip stacks, both their tourneys were on the line. 

Daniel felt his stomach do somersaults. He preferred to be heads up with pocket rockets, but the opportunity to triple up was just too good to ignore. 

Brunson turned over his hole cards first. Pocket Kings. Daniel's internal cheer threatened to burst his eardrums. Do the same, Holly, he pleaded. Turn over Kings and you're both drawing dead.

When she flipped over Aces, the roar around the room drowned out his groan. Damn, what were the odds? Now he'd be sharing the pot. With only two Kings left in the pack, he and his blonde opponent were overwhelming favourites to significantly increase their stacks. Doyle would be fatally wounded.

The King on the flop killed him. Amid the cheers and whistles that rang out around the gallery, he heard only silence. His body felt numb. Texas Dollie had hit one of his two outs and the turn and river were irrelevant. 

He glanced across at Holly, who was removing her shades. Her face looked as crestfallen as his. They were shaking hands with Brunson and Moneymaker, wishing them good luck even as the dealer turned over the final, pointless cards.




The Strip Ch. 05



This is a rewrite of 'Vegas', combining both Books. While maintaining the theme, it offers a completely different and fresh take for the main characters.

Grateful thanks go to the best editor in the world – thesoundandfury - not only for his editing, but also for the constant encouragement, suggestions, and for helping me to become a better writer.

Chapter 5: Rosie is surprised

"I don't understand!" Daniel spat out the words.

"Don't get upset," Grace said in a matter of fact way that was difficult for him to believe.

He ran a hand through his crinkly hair. "Grace, I'm not angry, I'm confused!" Why now? Why did she want to end their relationship right now? It didn't make sense. Except… it did. She'd just spent the last half-hour explaining to him while she packed. It wasn't working between them. She had an opportunity for success. And she didn't need him any longer.

"You're not confused, Daniel," she told him, climbing out of the chair beside the dressing table, "because I've just explained." Turning back to the nearly full suitcase on the bed, she resumed the final bits of her packing.

"You had a successful night, so you're—"

The brunette slammed the suitcase lid closed and picked up her cosmetic bag. "That's not quite what I said, Daniel," she sighed, "cleaning out the top drawer from the cabinet. "We both know we've been drifting apart, for too long now. It just hasn't been working for us, we've just agreed that."

"I know that, Grace, but I'd hoped—"

Her head shot up. "You've just told me what you hoped Daniel. We've been talking about this for the last hour. With my new contract at Samuel Smith's, this'll give me the chance to make my own way. I want to stand on my own two feet, see how far I can make it. It's as simple as that, Daniel. Okay?" She spat out the last word, as if putting a full stop under the discussion.

"So, your new contract includes a suite at the Bellagio?"

"Just for the time being, Daniel. For Lauren and I. Then I'll find somewhere local to stay. I'm here for a three months, so I'll need to rent a more permanent place for that time. This just gives me some breathing space."

He nodded, at a loss to know what to say. Deep down, he realised the sense of everything Grace had said. Maybe it was just the suddenness that spooked him? He slowly eased up from the corner of the bed, walking across to the window and staring out onto the Strip.

"That's it," Grace told him, finishing her work.

He swung back around to a face that was full of excitement, even if it was tinged with a hint of sadness around her eyes. 

"I want us to leave on good terms if we can, Daniel," she said, closing the distance between them and pulling him into a bear hug. "I only want the best for you."

Her words, scent and demeanour all felt wrong. Daniel couldn't quite place it, but there was a piece of the jigsaw still missing. He shrugged it away. After all, did it really matter now? "And the same with you, Grace," he sighed. "I know how you've worked for this opportunity. You deserve it. And I know you'll be successful. You've always had the talent."

"Thanks, Daniel, I'm pleased you did so well yesterday, too," she brightly smiled, turning back to her bags. "Good luck with your Main Event." 

He nodded. He hadn't seen his girlfriend this happy for some time. "Grace," he began, but she was already turning to answer the sharp rap on the door.

"Hello," she smiled at the bellboy. "It's the large suitcase to go downstairs, please. "Look," she said turning back to Daniel, "Lauren's waiting in reception for me. I really have to go." 

He took a long breath as the feeling of emptiness ran through him. "Here's your other bag," he said, handing her the cosmetic case and accepting the kiss on his cheek. On his cheek, for God's sake! "Stay in touch, Grace, and take care. You know where I am if you need anything."

She smiled at him one final time, and then she was gone.

***

How long was it since she'd heard from that bastard of a boyfriend? Thirty-six hours? Whatever poker game he'd got himself into, he was either being very successful or desperately attempting to repair the damage. So what was new? Sometimes she wouldn't hear from him for a couple of days and then he'd turn up, with their bank balance another thousand or so less than it was.

Except he'd promised her those days were behind him. Her hysterical sounding laugh frightened her. Next, she'd be talking to herself.

Turning back to the mirror, she finished drying her hair. It'd have to do, and anyway, a brush through it before she left home would make it respectable. Home? That was a laugh. The run down apartment was desperately in need of attention, but that wasn't going to happen for some time now.

The thousand or so that she'd managed to save over the last twelve months had gone to help with Charlie's gambling debts. Every cent she earned from her job went the same way. Her job? Could you call prostitution a job? Flopping back down on the bed, she couldn't hold back the tears.

Get hold of yourself, girl, she told herself even as she buried her face in her hands. A few deep breaths managed to stifle the sobs.

Moving to the box of tissues on the dresser, she wiped away the tears. Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, she gave a wry smile. In the white bra and boy shorts, she still looked sexy—at least she had that in her favour.

She'd resisted Charlie's suggestion to move in with her and now she knew why. If he'd been gambling again, it would be all over between them. If? A rueful laugh pierced the air again. She'd allowed him to persuade her to fuck the club's clientele on the basis he gave up every form of gambling. 

Just for a short time, he'd said! While he found a regular job and paid off his debts. And she'd fallen for it—how stupid! 

He'd sworn he'd never gamble again and she'd fallen for it. Become a whore. What sort of man would want his girl to fuck other men? For money? It wasn't right and if she was honest with herself, something had died between them when he'd pleaded with her to help him that way.

She'd have it out with him when he returned. 

For now, she had to get dressed. The phone message had said that Big Eddie wanted to see her that morning. What the hell was that all about? She'd seen her fellow workers called before the gangster before and it hadn't been a pretty sight. The man had a quick temper and the girls who'd left his office in tears were never seen again.

But that was when they'd been up to something. She hadn't. Maybe he wanted her to work different hours? Or longer hours? Goodness knows, she needed the money. Reaching for her red tee shirt, she checked the time. Damn, her watch had stopped again. God knows when she'd be able to afford a new one.

The plain round clock on the wall told her she hadn't long to get ready. It wasn't a good idea to make Eddie wait—where were those jeans?

***

"Why the long face?"

Daniel glanced up from his corner table in the breakfast area. Holly was smiling down at him and couldn't have looked more beautiful. The way she wore the black baseball cap at a slightly jaunty angle, pulled down over her long, blonde locks, somehow added to her appearance. Her dark sunglasses were precariously perched on top, but it was the two sensuous pink lips underneath the rim that added the additional degree of sexiness. The way her tongue flicked across them sent a clear message to his groin.

"Hey, how're you doing?" he responded, half standing as she slipped into the seat next to him. 

"Better than you it seems," the wavy haired blonde sympathetically smiled. "From the look on your face, how you're doing is more to the point."

Before he could answer, the waitress wandered across to their table. "Cappuccino," she ordered. Daniel shook his head when the grey haired woman looked at him. He was coffee'd out. 

The questioning look on her face demanded an answer, but the right words wouldn't come out. 

Holly laughed. "Oh, so that's it. Well, what did I tell you last night?"

The crinkly haired youngster stared into her sparkling brown eyes. "What did you tell me last night?"

"That your relationship with your girlfriend was on its last legs—" 

His face dropped. "How did you know?" he husked, glancing around as a couple of waitresses walked past, then staring back at her again.

Holly removed her cap and shook out her blonde hair. Even the way it bounced around her shoulders was sexy. When she smoothed down her black tee shirt Daniel's attempts to keep his eyes trained on her face failed. Did she never wear a bra?

"It's not difficult Daniel," she teasingly answered. "We women know these things." She paused while the server delivered her drink. "It's none of my business," she eventually added, her brown eyes smiling at him over the rim, "but I think it's for the best."

He shifted uneasily in the tiny booth. "What makes you say that?"

"The way you spoke last night," she answered, lowering the mug back to the table. "Not your words, but the way you said them. It'll hurt a while, honey, but it'll work out." 

Daniel smiled what he hoped was a self-assured smile. "Well, Holly, if your poker reads are as accurate, I'm staying out of your way. I know it's for the best, I guess we just grew apart. What you see is just a little bit of melancholy."

"Hmmm… if its melancholy," the beautiful blonde smiled, taking another sip from the hot mug. "Why are you staring at my tits?"

Daniel laughed as he deliberately allowed his eyes to flicker to her swells again. Her cleavage was almost intoxicating. "Well, you've got to admit," he joked, "They're difficult to keep your eyes from."

Her soft fingers ran down the front of her black tee shirt, grazing against the soft swell of her breasts. His gaze followed her movement and she waited until his eyes returned to hers before speaking. "Daniel, you're such a nice guy. You letch in a civilised way."

"Letch—?" Her throaty laugh made him colour.

"Honey, the good news is that you're not playing in the Main Event until tomorrow. The bad news is that I'm playing today. You need something to bring you out of your melancholy state, and I need some stimulation before I play—"

It took a good thirty seconds for her meaning to click. When it did, she was halfway out of the booth. Slipping her baseball cap back on, she crooked a finger. "Come on, then—"

***

"Can you believe this?" Grace asked her sister as the two of them stared across the marble foyer and around the impressive room. Even though the Salone suite was the smallest in the hotel, it was comfortably bigger than anything either of them had previously experienced.

"Look at this," Lauren told her as she rushed from room to room and then pulled her elder sister to the bathroom. The Italian marble bath with its soaking tub, glass-enclosed shower and personal his and hers sinks was mind boggling to the younger girl. "I'll be 'his,' she laughed, her eyes as wide as saucers as she took in every piece of decadent luxury.

"The bathroom alone is bigger than our rooms at the Rio," Grace grinned. "You still don't think I should have left Daniel?"

Lauren's excited face became serious for a second. "I didn't say you shouldn't, Grace. I just want there to be no regrets."

Her sister's grin disappeared. "I've no regrets, Lauren. How can I, this is what I've been waiting for all my life. Did you see the way the audience reacted last night? It was sensational."

Lauren followed her sister back out into the main room, her big eyes taking in the seating area with its couch and ottoman. "Of course I saw," she smiled again. "I was there. Remember?"

Grace wasn't listening; the champagne on the table had caught her eye. "Look, Lauren," she gushed, hurrying across to pick up the card next to the cooler. "Samuel sent champagne!"

*** 

The soft kiss Holly pulled Daniel into as soon as they entered the elevator was wet and passionate. "You looked so cute when I saw you downstairs," she grunted into his mouth, her white teeth pulling down his lower lip. "I nearly had to fuck you at the table."

"Holly," he began, feeling his heart race. "I'm not so sure—"

Her mouth stopped him and this time, the kiss was longer. Tugging down the zipper of her low-rise jeans, she popped open the waistline and guided his hand inside. He couldn't resist, she knew that—what man could? 

"Fuck, Daniel," she gasped, her hips jerking as his fingers found their way inside her skimpy panties and traced along her wet labia. "That feels good." 

Only the ping of the elevator stopped an immediate orgasm. She dragged him out. "Which way." He nodded to his left, caught up in the same arousal coating Holly. Her hand grabbed his as she rushed him along the corridor, her clit aching with every step. "For fuck's sake, Daniel" she complained as he fumbled with the key card. Once he clumsily had the door open, she dragged him inside.

"Holly—" he began again. 

The finger covering his lips shushed him, and then it was her mouth. Dragging her tee shirt over her head, she knocked her baseball cap towards the ground and playfully kicked it before it hit the floor. The breasts he'd stared at so often at yesterday's table bounced as she shook her wavy hair.

"You're innocence is so fucking sexy," she growled, leaning back against the door. Reaching down, her urgent hands stripped her loosened jeans and panties from her legs. "Well?" she asked, raising her hands above her head and resting her palms on the wooden frame behind her. Her breasts thrust out towards him, the high nipples aching for his touch. It'd been a long time since she wanted someone with such intensity.

Daniel's aroused gaze swept across her naked body. Any doubts he had disappeared. If Grace didn't want him, this woman did. He undressed urgently, yanking each item from his body and dropping them where he stood. His hardness almost hurt.

Holly provocatively eased her thighs apart as she watched, arching her back against the door. 

Daniel's eyes followed her hand—hypnotised—as it swept down her body and caressed the impossibly smooth skin of her clean-shaven mound. When his gaze returned to hers, she raised an inviting eyebrow. That was all the encouragement he needed. Two steps covered the distance between them. His mouth found her brown nipple at the same time as his fingers slid between her labial lips. 

She pulled him into another kiss, wrapping her tongue around his. She had no intention of waiting too long, but wanted to briefly savour the moment. It wasn't his fingers Holly needed, but soon enough this young buck would be inside her. 

Her hands reached for his penis, feeling the tingling heat in her loins surge with each stroke of her fingers. She thrust her jutting breasts into his hands, her diamond hard nipples burning against his palms. Their kissing turned frantic, lips locking, tongues parrying as the anticipation of the moment overwhelmed them.

"Ready, honey?" she whispered, unable to deny herself any longer.

Her hard buttocks rotated between the door and her new lover as her fingers guided his cockhead to her wet opening. One leg wrapped around his waist, pulling half his shaft inside her. When she raised her other leg, her heels finding purchase in the swell of his buttocks, he slid the rest of the way inside. 

"Oh, fuck," he gasped as his hands found her ass, his legs stiffening to maintain his balance.

"Yes, honey," Holly replied. "Fuck me good." Her teeth found his earlobe, pulling down on the soft flesh.

Her feet tightened around him as he began to fuck her. The sound of her ass bouncing off the wood and sending vibrations around the room only drove him on. "Harder," she murmured, feeling that familiar tingling heat. She was close already. 

The door thudded behind her as she threw her sweet ass back against it. She was there… now… biting into his neck as her climax overtook her. Never being one for holding back in this most intense of moments, she felt his hand cover her mouth to stifle her screams. Then it was his mouth covering hers as he widened his stance to hold her in position against the door.

The blonde trembled and shuddered her way through her climax, loving the way he supported her on his thighs while his hands clawed at her breasts. Another shudder ran through her when he took her nipples between his thumbs and index fingers. She felt so deliciously out of control. 

When the intense waves finally subsided, she pulled away and dragged him across to the bed. Grasping the iron rods that ran along the base, she wriggled her ass and glance back over her shoulder. "Want it, honey?" she asked. 

With a grunt of arousal, he eased himself onto the bed behind her and thrust home in one clean sweep. "Fuck, that's good," he moaned as her wetness easily accommodated him. Reached underneath her arms, he cupped her swells. 

Holly adjusted her position so his hardness dragged across her clit. "Geez, yes! There—" she moaned.

He pulled on her nipples and he pumped into her. The sound of her animalistic grunts was almost as much a turn-on as the feel of her ass pushing back against him. "Gettin' close, Holly," he gasped.

Her right hand dropped to rub her swollen clit, pulling on the hooded nub as he raced towards orgasm. His growls warned her he was nearly there. "Wait, Daniel... hold back, honey... I'm close too—"

He obediently slowed the pace, gritting his teeth in an attempt to delay the inevitable. It was almost too much. "Fuck, Holly, I can't hold back," he gasped.

She thumbed her clitoris one final time and lit the fire. Suddenly she was there, with him, whimpering as his hips violently began to slap against her. 

"Me too, honey! Now! Let it go! Yesssss!" She came again seconds before him, gripping the iron rungs in front of her face as she exploded. 

Then he was there, too, releasing his creamy tribute inside her. Each time he juddered, he ejaculated again. He couldn't stop. This time, neither of them made an attempt to quieten her screams. 

***

"You wanted to see me?" Rosie asked, squeezing through the heavy oak door into Big Eddie's office. 

With every minute of her journey to the club, the sense of foreboding grew larger. She couldn't shake the thought. Only girls that were in trouble were called to see the gangster and neither of two things that led to was an attractive option. She didn't want to lose her job, but nor was she intending to fuck him.

"Rosie, how's it going?" the smartly dressed man asked, his outstretched hand indicating she should take the seat beside him on the gaudy couch. The man had no taste! Still, his greeting was encouraging. Had there been a problem, his demeanour would have been completely different.

She tucked her loose bangs over one ear and gave him a quick smile. "It's going well, Eddie," she nervously responded.

"I can see that, honey," he smiled. "That was quite a performance with Carly last night. Quite a performance!" She couldn't help but shudder. He'd seen that? "Maybe I can get you and Carly together more often," he lewdly grinned. "A private dance, perhaps? I love private dances!"

"I… I don't think so, Eddie," she carefully answered, knowing it wouldn't pay to annoy the owner. Yet she had no intention of complying with his wishes. She'd had just about enough of all this, anyway. Surely there was a better life waiting around the corner?

His beaming face reassured her, she knew he could've reacted differently at her refusal. This bastard didn't have a heart.

"Well, you never know, eh?" he asked, bouncing his eyebrows at her. She gave another sigh, but this one was apprehension. He knew something she didn't and from the smug look on his face, she wasn't going to like it.




The Strip Ch. 05



"I hear you and your boyfriend are in some debt?"

The redhead looked crestfallen. "How—?"

The gangster waved his arms wide. "Rosie, I know everything about my girls. That's why I'm able to look after everyone so well. Haven't I always told you that if you ever have a time of need, just come to Big Eddie?

"Yes, I know, thanks very much," she smiled, disguising her churning stomach. Asking for Big Eddie's help meant he regarded you as his personal property. No way was that going to happen.

"But you chose not to?"

Rosie hesitated, her green eyes wary of the gangster. "It's not that, Eddie. Charlie and I try to pay our own way. Settle our debts—"

"Of course, I understand," he interrupted. "And Charlie's a great guy. You're very loyal to him, aren't you?" Rosie glanced at him—there was something in his eyes. What was it? "Where is he?" he asked.

The redhead shuffled in her seat. The bastard knew Charlie was gambling again. "I… I'm not sure," she mumbled.

Eddie's smile was as bright as the Nevada sun. He felt giddy inside, knowing what he was about to disclose, not that he'd confess his part. "Have you spoken to him in the last couple of days?"

Her eyes narrowed. What was it? Tell me you bastard! "Why?"

The gangster paused for effect. This was perfect, she looked like she was going to crap herself. "Because he gambled away a wad of money the night before last," he told her, slowly pronouncing each word.

"He did what?" she asked, the colour disappearing from her face. The stupid bastard couldn't have—

"And then left Vegas," he continued, crossing his hands in front of him. "From what I understand, he won't be back."

Rosie felt her chest tighten. Her head spun as she tried to contain the wave of dizziness overwhelming her. This couldn't be true?

"Here," he told her, pouring some water from the glass jug and pushing the tumbler towards her. "He's said nothing to you?" Her shocked face stared back at him. She couldn't speak, she couldn't even cry, she was numb. "I'm not surprised, Rosie," he murmured, standing up and walking around behind her. 

For a second, anger flared inside her. Anger at her rotten shit of a boyfriend, at the man digging his hands into her shoulders! She was a woman, not a commodity to be manipulated by these selfish bastards. Her deep breath allowed her to regain control. Without Charlie, she didn't need to do this anymore. She could find another job. Suddenly, it was almost a relief.

"Look," she said, twisting around in the chair, ready to tell him to keep his hands to himself. The look on his face stopped her. There was more—

"He left you with those debts, Rosie. That's why he ran away without a word. Like the skunk he is. The loan sharks were going to come after you, so I bought out the debt. That saved you, Rosie. If those bastards get to you… well…" he held his arms out wide. "We both know what that means!"

"How—" she gasped, wringing her hands together then grabbing the glass, draining the rest of the water. "How much?"

When he told her, she fainted. 

***

It took Holly less than ten minutes to use the bathroom and slip back into her clothes. When she returned, the sight of a still naked Daniel lying on the bed sent another shudder of arousal through her. His manhood looked so sweet, still sticky from their fucking. The blonde beauty looked at the door and then at Daniel. Well, why not, she asked herself?

Slipping onto the bed, she took his soft cock in her fingers, gently stroking whilst she stared into his eyes. Her soft grunt indicated she was pleased with his instant response in her hand. 

When she leant forward and took him in her mouth, he groaned. "Fuck, Holly!"

Slurping off him for a brief second, she mumbled, "We've already done that. But how about this?"

It took seconds to remove her tee shirt for the second time that morning. Cupping her full breasts, she slowly lowered them onto his now semi-erect cock. It twitched as she squeezed her soft flesh around it. Her eyes smiled into his as she began to move. Within seconds, he'd joined in, closing his eyes and bucking his hips. It didn't take long.

"Holly," he grunted. "I'm gonna cum—"

"So quickly?" she teased.

Before he could respond, she dropped her head and took him back in her mouth. She sucked in short, sharp bursts, one hand stroking his shaft as her lips concentrated on his crown. His fingers wrapped around her blonde locks as his body gave one final jerk. Pulling up, she aimed him at her swells, loving the feel of the splashes that instantly covered her gleaming tits. "Good boy," she purred, like a satisfied kitten.

"Holly" he gasped. "That was sensational—"

"Just time to get back for a shower," she grinned, pulling her tee shirt back over her cum covered flesh. "But we need to understand one thing, Daniel. I've broken one of my rules by just being here with you. And I don't often break rules. But I needed that badly." 

"Rules?"

"It was a one-off, Daniel. I'm a loner, and that's the way I like it. So don't get any ideas. It was just a fuck and we won't be repeating it! Okay?"

She waited until he nodded before standing and heading for the door. As she pulled it open, she paused and looked back. "Wish me luck today?" she asked.

He nodded, his eyes fixed on the whirlwind that had just overwhelmed him. "All the luck in the world, Holly. I'll check in later to see how it's going for you." 

"Good idea," she grinned. "You might learn a thing or two—"

***

"Where are you goin', girl?" the booming voice behind Carly asked.

She swung around to find herself face to face with Big Eddie's number two in the anteroom leading to Big Eddie's office. "Going to see your boss, Desmond. What's it to you?"

"He's expectin' a visitor," he told her, strolling in front of her to block the way to the door in front of her. "You'll need to see him later."

"Oh, really?" she asked, pursing her lips and attempting to step past him. "Why don't we allow him to be the judge of that?"

"He is the judge, little lady," he told the spiky haired woman, stepping into her path again. "He's told me to keep everyone out of his way until his visitor's arrived and they've concluded their… business."

"Their… business," Carly mimicked, shuddering at the way his eyes ran the length of her body. She'd worn the see through black top deliberately, but it was meant for the organ grinder, not the monkey. "That means it's a woman he's going to see?" 

The large man shook his head. "It don't matter none to you who it is, little lady. Why don't you head back the way you came?"

"I will, Desmond," she smiled. "As soon as Big Eddie tells me to. Now if you'll excuse me—"

This time it was his hand on her arm that stopped her as she attempted to push past him. "Hey, girly, you want to show more respect. You'll have more competition in a few days, you don't want to cause any trouble, now d'you?"

"More competition?" she asked. It was well known that Samuel was taking Eddie's better girls. What did this big lump mean?

"Yeah, we'll have the cream of the crop strainin' for a job here very soon," he sneered. "The finest Samuel Smith has to offer."

"What do you mean?" she asked, a little more quickly than she intended. It made the older man think twice about what he'd said.

"Never you mind," he grunted, clumsily attempting to cover his mistake. "Why don't I tell you when Big Eddie's free, then you can see him later. Okay?"

Carly hesitated. Whatever this lump had in mind, she needed to find out. "Des-mond," she seductively murmured, running a hand down the front of his shirt. "D'you know why I want to see Eddie?"

"N… no," he said, suspicious yet reacting to the fingers flicking open a button and sliding through the gap to stroke his hairy chest.

Her deft fingers unfastened two buttons of her own blouse. "Because I'm feeling horny," she told him, tweaking his nipple. "D'you know what turns me on?"

"Wh… what?" he grunted, his eyes drawn to the cleavage now on display.

"Powerful men," she murmured, playing with the belt of his trousers. "Men that bend others to their will. Action men. Are you an action man, Desmond?" she seductively asked, unfastening the belt.

"You better believe it, little lady," he responded, his deep voice sounding a little hoarse as she reached behind her to lock the door into the anteroom.

"Tell me something that'll turn me on more than I am now?" she asked, tugging his zipper downwards, one slow inch after another. "Tell me why we're gonna have some of Samuel's girls."

The big man shifted from one foot to the other. "Can't," he mumbled, gasping as her hand found his hardness.

"Tell me and I'll blow ya," she smiled, pulling his cock free and sliding to her knees. "Tell me what an action man you are, baby."

"Can't," he repeated, his large hands finding their way to her head.

Carly resisted the hands that attempted to force her mouth onto him. "You're not important at all," she spat, pulling away. "You're all talk—"

"Yeah?" he growled, his hands gripping her head tighter and holding her beside his thick, veiny, cock. "That's what you think."

Her tongue licked upwards along the length of his shaft. "Tell me then, Desmond. I want your cock in my mouth as much as you do. "Tell me, baby, I'll keep it to myself, you know that!"

***

Looking around the table, Holly saw only nervousness. Nerves never affected her. She couldn't afford them. The year in which she'd learned to use poker as a cover for her primary occupation had passed quickly. Yet this was the first occasion she'd experienced the full, unexpurgated thrill that poker had to offer. Even reaching the business end of yesterday's tourney hadn't brought the same sense of anticipation as the Main Event had evoked.

That's why she'd needed Daniel so badly. Sex was like a drug for her, fuelling her calm when her adrenalin threatened to overrun. Gave her an advantage. 

Despite poker coming a distant second to her main occupation, her competitive instinct drove a desire for her to try and emulate yesterday's unexpected achievement. The likelihood was that she would never play in the Main Event again and she was going to give it her best shot.

Her starting hand was the worst the game had to offer, but it presented a challenge. In late position, she raised in an attempt to steal the big blind. Unfortunately, both the small and big blinds responded. Damn! Okay, no heroics. See the flop then fold gracefully.

The cards changed her thinking. Seven-Seven-Two. Full house!

She checked behind the two blinds, attempting to induce a bet later in the hand. It came after the King on the turn. Small Blind raised the size of the pot and to her astonishment, the Big Blind pushed all-in. 

Holly sat quietly, attempting to put him on a hand. Pocket Kings would take her out, but that was the only hand that could damage her. If he'd held them, he'd almost certainly have re-raised her pre flop raise. No, he didn't have Kings. Ace-King, perhaps? Or better still—pocket two's?

"Come on tits," the Big Blind sneered as she pondered. "Show us your balls."

Holly ignored the laughter that rippled around the table. "Highly original," she dryly replied, pushing her chips into the middle.

A buzz of expectation ran around the table, as if the attractive blonde amongst them had been goaded into a silly move. It should have been a straightforward fold for the Small Blind, but somehow the pock-faced young Swede got caught up in the atmosphere. 

"I've got balls, too," he responded, as if macho was the order of the day.

Play at the surrounding tables ground table stopped as each of the all-ins was announced. The Swede immediately turned over Big Slick, to be met with a disdainful growl from the Big Blind. 

"You're out of your league," the tubby Scotsman snarled as he flicked over his pocket deuces. "You, too, tits," he drawled. "Show us yer set."

Holly flipped over her cards. The gasp extended beyond their table. 

"Goddam it," the Scot growled. "You raised pre-flop with that fucking crap?"

Holly sat impassively as she waited for the dealer to administer the final coup de grace. With no cards in the deck that would help them, her opponents were drawing dead.

"Fucking ridiculous," the bad tempered Scot eventually snarled at Holly. "You won't last another five minutes." 

"Maybe not Big Balls," she responded, pulling the chips across the table. "But it'll be five minutes longer than you. Now if you'll excuse me, I've some chips to stack." 

Laughter ran around the nearby vicinity as he grabbed his jacket and turned on his heels, regaling anyone in his vicinity on the injustice of life at the poker table.

"Okay, boys," Holly drawled, looking around the table through her dark sunglasses. "You can all see my tits. Let's see your balls!"

***

Whatever it was that Desmond and Carly had been up to, it was enough to have the red-faced older man short of breath as she pushed past the two of them and into Big Eddie's office. "Come in," he said immediately at her first soft knock; he'd been expecting her. But then he'd told her to be prompt.

"Dress sexily, too," he'd told her before she left his office earlier that morning. "A dress—I just love a woman in a classy dress."

The skimpy black dress was exactly what he wanted. It was the shortest she had, only just covering the perfect swell of her toned ass. With its low cut front, the silver pendant around her neck settled perfectly in her amply displayed cleavage. She looked a mixture of class and sex, though standing nervously in front of the gangster, one leg cocked to the side, hands by her sides, she felt anything but. 

If she ever laid eyes on Charlie again, she'd kill the bastard. This was all his doing. The world of exotic dancing was bad enough, but at least that'd been her decision. The extra step with clients had resulted from Charlie's debts, and now his out of control gambling had led her to this embarrassing moment.

She hated her ex-boyfriend with a passion, and hated this man, too, for forcing her into this. But there were fifty thousand reasons screaming at her, leaving her in no doubt that she had no choice. A private dance would be the first step to reducing her obligations, he'd insisted. 

She couldn't have said no if she'd wanted.

"Very, very nice," Big Eddie appreciatively murmured, sipping from the large, oval glass. Brandy was his favourite drink. "Fix yourself one," he smiled with false warmth as he saw her eyeing his glass.

Glancing at the wet bar to her left, she reluctantly turned and sauntered over to it. She could feel his eyes on her ass like he was physically groping her. "Very nice!" he said again, enthusiastically. "Love the heels, too. Nice touch."

Reaching for a switch in his desk, he let the PA system from the club filter in through his high definition speakers. The room was bathed in the driving beat of the techno his girls danced so well to. Before she'd finished pouring her drink, he ordered, "Lose the dress." He smiled as her pouring hand shook, spilling some of the rich bourbon onto the bar top. "Careful, honey, you don't want to owe me anymore than you already do."

She didn't say anything, setting down the crystal decanter and reluctantly reaching for the zipper at the back. She fumbled in her nervousness. "Do it slowly," his harsh voice barked.

With a soft gulp, her trembling fingers pulled the zip downwards, revealing first the blackness of her bra, then the swell of her ass barely covered by the skimpy, matching thong.

"That's good," he encouraged, his voice low and deep, the tone of lustful anticipation. "Turn back and slip out of the dress. Slowly."

Rosie edged back round, her hands dropping the spaghetti shoulder straps to her waist. She could feel the swell of her freckled breasts heave as they spilt over the plunge bra. She looked anywhere other than his direction as she shimmied the dress over her shapely hips, dropping it across her black high heels.

"Kick it away," the gangster told her, his piercing eyes glued to her figure. This was going to be so sweet. "Okay," he growled. "Let's see you dance."

For a second, she froze, her breath caught in her throat. The song on the speakers transitioned; Donna Summer's Hot Stuff began to play. This was surreal; the same song she'd danced with Carly to? 

Closing her eyes, she pretended that she was up on stage, dancing like she had been dancing for the past few months. It worked, at least a little. Her hips began to sway to the music. As long as she kept her eyes closed she could get through this, she told herself. 

"Good, but I don't think you get the concept of a private dance," she heard him growl. "I don't want what I can get by watching you in my club." She faltered, opening her eyes. He'd wheeled out from behind his desk and was lounging in his high-backed leather chair, arms at rest, brandy balanced in one hand. "I want a lap dance, honey…"

Glancing at the bulge forming in the front of his trousers, she knew what else he wanted. Her heart fluttered nervously. Give him what he wanted. Anything to reduce her debt, although he hadn't indicated how much the private dance was worth—she'd make sure she didn't come cheap.

Throwing back the glass of brandy she'd poured, she let it sizzle in the back of her throat a moment before sauntering across the room. With each long step, one leg in front of the other, she grew more confident. She'd never done this, but if she had to, she could. 

Big Eddie opened his legs wider as she found the rhythm once again, turning her thong-clad ass in his direction. Reaching into her hair, she found the tie of her ponytail and released it, tossing the long, red waves about her shoulders. Bending low at the waist, she presented her plush buttocks to him as she slowly straightened up.

Same tricks she used on stage, only much closer. Right?

Head back, her tongue ran across her lips as her hips swayed more sensually to the beat on the speakers. Her hands rose to her neck, and then slowly began their downward journey, across her cleavage, cupping her breasts through the bra. Damn, her nipples were hard already. 

Widening her stance to bend once again at the waist, she swung her hips left and then right. Her hands ran down to her inner thighs, caressing them before locking behind her back, allowing the gangster to see her full, swaying body in all its glory.

Work it Rosie, she told herself, realising that she was no longer just performing to please the gangster. Three days without sex, her near session with the Englishman, and the recollection of Carly's leg jammed between her thighs all combined to increase her arousal. Even the fact she was being forced into this situation was somehow a turn on. Damn, she was horny!

Hot Stuff faded into another song with an equally driving bass. "You're doing well, Rosie, but this is a lapdance." His voice rumbled through her trembling body. Time for something new.

Glancing over her shoulder, she flicked her tongue across her wet lips and met his eyes. Guys always liked eye contact; liked to think they were the only one that mattered. For Rosie, the illusion wasn't too hard to create—right now, he was the only one that mattered. 

Swinging her hips, she allowed his eyes to feast on her ass. Want it—want this body—want this ass? She backed up between his legs and lowered her near-naked body into his lap. Much to her surprise, his hands stayed on the arms of the chair, as though this were a legitimate lap dance at a legitimate club.

Bending forward, she grinded her ass against his erection and reached behind to unhook her bra. Tits free, she shifted her weight, draping her topless torso over his powerful chest. Running her fingers across her flat stomach, pinching her diamond belly piercing before cupping her large, freckled breasts. She kneaded the soft swells and met his eyes once again.




The Strip Ch. 05



Fuck, she was on fire! She felt his cock throb in the crease of her ass. She did that! She was halfway to an orgasm and she hadn't touched herself yet.

"You're doing very well, Rosie," Big Eddie groaned, his eyes leaving hers for a moment to sweep over her curvy nudity. She arched her back further, digging her shoulder blades into his chest while making quick little rotations with her hips. "I want to see you pinch your nipples."

"Haaa…" Rosie gasped as she obliged. Her fingers felt like a strangers as they squeezed and twisted her pink nubs. Big Eddie's hands moved to her body at last, brushing lightly along her hips, sliding beneath the strap of her thong.

"Geez, your skin's so soft…" he moaned, meeting her burning green eyes once again. Palming one full tit, she raised the freckled orb to her lips and brushed her tongue along the nipple. "Holy fuck!" Big Eddie shuddered, nearly cumming in his pants.

Rosie smiled wickedly at him and slid off his on-edge body. Hooking her thumbs into her thong, she bent forward as she dragged it down her long legs. She nearly lost the beat when she saw him rubbing himself through his trousers.

Her rocking hips found the melody once again. She sashayed back between his legs, bending low and tossing her long, copper locks between his thighs. She dragged her tits across his confined cock, up his chest, and across her face. Climbing naked into his lap, she squeezed her breasts around his head as her sex began grinding on that erection again.

"Fuck, Rosie!" Big Eddie exclaimed, pulling his face from her cleavage. "FUCK!" He wasn't mad. Far from it. He hadn't asked for her to go completely nude, although he'd planned on it. He hadn't gotten to the part where he'd order her to fuck him, but seeing that look in her large, green eyes, he wouldn't need to do that, either.

Her body was perfection. Flawlessly pale skin with a dusting of freckles across those jutting tits. Flat stomach, sexy little navel piercing, and a clean shaven sex that was going to feel so good wrapped around his—

Rosie slid off him again, this time sliding to her knees as her fingers began unzipping him. This wasn't part of the deal, but Rosie knew what was expected of her. She also needed this as much as he did. 

"Fuuuuck…" he groaned as she frantically took him into her mouth. Her urgency turned him on, they way she'd instantly assumed control. "That's it," he growled, dropping the brandy glass to the floor and ignoring the growing stain on the carpet. What was important was that both his hands were free to grasp her hair and direct her movements.

An uninhibited moan slipped out of the woman', vibrating around the man-flesh passing in and out of her throat. This was crazy. How could she be so desperate for this bastard who simply wanted to take advantage of her? She was like a crazed animal as her mouth devoured him, but she needed more.

"I'm close," he growled. She knew exactly what he wanted.

Slurping off the surprised gangster, she reversed down onto his lap. Reaching between his legs, she dragged his thick cock against her silky furrow and sheathed him, groaning with each of the three passes it took to take him fully inside. 

The gangster's hands were all over her. "Time to get fucked, honey," he grunted, lifting his ass from the chair to jam himself into her. One upward thrust followed another; each throaty growl growing louder. 

The bastard had somehow gained a second wind. Rosie bit her lower lip in an attempt to stifle her moans but it was too much. She came, disgorging layer after layer of sticky syrup around his thick hardness. 

"Oh fuckohfuck!" 

He fucked her through her orgasm, bouncing her on his lap as he closed in on his own nirvana. "Come on baby—" he gasped, "come on!"

She contracted and expanded her muscles around his hardness, a trick that Charlie had never been able to resist. The ripple effect had the same impact on the gangster. "What the fuck—" 

Two more ripples instantly did it for him. Just as he prepared to detonate, she was off him and back down between his legs. The first blast hit the back of her throat even before she was settled. As further bursts followed, her slim fingers milked his juice-covered cock, teasing out every drop he had.

When he had nothing left, she released him and he slumped back into the leather chair. "Hey," he said as she gathered her clothes. "I'm going book you down for some of the private parties I cater for. They're going to love you." 

Rosie shivered. She knew only too well about the parties Eddie catered for. The girls that did them were full of stories. It wasn't a scene she wanted to get into. Slipping on her bra, she shook her head. "I don't think—"

"You don't think?" he cut her off. "You owe me fifty grand and you don't think!?! Honey, do you know what I pay my girls? Double what you earn—two and a half thousand a night! You do twenty five private parties for me and that'll erase your debt."

"Twenty five?" she gasped, zipping up her dress. She quickly did the math in her head. Was he trying to cheat her again? "But that's way over the fifty thousand figure!"

The gangster let out a loud guffaw. "Honey, you didn't think you were getting an interest-free loan, did you? Twenty five and we'll call it even."

She checked her anger and turned towards the door. Was there no end to this? "What about the… dance?" she suddenly asked, swinging back. "You said—"

"The dance?" he grinned. "That was hot, honey. Let's say I get one of those from time to time just for keeping the loan sharks away.

***

Kay Kristen had phoned that morning, explaining to Lauren that a van would pick her up outside the Bellagio around noon. Nothing was said about lunch, although the blonde wasn't expecting it, anyway. She wanted to look good on camera, and that meant consuming as little as possible before the shoot.

The van was there on the dot, shiny black and filled with photography equipment. Dan, Kay's main photographer, was driving, although the Agency Head wasn't inside.

"Hey, Lauren," Dan said pleasantly as he opened the sliding back door and helped her in. "We've one other stop before we go out on location," he explained as she took her seat and they pulled out into the Las Vegas heat.

They made small talk as they left the strip and wound into the suburban sprawl that had grown up around Sin City. Lauren talked about the night before, although left out the details of how she'd almost gotten it on with a couple random guys at the club. She was thankful that her hangover was finally subsiding, too. Bags under the eyes would show on film, no matter how much she tried to disguise them.

They pulled up to a non-descript, single-story building identical to every other home they'd passed along this street. A guy holding a gym bag hopped up from the stoop and jogged over to the van, jumping in next to Lauren.

His broad shoulders looked good on his slender frame, she thought. And with his dark crew cut and aviators, he reminded her of Tom Cruise, right out of Top Gun.

"Hi, I'm Jimmy," he introduced, holding out his large hand for her to shake. She took it as Dan pulled back out onto the highway.

"Lauren," she responded, unsure of his role.

"Jimmy's going to be shooting with you today," Dan explained over his shoulder. "The spread calls for a guy and a girl. Didn't Kay explain that?"

Lauren shook her head. This was certainly a surprise. She'd never shot with another model before, although as she let her eyes play across Jimmy's slender build, she felt her body grow hot. This wasn't going to be so bad!

The shoot was about an hour out of the city limits, in the middle of a desert. When Dan pulled into the parking lot of what looked to be an abandoned roadhouse bar, at first Lauren didn't realize that this was their destination.

"She's not pretty on the outside, but the interior will give us some excellent backdrops," the photographer explained as he began hauling his equipment out. "And look at that horizon…"

Lauren's brown eyes followed his, finally seeing beyond the dilapidated structure. The Nevada scrubland opened up before her, disappearing in the hazy heat just as it met the mountains. It was majestic in a way she'd never experienced. Profoundly beautiful in its openness.

"Let's go, my English lass," Dan laughed as he and Jimmy marched into the rundown bar.

True to Dan's word, the inside wasn't as bad as she was expecting. If the bar wasn't in use anymore, it couldn't have been very long ago that the owners packed up and shipped out. The bar was still polished, the cobwebs and trash hadn't yet begun to build up in the corners. Even the straw on the floor looked relatively fresh.

"No furniture," Jimmy commented, pushing his aviators up on top of his head.

"Nah. We'll be using the bar, anyway." He handed each of them a garment bag and said they could change in the storeroom. When Lauren looked hesitantly at the male model, Dan shared a humorous smile with Jimmy. "There are a couple rooms back there, if you're worried about your modesty," he told her.

Lauren's second shock was when she opened her bag. She wasn't sure what she was modelling, but as she pulled out the tiny scraps of clothing that had been left for her, she realized this probably wasn't a shoot for Esquire or Redbook.

"What do you want us to wear first?" she asked, poking her head out the door, where the photographer was setting up his lamps.

"The red bikini, cowboy boots, and the jean shorts," he replied without looking up.

The 'red bikini,' it turned out, stretched the definition of 'bikini' to the limits. It was by far the tiniest thing she'd ever slipped into, the thong back smaller than many pairs of underwear she wore, not the mention the narrow triangles that barely concealed her nipples. At least the jean shorts—short-short cutoffs—helped cover part of her ass.

Jimmy and Dan were waiting for her to emerge. The male model wore a tight pair of trunks in the same red as her bikini. The rest of his Baywatch body was bare for her wandering eyes. God, he was sexy. Rich, dark tan. A slim upper body that tapered down into a narrow waist. She could even see each ripple of his washboard abs. There wasn't an ounce of excess fat on him.

In front of them was an open bottle of tequila and three, already filled shot glasses. Lauren's hang over was still fresh in her mind—not to mention her empty stomach—but when she was handed a glass, she wasn't about to turn it down.

"To the start of a very successful new career," Dan toasted. They rattled the small shots against one another and threw back the burning liquor.

A half hour later, Lauren and Jimmy were ready: make-up applied, bodies oiled, light levels were set. The tequila had set in, too, and despite herself, Lauren felt giddy with anticipation. She was ready for this challenge.

The shots started out tame, despite their minimal outfits. Dan built a story with his lens. Couple meets at a bar. They flirt. He took pictures of Jimmy behind the bar and Lauren leaning suggestively against it. "Unbutton the front of your shorts, Lauren, and roll the hem down… yes, like that!"

She knew the thong back of her micro bikini was exposed to the camera, but instead of shaming her, she felt energized. She grew into her role of flirt.

The poses brought the two of them closer to one another. She felt Jimmy's breath on her lips as Dan moved about them, snapping off shot after shot. His dark eyes were smoldering. Did she look like that, too?

"I want you up on the bar now, Lauren." She obeyed, splaying her tawny body across the polished wood. Jimmy moved without instruction, running his broad hands across her flat stomach. His fingertips followed her ribcage up to the underside of her nearly exposed breasts as he leaned down again, as though closing in for a kiss.

"There, hold that!" Dan barked, breaking the spell that had fallen over the two of them. When the photographer had his shots, Jimmy's lips pulled away. Lauren suppressed her groan.

They broke for some water and a reapplication of the oil that turned them into glistening hard bodies, and then it was back into the shoot. 

While Dan worked them hard, Lauren realized that the shoot wasn't the only thing hard. She was behind the bar for this particular shot, her body leaning forward, her back bowed so that her ass pushed back. Jimmy moved up behind her, slipping his thumbs into the exposed strings on either side of her bikini bottoms. "Get closer to her, Jimmy," Dan barked. Jimmy did as instructed and then she felt it. A cock. A hard cock.

A thrill ran through her, even as she shot him a glance over her shoulder. Jimmy simply shrugged. If he could deal with this, so could she, she thought, attempting to blank her mind of this otherwise very sexual experience.

As she felt Jimmy's fingers move up along her lower back, following her spine to the haltered strap of her top, those Zen-like attempts to find inner-calm went out the window. Her body was on fire and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. Feeling his cock slide across her ass, she revised that thought. There certainly was a thing that could help.

They moved into a new position—this time with Jimmy on his back on the bar and Lauren straddling his hard body. He whispered, "You're so fucking hot." That Tom Cruise grin only legitimised the statement, as did his cock, flexing against her leg. She shivered, her nipples mimicking his erection.

"Lose the jeans, Lauren," Dan ordered, once again drawing her from her thoughts. 

Rolling onto her back, she was perfectly aware of that both sets of eyes were on her. Slowly, she peeled the tight shorts over her thighs and down her long, shapely legs. When she climbed back into Jimmy's lap, she brushed her swollen mound against the other model's cock. Only the thin, red material of their suits kept them from fucking.

And Geez, did she need to be fucked! Feeling the crown of his rigid member bump across her cloth-covered clit nearly sent her flying.

Much to her consternation, Dan got his shots off too quickly. "Next, we're going to do a couple solo shots. Jimmy, could you start setting up the outdoor shoot while I work with Lauren?"

The blonde groaned in frustration. So close, and now Jimmy's beautiful body was being taken from her! Maybe later, on some break, she could drag the man into the changing room and fuck him silly. She was delirious, and it had nothing to do with the desert heat.

***

Confidence high, Holly had run over her table all day. 

An immediate consequence of that astonishing first hand was the instant respect she'd gained and she'd used that to her advantage whenever the situation allowed. And sometimes when it didn't. Not one bluff was called, and perfect reading decreed she invariably had the goods when someone stood up to her. 

The good few hours of power poker had increased her stack fivefold by the time the evening dinner-break arrived. With several thousand hungry players, their friends and families all vying for sustenance, her idea at the previous interval kicked into action. Ordering a club sandwich room service was a brainwave.

The quick shower made her feel human again and the sandwich began to restore some of her zapped energy. Sex with Daniel, followed by five hours of heavy-duty concentration and near perfect poker, had left her drained. And extraordinarily horny. Maybe a power nap would help?

Pulling two high-energy drinks from the refrigerator, the blonde devoured the first and set the second beside the bed. Setting the alarm on her bedside phone, she reasoned that with the food and energy drinks, a twenty-minute nap would quickly refresh her. Concentration was essential to prevent her donking away her favourable chip position

Five minutes restlessness told her that her need for sex was outweighing her requirement for sleep. Despite the satisfaction gained from her early morning session with Daniel, it wasn't enough. It never was. Was she the only woman sex affected that way? Sometimes she thought it safer just to stay celibate!

Reaching for her cell phone, she called the number Daniel had given her. Despite her rules, if the young man was anywhere around the hotel, she'd have him. He wasn't, or at least he didn't answer. 

Okay—plan B! 

It took seconds to shed her black blouse, her nipples instantly hardened by the cool air. Her black jeans quickly followed. Catching her reflection in the mirror, naked except for the little black thong, she looked as hot as she felt.

The small Pocket Rocket she pulled from the drawer was her favourite and the fast rotational speed was perfect for the short time available. The low hum as she switched it on increased her anticipation. Geez, she so needed this!

Circling the vibrator around each nipple, she teased herself for a few seconds only before running it down her washboard flat stomach. A soft moan escaped her wet lips as she slipped it under the thong and ran it across her clit. Fuck, that felt good. Let the small vibrator do the work. That was the secret.

Her moan was inevitable as she dragged the shivering length along her wet folds. She wanted to prolong the moment, but the faster vibrations were already beginning to trigger her inevitable climax. 

She thought of Daniel as she thrust it all the way inside, allowing it to do his work. She needed a masturbation fantasy and this was his cock. The pace of her breathing sharpened. One hand went to her breasts while the other dragged the thong away, allowing her fingers better access to her clit. 

The fantasy took shape behind her closed eyes. A soft gasp escaped. It was Daniel fucking her. Her back arched. Her head dug back deep into the pillow. The Pocket Rocket was doing its work, as was her recollection of Daniel's body. 

When the deep, liquid orgasmic wave quickly swept through her body, she let herself go. Who cared if anyone heard her yelping howls? 

***

Daniel wasn't sure how good an idea this was. His mind was still in a whirl. Yesterday, he'd picked up a ten thousand dollar cheque after an amazing poker debut. Today, his long-term girlfriend had left him and he'd fucked—or was that been fucked by—the poker playing woman he'd only just met.

So why had he felt so compelled to visit Midnight Hot? Rosie might not even be there—God knows what hours she worked. His timing was based on her visit to Binion's yesterday. She'd said she was on her way to the club. If she had the same shift, she'd have been there, but so far, all that had happened was that he'd had a quiet drink and got a feel for the place.

He was shocked.

The type of exotic dancing, even at this early hour, made the place seem more like a strip club. In the hour he'd sat quietly beside the bar, he'd seen four different girls perform. The spiky haired one stood out. 

They were all good, but spiky one was exceptional. The way she'd looked in the low cut gold bra and skimpy thong, never mind her sexy gyrations around the stage, had him hard within a couple of minutes. And no doubt had brought the same condition on all the guys watching, such were the bills they through on stage. He'd hoped she would have reappeared after her early dance, but it looked like she'd finished for the day.

He thumbed the empty Bud bottle down on the bar. The third had gone down more quickly than the other two. "Another," he told the bartender. So what if he was paying exorbitant prices, he was now a wealthy man. The bonus cheque the Practically Poker people had told him was coming his way increased his earnings to fifteen thousand. It would be presented at a soon-to-be arranged ceremony where they'd get maximum publicity.




The Strip Ch. 06



This is a rewrite of Vegas, combining both Books and producing a completely different take for the main characters.

Grateful thanks go to the best editor in the world -- thesoundandfury - not only for your editing, but also for the constant encouragement, suggestions, and for helping me to become a better writer. 

And check out thesoundandfury's recent novel -- Models and Super Spies.

Chapter 6: Holly fulfils her contract

"It's me."

"Samuel!" Carly exclaimed. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Steady, girl," he warned her. No one queried where he'd been, or what he was doing. He was Samuel Smith, after all. "Missing me?" he asked, "or has my little mole picked up some information?"

"Both," came the reply. Her voice sounded excited and strained at the same time. "I've been trying to talk to you since I found out, Samuel."

"Found out what?" the club owner asked, gingerly easing himself from his king sized bed and leaving the young blonde still sleeping. She'd fulfilled everything she'd promised, fucking him like the pocket dervish she was. The things girls would do to get a job these days.

He knew Grace had thought he was going to spend the night with her, but variety was the spice of life, right? Still, these late, late nights, and one young woman after another, were taking their toll. He needed to get back to the gym again. Healthy body, healthy mind.

"I spoke to Big Eddie's number two, this afternoon," Carly was telling him.

Samuel burst out into a loud guffaw. "Desmond?" he sneered, exiting into the adjoining room. No need to disturb the young beauty, he'd be fucking her again before too long. "That idiot? The guys a clown."

"He might be," she excitedly responded, her tone rising, "but he's a dangerous one, Samuel."

He sensed her concern and his levity immediately left him. "What is it? What's he up to?"

"Samuel," she said, almost shouting now, "he's going to set fire to your club tonight. With people in there!"

"You're… you're sure?" he asked, his voice suddenly catching in his throat. Surely even Big Eddie wouldn't go that far?

"I'm certain, Samuel! He's going to do it personally."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "They're shitting you. Feeding you information."

"No they're not, Samuel!" she shrieked. Her voice was urgent now. He had to understand! "They don't know who I am and this is real. You've got to do something!"

"How did you find out?" he asked, his voice suddenly wary.

"Almost by accident," she told him, trying to calm her voice. "The stupid lump let something slip and I got the rest from him."

Smith's laugh was hollow. "As only you can, Carly," he mumbled, his mind already thinking things the next steps. In an instant, the uncertainty had gone from his voice. He was all business. "I need you to find out Desmond's movements today—"

"I know them," she blurted. "I told him how turned on that sort of thing got me. He's meeting me tonight, before he turns up at your club. He thinks he's going to fuck me."

"Let him," came the snarled response. 

"What? Samuel!"

"If he's meeting you beforehand, I need you to get him alone," he told her, his purposeful voice calm. "It's time."

"It's time? What do you mean, it's time?"

"Nothing for you to worry about," he mused. Maybe he hadn't expected to call on his contingency quite this quickly, but the way he was squeezing Big Eddie meant the low life gangster would have to respond soon. After all, that's why he'd brought in the hitwoman again. Experience told him how good she was. 

"He said he'd pick me up in his car," Carly went on, her mind whirling as she tried to give Samuel what he wanted. "He doesn't want Eddie to find out he's with me, so he'll want to go somewhere quiet—"

"Perfect. What time are you meeting him?"

"Ten o'clock."

"Ten? Okay, let's work this out, where can you take him? Somewhere quiet?" He thought for a few seconds. "Take him to the Red Rooster Antique Mall," he suddenly told her. "Can you do that?"

She thought quickly. "Red Rooster? Near Funk House?"

"That's it. There're a few antique places round there but they'll be closed and it'll be dark. Tell him you've always wanted to be fucked in a car. Tell him anything you want. Give him a blowjob on the way if it'll help. Be there by half ten. Understand? Make sure you've got him parked there, in the car, at half ten."

"Samuel, I—"

"Just do it," he snarled. If anything gets in your way, call me immediately, understand?

Her voice was quiet, subdued. "Yes, Samuel."

"But I don't want anything to get in the way. I want him there. What make of car does he have?"

"Samuel," the frightened girl responded, "I don't know."

"Listen, Carly," he told her, his voice softening. "I know this is tough for you, honey, but it's so important. I'll owe you big time. Okay?"

Owe her big time? That's what she needed to hear. "Yes," she answered. "Yes, Samuel, you know I'll do anything to help you."

"Good girl. I need you alone in the car with him at half ten tonight. Out of sight, use the North end of the car park. And I need the colour and make of car. Registration number if you can get it, too. I need it now! Ring me back. Can you do that for me?"

"Y… yes," she said, flicking her cell phone closed. She knew just how she could do that.

***

His finger drew a small pattern in the spilt coffee on the breakfast table, like a child who was bored stiff. Except he wasn't bored, it was therapeutic. Just like staring at tealeaves in an empty cup, wondering what the future held.

"Want me to clean that for you?" the soft voice asked.

"No," he sighed, without looking up. The waitress could attend to the table when he was finished. Right now he was feeling low, and attempting to reenergize himself in preparation for his Main Event debut. "I could do with a refill, though."

"Yes," the voice responded, "I could do with a coffee, too. Should I ask the waitress?"

His startled eyes jerked upwards to meet the redhead's. Before he could speak, the older server was with them. "Two coffees," Rosie asked, watching her retreat to the counter before swinging her gaze the surprised look on the crinkly haired young man's face. She picked up a paper serviette and smothered the coffee stain. "Want me to clean your finger, too?"

"I'm surprised to see you," Daniel told her, returning the stare. Her eyes were warm, his were wary. "I thought you'd be with your boyfriend -- assuming that was your boyfriend I saw you with? Or maybe just another punter?"

The redhead sat back, as if he'd slapped her across the face. Hard.

"I'm sorry," the Englishman told her, an instant feeling of guilt running through him as he watched her recoil. "That was uncalled for."

"Yes it was," she responded, the warmth still in her green eyes, even if they were tinged with hurt. "You sound like a jealous husband, is that how people behave over the pond?"

Daniel's smile only just touched the corner of his lips, but it was a smile nevertheless. "It's not how I usually behave," he offered, wanting to but unable to explain himself further.

"But I got the jealous bit right, yes?" she asked. "That's nice in a strange kinda way, Englishman."

Don't flatter yourself he thought, but fought back the hurtful comment. Besides, she wouldn't have been flattering herself -- he had been jealous. Despite his new friendship with Holly, and their sensational sex, there was something about this redhead that'd worked its way inside him, got into his heart.

"I'm sorry," he settled for repeating the apology. "There's been a lot going on in the last couple of days. My head's in a bit of a whirl."

"Where's your girlfriend?" she asked, glancing around. "Hope I'm not embarrassing you by sitting here?"

"My ex-girlfriend," his rueful grin shot back. "You were right!" 

Her head went back and she gave a long sigh before staring into his eyes. He hadn't seen that look before. "You don't sound too unhappy."

He nodded. "Shit happens, but Grace was right. Our relationship had reached a natural end. How're things with you?"

Rosie couldn't help the long sigh and fought back the tears that instantly threatened to appear. She hadn't come here to cry.

The pain in her eyes pinched his heart and Daniel reached over to take her hand across the table. "Rough?" he softly asked, sending a sympathetic smile across the short distance between them.

She bit her lip and nodded, waiting until the returning waitress brought their fresh coffees before speaking. The way their gazes locked told them both that this conversation had some way to go.

***

Carly had returned his call within quarter of an hour, with all the details he needed. She was resourceful, that girl, though her return call was nothing more than he expected. If she successfully carried out the duties in store tonight, she'd have fully earned the bonus he had planned for her.

His subsequent phone call to the hitwoman was everything he'd expected. She was already in Vegas, poised and ready for instructions. Previous experience had told him the details she required. He'd given her them on a plate. "Are we clear?" Samuel Smith growled down the line to the assassin. 

"Mm-kay," she murmured. It made him think, there was something about her sound that was familiar. Her voice, that thick Irish tone? Or maybe he just remembered her from their previous conversations. He was aware the woman kept her words to a minimum, making it almost impossible for him to pick up on any clues. That was okay, he'd have been just as careful in her position.

"Just make sure the money hits my account by noon," she was telling him.

"It's on its way," he instantly responded, as if a quick reply would give her confidence. "I can't afford for this to go wrong," he added. "I've tripled security around the club tonight, but I prefer to dispose of the problem well in advance."

"I understand," she repeated, laying on the usual Irish accent even more thickly. "And you know how thorough I am. If the details you've given me are correct, consider the target eliminated. Is there anything else?" she softly asked. This conversation had lasted long enough.

Samuel sighed, he was used to people playing by his rules, not the other way around. "I need a confirmatory call afterwards."

"Of course, that's our usual arrangement."

"And I need you to stay in Vegas for a while in case I need you again."

"Your retainer bought you two weeks," she told him in the matter of fact tone she always used in such circumstances. "That's what you'll get."

"And if I need more?"

"If I'm available, another retainer will be necessary," she answered, ending the call. It was unlikely he'd try and trace her, but you never knew—

***

"So, what happened with Grace?" Rosie asked Daniel as their server departed.

The Englishman sat forward to speak, then changed his mind. "You first, Rosie. It looks like there's a story in there."

The redhead smiled, her eyes heavy with… something. Daniel couldn't quite work out what that was. 

"Okay," she said, almost reluctantly. "You've got your poker soon, so I'll give you the précised version." His eyes flickered. This girl had a good memory. "By the way, how did you finish the other day?" she added.

"Third," he told her, unable to stop the proud grin.

"Very good, Englishman," she responded, sipping at her coffee. Maybe this one was an exception to the deadbeats she was usually involved with, starting with Charlie. 

"Clearly I inspired you," she half-joked. "Maybe our meeting this morning will be good luck for today?"

Maybe. Daniel wasn't feeling inspired as yet, but this young woman had already lifted the gloomy mood he'd got himself into. Still, that depended on what she had to say. He wanted to hear more about her, about the club she worked at, and especially about the man she was with yesterday. 

"What time do you need to register?" she asked.

His face changed as he glanced at his watch. Shit, was that the time? "I—"

"Don't have long," she said, completing his sentence as she saw the concern on his face. "Maybe we should keep this conversation for later?"

A shake of his head dismissed the idea. "No, I want to know, Rosie. It'll… it'll help me to know—"

She leant forward, hesitating at first and then blurting it out. "My boyfriend left me a couple of days ago, the same night you and I met, as it happens. Got himself out of Vegas altogether."

Daniel nodded. "So it's your row with him that's upset you? You're still in love with him?" 

Her eyes widened at the same time as he nostrils flared. "I hate the bastard," she said. "He didn't speak to me before he left."

"Then how—" 

"My boss told me. He's the guy you saw me with yesterday." 

"Can't keep his hands to himself," Daniel grunted, instantly regretting the remark. There was that jealousy again.

If you only knew, the redhead thought, feeling the blush work its way up from her neck. "He's like that with all the girls," she simply explained. Better not confess any more about Eddie, not yet anyway. She didn't want to scare the Englishman off altogether. "I can't afford to upset him."

"Don't want to upset him? He looked like he owned you," Daniel spat, unable to keep the resentment inside. "Are jobs that difficult to come by in Vegas?"

Rosie's head jerked back again. An invisible hand squeezed the insides of her stomach. Damn, there were those tears again. She wasn't going to cry, not in front of the Englishman. "You don't understand—"

"Don't understand," he snapped, unable to stop himself. "Rosie, there must be lots of openings in Vegas for someone as attractive as you. You don't need to let yourself be pawed by someone like that bastard."

The redhead stared at him. Could anyone really be that innocent? It was a quality she loved in him, but right now she wanted to give him a good shake and let in the realities of Vegas life. "Daniel, Charlie left Vegas owing a lot of money. And somehow he transferred that debt to me. I still don't really understand how. That bastard, as you call him, stopped the loan sharks coming after me, but I owe him the money now. Understand?"

He was beginning to. "How much?" 

Rosie shook her head. "That doesn't matter, Daniel, not for now anyway. I loved the fact that you came to see me at the club yesterday, thank you. You left so quickly, before I could stop you, and I didn't want you to go away with the wrong idea. I wanted to see you, too." 

He glanced at his watch. "Rosie," he softly said, his eyes smiling at her as he gripped her hands across the table. "I'm so sorry… but I have to go."

"I know," she nodded, beginning to pull away. His grip on her hands stopped her.

"Rosie," he said, his tone emphasising the point, She stared into his eyes in a way he'd never seen before. I want to see you again, continue this conversation."

"Me too," she told him, her green eyes sparkling again. "When?"

He hesitated, "Well, that depends on how the poker goes—"

"I understand," she told him, unable to hide the sadness in her eyes. She'd hoped to have a longer conversation. "I'm working late at the club tonight—" 

"How late?" he interrupted.

"The early hours, two or three dependant on how busy we are," she told him.

"The chances are I'll be knocked out of the tourney well before that," he ruefully grinned. "If I do, I'll call you—let's exchange phone numbers. But if I somehow get through the day, don't leave until I get there. Understand?" 

It wasn't the most sensible thing to promise, not with another full day of poker ahead of him tomorrow. Rest and sleep were essential ingredients of success in the Main Event. But he wasn't going to let this girl go again before they'd had a long conversation. He needed that, and she did too from the look in her eyes.

"You won't get knocked out, Englishman," she smiled, pulling her phone out. "I'm your good luck charm, remember? I'll be there tonight—"

*** 

Holly brushed off the third guy who tried to chat her up. Standing so long in one place didn't help, but her position adjacent to the pathway outside the twenty-four hour All-American Bar & Grille, allowed a perfect view of Daniel and the redhead. Not that she was spying. But she wanted to wish her new crinkly haired friend best of luck in the tournament today. 

She'd wait until she was free, but he was pushing his luck. It was long past the time he should have been making his way to the table. This redhead must be special! She'd have to check her out—

"Don't bother," she told the fourth guy to approach her. Now wasn't the time to be engaged in conversation. With Daniel and the woman standing up, the guy's timing couldn't have been worse Besides, he'd walked back and forth past her three times now and had only just plucked up the courage to speak. 

Maybe she'd have to change her top? Her intention to find an afternoon cash game in the Bellagio had seen her dress in her customary black. And while the tight cotton top didn't display any cleavage, it could have been sprayed onto her body. Her full tits, with her erect nipples standing so proud, looked like they could have been sculpted.

When the poker player and the redhead reached the exit to the Grille, Daniel planted a soft kiss on her lips before they hurried in opposite directions. The crinkly haired youngster was so preoccupied, he walked directly past Holly, his thoughts encased in whatever world he was in. 

She fell into step behind him, walking a few yards before tugging his arm. "New girlfriend?" she asked.

"Geez, you startled me," his bright smile telling her it wasn't a complaint. "I'm running late and was just wondering if I'd make the start. How're you doing?"

"Not as good as you," she grinned back. "New girlfriend?" she repeated.

He felt himself colouring. Clearly, Holly had seen him with Rosie—why did that embarrass him? "No… not exactly. I mean… she…"

"Fast worker," she teased, admitting to herself that there was a pang of regret in her tone. In other circumstances, she would have taken her chances with the crinkly haired youngster. They'd make quite a pair.

"No…" he hurriedly interrupted, "it's not what you think…"

Her loud guffaw told him she was teasing him. "Hey, I'm on your side," she smiled. "Just because you took me to bed doesn't mean I think you own me!"

Daniel's head jerked around to see if they'd been overhead. "Holly—"

Her laughter increased, trailing behind them as they hurried along the corridor. "Okay, okay, it must be serious if you can't recognise me pulling your leg. I'll change tack—you can tell me all about her later. How are you feeling about today? Calm?"

"Yeah," he smiled. "I haven't though too much about it over the last forty-eight hours, which is kinda strange as this is why I came to Vegas. But so much seems to have happened since I arrived."

"Lost your girlfriend," Holly responded, her brown eyes dancing with mischievousness. "Nearly won a bracelet. Taken advantage of an unsuspecting blonde, then dumped her for a redhead."

This time, Daniel laughed. "You can be a real wind up merchant when you want, Willoughby," he told her, turning into the registration room. "Oh, shit! Look at that line!"

"Bad news," she agreed, jokingly adding, "Maybe you should have got here earlier?"

His face creased in disappointment as he joined the back of the long line. "You're not wrong. Gonna wait with me?"

Holly laughed. "No, I'm going to head down to the Bellagio. See if I can win my fortune down there."

"Glutton for punishment," he told her, running a hand through his hair as he tried to calculate how long he'd be queuing. "By the way, congratulations on yesterday. I checked and saw how well you'd done. Brilliant!"




The Strip Ch. 06



"Thanks," she grinned, "I just wanted to give you something to aim at." Leaning close, she made a point of pressing her breasts into him as she lightly kissed his lips. Give him something to think about. "Gotta go!"

The flash from the camera surprised them both. "What on earth—" Daniel began, raising a hand to his eyes.

"Could we have another?" the young photographer asked, shoving a card in the poker player's hand. "Las Vegas News," he explained, "Nevada's largest newspaper. We only just found out about the two of you."

"Found out what," Holly asked, pushing the camera away. A photograph in any newspaper was the last thing she wanted. 

"The two lovers from England," he beamed at them. "Reaching the final table together. Hey, that's a hell of a story. We're going to cover your progression all the way through the Main Event! Maybe you can give us an exclusive?"

"We're not lovers," Daniel blurted, wondering how they could know about him and Holly. Had they been followed to his room yesterday morning? "Who the hell told you that?"

The red haired young photographer grinned knowingly. "Common knowledge," he told them, attempting to take another snap. Holly's hand on his arm stopped him before he could take the photo. 

"Where did this story come from?" she insisted.

"I don't know where it started. But your performance together in that tourney has attracted a lot of interest. Particularly with Doyle being so lucky. We've got a great headline—The lovers from across the pond! Like it or not, folks, you're quite a story!"

"Fuck!" Daniel and Holly's curse was simultaneous. Each had a different reason to believe this wasn't good news.

***

For the second time that morning, a hand on his arm stopped Daniel in his tracks. The older man who interrupted his rush to the table wore a friendly smile. But it was his loud Hawaiian shirt, combined with the pair of oversized shorts that made the poker player do a double take. 

The man extended a chubby arm to shake Daniel's hand. "Watched you at Binion's," he said, in a voice oozing friendliness and comfort. "That was a hell of a bad beat you and the woman took. But you played great." 

"Thanks," Daniel politely replied, his eyes glancing over the man's shoulder. Where was his table—he was late enough as it was. 

"It'll make it harder for you to do well in this event," the smiling man told him, adding by way of explanation, "more of a target."

"Oh," Daniel less than enthusiastically retorted. That thought hadn't occurred to him, though it hadn't prevented Holly from racing out of the blocks yesterday. "You'll be looking to take advantage then?" he asked.

"No, not me," the man said, his smile never leaving his worn face. "Hell, I don't play. But I'm out here every year to observe. Just love the atmosphere and the stories." His large body shook as he laughed, "Mostly bad beat stories, of course."  

Daniel smiled back and nodded. "Good to meet you, but—"

"Tell you what," the man said, ignoring Daniel's urgency. "I brought you this." He held out a small crystal. "The last person I gave one of these was Chris Moneymaker." He winked at Daniel. "That was just before the final table. And he didn't do too badly, did he?"

"Well thank you." Daniel responded with a warm smile. "I really appreciate that." 

"Some people rest them on their cards, others stroke them when they need some luck," the man explained. "This particular one," he added, nodding at the crystal, "Needs stroking. It'll bring you strength, perseverance and luck."

"Thanks so much," Daniel repeated. "It's good of you to take the trouble to seek me out." He ran his fingers along the surface; only half listening as the man talked about the strength the crystal's positive energy would bring.

"Been waiting a while," the man confessed, "but I'm pleased to catch up with you at last. Sorry to hold you up," he apologised, reaching out his chubby hand and warmly shaking Daniel's. "I'll be watching your progress. Good luck."

The crinkly haired young man stood for a moment before swinging around and quickly finding his table. He'd cut it fine, but the delay had been worth it. That single gesture had somehow infused him with a feeling of well-being.

It didn't last long.

"Well, if it isn't the man himself," a grizzled customer seated to his left remarked. "Just because you did okay in that small tournament the other day, you think it's fashionable to turn up late?"

"I'm not late, my friend," Daniel good-naturedly responded, picking up the newly dealt cards and mucking the first hand of the day. "I'm just in time."

"By a few seconds," Grizzly responded. "And you're not my friend. You think you're another Hellmuth who can just turn up when they want? I saw your interview after the tourney, never liked the English anyway."

"I'm certainly no Hellmuth," smiled Daniel, wondering what which mirror he'd broken to end up at this seat. 

"You saying you're better than him?" Grizzly asked, continuing the verbal assault.

Daniel turned in his seat to look his interrogator in the eyes. The aggressive face above the crumpled black shirt told him this wasn't a discussion he could turn around. "Tell you what," he quietly said, holding Grizzly's gaze. "I'm just going to concentrate on my poker now. I'll leave the trash talk to you."

Grizzly gave a sneer and looked around the table. "Seems Mr. Big Shot doesn't want to talk to us," he told anyone who would listen.

"Give the guy a break," broke in a young, fair-haired kid at the opposite end of the table.

"Mind your manners, kid," Grizzly snapped. "When I was your age—"

***

"How was the journey?" Kay Kristen laughed as Lauren alighted from the helicopter. The lack of colour in the model's face already told her the answer.

"Fine," Lauren lied, as she took the Agency Head's hand. The first leg of the journey had been bad enough. Small bumpy airplanes, she'd decided halfway through her flight, were not her thing! But the helicopter journey had been something else.

"Leaves your stomach behind when that helicopter edges over the rim, doesn't it?" Kay continued. "I always find it exhilarating, but most other people want to crap themselves!"

It was the first time Lauren had heard any sort of crudity from the sophisticated mouth and she burst out laughing. "I'm in that category," she told her, following the brunette along the thin path towards the Colorado River.

Kay looked like she'd just stepped out of her front room, immaculate in those tailored blue shorts and white blouse. That was quite an ass, small, pert and with a sexy but unobtrusive way of swaying from side to side! Whereas Lauren felt the effect of her journey—her hair was dishevelled, her canary yellow tee shirt was ruffled, not to mention the creases beginning to appear in her blue jeans. And that dryness in her mouth definitely needed some attention.

"Here," Kay said, swinging back to the blonde as if it was an afterthought and pulling a bottle of lightly coloured liquid from the straw bag over her shoulder. "Keep sipping at this and it'll calm your stomach."

"Thanks," the blonde gratefully smiled, stopping beside the Agency Head to unclip the top and take a long sip.

"Not too much, too quickly," Kay warned, those piercing dark eyes containing a hint of amusement. "How was yesterday by the way?" 

"I just loved it," Lauren enthused, wiping a drop of the liquid from her chin with her index finger. "It was more tiring than I expected, but it was so exciting!"

"Yes, we work our models hard," Kay laughed, with a soft flick of her dark hair, "but you'll soon get used to that. And that Jimmy is really something, don't you think?" She sexily raised her eyebrows and nudged Lauren's arm as she spoke. "Fucks like a God, too," she added.

Lauren almost coughed out the second sip she was taking. Fucked like a God?

"It's good to have some sexy eye candy when you're shooting, don't you think?" Kay asked, reaching out to push a loose bang of wavy, blonde hair back behind Lauren's ear. "You're shooting with his girlfriend today, maybe you should ask her permission to sample the goods!"

Permission? Sample the goods? Lauren felt little goosebumps tease across her body at the thought. But then Kay had turned and was leading them along the tiny path through the brushwood again.

"I've seen some of the early prints from yesterday," she said over her shoulder. "They're hot, darling. Just make sure today is more of the same, okay?"

"It's not quite the same with a woman," Lauren laughed, the words spilling out even before she could think about what she was saying. 

Kay stopped in her tracks and slowly swung around. Her dark, piercing eyes fixed on the model. "You must have led a sheltered life, darling," she slowly said. "If Rach doesn't turn you on, nothing will!"

"Turn me on?"

The brunette gave a soft chuckle. There was that combination of that combination of innocence and sexiness that would make this girl such a star. And make Kay a lot of money. "Oh yes," she answered, "Rachal likes nothing better than corrupting naïve young model's. You better watch yourself, darling."

With that, she'd turned on her heels again, her perky ass attracting Lauren's eyes again as she led her way into a small clearing. "What do you think of our set?" she asked, pausing to allow Lauren to draw level.

The young model rewarded her with a gasp. It was like a scene from a movie set, a miniature Red Indian village, with its recently erected tepee's, a couple of dogs, horses and both male and female extras in traditional costume. 

"How—" Lauren began, raising her hand to her mouth, her saucer-like Coral blue eyes taking in the scene.

"How did we manage to produce this at the foot of the Grand Canyon?" Kay smiled, completing the sentence. "Well," she said, slipping an arm around the blonde's slim waist as they surveyed the scene. "That's why I have technical team, darling. I only have the best working for me."

The best? She'd show the brunette that she could be the best, too!

"Come on," Kay smiled, taking the young model's hand. "Let's do the introductions, shall we? We have a long day ahead!"

***

The early morning call from Carly surprised the redhead. Quite why the spiky haired brunette wanted a mid afternoon coffee with Rosie was unclear. She'd hardly spoken to the girl at the club—how could she when their shifts hadn't collided? But here in Starbucks, the dancer greeted her like a long lost friend.

"I wanted to get to know you a little better," Carly told her, hugging her then pushing one of the cappuccino's she'd already purchased across to Rosie. "A little fattening, but one won't do any harm," she grinned.

Her smile made her face appear softer. Rosie's initial impression was that the new dancer was a pretty driven individual who didn't stand any nonsense from anyone around her. But with those pearly white teeth and soft hazel eyes gleaming at her, she thought that maybe she'd been somewhat harsh with her initial judgement. "Thanks," she smiled, taking a sip of coffee. "But why me?"

"Two reasons," the brunette answered, her smile widening as she spoke. "First, you're the second best dancer in the club, and the crème de la crème should stick together."

Carly didn't believe in getting too close to anyone, of course, not unless she could use them in some way. When she discovered that it was Rosie that Big Eddie was waiting for when Desmond had intercepted her, she knew she had to find out more. If this girl was close to the gangster, she might have information that would be useful to Samuel. 

Particularly in view of Desmond's plans for tonight.

Rosie gave a soft chuckle. "Crème de la crème, are we?" she asked. "Well, I must admit, Carly, I thought I was good at my job, but you're red hot up on that stage."

"Hey, thanks, girl," the brunette replied, widening her sugar sweet smile. "That's quite a compliment. I have to tell you I'm quite an exhibitionist, so that helps, don't you think?"

"Absolutely. Whereas I'm a little shy—"

This time it was Carly's chuckle that bounced around the small café. "You? Shy? Right girl -- I don't think so!"

"Mmmm, good cappuccino," Rosie smiled, wiping a layer of the frothy coffee from the top of her lip. "Okay, that's one reason for meeting me, but you said there were two?"

"Yeah," the brunette grinned, leaning closer across the table and raising her eyebrows. "You and I were hot together on stage, I wondered whether you were into other women?"

Rosie's cough was meant to disguise her gasp, but didn't quite make it. "Geez, Carly, you don't beat around the bush!"

"Can't afford, too," the spiky haired woman responded, her grin widening further so that her pearly white teeth flashed at Rosie. There was real meaning behind those hazel eyes. "I believe in being open, don't you?"

"It's a good trait," the redhead slowly answered. How could she rebuff the suggestion without upsetting her new friend? "But actually, I'm strictly men only. I mean… I'm flattered… and if I ever was… well… you're pretty sexy… but…"

The brunette let out a guffaw. "What? Did you think…? No, girl, I wasn't asking you to have sex with me!"

Rosie's deep blush at her mistake was accentuated by Carly's loud voice. At least two tables were staring across at them. The spiky haired woman's sparkling eyes watched her carefully, looking for any sign. If this one had been bisexual, she definitely wanted in on the action. If not… well... she liked a challenge!

"No, girl," she continued, as if her intentions had been pure all along. "I meant a dancing partnership. You and me doing a double act up on stage. I was thinking about suggesting it to Big Eddie."

The redhead quickly shook her head. Her relief was countered by the suggestion. "No, please, don't do that. He'd jump on the idea, I'm sure." She hesitated. "I've nothing against it, Carly, but I'm kinda hoping I won't be doing this whole thing much longer, that I can move on."

"What?" the brunette asked, unable to disguise look of genuine surprise. "But you're perfect for this. And the money's good. Why give it up?"

Rosie shivered at the woman's words. She was perfect for this?!? Carly had no idea what she was like, other than a superficial view. She just had to get away from everything! Why the hell had she got mixed up with that bastard, Charlie?

"Because it's not me," she nervously answered, "and can we keep our voices down? The whole room's listening in on this conversation!"

Carly laughed again, swinging around in her chair to take in the people around her. For a horrible second, Rosie thought her new friend was about to complain to anyone looking her way and let out a sigh of relief when she turned back. "Okay," the brunette agreed with an over exaggerated whisper. "I'm kinda used to speaking my mind and not giving a damn about others!"

Rosie raised her eyebrows. This was quite a girl!

"How well d'you know Big Eddie?" the brunette asked, resting on arm on the rear of her chair as she leaned backwards. "I mean, I don't want to fall foul of the boss, so anything you can tell me would help."

"Not that well," Rosie hesitantly said. "To be truthful, until the yesterday, I've tried to keep out of his way."

"Yesterday?"

Rosie paused, feeling her heart beat faster in anticipation of where the conversation was going. She didn't want to share what had happened between her and Charlie with too many other people, particularly those who knew her well. But maybe sharing a little with another female might help? "My boyfriend ran out on me," she confessed. "He owed money and Eddie paid the debt. But that means I owe him."

"Sounds like bad news," Carly sympathised, "and let me guess how he wants you to pay it off!" 

The words hit home, and the tears that were never far away couldn't be restrained any longer. Carly moved chairs so she could slip an arm around the redhead. "Let them out," she told her. "Let them out, girl."

Carly handed over some tissues and as Rosie wiped her eyes, she glanced around the small café. God knows what her face looked like. "I'm sorry," she blurted, taking a little comfort that she'd found someone she could open up to. 

"Nothing to be sorry about," Carly softly smiled, with more tenderness than Rosie thought the brunette was capable of. The spiky haired woman was brushing her fingers through her loose hair and it felt reassuring. "So, yesterday with Eddie," Carly continued. "That was part payment?"

Rosie nodded, eyes growing wide. "He wanted a private dance. Then we fucked."

"For God's sake, girl," Carly joked, "I'd have fucked you in that dress! You looked smokin'!" Both women laughed. "But listen, Rosie, you're fucking clients anyway. What's the difference?"

"I'm not sure," Rosie responded. What was the difference? Daniel? "I've met this guy, Carly, a poker player. I really like him -- I mean really! I need to find a way out if I'm to have a chance with him." She stopped herself, suddenly aware she was saying too much, but the brunette's eyes showed only concern. 

"How much do you owe?" Carly asked, moving back in her chair and pulling her fingers away from the silken red hair. If she weren't careful, she'd be dragging those full red lips to hers. She picked up the now lukewarm coffee, more for something to keep her hands occupied.

"Fifty thousand," Rosie answered. The tears threatened to return, but she choked them back. 

"FIFTY THOU!!?" Carly spat, slamming the cup back down onto its saucer. "Fuck girl, what did your boyfriend get into to owe that much? Rob a bank?"

"Gambled it away," Rosie quietly told her, wiping her nose with the tissue. "Don't ask me how, he just lost it gambling."

Carly's eyes narrowed. "You don't know? Then how'd' you know how much he owes?"

"Eddie told me," the redhead confided. "He took over the debt from loan sharks. Kept them off my back."

"Did he now?" the thoughtful brunette mused. That might well be the case, but a man like Big Eddie didn't have any morals. He wouldn't pay off a debt that size unless he had something up his sleeve. "Tell me Rosie?" she asked. "Do you have anything to do with Desmond?"

The brunette shook her head. "No, I stay away from him," she answered. "I've never liked the way he looks at me, so I just stay out of the way."

"And do you ever hear about Eddie's business dealings? Anything going on that shouldn't be?"

"No," the redhead answered, her features switching into a frown. "The only thing I know is that he makes his girls service private parties. 

"What sort of parties?"

"You know. Mainly male only, but not always. They pay for some of Eddie's girls to dance for them."

"That's all?" Carly asked, unable to hide the twinkle that suddenly appeared in her soft hazel eyes.

Rosie gave a shudder. "That's all that's official. But when you hear some of the girls talk—"

"Ever done any?"

"No! No way, Carly. There're not for me!"

The spiky haired girl shrugged her shoulders. "They'd be a way of reducing what you owe Eddie," she explained, "but I'm sure you've already thought of that. Anything else going on?"

Rosie's hair danced on her shoulders when she shook her head. "Don't know of anything, but as I told you, I'm not that close. Why do you ask?"

Carly hesitated a second while she thought it through. "Well…" she eventually explained, "I'm just thinking… he must get up to different things, that's how these people work. If you and I keep our ears open, we might discover something that could lead to him wiping out that debt. What d'you think?" She paused long enough to let the implication sink in.




The Strip Ch. 06



Rosie's green eyes widened as she stared at her new friend. "If we keep our ears open? You'd… you'd do that for me?"

Carly gave the sweetest smile she could muster. "Think of it this way, Rosie," she said. "I hate any man taking advantage of a woman. And if we work together, I might yet persuade you into forming a dancing duo!"

The two women laughed. "Help me wipe out my debt, Carly," Rosie grinned, with just the hint of a blush, "and I'll give you that private dance the next time."

The lustful look that flashed across her friend's face made her think maybe the suggestion wasn't such a good idea. The moistness she instantly felt between her legs told her something else.

***

Daniel continued to fold anything other than premium cards. He needed to settle down. Grizzly continued with his baiting at every opportunity, and the crinkly haired young man surprised himself at the ease with which he ignored them.

It was the kid who'd defended him against Grizzly earlier, who sucked him into his first misstep. Under the gun, his Ace-King of diamonds saw Daniel make the usual raise of three times the big blind. Then the kid surprised him.

After several folds in front of him, the youngster pushed all-in from his position on the button. Just like that! When Daniel glanced at the kid, the keen blue eyes stared straight back at him, then the youngster slowly winked. 

What the hell did that mean? 

Daniel puffed his cheeks out as he sat back. Despite his attempt to pick up a tell, the kid had slipped his shades on under his shock of curly, blonde hair and sat as still as a rock. With a monster, it was unlikely the young man would have pushed all in. That suggested Ace-Queen or Ace-Jack, but probably a middle sized pair. 

He'd dominate either of the first two hands, but up against a pair, he'd be in a race. There wasn't much point to that, at this early stage of the tourney. "Take it," he murmured, tossing his folded his cards into the middle of the table. 

The kid grinned and turned over Five--Three of hearts, before raking in the pot. A gasp went around the table, mingled with some laughter. 

"Freakin' brilliant," Grizzly growled, loving the opportunity to stick another needle in Daniel's effigy. "That's poker."

Stroking the crystal, Daniel resolved to stay calm. You couldn't win the tournament on day one, but you could lose it. It was probably the truest cliché in poker and with such a long way to go, he just had to pick and choose his spots and he'd be back in things again.

***

"So, my little girl's full of surprises," Samuel Smith smiled at Grace.

The brunette returned his smile. His relaxed, sexy attitude with her was in complete contrast to the way he'd handled her when they first met. Then, he'd been establishing his dominance. Now, he was sure of it. It made her feel much more comfortable around the African American.

"In what way, Samuel?" she asked, seductively unbuttoning her blouse as she wandered around to his side of the large desk. 

His hands went to her naked breasts as she straddled him. "Got our own signature song, have we?" he smiled, kneading her aroused swells. "I hear it brought the house down last night?"

"Mmmm," she agreed, snaking one hand around his neck and pulling his head to hers. "Want to hear it?" she mumbled into his mouth as her busy hands worked his trousers open. Fishing out his cock, she led him to her already wet opening and lifted her hips up before slowly jerking down on him.

"I was born a while ago…" she softly sang once he was all the way inside. Locking her hands around his broad shoulders for additional purchase, she began to ride him like she was sitting on a moving carousel, gentle upward and downward undulations. "Right back in eighty four…"

"I was born to fuck my man…" She fucked slowly, wanting to hear his moans before she upped the pace. "Once and then once more…"

"Ngh!" he grunted, groaning with each slow, tantalising, down-thrust. Her mouth and lips drifted around one side of his neck as she sang, then the other. When he started to lift his hips upwards, her teeth pulled down on his earlobe.

"Her man wants… Grace to fuck him…" she sang, jerking down violently. 

"Oh yeah, baby," he grunted, his fingers gripping tighter as he tried to fuck back. But the singer was in control, their skin slapping against one another as she drove them on. She was an oily machine now, pistoning down with hard, rhythmic thrusts on the black tower that so beautifully filled her. 

"Wants her to fuck him… hard and good…" Her words were gasped out now, all pretence at singing lost in her urgent fucking movements. Calm down, she told herself, rubbing her sweaty brow against the side of his face. Make him want it. Make him beg! She slowed the pace again, her tongue cleaning his ear as she gingerly ensured he bottomed out with each down-thrust. 

"So good," Samuel grunted through gritted teeth. His hands gripped tighter, telling her he needed more action.

"What d'you want, baby?" she asked, easing her hips upwards every time he tried to thrust up into her. "Want Grace," she teased. "Want your Grace?" 

Her hands tightened around his neck and her mouth returned to his, nipping at his lower lips as she began to take him there. "Want to hear my song?" she grunted as her thrusts became more aggressive. Her intenal muscles tightened, clutching his cock in her hot wetness with each downward jerk. 

"What's my name…" she sang, her voice reverberating as she bounced harder. "It's Grace Lane! She repeated the words with each down-thrust. "What's my name? Grace Lane!"

The African American grunted with each down-thrust. She was controlling him, bouncing him towards his climax, and he loved it. His throaty growl told her how close he was, his brow knotting with his near-release. 

When his hands clutched her perfect ass, digging into the bouncing flesh as he prepared for release, her hands gripped his hair and pulled his face to hers. "What's my name?" she asked through gritted teeth. 

"Grace LANE!" he growled, jerking his head upwards and firing out a howl as he released his manjuice into her sucking body. Hot bursts of hot cum fired into her slippery sex. It felt like it lasted forever. 

When he came crashing back down from his high, her tongue licked its way around to his ear. "Grace is ready to become an angel, Samuel. What d'you think, baby?"

***

"No fuck ups," Big Eddie told his number two over the line, his tense voice shrill with excitement. "Understand, Desmond? No fuck ups. Tonight establishes Big Eddie as the man in Vegas!"

"I understand, boss," the older man grunted into the phone. There'd be only one fuck up tonight, and it had nothing to do with his job. He'd fuck that sexy, spiky haired bitch—Samuel's bitch—and his boss knew nothing about it. 

He'd never hidden anything from his employer before, which was what made the thought even sweeter. He'd watched her dancing and this one was special. The way she'd sucked his cock yesterday had confirmed that, an animal seeking out and feeding on his cum. Fuck, she'd been like a succubus, coaxing everything out of him before swallowing him whole. 

God only knew what she'd be like to fuck— 

"You get everything sorted?" Eddie was asking him.

He jerked his thoughts back from the delights in store. That could wait a little longer, even though his hard cock was telling him something different. He'd even masturbated last night, thinking about the sexy woman. 

"You can rely on me, Eddie," he confirmed. "Everything's in place. Tony's coming with me, I can trust him. Next time we speak I'll be giving you the good news—"

***

Rachal was clear on what was expected. Jimmy had started the job perfectly yesterday—it was her turn today. Kay had told to expect someone with the sexy yet innocent quality that the adult film industry cried out for. This blonde fit the bill, but what she hadn't anticipated was that additional quality, the sparkle in Lauren's eyes that the young blonde didn't even appear to know was there.

It promised so much…

The photo session had gone well. Kay's idea to have them dressed as Indian squaws had been unusual, but inspired. As was the setting. The Grand Canyon, for fuck's sake! She had to hand it to Kay, she knew how to do things!

The shoot gave the opportunity for some scandalously tiny costumes and the two models had filled them so well. Lauren's body was as hot as her own and the thought of corrupting the young woman sent a thrill down to her toes. As yet, the blonde had resisted the coke she'd offered, but it wouldn't be long now. Her resistance was weakening. It was only a matter of time.

Kay had plied them with wine during each break and it wasn't just the weather that was hot. Things couldn't have gone better. Using Meredith rather than Dan had been a brilliant idea. All girls together. The auburn haired photographer had built up the pace, changing the mood from light and sensual to one of sexual tension and arousal. That woman was a genius behind the camera.

She was particularly wild in bed, too.

"Sexy little thing, don't you think?" Rachal asked Lauren as they took a break. When the blonde glanced around, she nodded across at the diminutive woman. "The best female photographer in the States, and she fucks like a rabbit too."

Lauren giggled. She'd had way too much wine today, and that was before Kay had opened the last bottle they were close to finishing. She liked Rachal's rawness. The exotic beauty had no inhibitions.

Rachal was already sliding her chair opposite Lauren's as the blonde stared at the photographer. With the top four buttons of her blouse undone, her lacy pink bra had been on constant display, adding to the sexual theme that consumed everything that had gone on during the day.

The small, khaki coloured canopy provided some relief from the heat of the day between each shoot. Lauren glanced over at Rachal as the model changed position, gracefully unfastening the straps of her sandals before raising her dark skinned legs and settling them across Lauren's thighs. "Like the tattoo?" she asked, her toes pushing the blonde's short leather skirt up to her waist.

Lauren's mouth went dry as she realised her damp thong concealed nothing. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to act as casually as her modelling partner. Her shaking hand ran across Rachal's right foot. The Chinese dragon seemed to be rising out of the woman's toes. "It's really unusual," she smiled, fully aware that the model's dark eyes were observing her closely. "What's the story?"

"Ah, that's really interesting," the exotic looking beauty began, her foot sliding between Lauren's legs and pushing into her crotch. "I'll tell you one day," she huskily told her, her big toe rubbing against Lauren's slippery folds.

Lauren couldn't help but moan, glancing across to make sure they couldn't be seen. Kay and Meredith were busy discussing something, the Agency Head pointing across to the west. Despite herself, the blonde couldn't help but widen her legs to allow Rachal more freedom.

"D'you know what you look like?" Rachal murmured, the corners of her lips curling wickedly. 

"What's… that…?" Lauren gasped, her breathing coming in harsh gasps as she stared into the other woman's commanding eyes. She was close.

"You look like you want to be kissed," the beautiful model sexily breathed. She pulled her long leg away as she sat forward, her big eyes devouring Lauren's face. "You want to be kissed, Lauren?" she asked the gawking young model. 

Without waiting for an answer, she snaked a hand behind the blonde's neck and softly pulled their heads together. Lauren gulped as the dark haired model held their lips inches apart, silently telling her that she needed to make the final move. Lauren took the hint, jamming her mouth against the sweet lips waiting for her. In seconds, the two women were kissing passionately.

"You know what else you need, babe?" Rachal asked, her soft hands gently pulling Lauren's head away from hers. She held the blonde's gaze, no more than a few inches away, as she smiled playfully into the enchanted eyes. Her hands reached for the small bag on the table, working it loose while maintaining eye contact. 

Lauren gulped again—hypnotised—lost in the moment. Whatever it was that Rachal was offering, she wanted some. She was lost in those eyes, aware that the dark haired model was creeping closer at the same time as raising a hand towards her blushing face. She understood immediately.

The exotic beauty kissed her again before slipping her finger into Rosie's mouth. The redhead's lips opened to receive the white powder, heart pounding as Rachal caressed it across her gums. The model rubbed slowly, turning the movement into what felt to Lauren like a deliberately sexual act. She licked her lips, sucking on the finger for a moment. 

"Good?" she heard Rachal's voice, somewhere in the distance amidst the different colours behind her eyes. She could hear the experienced model's heavy, sensual breaths were filling her senses, sounding like the purring of a petted cat. The euphoric effect of the coke felt good. 

Why hadn't she taken some earlier?

***

Early evening, and the headache Daniel had been feeling all day was getting worse. While people had been moved from table to table all around them, theirs stayed intact. That had given Grizzly the platform to continue his relentless trash talk theme. Worse, although he'd rebuilt his chip stack a little from its earlier low, at $10,400 he felt he was going nowhere.

Survival, he kept telling himself. Just stay tight and make it into day two. Stay patient and things would change. How many times had he repeated that? The crystal helped, too, though he wasn't sure why, other than the calm feeling engendered as he rubbed his thumb along the smooth surface.

The evening break would provide the opportunity for him to find some headache tablets. But not before he took advantage of Ace-Jack in late position. The last hand before the break was giving him the opportunity to increase his stack. After a couple of calls, he made a sizeable raise.

Take it there and then, he thought. 

Grizzly had other ideas, making his inevitable call. It wasn't just in the verbal stakes that he'd been riding Daniel all day. With table cards that were as useless as they'd been all day, they checked all the way. Grizzly flopped over his Jack-Six unsuited to display the pair he'd made with the six on the river. "Told ya, you ain't as good as you think, brother," he cackled as he raked in the pot.

Daniel sighed. Any sort of bet on the flop or turn would have won him the pot - and was a pretty basic thing to do. But he hadn't. Geez! 

"Nice pre-flop call," he sarcastically responded, slumping back in his seat in disappointment with his play, and at allowing himself to be drawn into the childish banter. If things had been frustrating all day, they were even worse now. He was down to $8500 in chips. 

With the tables clearing for the interval, he eased himself to his feet and went in search of a couple of painkillers.

***

So far, so good. Carly hadn't expected another man to be in the car when Desmond picked her up, but the well-worn Tony was as thick as Eddie's number two. No problem there. The boot of the Chevy was filled with everything the two men needed to complete their mission, though with two dolts like this, Carly's main fear was whether they'd blow up the car on the way.

Getting them to the location Samuel had identified was straightforward enough. What was more of a problem was Desmond's instruction for Tony to 'go walkabout.' With the assassin due in less then fifteen minutes, the last thing she wanted was any surprises.

"Don't wander too far," she told the pencil thin man with a wink, as he was leaving the car. "I might have something for you when you get back!" Keeping him nearby might at least allow the assassin to suss out his presence.

Watching Tony slam the door behind him and move off into the dark, she reached into her purse and instantly had two lines of coke spread on the dashboard. "Join me, Desmond?" she mischievously grinned.

"What you doing, girl? I don't want any of that shit?" She couldn't see the shock on his face in the dark, but his voice told her it was there.

"You don't want coke?" she asked, her voice emphasising her mock incredulity. "Everyone who's anyone takes coke, Desmond. What century are you living in?" 

"No," he answered, the tremor in his voice indicating a sudden uneasiness. "I'd never take that shit."

"Desmond!" she growled, her voice full of surprise, telling him it was the most natural thing in the world. Reaching out in the semi-dark, her fingernails ran along his thigh. "You've never fucked on coke?"

"Fucked?" he said, his voice less sure. "No—"

"Poor baby," she exclaimed, her fingers now cupping his cloth covered cock. "There's nothing like it, baby. Letting Carly fuck you after you've had coke is… like nothing you can imagine. It'll just blow your mind!"

"Really?"

"Fuck, yes, Desmond," she told him, tracing along the outline of his twitching hardness. "Feel good, baby?" she asked. "When you've had some coke and you're inside Carly, it'll blow your fucking mind!" She leant forward and took the straw she'd produced from her purse, sniffing up one line and purring like a cat. "Oh, baby!"

"How's it feel?" he nervously asked.

One hand dropped to her skirt, flipping it up to her waist and then pulling his hand between her thighs. She wasn't wearing panties. "Sensational," she grunted. "C'mon, baby, the sooner you take it, the quicker we get into the back of the car. Don't you want little old Carly to fuck your lights out?" 

Sensing his hesitation, she pulled his hand away, pushing his fingers to his lips. "Taste me, baby," she told him, close enough to see the arousal in his eyes. "Go on, baby," she encouraged, pushing the straw into his free hand. "Take it and then get that big cock out. I'm waiting—"

The big man hesitated, still unsure, and then suddenly plunged forward, clumsily sniffing as much as he could. The spiky haired woman smiled. It had to be closing in on ten thirty, time to get down to business. She was out of the passenger door and into the back of the car within seconds.

"C'mon, big man," she encouraged. "What's keeping you?"

He clumsily hauled himself into the night air, the car light flicking on and then off as he climbed into the rear of the car beside her. With practised ease, she had his pants undone and cock exposed before the effect of the coke hit him.

"Feel good?" she asked, straddling his lap, leading him to the Promised Land. 

"Yeah," he grunted, trying to focus as the lights exploded behind his eyes. "Yeah, kinda feels strange."

"You want to fuck Carly?" she asked, sliding him inside her with a growl. The thought of what was to follow had her so wet that despite his size, he was able to enter her with the minimum of effort. 

"Fuck, yeah," he grunted. "I ain't ever had one of Eddie's girls before!"

The spiky haired woman tightened her internal muscles around his thick girth. "What, you've never fucked a dancer?"

"Oh, yeah, done that," he grunted, feeling his head spin. Time to confess. "But never someone Eddie's fucking. Never dared."

"Oh, you naughty boy," she whispered into his ear. She fucked him gently, her hands behind her to rest on his thighs. She'd keep him simmering until the assassin arrived. "So… Eddie doesn't know you're fucking his little girl?"




The Strip Ch. 07



This is a rewrite of 'Vegas', combining both Books. While maintaining the theme, it offers a completely different and fresh take for the main characters.

Grateful thanks go to the best editor in the world -- thesoundandfury - not only for his editing, but also for the constant encouragement, suggestions, and for helping me to become a better writer.

Chapter 7: Rosie's in Trouble

The infrared binoculars told Holly that the licence plate on the black gas-guzzler was the one she was searching for. In the vicinity Samuel had told her. Experience told her to focus, allowing her eyes to get used to the darkness. Eventually, the moving shadows in the car became clearer. 

"The girl's a decoy," Samuel had told her. "Not to be harmed." Holly hoped the woman knew what she was doing. As far as she was concerned it was an added complication, not a help.

Reaching for the balaclava—her standard wear for such occasions—the tap on the driver's window interrupted her thoughts. Damn, how could she have been so careless? The gun pointing through the glass made her heart beat a little faster. A trap? No sudden movements, she told herself.

The barrel moved in an upward and downward motion and she obeyed the silent instruction, lowering the window to allow the well-worn face to peer in. 

"Watcha doin'?" a suspicious, high-pitched voice asked, the gun trained on her. Holly began to move but stopped as the weapon waved gently from side to side. "Uh-uh!" the guy uttered in admonishment. "I asked whatcha doin'!?!"

The blonde smiled brightly, slightly tugging open her jacket as she did so. His gaze dropped to the swell of her breasts above her thin black top. It paid to dress with a diversion in mind. The momentary distraction allowed her hidden hand to pick up the silencer at her side. 

"I'm looking for a little action," she softly breathed. "Are you?"

The well-worn face broke into a grin and he glanced across at the gas-guzzler, as if contemplating his options. The split second distraction gave Holly all the time she needed. Her swift movement was as deadly as her aim. 

The bullet hit him directly between the eyes. The soft spit broke the silence, followed by the dull thud as his body collapsed to the ground.

Holly's eyes returned to the vehicle across the street. If they'd seen anything, this was going to become complicated. Thirty seconds silence confirmed they'd been too busy to notice. Within seconds, she'd slipped the balaclava over her head. Flicking off the ceiling switch so as to ensure she'd remain in the dark, she opened the door. It moved only a couple of inches.

Damn! The thug's fallen body must have lodged itself against the door as it fell to the ground. Reaching across with her right leg, then left, she manoeuvred herself into the passenger seat and exited that way.

Half a dozen silent strides saw her cover the distance to the driver's side, within a few seconds; the thin body was pulled to one side. 

Staying in the shadows, she stealthily slipped across the open space, listening to her soft pants as she continually checked around her. No more unexpected disturbances! As she approached the vehicle, she could hear the groans inside. The girl, whoever she was, seemed to be enjoying her job.

It wasn't difficult to remain out of sight of the wing mirrors. A half-minute's pause allowed her to adjust her eyes to the shapes inside the vehicle. Desmond and his entertainment were in the back. The dark haired woman was riding him gently, but the way her head rotated indicated what was on her mind. 

She was waiting for the assassin. The man would make an easier target that way. Holly grimaced to herself. This was quite a woman, but despite her interest in making life easier for Holly, she wasn't one she warmed to. Experience told her to keep her distance from thrillseekers.

Still, use the help if it was there. Holly moved so that her shadow fell across the woman's eyesight. Inside the car, she checked her movements for a brief second, as if her brain was assimilating what was about to happen. Then she was moving again, only faster this time. 

"Come on, baby," Holly heard. "Cum for Carly. You'll never have another one like this." 

The assassin understood. The woman wanted the man's orgasm, but it was also to be a signal to Holly. Fuck, she was a cool customer!

The vehicle began to rock under her exertions and then the timing was perfect. 

"I'm cumming doll," he groaned, "I'm fucking cummmmmming—"

Holly knew the woman had ensured the door was unlocked, not that it made any difference. She'd shoot him through the glass if necessary. It opened in one movement just as the man was ejaculating. The woman's face stared at Holly, alive with excitement. "Do it!"

Her grunt as Holly put the gun against his forehead and pulled the trigger was that of a wild animal. The bitch had cum, actually reaching her own orgasm!

"Wait," the woman breathlessly gasped as Holly turned away. "He's got an accomplice, outside somewhere."

"Not any more," Holly answered, immediately cursing herself for forgetting the Irish accent.

It made no difference, she told herself as she covered the distance back to her hired car. She was speeding from the vicinity even as Carly was pushing herself away from the dead body and wondering how she'd get home. 

***

"Mmm, I'm going to grab a shower before the flight. Join me?" Rachal asked as Meredith and Kay began packing up for the day. Kay watched Lauren carefully, smiling to herself as the young blonde took the exotic model's hand.

Their final session had taken place indoors at the top of the South Rim. Walking across to the small trailer with the more experienced model, Lauren was shocked to see it was dark. Where had the time gone?

The small vehicle was barely large enough to accommodate one person, let alone two. Rachal was already sliding out of her squaw outfit not two steps into it. All Lauren could do was follow, her eyes glued to the warm, chocolate brown skin of her bare back. With a slow cock of one hip, Rachal's thong joined her clothing on the floor.

Glancing at the blonde just outside, she arched a dark brow. "Pussycat got your tongue?"

The flimsy door of the trailer slapped shut and the sound of the shower flipped on. Lauren glanced over at Kay, although the Agency Head appeared to be preoccupied with the early proofs on her open laptop. Deep breath, she entered.

When she opened the door, Rachal was bending over—her slender body presented in profile—as she undid the straps of her sandals. Her long, glossy black hair was already out of its braids, hanging in silky waves around her face.

Rachal smiled playfully at the gawking young model. "Come on," she said, straightening to full height. "I'm not sure how much hot water we'll have."

Lauren's mouth went dry. She couldn't help herself as she scanned this other woman's full, frontal nudity. She thought of their kiss earlier. She thought of her sister's confession to being bi. And she knew that she wanted this woman before her.

"Want to soap me?" Rachal asked Lauren, smiling mischievously at her through those luminous, almond shaped eyes. Before Lauren could answer, the other girl stepped into the shower, swaying her ass as the hot water cascaded down her body. 

Lauren gulped, quickly stripping off her skimpy attire. Rachal was ready for her, pushing a bar of soap over her shoulder. Lauren took it and stepped beneath the spray. The shower left barely enough room for them to manoeuvre and Lauren couldn't help it when her large breasts brushed along the other girl's back.

"Sorry," she mumbled, embarrassed. Her nipples scraped Rachal's shoulder blades; there was no way she'd miss that.

Rachal smiled to herself and said nothing. Instead, she closed her eyes and looked up into the hot spray, letting its warmth and the hesitant touch of Lauren's fingers relax her.

"Were you born in Vegas?" Lauren asked the black haired model, more for something to take her mind of the softness of Rachal's skin and the heat rising from their intimacy.

"No," Rachal softly answered. "You have such soft hands, Lauren. I love your touch…" She let the blonde trace her shoulder blades up to her slender neck before answering. "No, I was born in Rwanda."

"Rwanda?" Lauren wouldn't have guessed Africa; not with those almond-shaped eyes, although she'd been struggling with the girl's ethnicity all day now.

"Mmmm, lower please," the exotic model murmured, pushing her buttocks back. "I think my back's clean now." Lauren took the hint, running her soapy hands down the sweep of Rachal's spine until she had one firm buttock in each hand. It was all Rachal could do not to turn around—to pretend like they were having this conversation in a coffee shop, not naked in a tiny shower.

"Yeah, my father was a Philippine missionary who got a little overzealous with 'spreading the word of god' through western African. Particularly with the African women, if you take my meaning. I never knew him. Then when I was two, my mother was killed during the genocide." Lauren gasped. "She gave her life to get me out of the country."

"You're joking!"

Rachal turned into Lauren, her large, dark eyes shimmering with emotion. "It's not a joke," she said huskily. Resting against the wall of the shower, she glanced down her wet body. Lauren had stopped soaping, enthralled by the other woman's tale, although she realized now that her right hand was resting on Rachal's smooth mound. "How about my tits?" Rachal suggested, the corners of her lips curling wickedly. "We can get to… that later."

"Oh, I'm… I'm sorry…" Lauren blurted, averting her eyes as heat flooded up her neck and across her face.

"S'ok, baby. I liked it."

Lauren felt her own pussy flood. This woman was so sexual! Hesitantly, she returned her hands to the warm skin just beneath Rachal's swollen breasts. They were nice. Large enough to fill the palms of her hands, and capped with hard, dark brown nipples that reminded the blonde of Hershey Kisses. 

"The rest of my story's not very interesting. Same as so many other girls here in Vegas. Grew up in the Midwest, but I always had a hard time because I looked different. I fled to Vegas before finishing my last year in high school and I'd have ended up in a brothel somewhere if Kay hadn't found me and taken me under her wing."

"Geez," Lauren grunted, again lost in Rachal's narrative. Her hands idled on the dark-skinned model's soft breasts. "I guess Kay's your fairy Godmother…"

Rachal began to laugh, thrusting her tits forward. Reminding Lauren that they were naked together. Her pussy let off another surge of heat. "Not unless it's okay to fuck a Godmother. That woman's hot!"

"You… you and Kay?" 

"Sensational," the exotic beauty answered, leaning forward to run the tip of her tongue across Lauren's lips. The blonde gasped, although didn't pull away. Some part of her had been waiting for this since the moment they set down in Las Vegas. She felt Rachal's hands on her hips, pulling her closer. She opened her mouth to allow the soft tongue push between her lips. For the second time that day, their tongues touched and glided against one another.

Lauren moaned into the wet mouth. Her fingers flicked across the wonderfully hard nipple, consumed in the drug that was this sexy woman. Her soapy hands kneaded the wonderful, buoyant globes.

"So good, babe," Rachal breathed, her right hand sliding down the blonde's stomach. Her long fingers skirted her swollen clit, caressing the smooth curve of her vulva. "Want it?" the exotic beauty asked; she wanted to hear the blonde say it.

"Yes," Lauren gasped, standing on her tiptoes in an attempt to force the fingers inside her. "Oh yes!"

"Say, 'Please,'" Rachal teasingly prompted, circling Lauren's clit. "'Please, Rach.'"

The blonde's voice was as out of control as her body. "Please! Please, Rach!"

"Please what?"

"Make me cum," Lauren panted, almost sobbing with desire. "Please make me cum…"

When the exotic model stiffened two fingers and pushed them into her oily pussy, she screamed, widening her legs to accept the wonderful intruders. The soft touch was perfect. Rachal knew the precise pressure to apply.

"Oh, shit!" the blonde gasped as the model teased her. Two fingers inside, a thumb on her clit. Then the beauty had her tongue, too, sucking it into her mouth like she was sucking on a cock. It was too much!

"FUCK!" the blonde cried, cumming harder, longer and louder than anything before in her young life. 

"Just think," Rachal murmured, her arms helping the blonde stay on her feet as her body gave way. "If that's what my fingers can do, just wait till you experience my mouth…"

***

"I have to congratulate you," Samuel growled softly into the phone. Her call was later than expected, but that was okay. Carly's earlier phone call had told him all he needed to know. 

"Thank you. I take it the girl contacted you?"

"She did. A very professional operation from what I understand," he told her. "One second, please!"

He hurried away from the bar area, through a door into the corridor leading to his office. The sound of Grace's singing dulled behind him. The news of the new English country acid house singer had quickly spread after her first two nights. The club was full to bursting. She'd be a little gold mine for him - the more punters she attracted, the more potential clients he had for his girls. 

"Problem?" Holly asked, her voice suspicious.

"No," his deep voice chuckled. "I was in the bar and couldn't easily here you. And I gather you had no problems either. Congratulations."

"That's what you paid me for," she responded. "You expected anything else?"

"No," he laughed.

"You should congratulate the girl, too," Holly said, thickening her false Irish tones. "She made it easy for me, though she clearly enjoys her work—"

"Good, good," his deep voice responded, missing the touch of sarcasm. He'd arranged transport back home for Carly, but he'd really have to give her some sort of bonus when he saw her again. "The money reached your account okay?"

"Mm-kay," she answered. "I wouldn't have executed the plan otherwise."

"Quite," Samuel's deep voice grunted. "And I believe I got two for the price of one..."

"Consider it a bonus, no extra charge," she told him, knowing the call, had lasted too long, even if she had stolen the cell phone. "You know how to contact me if you need me."

***

Rosie hated the thought of not being able to see Daniel tonight. Hated even more that Big Eddie was forcing her to do a private party. Forcing? That wasn't quite true. He'd left the final decision to her, but only after reminding her that each assignment brought her a step closer to repaying her debt.

So tonight, instead of continuing her morning conversation with Daniel, she'd be at her first private party, dancing for whoever was there, and fucking the host, too. She really did hate this life. Hate Big Eddie. And hate that useless ex-boyfriend who'd left her in such a mess.

Her text message to Daniel had been brief, but what else could she say? She'd find some way of explaining this to him when she saw him again. Her heart raced as she made a beeline for the elevators, cutting through the Rio's lobby. She'd die if she ran into the Englishman!?! 

Despite the crush of people at the late hour, her paranoid mind imagined every eye was cast in her direction. Judging. Criticizing. Condemning her as the whore that she was. She felt another lick of heat sear across her scalp. If they were looking with a cluck of disapproval not far from their tongues, she could hardly blame them. Last week, she felt the same way: she'd shake her head and think, "I'll never be like that…"

She'd built this illusion that what she did at Midnight Hot was different than this. Somehow better. She danced in a club, turned tricks on the side, but always in the relative safety of the club. This felt different.

Her finger shook as she pressed the up button in the elevator lobby. A couple of elderly tourists got into the mirror-lined lift with her. She took a deep breath and refused to meet their judgmental eyes, imagined or not.

The reflection in the bevelled mirror of the elevator doors said it all. Maybe they thought she was a business exec, she thought hopefully. Big Eddie had explained what she should wear and had paid for the slutty power suit she'd chosen himself. She'd be wearing it a lot, he told her. 

Charcoal grey and clinging to her curves, the tight skirt barely covered the tops of her black thigh-highs and the short, matching blazer offered a scintillating display of freckled cleavage.

Her long, red locks had been swept up into a messy bun, held in place by a pair of black chopsticks. She adjusted her fake, plastic-rimmed glasses and thought, "Yeah, business exec my ass." The way their eyes scowled as they exited made it clear that they were nobody's fool.

As she headed for a huge suite on the top floor of the Rio, she wondered what was in store for her. Honestly, she had no idea. Some of the girls like doing these private parties. The thrill, the money. They were the girls Rosie had little in common with. Inside, she knew this just wasn't a good idea!

The elevator emptied her into a short hall with only three doors. She could hear loud music thumping behind one. Room P100. Her destination.

She froze. Could she do this? Could she really do this? She hesitated outside the door. Last chance, honey, a voice in her head whispered. Turn and leave now 'cause there ain't no going back.

The redhead took a deep breath to steady her quivering heart. When she wrapped her knuckles against the dark, wooden door, her hand no longer shook.

The sound of partying was a low roar on the other side of that door. For a moment, she thought that no one heard her knocking—the need to leave increased. Maybe fate was giving her one last chance.

Then the door opened. 

A shirtless man leaned against the door jam, giving her a slow once-over. A hand-rolled cigarette hung from his mouth, but it wasn't tobacco burning on the tip. "Well, well," the man leered, plucking the joint from his mouth and finally meeting her eyes. "You must be Rosie. Come on in!"

The redhead suppressed a shiver of disgust as he stepped to the side, averting her eyes from his, but knowing they'd returned to her tits.

The interior of the high-roller suite was much more opulent than the doorman would have led her to believe. On the far side of the enormous space, tall windows offered a one eighty-degree view of the City That Never Sleeps. 

She lost count of the people in the large room, mostly guys but a few women, too. The loud music reverberated around her head. And everywhere, the air permeated with the saccharine sweetness of marijuana smoke. This was a much heavier scene than she'd anticipated. "Through there," the shirtless man told, her, nodding at a side room. 

Three guys and a young looking blonde sat on the plush sofas of the lounging space. A fifty-inch flat panel television was mounted to the wall. A close-up shot of a vein cock going into a glistening pussy was showing, although the recorded sounds of sex were drowned out by the hard-pounding music.

A young man with bed-head hair and slim-cut black suit approached her, one hand in his pocket. His smile was too smooth for Rosie's liking. "Well hello there, pretty one," he said with an affluent accent that made her think of spoiled rich kids. "Rosie, right?"

"And you're Mr. Lyons?" For some reason, she'd imagined a much older man. Not this guy. She'd consider him attractive were he not paying for sex. He had an Indy-rocker look to him. 




The Strip Ch. 07



The young man smiled at the use of "Mr." "Let's go with 'Patrick.' Please, join us."

She hesitated, cursing herself for showing weakness. If she was going to get through this night, she had to rise above her meekness. She had to be someone else. "First, we need to take care of business." When she said it, her voice was steady.

Again, that smooth smile. "Of course, the money," he said, tipping his head forward slightly. He pulled a wad of hundreds from the back pocket of his tight, black jeans and counted off 25. Rosie glanced first at the shirtless man, who'd answered the door. He gave her a wink before finishing off his spliff. Her gaze switched to the group who'd been watching the porn. They were now watching her and the money exchange. Her face went bright red.

"Twenty-five large," he said, handing her the stack of bills and grinning as he returned to the rest to his pocket. The money was nothing to him. It was everything to her.

She'd never felt more objectified than at that moment. Why did thoughts of Daniel come to her mind, combined with a strong desire to make a run for it?

"So, Rosie…" Patrick said smoothly, his eyes undressing her, stripping off that sexy power suit. He turned and wandered over to the sofas where the rest of his friends were sitting. "Why don't you dance for us… to start?"

Rosie shivered as he smiled at her. It wasn't the dancing that worried her—it was what came afterwards. She slipped the cash into her purse and set it carefully on the sideboard by the door. Her breath was coming short. She felt her head go soft and light; like she was going to pass out.

Control it, Rosie, control it. You can do this. She took a deep breath, surveyed the group once again—four guys and one girl. The shirtless man was still standing beside her. He'd lit up a new joint and grinned stupidly when she looked his way.

"Here," he said, adding, "take it," when she hesitated.

She reached out and took the joint, setting the rolled cigarette between her full lips and sucked deeply. Maybe this was a way of giving her confidence, drowning out the thoughts of what lay in store.

Many of the girls she worked with at Midnight Hot were heavy addicts of one thing or another. For most, it was sex, although the staff had its fair share of drug addicts and alcoholics. Rosie had insulated herself from that lifestyle, primarily by dissociating herself from the rest of the girls. For her, it was a regular job, one that she left behind when she exited the building.

Sure, she drank from time to time. She'd even smoke a cigarette every once in a while, especially if she was out drinking. But that was the extent of her dabbles and she'd never intended to take it further. Only now, she was feeling the floor fall out from beneath her and she needed some support.

Sashaying forward, burning dubie in hand, her hips found the hard beat coming over the speakers. Her strides were hesitant as she placed herself before the porn-spewing television and her audience. 

This was just like any other performance on stage, she told herself, only her stage was much more intimate. Turning her back, she swung along to the music, her legs shoulder-width apart, she fell into her comfort zone once again. The catcalls came: "You're so fucking hot" or "Take it off, baby!" She tuned them all out and went through her motions.

The pot hit her right between the eyes. Like a wave crashing against a beachhead. And yet, instead of making her fall flat on her ass, it energized her. The music was no longer filtered through her ears. She absorbed it. She was one with it.  

The marijuana was just what she needed, she realized. It was relaxing her, helping her get through this. Hell, not just get through it! The music, the weed, and the situation all began to make her really fucking horny! Maybe she could actually find a way to enjoy the experience.

Silhouetted against the large television screen and its tawdry acts of lust and sex, she stripped. The black sticks that held her red locks in place went first. Encouraged by their cheers, she tossed her thick waves. This wasn't that different to dancing for Big Eddie, except the audience was more vocal. She liked that!

Next, she peeled off the small blazer, slow enough for her to tease them with the dainty white half-cup bra that barely held her large breasts in check. She twisted and spun, undulating to the changing highs and lows of the electronica. Her short skirt rode up her legs, baring the tops of her stockings and the pale flesh of her thighs. Useless, the skirt went last. 

"Nice g-string, baby!" someone exclaimed. "Why don't you come over here and sit in my lap!"

Time to take things to the next level, she thought, a trickle of sweat forming from her forehead. She took another pull. If this was what it took, she'd give it her best shot. Flipping her hair, she skipped up to the guy who'd shouted out, swivelled, and grinded into his lap, just as she'd done with Big Eddie.

She took a drag off the roach for extra confidence. The gasped, sitting back on the sofa as he received his lap dance. He was a gentleman, keeping his hands to himself as she teased him. That was good, but disappointing, too. She needed to feel his touch, tangible evidence that she was hot.

The next guy gave her all the proof she needed. He couldn't keep his hands off her and eventually, it was all she could do to keep shifting and twisting to keep him away. When he managed to get her bra strap unhitched, she slid off of his lap, but still made a show of tossing it across his face as she shook her wonderfully full tits.

She'd gone from reluctant, hesitant, and nervous to confident, horny in a few short minutes. That's what pot could do for you, she told herself

The next guy was Neil, who was looking stoned and excited. His hands immediately went to her swells as she lowered her ass onto him, feeling his cock swell in the crevice of her buttocks. She didn't stop him—she couldn't stop him. She was getting high on the weed and the more she floated, the less she cared.

As she grinded her hips into his erection, he pushed a finger beneath her g-string. "God, you're sexy," he whispered as two fingers found her clit. Her body went stiff with shock as a mini-orgasm washed through her body. She whimpered as he fingered her, nibbling lightly on her pierced ear.

This was wrong; she couldn't—yet she was. Her legs widened to grant him better access as her arousal grew. Despite herself, his groping hands only made her situation worse. Somehow she danced back to her feet and pirouetted, now actively looking for her next victim. 

On screen, a woman had joined the couple, situating herself between the legs of the first. Rosie's heart skipped a beat. To the right of Neil was the blonde, whose eyes were glistening with desire. She thought of Carly. She thought of the girls on the screen. She couldn't do this, right? 

But, well, she could give the guys a show, right?

One leg bent slightly in from of the other, her hips cocked to the side, Rosie drew deeply on the joint, feeling the surge of whatever it was blow her inhibitions away. Holding it in her lungs, she bent at the waist and braced her hand on the blonde's shoulder as she swooped her head in low, her head back and her red hair flying.

The redhead's steadying hand shifted around the heavy-lidded girl's neck. She pulled the dreamy eyed woman close as her head tilted and her lips closed in. The blonde opened her mouth in anticipation of a kiss, but before their lips met, Rosie exhaled, passing the heady smoke between mouths. 

She heard the blonde gasp. So wicked. So bad. Before she could stop herself, she closed the distance, feeling the soft touch of a woman's mouth for the second time in two days. Again, she reassured herself that this was all just for show. This was for the guys, she rationalized as she unfurled her tongue into the sassy blonde's mouth. 

She heard them guys' cheer around her. Her pussy grew warm from all of the attention. She kissed the other woman harder. Maybe this whole scene wasn't too bad after all?

Pulling away with a theatrical swing of her hips, she spun around, gyrating in the blonde's lap before moving on to her final victim. It was the host, Patrick. "That was really hot," he whispered as the song came to an end.

Rosie had to agree. She was on fire, hornier than any audience had ever made her at Midnight Hot. She felt his fingers slide along her stockings, tug at her g-string, then slide across her hips to pull her pussy against his erection.

"Time to get fucked," he whispered into her ear, his teeth painfully pulling down on her lobe. "Hope you're as good as I think you are!"

Sitting off him enough to look him in the eyes as she sucked on the joint, the last of the weed burning away, she nodded. "I've never had any complaints," she said huskily, pushing back as he grinded his hardness into her again. Her head was spinning from the weed; her whole body was warm with arousal.

When she regained her feet, the lightness in her head had moved to the rest of her limbs. Particularly her legs. She held out her hand for him, helping him up. He took it and stood with the same smoothness she'd seen in a smile. Like they were dancing, he moved to her side so naturally. "I'd like Neil to... watch," he told her. "I think he'd benefit a great deal—"

Rosie hesitated as she looked over at the shirtless man. This wasn't part of the deal. Her eyes swung further, across to the group of young guys and girls gathered around the doorway. She realized they'd joined them as she'd danced. All were looking at her with hunger in their eyes. They wanted her, her swimming brain was able to process. 

"Okay," she reluctantly conceded. She couldn't get out of that room quickly enough…

Rosie shivered as she collected her purse and followed them towards the double doors of the bedroom. No matter what hand life had dealt her, she didn't want to think of herself as a girl who made her living on her back. This was just a necessary evil. Make enough, pay off Big Eddie, and move on. And if the weed was going to help her enjoy it, that was good, too. 

She deserved something from this.

***

Daniel shuffled in his seat. His clothes felt scruffy, he needed a shower, and his headache hadn't eased. But worse of all, Grizzly was still at the table.

The Englishman's sole objective was to remain in the tournament for as long as he could. See out today, he kept telling himself, see out today. In truth, his mind was on Rosie. He'd wanted to see her again all day—could that be why he'd had so much trouble focusing? Her text message during the last break had told him she couldn't meet him and would explain tomorrow.

What the hell was that all about?

Midway through the final session he was dealt Pocket rockets. His first real hand of the day. He hadn't received anything better than tens all tournament. 

Rather than thank the poker Gods, it occurred to him that this was the hand that Doyle had so recently busted. Damn, how negative was that? He really was off the pace! Stroke the crystal, he told himself, but not yet. Show no emotion. It was his move and all eyes were watching him.

Slow playing was an option but he instantly threw that thought away. He'd seen too many bad beats today. Just take the pot then and there. He carefully counted out the chips, cutting them from the others and pushing them into the middle. Five times the big blind. 

Grizzly on his left thought for a few moments, leaning back in his chair and scratching his partially baldhead. Glancing at Daniel, he muttered, "Raise." Taking his time, he pulled two stacks of chips from the piles in front of him. The pot sized bet made sense if Daniel was unsure about his hand. 

The man had been on his back all day and the Englishman hadn't had the cards to do a thing about it. Until now. This was too good an opportunity to miss. He gave a Hollywood pause, attempting to convey uncertainty, then gazed across at the eyes squinting back at him. "All in," he softly said.

Grizzly's call was a given. He was pot committed. It was the move Daniel wanted, but then the doubt crept back. If his hand was cracked he was out. Grizzly cursed as the Englishman turned over his Aces.

"This kid can't play for toffee and he picks up Aces!" his opponent told a group of friends as he rushed across to the rail, ignoring the chequered shirttail flapping out of the back of his dirty blue jeans. "What the hell?!"

Daniel ignored the comment. Doubling up at this stage would allow him to coast to the end of the day. After the constant ear bashing he'd experienced, maybe this was karma.

The flop killed him. King-Queen-Nine.

Grizzly let out a whoop of delight, throwing himself into the arms of his supporters as they jumped up and down. They all wanted to join in his whoops of delight. "That's what I'm talking about… that's what I'm talking about—"

Daniel felt claustrophobic. Lose with grace, he repeated to himself, blowing out a long sigh. Show some class. Not the easiest thought to hold onto, with Grizzly's irritating tone informing everyone that he was about to bust his ass.

The turn was another King, giving his opponent a full house. That brought further hollering and arm punching from Grizzly and his friends. In two cards he'd turned from despondent to a cheerleader.

Daniel sat back down, quietly preparing himself for his exit. He only had two outs but neither was on his mind. He pulled the precious stone from his pocket and placed it on the green cloth in front of him. 

So much for the power of the crystal—

The dealer's banged fist on the baize brought the card that changed everything. The card Norman Chad regarded as the prettiest card in the deck. 

And at that moment, Daniel agreed. He was back in it.

***

"Alright, let's get this started!" Neil clapped as he situated himself into the armchair directly across from the bed.

A smiling Patrick led Rosie across the room, her head down so that her thick, copper locks hung over her face. A handler leading his filly to pasture. 

Despite herself, the redhead was excited. All thoughts of how wrong it felt were floating away like the smoke from the weed. One of these guys had paid her two and a half thousand dollars for the privilege to fuck her, letting his friend watch was the least she could do.

Patrick plumped himself down on the edge of the bed, caressing the tops of his thighs as she bent over him. "Undress me," he told her.

The buzz of adrenalin running through her was fuelled further as Neil suddenly appeared beside her, letting her take a long drag of the newly lit joint before he backed away to his chair again.

Rosie tossed her head back, making her hair dance a sexual tango before leaning forward to run her lips within inches of his, teasing him as her fingers went to the bottom of his t-shirt. When it was over his head and he was shirtless, she smothered his mouth with her lips.

Working his black jeans open, she slid to her knees as she pulled them off. "No underwear," she said with a raised eyebrow, enjoying the sexual power she was feeling inside.

"I like to be prepared," he winked back at her, grabbing his erect cock in his fist and pumping it once.

She hesitated a second, for some reason Daniel came back into her thoughts. Damn! This time the shake of her head was to dismiss the thought and she leant forward to quickly suck the delicious looking cock it into her mouth. Geez, that felt good! She gave his thick manhood two quick sucks before slurping away and running her nearly naked body along him. 

This wasn't as bad as she'd feared. Really, it was no different than what she did at the club. A little dancing followed by turning a trick or two. It was the easiest two and a half grand she'd ever earn. A few more of these and she'd be halfway to wiping out her debt to Eddie. Besides, Patrick was hot and Neil wasn't so bad, either. She'd had a lot worse…

Brushing her lips along Patrick's, she made to kiss him before pulling back and swivelling into his lap. Neil had unzipped his pants and was jerking off as he watched from his chair. She should have expected it, but the sight shocked her all the same. Most guys wanked when they watched sex, right?

"Keep the stockings, but lose the panties, doll," he leered, glancing down between her legs. "I want to see that pussy!"

Rosie shivered as Patrick closed his hands around her freckled swells. He pulled her body against his, squeezing her tits together and pinching her nipples. This was getting dangerously sexy. The thought of the masturbating man watching her perform was more of a turn on than she could ever have anticipated.

Using Patrick's body for leverage, she lifted her hips off his, hooked her thumbs in her g-string, and peeled them away from her pussy lips that were already wet with anticipation.

"There it is," Neil hissed, grabbing the chair and dragging it as close as he could get to the bed. 

Rosie attempted to ignore him, but somehow his nearness created even more excitement inside her. She took hold of Patrick's cock and guided it to her wet furrow. It took three passes before he'd slid fully into her depths. Her eyes closed, her head went back. God, that felt so good.

She felt someone pushing a joint between her lips again and she sucked hard again, once, twice. With each inhalation of smoke, her arousal increased. Could it get any higher?

Patrick's words interrupted her thoughts. "You just going to let him hang there?" he asked as his exploring hands aroused her further. "Suck his cock," he ordered.

The redhead quivered as she heard Patrick flex his command with her. She didn't normally think of herself as a girl who liked to be dominated, but everything about this situation was turning her on. Leaning forward, she captured Neil's cock in her heads and drew it into her mouth.

"Fuck, baby…" he groaned. He pushed his fingers into her thick, red locks.

She matched her blowjob with Patrick's driving thrusts, synchronizing the feeling of the two cocks inside of her. The heady sensation of hazy lust was back, this time fuelled not by marijuana but by the intense feeling of being taken. Truly taken.

Patrick slid a finger into her anus and she went off like dry gunpowder. No man had ever touched her there and she surprised herself with the strength of her orgasm. Too much. Too fucking much! She yanked her head from Neil's erection, a strand of saliva stretching from her lower lip to his bulbous head.

It broke as she threw her head back and cried out in ecstasy. Patrick's finger dug deeper into her asshole; she came harder.

"I think someone has an ass fixation," Patrick laughed, meeting Neil's eyes. "Maybe later on, we can explore that?"

Rosie shook her head, but instantly knew she'd have to explore that thought. Not right now, though, and not with these two. But with Daniel…? Now there was a thought that sent her into overdrive.

She began to bounce harder and harder in Patrick's lap, desperately searching for a second release. Neil grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back to his spit-covered cock. Before she could take him into her mouth, though, she realized he had other plans.

"Wrap those tits around it," he growled, inching his rod into the valley of her swells. Gone was the mellow stoner. This man wanted to get off as much as she did.

Obliging, she collecting her gravity defying breasts in her hands and squeezed them around him. Give him what he wanted. And Patrick. Get the orgasm she badly needed too. Then she could get out of there.

Between her saliva, sweat, and the clear pre-cum leaking from his cock, there was more than enough lube for him to glide through her freckled cleavage. "Oh, fuck yeah!" he moaned appreciately, sinking back in the chair as he began to really pump up into her. 




The Strip Ch. 07



She realized she didn't need to do any work. The guys were doing it all for her. She was their living, breathing sex toy. And she was getting off on it!

"Oh God…" she groaned, feeling the onset of an ever harder orgasm. Her two lovers were working frantically. Their breathing came heavy. Their thrusts harder. Desperate. 

She felt Neil's balls tighten just under her tits. His gasp caught. "OH GOD!" she screamed, the words crashed from her throat. It was the crack of lightning. As Neil began to growl, she knew here came the rain.

"FUCK YOU BITCH!" he moaned, his cock rocketing cum up against the bottom of her chin before he could push her away. He fired the next blast across her pale nipples and into the pocket he'd just been fucking.

She felt Patrick's hot seed fill her pussy behind her. His finger twisted in her ass, driving her higher up the wall of pleasure. She closed her eyes as the other man sprayed his juice across her face. Into her hair. Patrick lifted her bodily to drive one last time into her well-fucked sex. She came all over him as he gave her the last of his manly tribute.

"My God!" Patrick sighed, flopping back onto the bed. 

Rosie smiled to herself. She hadn't realized quite how much she'd needed that. Maybe these private parties weren't quits so bad as she'd thought? Her mind whirled, high on the marijuana and the sex. Two and a half thousand towards her debt and a fucking that had burned into her very soul. That finger in her ass! The man watching them, then sucking his cock! 

She was going home a satisfied woman!

Patrick's next words changed everything. "The others are gonna love you!"

Like that, the highs of the drug and sex were gone. Her body went cold. Others? The arrangement was for her to fuck the host. Neil had been a bonus that had worked for both parties—but others?

"Let's start with you doing a couple at a time, like you did with Neil and I," Patrick said cheerily, rolling off the bed and reaching for his pants. "Then, maybe we'll open up the room…"

"Um…" Rosie glanced at Neil, who was no hope. He was grinning like an idiot as he, too, went for his pants.

"It's what I agreed on with Big Eddie. He told you, right?"

"Of course…" she answered, her blood as cold as the Antarctic. That bastard. That rat-fucking-bastard! What did he think she was? She had to get out of this. She had to! "Um, mind if I grab a shower to rinse off?" 

"Well, seems like a waste of time," Patrick laughed, "but sure, go ahead. Bathroom's over there."

Rosie pulled her panties on and grabbed her purse as she hurried away. The guys watched her go. Patrick said something she didn't hear and Neil burst out laughing. The redhead shuddered and pushed into the marble-tiled bathroom, her legs still wobbly from the workout she'd just done. Her mind felt numb as Patrick's words keep resonating in her brain. The others are gonna love you… the others… the others...

When she came to her senses, she quickly locked the door and went for her cell phone. Bringing up Daniel's number, she sent a quick text along with a prayer. Please be done with that damn poker tournament!

Switching on the shower, she wondered how much longer she could delay. Please, Daniel, please help me…

***

Daniel folded his hole cards just as the text came through. Normally he wouldn't have his mobile active at the table, but he hadn't turned it off after reading the earlier text from Rosie. She might change her mind and ask to see him again, right? Better keep it on, just in case.

His blood warmed as he saw that the text was from Rosie. She was able to see him after all. It turned to freezing when he read the message.

Help! I'm in the penthouse at the Rio. P100. Now!! 

Without thinking anything other than he was outta there, he rose from his seat and glanced around. Holly was behind him, watching from the rail. He covered the distance between them in a split second. "If I'm not back, would you bag my chips tonight?" he barked.

The look on his pained face told her his need was urgent. Experience told her not to ask questions. They were only half an hour or so away from the end of the day, but so what? His chip stack was healthier than it had been, even though he couldn't afford to lose a few blinds if he didn't return. 

Whatever the problem was must be critical for him to leave like this.

"No problem," she rasped back, watching him wheel around and head through the crowd in the direction of the door.

***

What the hell was going on?

Desmond hadn't called him, nor had he responded to any of Big Eddie's calls. They were well past the scheduled time for his strike on Samuel Smith's. He didn't need his instinct to tell him that something was wrong. 

The silence told him.

Eddie poured himself another bourbon and angrily retraced his steps up and down the living room carpet. The antique furniture, wall paintings and plush shag pile were all signs of the affluence that was now his life. If Desmond had fucked things up, he could be waving goodbye to everything. He wasn't ready for that…

Desmond was under strict instructions to get some sort of message to him if anything went awry with the plan. His failure to do so, or contact him at all, indicated that something had happened before his number two could issue any sort of warning.  

His brain worked overtime, going through the options. With each thought, he dismissed the possibility. It was inconceivable that he wouldn't have heard something, whatever the situation!

The bourbon burned the back of his throat as he threw it back. Godammit!!

In normal circumstances, he'd get in touch with his contact in the local police force. He paid them well enough. But this was too sensitive. If Desmond and Tony had been caught attempting to torch the club, he couldn't allow himself to be implicated. Of course they'd link Desmond to him, but he had his alibi lined up. Any call would confirm suspicions. 

There was no choice other than to wait until someone got a message to him.

***

It took no time for Daniel to reach the room, even though he took the stairs rather than the lift. The numbers crowding around the elevator lobby told him it would be much quicker. He wasn't sure what to expect. He just knew the girl who'd been consuming his thoughts was in trouble and every atom in his body was racing to save her. 

He thought of all kinds of scenarios on his way there. What kind of trouble could she be in? It didn't matter, whatever it was; he'd deal with it. But how to get into the room? Pretend to be room service? Break down the door? Leap in from the balcony?

When he got to the penthouse floor, he was panting hard. He hadn't realized quite how many stairs there were. Good thing he was in shape. After taking a few seconds to return his breathing to normal, he realized that the simplest entry solution was easiest. The door was unlocked when he tried it.

The living room of the giant suite was bustling with activity, most of it illegal. Daniel was no stranger to pot and this room was filled with it. Guys and girls were lounging, stoned and out of it, on the sofa. A couple blondes were making out furiously in the kitchenette. He recognized more than a few of them from the tournament, early dropouts who hadn't made it through Day One.

"May I help you?" a smarmy looking man asked, a diminutive brunette dangling on his arm.

"I'm looking for Rosie?" he asked, deciding to try the obvious way first even as he sized the guy up. Daniel had been working the delivery trucks for Slim long enough to know he could be intimidating if he wanted to. While he'd never taken his shady employer up on any of his "extra" work, these guys didn't know that.

But the guy seemed to lose interest in Daniel as quickly as he'd found it. "That way," he said, stabbing his thumb in the direction of the bedroom. The crinkly haired Brit's heart fell.

Crossing the room, he got to the door just in time to hear Rosie's cries of protest. "I said no!"

That was all it took. Throwing his shoulder hard against the locked double doors, he shattered the lock off the bedroom door, startling the two guys inside.

Rosie was being pinned against the desk by one guy as the other tried to kiss her. When they saw him standing their, they blinked dumbly as the splinters of the door settled. One even said, "Hey, it's our turn, asshole!"

Daniel had to laugh at that. Menacingly, he crossed the room. "Come on, Rosie, let's go."

The redhead took the moment of hesitation to slip out from between them. Even through the rush of his adrenaline, her near nudity didn't go unnoticed to Daniel. Dressed in nothing but a tiny pair of panties that didn't cover much, she was beautiful.

Pulling off his jacket, he threw it over her shoulders to cover her.

"Hey!" the guys shouted, suddenly realizing what was going on. One took a step forward. Daniel threw a hard right, connecting with the guy's jaw and stunning him.

"You stay away from her!" Daniel barked, finding Rosie's sweaty hand and pulling her toward the exit. She retrieved her purse, but the rest of her clothing was nowhere to be seen.

A smoothly dressed young man with shaggy, bedraggled hair appeared between the couple and the door, just outside the bedroom. The room had stopped to stare and watch at this spectacle. Even the music had been shut off.

"Excuse me, sir, but I don't think you have an invitation," the guy said with a way that instantly made Daniel hate him. "Leave before I call security."

"I plan on it," Daniel said, guiding Rosie around him. He stepped between them again. 

Again, that smug smile. "Leave the whore. I paid for the entire night, not for a little dance and a quick fuck—"

It felt good to lay into this skinny brat. Two punches and he was down with a split lip and a bruise that would turn his eye black in the next day or two. As they stepped over him, he made a feeble attempt to grab Rosie leg. She quickly kicked it away. No one else moved to intervene.

"My money, you bitch! You filthy hooker! You owe me $2500 plus whatever damage your… boyfriend did to my suite!"

She couldn't believe she'd found this scumbag attractive. That she'd fucked him—and would have fucked him willingly. 

Despite the whirlwind of the moment, Rosie stopped to smile at the thought that Daniel was her "boyfriend." That was a nice thought. "Here, take your money," she spat, reaching for her purse from where she'd left it on the sideboard. Opening it, she threw the wad of cash at him. It caught in the air, fluttering around him like he'd just won the jackpot on some television game show.

Big Eddie was a bigger bastard than even she'd realized. She had some serious thinking to do.

***

It took less than half an hour for Grace to realise that going back to the RumJungle was a mistake. Her original intention was to take Lauren, but her sister's message that she was heading straight for their suite after a hard day's shoot had ended that thought. It was her desire to see Nadia again that had led her there on her own. 

Getting in hadn't been a problem, Samuel's people had arranged that again. But what she'd realised in that half hour was that Nadia was nowhere to be found, though her boyfriend Tony was. And it had turned out he was an arrogant little shit. How the hell had he got together with the beautiful woman she'd danced with last night?

Their place in the dark alcove hid them away from the main partygoers. That gave Tony's pawing hands the idea that they could do whatever he wanted. Had he played it cool, maybe they could have done, but she wasn't going to be treated like a common slut. 

She was Grace Lane—didn't he realise?

Maybe she should have left there and then, but the high of her evening's performance was still with her and there were enough 'beautiful people' around her for her to enjoy herself. Besides, she was still horny. She hadn't realised Samuel would be at the poker event all day, she was expecting to have her brains fucked out at some stage of the evening. 

Maybe it would still happen?

The drinks continued to flow and before long, a half smoked joint was handed to her. Then another. All of it mixed with the raw, pounding music infused her with an intense sexual energy, ramping up the arousal she'd entered with. Women were flocking around their group and even though she ignored him, Tony was in his element. Was this how he behaved when hid girlfriend wasn't around. 

Eventually, the lack of attention she paid him began to draw him to her. He began to ignore the other women infiltrating his group. And as he became more respectful, she began to respond. She was drunk and stoned and ready for some fun. His touches and soft kisses sent bolts of excitement right between her legs.

"Can you dance like that, baby," he asked. 

Her fuzzy eyes turned to look at him as he nodded across to a few girls on the dance floor. They were well the worse for drink and their state of undress seemed to be competitive. Tony's leering eyes were taking in every provocative sexual movement as they flaunted themselves.

"They're amateurs," Grace said, dismissing them with a wave of her hand. She was aware that she was beginning to slur her words a little.

"You can do better?" he leered. He raised his eyebrows as if in a provocative challenge and took a long drag on his roach.

Grace ran a fingernail down his bare chest, hooking her finger in his waistband. She took the joint from him and raised it to her lips, defiantly releasing the smoke into his face. 

"Just watch, baby," she drawled. She pulled him by his trousers onto the dance floor.

Her hips quickly found the beat, matching the deep throbbing of the hip-hop bass. She was the new singing sensation; she'd show him and these drunken dancing girls what she was all about. This was her territory. 

Space opened up around her. Admirers were gathering. They clapped as she swirled and twisted her lithe body. She smiled back as she ground her hips to the music, much as she did on stage. 

Tony attempted to touch her but she smacked him away. 

She'd show them all what provocative looked like. She flicked up her little black dress, flashing her matching black thong. To cheers, she slipped one strap off one shoulder, and then the other. It seemed as if she intended to bare her breasts. The growing audience shouted for more. 

When she turned into Tony, his eyes were wild with lust. She slipped her hands around his neck. His hands found her buttocks as she rubbed herself into his obvious erection.

"See, baby," Grace slurred into his ear as she ground herself against him. "What did I tell you?"

She felt someone press into her from behind. The feel of breasts against her back told her it was female. She freaked back into her own known assailant, her buttocks spooning into the woman's tight body. She revelled in the sheer sexuality of the moment. The woman's hands on her thighs pulled her closer. With every bumping, grinding movement, Grace became even more aroused.

The feminine hands slid upwards to cup her breasts. The soft fingers kneaded her through the thin material. Her nipples were alive under the sensual touches. When the woman began to plant soft butterfly kisses along her neck, she wanted more. 

She swung around and stared into Nadia's aroused eyes. 

"Started without me?" the attractive woman asked, her lips instantly finding Grace's. She eagerly opened her mouth as the dark skinned beauty pushed her tongue inside, returning the raw, sexual kiss. 

The girl tugged the top of Grace's dress down her sweat-covered torso, exposing her exposed gleaming breasts. Her fuzzy mind didn't care. She practically growled as Nadia slipped her head down and sucked each hard nipple in turn. Instantly, Grace was ready to cum. 

When her beautiful assailant slipped her fingers under her thong, she did. The mouth on her breasts and thumb on her clit took her over the edge. 

"Oh, honey!" Nadia whispered, holding the trembling body.

As Grace recovered sufficiently to stand unaided, Nadia slid down her body. Her head slipped under the short dress. 

The singer moaned aloud at the feel of the exquisite tongue lapping at her juices. She gripped a handful of the long black hair, pulling the Latina tighter. She was lost in the sensation, oblivious to the cheering crowd. 

Tony's hands wrapped themselves around her naked breasts from behind. She covered them with her own. He thrust himself against her, as if fucking her through his jeans. It forced her body further into Nadia's mouth. 

A combination of the expert lapping, licking and sucking quickly took her to a second orgasm. She threw her head back against Tony's as she climaxed, relying on his hands to keep her upright. 

She heard the moans of the crowd as Tony's dragged her away. He wanted her back in their alcove. His contorted face wore a triumphant expression as he unzipped himself. 

Grace eased herself back on the edge of the table as he exposed his dark cock. His need to relieve himself was contagious. The mixture of drink, marijuana and her sex had overcome the brunette. She needed to be fucked, and if Nadia didn't mind, it might as well be her boyfriend. 

He roughly pushed himself inside her willing body and gripped her buttocks against the table. Grace raised both legs around his back. She bit his earlobe as she began to urge him on.

"I knew you couldn't resist, bitch," he snarled. 

Couldn't resist? Bitch? His words killed her arousal. What the fuck was she doing? Where was his dark skinned girlfriend?

"Big man, are we?" she teased, tightening her thighs against him. She dug her fingers into his scalp, pulling his eyes to hers. 

"Gonna try and fuck all night?" she continued, "Or is Grace too hot for you?"

He grunted and slowed his pace. The singer knew what he was doing. She also knew his attempts to control his rising orgasm were doomed. She expertly squeezed her inner walls, massaging his rigid girth with her pussy. She was a singing goddess, she could do anything. 

The young stud had no chance. The effect took him immediately to his climax, his body doubling up over her. As a final indignity, Grace slipped from underneath him just as he fired his first shot. The white globe landed on the table, immediately followed by others. 

Grace sneered as she all but fell down onto a chair. The booze and the pot and the sex were hitting her hard, and despite her two recent orgasms, she needed to cum again. She slipped a hand under her skirt and spread her thighs wider, unconcerned as to who might be watching. Just as she began to develop a rhythm, she felt a soft kiss on her lips. 

She opened her eyes to see Nadia again. "That was so cool," she told her. "Tony can be a prick at times." 

The Latina's long lashes batted sweetly down at her as she brushed a sweep of black bangs from her eye. Her mocha brown body was begging to be touched. Fuck, this woman was hot! Grace's orgasm could wait a few minutes; she had a sweet debt to repay. She clumsily exchanged places, roughly pushing Nadia down onto the vacated seat. Gratefully, she slid to her knees. 

"Oh... fuck," the Latina groaned as Grace began to lick along the inside of the girl's tawny thigh. "That feels so good..." 

Grace's stroking hands kept Nadia's legs parted wide as her tongue went to work. She loved the feeling of the smooth shaved sex under her mouth. Her lips honed in on the aroused clit, almost violently sucking it into her wet mouth.

A flash near her was followed by another. Glancing up, she saw a young woman with a camera. "No—" she started to say, pulling back.

Nadia grabbed her hair, pulling her back. "Don't dare fucking go," she growled, lifting her ass off the chair to buck her hips up into the pleasuring face. In an instant, Grace was back into it, out of control, sucking, licking and lapping in her frantic desire to bring the Latina woman to an orgasm. The continued flashes of the camera around her mattered no more.




The Strip Ch. 08



This is a rewrite of 'Vegas', combining both Books. While maintaining the theme, it offers a completely different and fresh take for the main characters.

Grateful thanks go to the best editor in the world -- thesoundandfury - not only for his editing, but also for the constant encouragement, suggestions, and for helping me to become a better writer.

Chapter 8: Grace becomes an angel

"The strawberries are delightful," Rosie grinned, pulling the fluffy white robe more tightly around her body. The seat next to the breakfast table in the corner of his room gave her an excellent view down West Flamingo road and, when she stretched her neck far enough, onto the Strip.

Even though it was heading for half ten in the morning, the sharp rap of Room Service had woken her less than twenty minutes earlier. The quick shower had refreshed her, since when she'd worked her way through the various fruits that had accompanied the fried breakfast.

"D'you always eat this much?" Daniel laughed, finishing a second slice of toast.

"I'm a fruit fiend," she grinned at him, the adorable freckles on her face highlighted by the late morning sun streaming in through the window.

"And fruit juice," he told her, as she poured her third tall glass.

Rosie's only response was another wide grin as she dunked another strawberry into the orange juice and sexily sucked it into her mouth. "You should eat more fruit," she told him, holding up the stalk.

"Kinda difficult when you're in the room," he said, with that lopsided smile. "I blinked and suddenly it's all gone."

"Not all," she smiled, holding up the final strawberry. "I've kept the juiciest one for you. Want it?" The little giggle she gave as she leaned forward was almost as sexy as the way the front of the robe fell open to display her cleavage. "Whoops," she grinned, pulling the robe tight, "it's only the strawberry I was offering. For now…"

"Shame," he laughed, standing up and stooping towards her outstretched hand.

"By the way," she grinned, teasingly pulling the strawberry just out of reach. "Thank you for not taking advantage of me last night."

"It was real difficult," he smiled, dropping his hands to his hips as he straightened up. "Fought with myself all night."

Her soft laugh rewarded his humour. "Well, here's your reward," she told him, stretching out and allowing him to take a small bite of the strawberry, then another. There was something sexy about taking it from her fingers. "Told you they're good," she seductively murmured, twirling the stalk between her fingers.

"It certainly is," he smiled, running his tongue across his lips to clean the lingering juice. "Especially served that way."

The redhead's face turned serious for the first time that morning. "You left your poker early to rescue me," she told him. "I'll never forget that."

Daniel looked wistfully at her as she picked up the glass of juice. Since she'd raised the issue, maybe now was the time to bring it up? "Rosie, how come you were there last night?"

For a few seconds, her face took on a pained expression. How to explain? "It's my job," was all she could find to say as she shrugged her shoulders.

"Job?" he responded. "What sort of life is that for you? I don't understand—is all this by choice or because of the debts you told me about?"

She pushed a bang of hair over her ear. It wasn't going to be as easy to run away from this conversation, as it was to escape last night. "Confession time, eh?" she asked, with a deep sigh. "Well, I guess I owe you that, Daniel."

The young man shook his head. The last thing he wanted to do was put pressure on her. Last night had been horrific enough. "You don't owe me a thing, Rosie," he softly told her, reaching across the small table to pat the back of her hand. "But I'd like to hear if you want to tell me."

"I owe you a lot," she contradicted him, sitting back in the padded chair and pulling the robe tighter around herself. Maybe she should just rip it off and fuck him, right? That's what she was good at. But it wasn't the answer right now. Face up to it, she told herself, forcing herself to add, "and I'd like to tell you." 

The redhead eased herself up from her seat as if her body was aching. It was the pain in her mind that made her movements cumbersome. She stood walked across to the door to the bathroom, pausing before retracing her steps and flopping back down in her seat. 

Elbows on her knees, head on her hands, the second long sigh calmed her down. Enough for her to begin her tale, at least. She straightened up so that she could stare into Daniel's eyes and watch his reaction to her words. When he heard her story, this might well be the last time she saw him.

"Okay," she began, more to tell herself she could do this. "I arrived in Vegas around nine months ago. The usual plans of finding a glamorous job and making a name for myself. Like a million other girls. Pretty quickly, I realised there weren't the sort of promotional jobs I had in mind. Or rather, I couldn't earn a living that way. That's when I got a job at Midnight Hot. As an exotic dancer."

Daniel sat impassively, his only movement being the encouraging smile that told her this was all right. He wasn't judging. This girl was opening her heart to him and he was becoming more enamoured with her, with every difficult word she told him. He allowed the pause to pass without comment.

"Then I met Charlie. We've been… were… together for around six months. I thought it was love, but it was more infatuation. He was attractive, outgoing—a successful gambler, or so he said. At first, that seemed terribly exciting." The next pause allowed her to hold back the tears forming behind her green eyes. "It wasn't. Vegas is full of people who think they can find a shortcut to becoming rich. They can't. Charlie turned out to be just another deadbeat gambler who threw his money away, and then lost mine, too."

Her upraised hand stopped Daniel as he half stood when the first tear rolled down her cheek. "Don't," she told him, her voice rising and then softening again. "I have to finish!"

The crinkly haired young man sat down again immediately. He wasn't going to deny her the space she needed. This story had to come out.

"When he lost his money," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper, "he said he'd stop gambling. When he used my savings to pay off his losses, he promised he would never gamble again. When he persuaded me to give 'extras' at the club to stop the loan sharks coming after him, he said we'd be able to start a new life together."

"Extras?" Daniel interrupted, unable to stop himself from asking the question.

For the first time, her gaze left his. Silence filled the air until she began again, though it took several more sighs before she could. "With customers, Daniel. Or clients—as Big Eddie calls them. It pays three times what I get dancing. If I fuck a customer, it triples my pay. Get it?"

Her voice rose with each word until she almost shouted out the final words. He didn't speak. It didn't change his view of her, but he needed to hear everything she had to tell him. "Go on," he told her, his smile of encouragement trying to tell her that all of this was okay.

The words rapidly left her lips now, her face angry as she spat them out. "Charlie said I'd only need to do it until he paid off the extra five thousand he owed. He'd never go near a casino again! So I did what he asked. Then the bastard went gambling yet again. Lost more, and left me with his debts. So now I owe Eddie, and if I don't work it off… I can't even begin to tell you…" 

Suddenly, it was too much—

Once the first sob started, others quickly followed. Daniel ignored the upraised hand this time and covered the distance between them in an instant. Dropping to his knees, he held the crying woman for a long time, stroking her ruffled red hair until her sobbing lessened and eventually died.

"There," she blubbered, wiping her face on the arm of her robe. "That's it. Still pleased you rescued me?"

"Of course," he instantly answered, taking her face in his hands so he could hold her gaze. He planted a soft kiss on her lips. "Let's make a deal," he gently told her, "You don't judge me as a deadbeat poker player, and I won't judge you as anything over than a beautiful woman in trouble!"

Rosie's frightened eyes fixed on his. "And you're my knight in shining armour?"

Daniel grinned, wiping the wetness from her cheeks with his thumbs. "It's my speciality. Didn't you know?"

***

"So," Norman Chad began, covering the sausage with a sticky combination of mustard and ketchup, "how come you wanted to have breakfast with me, and where's Daniel?" 

"I've no idea," Holly sighed, wondering the same thing. After bagging his chips last night, she'd expected to see her friend this morning and find out what was going on. "I'm not his keeper," she spit out, her irritated tone telling him to back off. She watched the diminutive poker commentator devour the sausage in three quick bites. "Wipe the ketchup from your chin," she told him, curling her mouth in a mixture of distaste and amusement. "Not attractive!"

Chad gave that little cackle of his. "Deeeeelicious, though…" 

Rolling her eyes, the blonde got down to business. "Norm, I hope this is going to be a five minute wonder thing, but have you seen the number of photographers around. It's getting a bit silly, don't you think?"

"And the problem with that is?" the little man grinned, sweeping up the juices on his plate with a half piece of toast.

The blonde paused for a second. What could she say? Because I'm an assassin and can't afford for my photo to be seen in case I'm recognised when on a job? "Norm, on one hand the attention is nice, of course it is," she explained, going for the diplomatic approach. "But the reality is I'm just a normal girl, I like my privacy. I don't want cameras pushed in my face whenever I move."

"There are worse things," Chad said, getting to work with a second slice. "Don't take this the wrong way, but maybe you should dress frumpy and start to wear a bra?" A mouthful of coffee washed down the toast.

Holly's frown shook off the disguised compliment. "That I can cope with, Norm. It's this thing with Daniel and I."

"Ah, yes," he slurped, draining the rest of his coffee and waving for a refill. "The English lovers." Despite the scowl that crossed her face, the little man continued. "True or not, you've got to admit it's a great story."

The blonde leant across the table. "I don't want the story," she firmly said, as if saying the words would make it happen. "Neither does Daniel. The point of meeting you for breakfast this morning is to ask you get the press of our backs. You're influential, Norm. What can you do?"

"Me? Influential?" he squeaked, smiling at the approaching server. "What can I do?" he shrugged, playing hard to get as the older woman refilled their cups.

"Don't give me that," she muttered through clenched teeth. "You know people, Norm. Help us and we'll give you exclusive interviews whenever you want."

The diminutive man nodded, thoughtfully stroking his chin. "Interesting proposition," he said, a twinkle in his eye. "But I suppose marriage is out of the question?"

***

With Daniel already at the Rio's poker tables, it was the perfect time to meet Carly. The spiky haired woman's suggestion that they should have an early lunch wasn't ideal, particularly after all that mid morning breakfast fruit. But it was a small price to pay for seeking her new friend's advice. 

"Another drink, ma'am?" the young Japanese waiter who appeared at her table politely asked. 

"No, thank you," she smiled, glancing down at her empty martini glass. Alcohol probably wasn't a good idea, not when she was building herself up for her conversation with Big Eddie. But then again, it was probably just what she did need. "Wait…" she told the departing young man. "Yes… sorry… I'll have the same again."

Carly couldn't be far away. She'd make the second martini her last. What time was it anyway? Damn, her watch had stopped again!

Her thoughts bounced back to Daniel. The Englishman was never far from her mind. He was so different to anyone she'd previously met. When he'd suggested she take the day off and watch him play poker, it had been difficult to keep a straight face. Her opinion of the sexy young man improved with every meeting, but her feelings about poker players remained. 

She could think of a thousand better ways to spend time rather than wasting hours in a casino, even for an event as prestigious as this one.

But she was going to take up his offer to stay with him tonight, again. No strings attached, he'd said. God, she loved that shy lopsided smile of his. And tonight would be the night. After recent experiences, she needed to make love, rather than be fucked. The Englishman was the perfect man for the job!

Before that… she had to face Big Eddie. 

The thought felt like a dose of cold water had been poured over her. God knows how he'd react when she told him she was finishing at the club. Maybe he'd insist on the debt being immediately repaid? Could he do that? Whatever he insisted, she'd find a way to stand up to him—her mind was made up. The happenings of last night had ensured that.

She hadn't slept well, not until the early hours. There were several occasions when she almost woke the Englishman. The private party had left her aroused and, despite her session with the two men, strangely unfulfilled. But she'd held back. Instead, she'd considered her future as she'd stared up at the dark ceiling. 

Whatever it held, she was finished with prostitution. Exotic dancing, too. She'd find more promotional work, work as many hours as were necessary to eventually repay her debt. Charlie's debt—the bastard! Before that confrontation, she'd advice from the girl approaching her table on the best way to approach Big Eddie. 

"Hey, sorry!" Carly gushed, handing her denim jacket to the waiter as she approached the redhead. "Got delayed. But good to see you, honey." 

"You, too," Rosie replied, standing up to accept the brunette's hug and warm kisses on each cheek. "Thanks for meeting me, Carly. This is quite a place."

The spiky haired woman looked around. "Yeah, I love the Osaka Japanese Bistro. Great food and we get to eat for free. I know the owner!" Her wink confirmed the meaning behind the remark. "Get to know the right people and fuck them silly," she continued, shuffling into the small booth, "and you can practically live for free in Vegas. Want me to introduce you around?"

"No!" The vehemence of Rosie's response surprised both women and Carly burst out laughing at the shocked look on the redhead's face. "Rosie, Rosie," she admonished, "If you let me teach you, girl, I could corrupt you good and proper!"

The redhead laughed again. She had no doubt about Carly's ability to show her the wild side. Maybe that's why she enjoyed the spiky haired woman's company so much, the sense of adventure and the fact they were so different. 

"I'll have one of those," the newcomer told the waiter, pointing at Rosie's drink as he approached their table. "Want another, honey?"

Rosie shook her head. "Maybe with the meal. I need your advice." She waited until the young waiter left them before leaning closer to her friend. "I'm going to see Big Eddie later," she confessed, her voice dropping to a quiet lilt. "I've had enough, Carly. I'm… I'm quitting the club."

The brunette's jaw dropped. "You're shitting me?!? Why?"

"This life isn't for me," the redhead answered, her face betraying all the emotions floating around in her mind. "I need a fresh start, Carly. Particularly as Charlie's got himself of my life. And—" 

"And?" The brunette's brain suddenly kicked into gear. "You've met someone, haven't you?" Rosie's bashful eyes gave the game away. "Geez, you're a fast worker! Spill the beans, honey!"

"I will," Rosie answered, her smile slowly broadening to hit the corners of her lips. "Over lunch. I like this guy, Carly, but I've no idea if it'll go any further than that. But with or without him, one of the things he's made me realise is that I'm not cut out for this lifestyle."

The spiky haired woman took her drink from the waiter. "Two more," she told him. "I have a feeling we're going to need them. "Nice ass," she murmured, turning back to the redhead with a wide smile. "I might get his number later."

Rosie shook her head, but as she started to respond, Carly was talking again.

"You're wrong you know, Rosie. You are cut out for this. Watching you dance on stage, seeing you around other men—you come alive, honey. Think carefully about what you're going to do, this is what you were made for. You and I are much more alike than you think!"

Rosie's confused face stopped her mid argument. "Carly—" the redhead began.

The brunette reached out to take hold of the redhead's hand. "Okay, honey. We'll leave that for now. Let's order our food, then you can tell me everything about what's been happening—" 

***

Daniel was suffering at the table. It was the same as his first day. Without cards or luck, it was difficult to repel the aggressive young bucks. One big pot, when he'd flopped the nut flush, had been the sole reason he'd maintained his chip stack. But standing still wasn't good enough. Everything had gone his way in the Binion's tourney. So far, little had gone for him in the Main Event.

At least he was taking it on the chin. All around him were a succession of bad tempered moans. And this time it wasn't only the amateurs. Phil Hellmuth was right in the thick of it. The so-called Poker Brat had been at Daniel's table for the last hour and his verbal attempts to bully everyone was having the usual, predictable outcome. 

Making himself seem like an idiot.

The subject of his latest outburst was a youngster to his left. The kid had gone all-in with Ace-Jack and Hellmuth had naturally called with Ace-King. When the young Scandinavian spiked a Jack on the river, Hellmuth's explosion of expletives lasted a good five minutes. As he looked around for sympathy, he spotted Mike Matusow, despite there being two tables between them.

"Worst players in the world around here, Mikey," he shouted. "I make world class traps and these guys fall into them, then suck out on the river. Unbelievable!"

Daniel smiled to himself as Hellmuth went on yet another walkabout. Get involved in the Poker Brat's rants and he'd be diverted from his own game. Which was part of Hellmuth's strategy, of course. But the Englishman was well aware of his own perilous position. Focus, he told himself. Focus! 

Unfortunately for all within earshot, the next hand Hellmuth hit Big Slick again. After a long pause, he chose to lay it down when the youngster went all-in. When Hellmuth folded and showed his cards, the kid flipped over pocket threes. 

"Hey, Mikey, this idiot went all-in with pocket threes," he screeched. "Unbelievable! Pocket threes! These people can't even spell poker, let alone play it."

Heading over to the rail, he found his wife. "Honey, this is unbelievable. No one here understands the game the way I do—"

She gave him the same advice as she did just about every tournament. "You've got to let it go, Phil," she told him. "Just let it go."

Daniel wiped it from his mind. His own tourney was on the line.

***

Today's shoot would be shorter than the previous two days. "A few finishing touches," Kay told Lauren. "A few shots of you with Rach and Jimmy, that's all. A different perspective. Then you and I are free to talk about the future."




The Strip Ch. 08



It all sounded so simple. But then, Kay Kristen had a way of making the complicated sound straightforward. While she put complete faith in Dan to produce the poses and shots they wanted, she still managed to preside over affairs like a mother hen in the background. 

Nothing escaped the Agency Head's keen eye.

"Let's do this one naked," she drawled from her position towards the back of the small set. The hotel's outdoor pool was ideal for the shoot, with the temporary, cloth screens doing their job in keeping out all prying eyes, despite the high level of interest from male and female guests alike.

"Naked?" Lauren gasped, staring across at the sophisticated brunette, then swivelling to look at Rachal and Jimmy. The two lovers just grinned back at her. 

In fact, the way Rach raised her eyebrow suggested she was looking forward to the experience. "Could be fun," the exotic beauty smiled, glancing at her boyfriend, before swinging her gaze back at Lauren. "Don't you think?"

"Don't worry Lauren," the Agency Head called, her high heels sounding deliciously decadent as she made her way across the white stone towards the threesome. "Dan's experienced at this sort of thing, the photos won't show anything they shouldn't. But it'll provide a nice contrast to what we've done so far. And they'll be sexy—very, very sexy."

"Oh… Okay…" the blonde nodded, swallowing her objection. If everyone else was cool with this, she had to be, too. Anyway, why not? Rach and Jimmy were both hot, but so was she!

"Here, babe," the exotic model said over her shoulder, those luminous, almond shaped eyes smiling mischievously. "Come here. Rach has something that'll make the session even better—" 

Even as she made her way over to the table next to the black haired model, Lauren knew what it was. She sooo needed the hit, too. 

The beautiful model quickly laid out two lines of coke on the small white table next to her. With her glossy black hair hanging in silky waves around her face, she brushed away a lock, hooking it behind her right ear before rolling up the ten -dollar bill. She led the way, eagerly snorting the first line.

The blonde hesitated for only a second before grabbing the bill and following suit. The hit yesterday had boosted her confidence, and as she glanced across at Jimmy's now naked body, something told her she'd need that support again.

Rachal's boyfriend looked superb—tall and toned with that rich, smooth, tanned skin. And that cock. Not quite as big or as thick as Demetrius', but right now she'd give almost anything to have it inside her. 

She'd go mad if she didn't have sex soon.

"OK, girls," Dan called from his position beside the pool edge. "Off with the robes and get those pretty little asses over here."

***

Samuel was as good as his word. Grace was about to become an angel. It meant everything to her, the key to the door that would lead to world stardom. Grace Lane—Superstar!

The tattoo parlour was a curious looking place. It looked out of place somehow, perched right on the corner of the downtown intersection. Stepping out of the limo, she tentatively walked the few steps to the tall building. Whatever she'd been expecting, it wasn't this. Green paint peeled away from the large door as she gently pushed it open. What the heck…

The bearded giant of a man grinned at her nervousness, his warm smile belying his grizzly features. "Come in Missy," he told her, resting both hands on the veneered counter in front of him. It seemed he could read her thoughts. "The place ain't much to look at, but I'm the best around. That's why Samuel uses old Sam. Don't be shy, Missy—come in, come in."

The nervous woman tentatively walked towards him across the bare wooden floorboards. This was surreal. She'd expected grandeur, not a run down building.

"You're Grace?" the bald giant continued, "Pretty little thing, ain't you?"

She didn't speak, the knot inside her stomach telling her she was having second thoughts. Don't be stupid, she told herself. It's just another test. Samuel liked his tests—and she'd make sure she'd pass this final one with flying colours.

"I've heard all about you," his deep voice boomed. "Some say you could be the best angel, yet. What'd'you think, Missy?"

"I've no idea," she told the bear of a man. If he were trying to overawe her, he'd be disappointed. She was Grace Lane after all, and she could be the best of all the angels! This bearded giant needed to understand she was no pushover.

Her eyes swept down his body as he raised the flap in the counter and emerged her side. For someone in his fifties, he was remarkably well preserved. The sleeveless grey tee shirt with its washed out design on the front allowed a clear view of the tattoos all over his muscular arms. She adored tattoos. 

"Some time since I've made someone an angel," he muttered, his dull eyes never leaving hers. "It's in my hands, y'know?" He gave that smile again. Somehow the stained, smokers teeth suited him. Everything about the man told Grace he'd seen the world… and experienced most of it, too.

Her eyes followed his lumbering gait as he walked over to the entrance, his heavy boots thudding on the wooden floor with each step. Reaching out a large, grubby hand, he swung around the sign. The simple action of closing to the outside world made her shiver. When he locked the door, the loud click of the key reverberated from the top of her head to the tip of her toes.

"Don't want to be disturbed, do we, Missy?" he boomed with a knowing smile. "Follow me and do as you're told and we'll get on just fine."

Do as she was told? Didn't he realise who she was… Even as it tried to lodge in he head, she dropped the thought. She was more than up to this, she told herself, imperiously flouncing past him into the larger room. 

He made no attempt to hide the way his eyes drank in her body as she passed him. "Okay, Missy," he grinned as he reached out, his large, hairy hand gently squeezing her right breast through the thin, red tee shirt. "One tattoo goes on your left ass and the other one goes here." 

The shocked star stepped back, her eyes blazing in anger as she pushed his arm away. It made no difference to the bear.

"No offence, Missy," he grinned, his tongue flicking across his thick lips. "But I'll be touching you soon enough anyway, y'know? Just think of me as your doctor. Now why don't you slip off that top for me? Let me see them tits—"

Her doctor? Grace felt her chest heave—was that arousal? Going braless had seemed sensible in the circumstances. But she hadn't expected her nipples to harden at the thought of exposing herself to this stranger. She decided to undress in style, as if that would show him who was in control. In one swift movement she pulled the singlet clean over her head, exposing her round naked breasts to his gaze. 

"Nice, Missy," he approved, his dull eyes watching her firm breasts bounce and then settle. "You've got have got the prettiest tits I've seen in a long while." 

Her hard nipples hardened further and this time, when he raised his hand to cup her breast, she made no objection. The feeling of his cold, squeezing fingers felt surprisingly good. His eyes held hers until he saw the flicker of arousal. With a gentleness that belied such a giant, his thumb gently brushed against her extended nipple, flicking it once, then again.

"Your titties are too tense," he grinned. "Sit here, Missy."

She almost stumbled backwards into the heavy chair. As soon as she was seated, he was at her again. "Y'don't mind, do ya? I gotta relax 'em." Leaning down, his hot breath hit her flesh a second before his long tongue snaked out across her nipple. "Good?" he asked, staring up into her cloudy eyes.

Her lips quivered as the giant's warm mouth sucked in her nipple, his calloused hand caressing her other swell. It was all she could do to contain a moan. 

There was no letting up. His gentle tongue stroked the pliant, yielding flesh beneath it, her hard bud swelling in his mouth. The feeling of his rough beard around her soft skin somehow added to the feeling of arousal and she sank back into the chair, now openly submitting to his attentions. 

For such a rough, old guy, he certainly knew what to do with his mouth and tongue. She let out a low moan and her hand found the top of his shaved head.

It was his cue to smile up at her again before pulling away. "I think that should do it, Missy," he told her, his dull eyes boring into her excited browns as he reached for the drill. "Now for the tattoo. Titty first."

Grace gritted her teeth throughout his work. He worked quickly, with the minimum of fuss. Gradually, her apprehension left her—the experience wasn't quite as painful as she'd anticipated. He was as good as he'd boasted.

Finished, his hand was back on her swell, squeezing and caressing as if examining his handiwork. Except his eyes never left hers.

"Feel good, Missy?" he asked, though she was unclear whether he was referring to the tattoo, or his caressing hand. "Okay, now for your ass. Strip!" 

The brunette gingerly stood up; her face a mixture of excitement and arousal. Sliding the black jeans down her legs, she deliberately turned away from him to allow the giant to feast on her ass. The skimpy red thong left nothing to the imagination. Why not? He'd be tattooing her there in a moment.

"On the table," he directed, his hand caressing her asscheeks as she settled herself. "Very nice, Missy," he murmured, lingering for a few seconds too long on her soft flesh.

***

Holly was relieved. Despite the long day, her mind hadn't yet switched onto the cards. The late afternoon break offered a chance to get her mind together. Images of yesterday's hit had stayed with her, especially the mistakes. The brunette who'd acted as decoy had seen her. Not her face, the balaclava had seen to that. But her eyes. Even in the dark, that was dangerous.

Then there was Daniel. She'd gone to watch the end of the poker day, partly to give herself an alibi in the unlikely event of something unexpected. But she'd intended fucking him again. The adrenalin from the kill had still been with her and he would have provided the outlet she needed.

But his unexpected departure had put paid to that. 

The woman she'd seen leaving his room this morning explained everything. She'd been on his way to surprise him after her breakfast with Chad, and had almost reached the room when the redhead had emerged. In twenty-four hours, Daniel and the woman had gone from breakfast in the restaurant, to his room. She must be quite a girl!

Despite her irritation, it was for the best. She needed sex, yes, but too much attachment to the same person spelt danger. Her vibrator had satisfied her last night. Tonight she'd seek someone new.

Her poker frustrations during the day were compounded with three fairly quick moves to different tables. She hated that! Mid-tournament table moves were always unsettling, but her current state of mind made it even more annoying.

Being card dead hadn't helped either. While she couldn't complain after her first day's play, her impotence was frustrating nonetheless. Particularly as one of the tournament chip leaders was seated to her immediate left. The tall Texan had been pretty effective at bullying the table it, stealing pots with constant big pre flop raises and subsequent 'betting on the come.' 

The break just couldn't arrive soon enough.

***

"You like that, Missy?" the grizzly tattooist asked, his hand drawing small circles across Grace's newly tattooed ass.

The singer didn't answer. She knew she should move, but somehow she was mesmerised by the pleasuring hand. That it felt rough on her smooth ass only added to her enjoyment. The thought of being helplessly taken by a dirty, rough, old man was somehow incredibly arousing.

When his fingers slid under the back of her thong, she involuntarily widened her legs. Instantly, two fingers slid easily along her skin and into her wet, willing vulva. Her body jerked as he expertly masturbated her, amazing herself with how quickly and easily she was giving herself to this bearded old man. 

She heard herself moaning at his incredible touch and raised upwards, allowing him more freedom. Soon, she knew, she would lose control and then the sweetness would overcome her— 

"Turn around," his deep voice growled, just as her climax closed in. His hands helped her onto her back, and then ripped the thong from her body.

Grace moaned as he threw the torn garment across the floor. His roughness was an aphrodisiac. His strong hands gripped her ankles and yanked her long legs apart. When she felt the coarseness of his beard slide between her thighs, she came there and then. 

The contractions running through her body made no difference to the older man. His eager lips spread over her exposed labia, sucking up her juices. His tongue swirled against her clitoris, teasing it to full, aching attention as ripples of shameful pleasure radiated through her body. The way he tongued her confirmed her earlier thoughts that he knew exactly how to please a woman. 

Grace moaned aloud, abandoning herself completely as his touch radiated through her. She was nearly there again and desperately wanted him to take her over the edge a second time. But he had different ideas. Easing himself to his feet, she saw he'd already released his impressively thick penis. 

"This is your initiation, Missy," his deep voice drawled as he swung around and took her place on the narrow table. "All angels get initiated by old Sam," he told her. "Suck it first, Missy." 

She did, willingly, letting out a low growl as she ran her slippery tongue across his round, purple head. She licked it as if licking ice cream from the top of a cone. It was only when he reached for her silken hair that she sucked him inside. She put on a show for him, her brown head enthusiastically bobbing as her mouth ran up and down the shaft. 

"Oh, fuck, Missy," he groaned, running his fingers through her hair. 

Grace pulled away, giving the bearded giant a playful grin. She was no longer Grace Lane, Superstar. She was a slut—his slut. A slut in heat! She traced her expert tongue along his length, bathing it in saliva before taking him back in her mouth. This time, she smoothly took him down into her throat, her lips wrapped around the root. 

"Oh, fuck!" he rasped again.

Grace deep throated him until she felt his balls tighten. Pulling away immediately, she took his shaft in her hand and gripped it tightly. She shook her head. Not yet… 

She allowed the bear of a man a few seconds to recover, watching as his breathing returned to normal and the tightness in his balls relaxed before continuing the exquisite torture. She sucked him slowly, gently, running her lips up and down his throbbing member. It was like playing with dynamite. He was close. She could feel it. And she loved that anticipation.

He grabbed hold of her hair as he tried to hold back. Every time she felt him close, she eased off. She tried a different technique each time she returned. She sucked his balls. She corkscrewed her head. She tormented him once again with her throat muscles. The brunette singing star took him to the edge and back five times until she knew he could stand no more. Only then did she climb across him, replacing one set of lips with another.

The feeling was intense as he easily sank inside her wet body. She effortlessly slid all the way down onto his stomach, bringing an aroused grunt from her man.

"Okay, old Sam," she whispered as she leant forward and bit his earlobe. "Get ready to be fucked by an angel!"

He responded with another grunt as his hands grasped her buttocks in an attempt to steady her. She ignored the attempt at control, increasing the pace of her undulating thrusts. She needed this and knew from the low moans beneath her that the giant wouldn't last long. 

"Can't hold back," he gasped.

She dropped a frantic hand to rub her stimulated clitoris, sprinting to catch up with him. She heard him croak underneath her and suddenly felt his hot seed splash inside her. Rapid bursts fired against her inner walls. She exploded, too, burying her head against his broad shoulder to drown her low wails of pleasure. 

"You're an Angel now, Missy," he gasped as she collapsed on top of his half dressed body. "And you're the best Angel yet." 

*** 

"You want to what?" Big Eddie screamed across the bar, his voice rising even above the music. Ignoring the stares from those around him, he used the back of his hand to wipe away the spittle hanging from the bottom of his lips. The staff had more sense than to look across at their boss when he was in this mood, but the sudden stares from customers told him to control his emotions.

That wasn't easy. This redheaded bitch owed him fifty g's and here she was, in front of him, telling him she was quitting the club!

What the fuck was going on? Wasn't it bad enough that he'd been waiting all day for news of Desmond? The gangster had been forced into calling his police contacts and neither had got back to him yet. Something bad had happened, he just didn't know what. Maybe his number two had been taken in for questioning? 

Nerves frayed, he sneered at Rosie. "You ain't quitting the club, you bitch," he snapped, pushing his face into hers. "Not with what you owe me. No… fucking… way!" 

The fact she didn't actually owe him a cent never entered his mind. The friends who'd taken part in the poker scam had paid him back. Naturally enough, that was the arrangement. Minus a few dollars for their troubles, of course. But that wasn't the fucking point. This dame thought she owed him fifty thousand bucks, and yet she was trying to walk out on him! Trying to make some sort of deal!

She must have shit for brains. No fucking way!

No one crossed Big Eddie and got away with it. No one! If they hadn't been in the middle of his club, he'd have her by the throat right now. Make her beg for forgiveness. Well, the fucking bitch would be begging him soon, because he was about to make her life a fucking misery. Just as soon as he found out what was going on with Desmond, she'd get his full attention!

"Listen," he snapped, pushing a finger into Rosie's chest. "I'm the one who—"

"Phone call, Eddie." It was a voice from the bar that interrupted him. Pedro. It was a brave thing to do. "Police Department," the bar manager added. 

That was code for his contacts at the police. Johnson or Wilson. It meant an unofficial call—something to do with Desmond. At fucking last! 

"You fucking stay there," he snarled at Rosie, his face curled in anger as he jabbed a finger into her chest again. "Transfer it to my office," he spat at Pedro, turning on his heels.

*** 

Tell him in the bar area, Carly had suggested. That way, he can't try and harm you. Not with witnesses around. That girl was smart. She was becoming a good friend. Despite the fact that she didn't understand what made Rosie tick.  

What was it she'd said? You are cut out for this. Watching you dance on stage, seeing you around other men—you come alive, honey. This is what you were made for, we're much more alike than you think.

The spiky haired woman was as wide of the mark as it was possible to get. But her advice on how to deal with Big Eddie had been valuable. Stay in the bar until he comes out of his office. Then hit him with it. 

The brunette knew her way around, knew the way things worked. She'd been so right. Rosie had never seen her employer in such a rage. How stupid she'd been to think he'd understand. Men like that never understood. He was from the same stable as Charlie.




The Strip Ch. 08



That's why she'd headed for the exit the very moment he turned to take that phone call. Police Department? What was all that about? It didn't matter. She had two choices. Get out of Vegas herself, and keep running. Or let the dust settle, get another job, and hope that Eddie would allow her to get on with her life and pay him back over time.

She might talk to Daniel about it if she got to know him a little better. But not yet. She didn't want to scare him off, and she didn't want to burden him either. Maybe Carly would be able to help her with the next steps?

***

"Know who that is?" Samuel Smith drawled to anyone who would listen. He nodded at the thickset man who was walking away from the table. His Ace on the river had been enough to send the Greek packing. "Archie Karas." 

"Who's Archie Karas?" the guy in a baseball shirt asked.

Smith sneered. "Who's Archie Karas? Nobody knows?"

A table full of vacant faces stared at him. "Go on, then," baseball shirt told him. "Enlighten us."

The African American took his time, staring around the table. "That man lost two million in California and came to Vegas with fifty dollars in his pocket. Found a backer and tripled the money he'd been loaned."

"You hear stories like that all the time," a young Scandinavian laughed.

"Not like this one," Samuel Smith continued. "He paid back the loan, and turned what he had left into forty million. Forty million! Can you believe that? That's a hell of a lot of money now, but can you imagine how much it was in those days?"

"Geez, yes," baseball shirt cut in. "I remember now. Didn't recognise his name but I know the story. He lost it all, didn't he?"

"Lost it all?" the young Scandinavian repeated. "What a loser!"

Samuel Smith gave him a withering glare. "Loser? Well, that's one way to put it. But that man took on every one of the top players—Brunson, Moss, Reese—and beat 'em all. At that time, he was the greatest poker player of all time."

"Thought Stu Unger was," baseball shirt said.

"Archie Karas took Unger for almost a million in six months," Smith explained, raising his eyebrows to reinforce the point. "That's how good he was."

The young Scandinavian laughed. "And you've just sent him packing with a bad call and an Ace on the river."

Smith joined in the laughter, glancing at his hand and instantly pushing all-in. "Aggression's the key gentlemen. That's why I have this big stack in front of me. Because I'm willing to bet big and take my chances. No fear of losing. Just think of that before you think of calling, gentlemen—" 

They did, the consecutive folds allowing him to rake in the pot. With a superior smile, he tossed his Seven-Two into the middle of the table.

***

"I know, honey," Carly sympathised, even as her sinewy hips danced in Big Eddie's lap. She'd called in to check his reaction to Rosie's decision, only to find he was still recovering from the news of Desmond's demise. 

Sex was always such a comfort at times like this, she thought, increasing the pace of her downward jerks. It hadn't taken much persuasion for the gangster to allow her to blow, and then mount him. She needed this as much as he did, though for different reasons. What better time to gain his confidence?

The thrill of being in the car when Desmond was hit, was still with her. The recollection of his jerking body firing the last of his seed into her, even as the assassin blew his brains out, was such a fucking turn-on. She'd already masturbated a couple of times to the thought, and now she was here. Fucking Desmond's employer, knowing it was her information that had led to the hit.

This was all simply too good to be true. She'd cum twice on Big Eddie's cock already and a third orgasm was boiling inside her. Enhanced by the coke she'd taken before entering the gangster's office, she felt invincible!

"Someone will pay," the club owner was muttering. "That bastard Samuel Smith will pay—I'll make fucking sure of that!"

"Yes, honey," she agreed, feeling another surge of arousal at the thought that this might happen all over again. If she egged the gangster on far enough, he might try something else. She'd tell Samuel everything, and make sure she was the instrument again. Maybe she could even find a way to pull the trigger? 

She laid back against his chest, increasing her gyrations, her peach-like ass making tight little circles in his lap. Geez, she was cumming again…

"And that bitch," the gangster growled, oblivious to her sexual high and starting to seek his own. "I'll fuck her brains out when I catch up with her!"

His frantic thrusts felt like a rehearsal for what was in store for Rosie. Ramming the brunette down against his legs, his rampant cock burrowed deeper and deeper into her overflowing sex. The dancer loved every brutal touch.

"No fucker walks out on Big Eddie," he grunted, letting out a gasp as Carly flexed her legs and moved in rhythm with his thrusts. "Especially not a fucking dancer who owes me money!" 

"Yeah, baby," her vibrating voice gasped. "Fuck the bitch," she encouraged, revelling in his rough treatment and playing her part to perfection. "Fuck her, Eddie. Cum inside her, make her yours!"

He grunted, over and over, "Bitch, bitch…" as he pounded the spiky haired woman. Her breasts bounced lewdly with each of his thrusts. He became a fucking machine, whipping her body harder and harder on his lap as he searched for revenge against all the bastards who were attempting to cheat him.

Carly loved it, the throaty gurgle she gave with each deep thrust increasing in intensity. She arched her back, pushing her shoulders against his. The sweat poured from her. The angry man was fucking her with every ounce of energy he had. It was hard, brutal, and violent—and she loved it.

When he detonated, he screamed "bastards!" at the top of his voice.

Carly twitched with each burst, the slick muscles tightening each time she sucked another rope of pearly seed. He couldn't stop cumming inside her and her throbbing body milked his manjuice for all she was worth.

Life was so just good right now! 

***

Getting the three models naked had energised them. The shoot had been sensational, sex and arousal written over each shot. Each model had been in competition to demonstrate who could be the sexiest and the excitement had built from there. Dan built another one of his stories with his lens, a tale of three lovers vying for each other's attention.

It was exactly as Kay had planned. With the surprise she had laid on for Lauren, she needed the young woman to be on a sexual high. And she was. The poses had brought the three of them in constant contact, their oily bodies constantly sliding against one another. Rachal and Jimmy played their parts to perfection.

Time to ramp up the heat. If this didn't do it, nothing would.

"That's no good," Kay called from her position beside Dan. "You're supposed to be three lovers in this story. I need more from you, Lauren. Forget that Jimmy's Rach's boyfriend, this is a shoot, not a party. Make it real. Jimmy, sit on the lounger with Lauren. I want to see you kiss her."

The Tom Cruise-like model grinned at Lauren as Dan raised his eyebrows in silent expectation. "Well," the photographer asked as Lauren hesitated. "What are you waiting for?"

The blonde felt Jimmy's breath on her lips as he pulled her down onto the rectangular lounger and closed in. His dark eyes were smouldering. She could feel her arousal all the way down to her pussy. Glancing at Rachal out of the corner of her eye, she saw the exotic looking model nod at her. 

"Go for it, honey," she breathed, her voice a potpourri of sultriness and sexiness.

In seconds, she had no option. Jimmy reached behind her head and pulled her mouth against his. Their tongues devoured one another's with an urgent, passionate frenzy that summed up Lauren's need.

"Wonderful, wonderful," Dan murmured, moving around them, snapping off shot after shot. "More, kiddies. More!"

Lauren had no idea how long he kissed her. It was a long time, but not long enough. She needed this, needed more of it. When Dan told them to break, Jimmy's lips pulled away. Lauren let out a soft groan and Kay acted instantly.

"That was better!" the Agency Head called from their left. Lauren had no idea she was that close. "That's what I want, passion. More, Dan, more shots. Get in on the act, Rach. Get involved."

Jimmy's exotic girlfriend was already ahead of the game, ghosting across the white stone slabs to the lounger. Lauren saw her coming, her eyes glued to the wonderful breasts that swayed ever so slightly as she covered the distance between them. She remembered what it felt like to cup them, to run her fingers across the hard, dark brown nipples. 

Then the warm, chocolate brown skin was brushing against hers. Rachal sank between them and covered her boyfriend's face with her own.

"That's it," Kay continued to encourage, taking control. This part was premeditated. "Lie back, Jimmy—that's it," she instructed, her voice alive, keeping up the sexual tension. "Straddle him, Rach—imagine you're fucking!"

Lauren let out a gasp. It combined with arousal. There was imagination required. The model took her boyfriend's fully erect cock and guided it easily into her wet opening. It happened quickly that Lauren couldn't take it in at first.

The Dan was around the three of them, firing off shots. Kay was there, too. "Cup her tits from behind, Lauren," she told the blonde model.

Lauren did as she was bid, sliding so that her own swells pressed into Rachal's back. Her hands snaked underneath the other model's arms and up onto her bouncing breasts. She kneaded them and ran her tongue along the chocolate brown shoulder. God, she so needed a cock, too.

Rachal sent a sinful glance over her shoulder and snaked a hand upwards and behind Lauren's neck, pulling her into a sideways kiss. She relaxed her pace to keep her there, slowly undulating on her boyfriend as the two women's tongues jammed down one another's throat. 

When Jimmy let out a gurgling noise, Rachal understood what it meant. Turning her attention back to the man underneath her, she planted both hands in the middle of her boyfriend's chest and went for broke. Lauren jammed her pussy against the thrusting woman's ass, seeking her own orgasm as the dark haired model set about taking herself and Jimmy to theirs.

***

Statistics indicate that pocket Aces are dealt to a player only once in every two hundred and twenty hands. If that were true, Daniel was long overdue. The pocket rockets in front of him were the first he'd seen in almost two solid days at the Main Event. Remarkably, he hadn't had anything higher than tens.

Making the occasional move had kept himself ticking over. But without any sort of hand he'd been slowly heading backwards. The Aces were timely. This hand was pretty much make-or-break. Double up and he was still in the game. Anything else and the chances were he wouldn't last the day.

His preference was to play them aggressively pre-flop. You either won a little or lost a lot with pocket Aces, right? This time, in early position, he simply flat called. He needed action, it was as simple as that. More accurately, he wanted a raise, so that he could re-raise and isolate someone. 

Several calls would likely work against him.

The guy to his left obliged. He was pretty solid, too, so his raise was more than just an attempt to steal the blinds. The raise promised more action. Great! When the Frenchwoman in the Big Blind pushed all in, Daniel knew this was it. In a few seconds his chip stack would, for the first time, be in a healthy position. Or he'd be going home…

He pushed all-in. 

The Big Blind thought for some time. With a re-raise and a call, his hand now looked vulnerable. Daniel expected him to fold, but wasn't sure whether he wanted a call. With Aces, he preferred to be heads up. But he needed to triple up and on balance, he was willing to take his chances.

The Big Blind obliged.

With the all-ins announced, Daniel's two opponents turned over Big Slick. His chances had just dramatically increased.

The pause before the flop lasted an eternity. Or so it seemed. Maybe the feeling had something to do with Daniel's Main Event ambitions being on the line? 

He needn't have worried. The flop was unbelievably perfect. Nine--Eight--Three.

His two opponents needed runners! King-King. 

The Jack on the turn brought a long sigh of relief. As a result of that one hand, his stack had tripled. Effectively, he was back in the game. Not in great shape admittedly, but much healthier than he could have hoped even five minutes ago. 

The crystal felt like it was vibrating in his pocket. Perhaps there was something in what his benefactor had told him. When needed, it had come up trumps—

***

"Kay!" the blonde exclaimed as the Agency Head parked outside of the building. "You never said… I mean… this is yours?"

The sophisticated brunette pointed at the name above the door as the two women walked towards the entrance. Kristen's Adult Movies Inc. "All mine, darling," she smiled, striding through the clinical white reception area. "Evening, Marjorie," she smiled at the dyed blonde behind the desk on her way past. "We'll be in the viewing room."

Lauren followed her along a narrow, white, corridor and through into a small booth. Kay quietly crossed the room, putting a finger to her lips for quiet, then pointed to the glass screen. Through it, there were a couple of cameramen and an older guy with a baseball cap. He seemed to be directing the action on the bed against the far wall.

"That's Terrelle," the Agency Head told her, nodding at the naked black man on the bed. "He's auditioning. Ever been to an adult film shoot before?"

She put the question in such a matter of fact way, she could have been asking Lauren if she'd ever been to a supermarket. "He's auditioning…" the blonde hesitantly asked, "for a part…?"

Kay smiled across at the naïve girl as she poured some of the powdery contents from the container onto the top of the small desk. Carving them into two rows, she explained, "no, no, dear! He has the part. He's auditioning girls who want to get into the industry. Like that one."

Reaching under the table, she flicked on a switch and immediately the small room was filled with the sounds of male grunting and feminine pleasure. Lauren glanced through the glass screen. The girl had changed places now, her sinuous muscles dancing as she flexed and gyrated in the black man's lap.

Kay had taken her from the shoot after Jimmy had given Rachal two orgasms. The male model hadn't reached his own at that point. Lauren so wanted to join in, but the Agency Head had prevented her, leading her to the changing rooms and then to her car. The blonde didn't even have the change to give herself some badly needed relief. I have a surprise, was all Kay would say.

Now, she was speaking again. "It's a two-way screen," she explained. She took a straw from the table and quickly did a line. Sniffing sharply, she rubbed her nose and licked her lips before handing the straw to Lauren. The blonde took it in her unsteady hand. "We can see them but they can't see us," Kay continued. "Don't worry, we're sound-proofed."

The sound of the fucking grew louder as Lauren leaned over and snorted her line of cocaine. She could feel the excitement increase between her thighs. "It's… it's sensational…" she found herself saying, the chemical buzz hitting her as she watched the two actors fucking through the screen. 

Actors? Is that what they called themselves?

God, she felt good. Images of Jimmy fucking Rachal came to her mind. The sound of the two of them was similar to the sounds she was listening to now. Watching and listening… right here, right now… it was like all the arousal that had been building inside her since arriving in Vegas was coming to a head.

"What do you think?" Kay asked, not missing a single expression on the blonde's face. The woman was ready, she was sure. Everything was perfectly timed. 

Edging behind Lauren, her hands slipped around the model's slim waist and ran up to cup her breasts. That was good. No objection. The blonde's nipples were already hard and she moaned as Kay kneaded her swells through the thin top.

Lauren leant back into the Agency Head, ready to give herself completely to anything the sophisticated brunette had in mind. He eyes were glued to the couple through the screen, the dark haired female was shuddering, clearly orgasming as her black lover turned his head to grin at their window.

"I thought you'd like an audition," Kay told Lauren, her mouth so close the blonde could feel her hot breath. "How long is it since you were with a man?"

"Too long," Lauren heard someone answer. She recognised her own voice.

"Ever been fucked on camera?" the Agency Head asked, taking her hand and pulling her to the door. It was a different door, one that led to the set. The blonde model made no move to resist. Her movements were hypnotic.

The black actor glanced over at them as Kay led Lauren across to the bed recently vacated by the fucking couple. The dark haired woman, sweat covering her naked body, was heading across to what looked like a bathroom.

"Another audition, Terrelle?" Kay asked the man, curling her arm around the blonde's waist and hugging her close. "Lauren wants to show you what she can do, don't you darling?"

The blonde nodded. The drug coursing through her body washed all her insecurity, her doubt, away. Lights made trails across her vision and she needed to be fucked. It was as if this was her turn now. And about time, too.

The blonde wasn't intimidated, she felt empowered… as if it was her place to put on a show before the cameras.

Before she could realise quite what was happening, Kay was helping her undress. She returned the black actor's smile as he lewdly stroked his hard cock. God, she so needed that inside her.

"Turn around," he said, without so much as introducing himself. "Bend over the bed, baby."

Lauren eagerly swung around, nearly toppling over in her anxiety to present herself. She placed her palms face down on the cool sheets, aware of the two cameras closing in on her. Damn, even that felt good. The idea of performing on camera enhanced her arousal. Her mind drifted in a misty haziness that led all the way down to her sex. She thought of Jimmy and Rachal. She remembered what it was like with Demetrius. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Terrelle and his dark cock, ready for action. That was good, so was she. 

She widened her stance as his hands found her waist. His cock was rubbing along her smooth pussy, her juices covering the long shaft. "C'mon," she grunted, pushing her ass backwards. "Now! Fuck me now!"

She bit her lip as he entered her svelte body. Despite her wetness, it took four passes. She was already cumming before he sank all the way inside. Then his hand was on the back of her neck, pushing her head down onto the sheets.

"Turn your head to the cameras," his amused voice told her as his hips began to gently thrust. Warm her up first, he decided. Then he'd show her how good a black cock felt like. Just like Kay had told him he should.

***

The day was nearing its end. Since he joined her table an hour ago, Phil Helmuth had made his presence felt. In true Poker Brat style, he'd been bemoaning his luck while donating his chips to others. 

Holly meanwhile, was finishing the day as she'd started. Card dead. Only a good couple of hours in the post dinner break session had salvaged her day, returning her chip stack to a touch more than her starting level.




The Strip Ch. 09



This is a rewrite of 'Vegas', combining both Books. While maintaining the theme, it offers a completely different and fresh take for the main characters.

Grateful thanks go to the best editor in the world -- thesoundandfury - not only for his editing, but also for the constant encouragement, suggestions, and for helping me to become a better writer.

Chapter 9: Life is good

"Oh fuck, Rosie. That's good..." 

The redhead's mouth left his hard shaft long enough for her to shoot him a grin. His slender frame was so sexy. Despite their night of lovemaking, she still wasn't satisfied. Although the Englishman had told he needed rest, she had other ideas. Who needed rest just to play poker anyway?

His moan felt different to those from any client. They sent bright, warm flashes through her, like little explosions of lightning across the sky. Returning to her work, her bobbing head fell into a rhythm. Growing accustomed to his upward thrusts, she played with his balls while she sucked. Judging from the way he grunted and gripped her hair, he was enjoying her technique.

Men usually did—but this wasn't just any man. It was Daniel. Her Daniel?

Taking just his crown in her mouth, her eyes told him she was as turned on from this as much as he was. The redhead couldn't stop herself—sucking him deep again, her right hand snaked between her legs. One finger, then a second, slid inside her wetness. "Ngh!!!" She came as she curled her fingers.

Her mouth left his cock as she shuddered, but when the Englishman attempted to pull her upwards she was having none of it. Not until she had his seed. As she jammed her mouth back on him again, she felt his manhood seize and swell. 

Three deep throats took him there and, once she was sure she had him, she gave a final suck. Flopping flat on her stomach, the redhead lifted her head so that he could fire upwards into her mouth. Hands squeezing his testicles, he danced to her tune, erupting like a geyser spraying its cargo.

"Oh God, ohgodohgod…."

Like a beast feeding on its prey, she devoured each salty blast, savouring the taste as she rolled his offering in the back of her throat. Only when she'd sucked him dry, did she drag herself up his body and into his arms.

"You're amazing," he eventually told her, planting a soft kiss on the top of her head. "What time is it?"

Her green eyes frowned up into his. Why was he worrying about getting to his poker game when the moment was as tender as this? "Don't know," she groaned. "My watch's stopped again."

"It never works," he told her.

"Yes it does!" she protested, swinging her head from his chest to frown up at him. Her grimace changed into a look of astonishment as she saw him twirling a new watch between his fingers.

"Okay, it does," he grinned, reaching over to clip the strap onto her left wrist. "But it won't work as well as this one."

Her saucer like eyes widened further as they examined every feature. "It's… it's beautiful," she told him, holding back the tears that seemed ever present lately. "How did you know—" 

"That your watch was… erratic?" he asked, laughing as his fingers stroked along the outside of her smooth, freckled thighs. "Just a lucky guess."

Twisting onto her stomach, Rosie pushed up on her elbows so her lips could find his. A kiss of gratitude that turned more passionate as she slid a hand down to his cock. Mmmm…. definitely signs of life!

"I've got something for you before you head off to your poker," she mumbled into his mouth, slowly stroking him to full hardness. "Think you're up to it?" Satisfied with his state, she flopped onto her back, raising her hands above her head and grasping the slates of the headboard behind her. "Well, what're we waiting for? This lady wants to show her gratitude!"

Daniel slid into position with a lustful growl. His mouth found an erect nipple, tugging on it as his cock instantly found its way home. Slurping his mouth across her chest, he left a wet trail of saliva as he slowly began to pleasure her.

Too slow. 

"No, Englishman," she urged him, wrapping her feet around his ass and forcing him deeper. "Not gentle. Rosie wants to be fucked!"

For a second, their eyes met, a silent agreement that he was about to give her what she wanted. Then he was kissing her hard, ramming his cock so hard into her that she grunted at the force. Her legs left his ass to plant her feet on the mattress, but his right hand was already moving, lifting her left leg over his shoulder.

"Yessss," the redhead groaned, her sparkling eyes dancing into his as she lifted her right leg, telling him she wanted it there too. He obliged, dragging it over his other shoulder as he drilled her again. She groaned, locking her feet behind his ears. He was so deep it was exquisite. 

"Yessss!" she moaned again, the submissive position enhancing her pleasure. This felt so good… so out of control. Hard, raw, fucking, but somehow it felt tender and loving, too. Like she was giving herself, telling him she was his for as long as he wanted her.

When his face contorted, she knew he was close. So quick? She wasn't, not yet, but that didn't matter. This was for him, and she wanted his cum again. Her hands gripped his hair, jerking his face to look at her. When she started the pussy ripple, he let out a long, deep, growl.

"Cum, baby," she told him. "Let it go…" Another ripple and he began to shudder. He was hers…

"Ngh!" he cried, the words intelligible as they turned into an orgasmic bellow. 

His body humped and jerked against her, an out of control puppet except this mannequin was depositing burst after burst of manjuice inside the redhead. Only then did her hands leave the headboard behind her and pull his sweat soaked face down to hers. 

***

"So… where's your boyfriend?" Chad asked. Holly's aggressive look made him back off instantly. "Okay, okay, it was just a joke," he pleaded, catching the server's eye. "Just coffee," he asked, and then glanced across at the blonde. "Anything for you?"

"Another juice, please," she asked, nodding at the finished drink in front of her. She'd been waiting for the diminutive man for the last half an hour.

He shuffled in his seat as he glanced around the restaurant. "Sorry I'm late, he apologised, turning his attention back to the blonde poker player. "Fans, you know. Especially the ladies. Can't keep away!"

"Understandable," Holly dryly responded, raising a disbelieving eyebrow.

"Good for you," the TV commentator told her, his normal response when bested. "Anyway," he said, his ferret like eyes staring in to hers. "You've played some wonderful poker. Survive the first couple of days, that's all you had to do. But you've gone against the trend. That's quite a chip stack."

"Nice to have, Norm. But it's early days," she modestly responded, waiting for him to get to the point. She hadn't arranged to meet him just to talk poker.

He sat back as the server brought their drinks. "Thanks," he told her. "Want an autograph?" It didn't even bring a smile. "Good for you," he grumbled as she walked away. "But what about Daniel? I thought our boy was a goner!"

"Me too," the blonde answered, sipping her new juice through the straw. "When Grizzly hit that Queen, I thought that was it."

Chad laughed. "You see! What have I been telling the world about the Ace of Spades? I guess everyone will believe me now?"

Holly laughed. "Norm, you're full of shit. Why don't you keep that one for the TV audiences? As for now, I think the pointy of this meeting was for you to confirm you'd got the American press off Daniel and my backs?"

The commentator shuffled nervously. "And I thought it was my charm that made you invite me for breakfast?"

"Norm—" 

He held his hands up—that tone sounded dangerous! "Okay, okay. I've spoken to everyone and anyone. I've said there's no relationship between the two of you. And I've asked them to lay off."

"And?"

"If you both promise to give interviews and pictures after you're knocked out, people will play ball."

Holly's eyes lit up. It was a better outcome than she'd anticipated. She could always duck the photos later, or keep her shades in place. If she was posing, there were plenty of ways to appear anonymous.

"That's a great job," she smiled at him. "If I thought you wouldn't get over excited, I'd give you a hug!"

"Hold the hug," he ruefully told her, tapping his fingernails on his teeth. "The Las Vegas News is the exception." Pulling an edition of the newspaper from his pocket, he pointed at the photo of Holly and Daniel together, under a headline The Lovers from England.

The blonde stared at the article and then at Chad. "Shit!"

***

A casual breakfast in their suite had been a luxury so far denied to Grace and Lauren. Previously, the younger sister had been out of bed and on her way to the shoot before Grace was awake, while she was usually fast asleep herself when Grace returned from her nights on the tiles. 

Now that her shoot was completed, the younger sister would be sampling a few clubs herself. 

But this morning Lauren needed to make the most of their time together. Kay had left her with quite a decision to make. Nor did she have long to make it. The Agency Head had arranged to meet her for lunch. 

It was too late for breakfast, this was more like brunch. But with her lunchtime meeting with Kay, she wouldn't be eating anyway. It was more a chance to talk over coffee, fruit and orange juice. 

Grace raised an eyebrow when Lauren walked in from the bathroom. The fluffy white towel around her sister's body was a larger version of the one wrapped around her wet, blonde hair. "Hey, you look sexy, honey," she murmured. "Good job we're sisters or I'd be getting ideas!"

Lauren laughed out loud. "Yes, that is a shame," she joked, feeling her own nipples rise just from the sight of Grace's long legs displayed through the gap in the hotel robe. "I mean, now that I'm bisexual, too—"

"You're shitting me," Grace gasped, then quickly covered her mouth. It was unusual for her to curse. Both sisters laughed.

"Well," Lauren continued, "maybe half-bi. I've had it done unto me, but haven't yet returned the favour."

"Tell me," Grace insisted, her almond coloured eyes glinting with surprise and excitement as she took a minute bite of toast. "What have you been up to?"

Lauren poured a generous portion of Soya milk onto one of the two bowls of cereal and then flopped down onto the ottoman opposite her sister. Maybe a small amount wouldn't destroy her lunchtime appetite? 

"You wouldn't believe it," she said between mouthfuls as she curled her feet under her. "First, the other two models are living together, but it seems they have a very free lifestyle. Rach is incredible, a real exotic beauty. And you should see the dark colour of her skin!"

"She turned you bi?" Grace asked with an interested laugh.

"We showered together," Lauren explained, wiping some milk from her chin as she devoured the cereal. She hadn't realised she was this hungry. "She gave me an orgasm."

Grace widened her eyes, as if telling her sister to provide more details. "She went down on you?"

"No," Lauren responded, adding, "not yet," with a delicious giggle. "First things first, sis. I'm not as fast a mover as you. But I've invited her here tonight."

"To our suite?" Grace asked, standing up and buttering two more slices of toast.

"Yeah, well, you said you'd be staying with Lisa after your performance tonight, didn't you?" 

Grace nodded, handing a slice of toast to her sister. "You know what, little sister," she said, dropping the toast onto a plate and pouring two glasses of orange juice. "If you'd said to me a week ago that I'd be performing in Vegas with Lisa Welles, I'd be wetting myself. Now, I'm just so excited!"

"I know," her proud sister beamed. She laid the empty bowl by her feet and taking the proffered fresh juice. "I can hardly believe how far you've come. What does it feel like, Grace? To be up on stage, with the audience reacting the way they do? How's it make you feel?"

Her sister paused as she thought, but the renewed sparkle in her eyes gave Lauren a clue. "Like a Goddess," Grace eventually answered. "Like I can do anything! Like a constant orgasm that starts when I begin to sing and lasts until I've finished. It's… it's… just wonderful, Lauren."

She smiled at her sister, every part of her body throbbing with the drug that was success. "But wait a minute," she said, another thought occurring to her. "You're seeing this Rachal tonight? Aren't you coming to see me perform?"

Lauren's response was instantaneous. "Yes! Of course!" she explained, with a bashful smile. "Rach's picking me up here and we're both going to Samuel Smith's. She says she can't wait to see you perform."

Her elder sister gave a knowing laugh. "Then coming back here? If her appetite is as rich as Lisa's, you're in for quite a night, baby sis. I can see this modelling world suits you down to the ground. And all these extras!"

Lauren hesitated, wondering if this was the time for explanations? She could feel her heart beating faster and took a long drink of orange juice to assuage the dryness in her throat. Confession time…

"What?" Grace asked, seeing the change in her sister's demeanour. "C'mon, spit it out. There's something on your mind. What?"

Lauren drained the orange juice and then eased herself to her feet, pouring another. "After yesterday's shoot," she nervously began, "Kay took me to another set. She wanted me to see what was going on."

"Pass me that banana," Grace told her sister, reaching out to take it from her. "Well," she said as she began to unpeel the skin. "Go on. You went to another modelling set—"

Lauren's quick shake of the head stopped her mid sentence. "No, not a modelling shoot." She turned her back on her sister and softly walked across to the window and staring out into the bright sun. Spinning back, she took a deep breath and stared into her sister's confused eyes. "It was a porno, Grace."

The brunette almost choked on the piece of banana in her mouth. "You… are… kidding," she gasped. Her long laugh broke the tension. "How fantastic," she added. "I'd just love to watch—"

"I did more than watch."

For a moment, Grace was unable to speak. Her face contorted as one question after another found its way to her lips. None came out.

"I did an audition," Lauren continued, feeling her body temperature change just as if she'd walked into a sauna. "It was incredible, Grace. Fucking on camera—"

The expressions on Grace's face changed continuously until it finally settled on shock. "Tell me you're joking!"

Lauren shook her head. "She wants me to do one," she said.

For a good half minute, neither sister spoke. Lauren's heart leapt into her throat while she waited for Grace's response. For whatever reason, she wanted—needed—her big sister's approval. Her breathing came in sharp gasps. Damn, she could hardly breath.

"She… wants… you…"

"To do a porno," Lauren said, her voice as unsteady as her nerves. "Exactly."

Grace sat still, staring up at her sister. "But Lauren… why? I mean… I thought the modelling was going so well?"

Lauren walked back across the room, each step a struggle. She flopped down on the couch beside her sister, taking Grace's hands in hers. Each movement was slow, almost exaggeratedly so, reflecting the weight of her words. "It did go well, Grace. Really well. Kay told me that, but then I know that anyway. You can always tell."

"Then why?" Grace asked, pulling a hand away to softly stroke her sister's face. It was a gesture of comfort and support.

The blonde pulled the white towel from her hair, her silken locks dancing on her shoulders as she shook them out. It bought her time to think. "She says I'd be perfect. A mixture of innocence and sexiness."

"But…" Grace interrupted, not really sure how to express what she was feeling. "You're not thinking about it, surely, Lauren? I mean, why would you even contemplate such a thing? A porno, for God's sake?"

"Quarter of a million reasons," Lauren told her sister, unable to sit still. She jumped up from the couch and took her refilled orange juice again, swilling it in a single gulp.

"Quarter…" Grace began, the earlier look of shock returning. "You're joking!"

Lauren shook her head, breathing out a deep sigh. There, she'd told Grace. It had been weighing on her mind since yesterday. "A three picture deal," she said. "Starring role in each. Rachal will feature in them, too. Kay thinks the two of us will take the industry by storm. She wants to promote me as the biggest thing ever to hit adult movies. Bigger than Jemma Jameson!

"Jemma Jameson?"

"I know, I know. I haven't heard of her either. But that's not the point, Grace. I loved being fucked on camera. I love the thought of people watching me, masturbating over me. And a quarter of a million dollars, Grace?"

"Lauren, you can't," her sister gasped, her hand across her chest as she struggled for breathe. "I mean… you just can't!"

The blonde flopped back down on the couch again, tearing a piece of the half eaten banana from her sister's hand. "Grace, it's not just the money, though that's reason enough... it brought me alive—" 

This time it was Grace who jumped up, walking halfway across the room and then back again. "Just tell me how you explain this to mom and dad, little sister. I'd really like to hear that one!"

The blonde's face dropped. That wasn't something that had occurred to her. "They'll… they'll never find out…" she hesitantly said, popping the piece of banana into her mouth.

"Really? My baby sister can guarantee that?" Grace spat. "Okay, let's assume they won't. What about me, Lauren?"

"You," her sister said, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Why would you want to do a—"

"No, you little idiot!" Grace snapped. "My career! For God's sake, what do you think it would do for my career if my sister was a porn star? I'd be finished—"

***

If Holly felt she was in for a quiet day, her thoughts changed within half an hour of play starting. Mike 'The Mouth' Matusow joined her table.

"I know you did well at Binion's," he said, immediately targeting the blonde. "But luck can only go so far. And you're in the big league now, girly."

"Thanks Mike," Holly quietly responded. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of rising to the bait.

"You may have been able to win a few dollars," he continued. "But this is different. Not only is it the big time. You've now got Mikey to face."

"You're right Mike," she softly replied. "I'm worried now," 

"You should be," he boasted, the lack of response egging him on. "And those tits of yours aren't going to save you. I've got balls. Big balls."

Holly raised her sunglasses, resting them on the top of her silken hair to allow her to look him in the eye. "Well," she gently responded, "If they're as big as your mouth, they must be big."

The laughter reverberating around the table quietened him, though she knew it wouldn't be for long. He raised the first hand, determined to make his mark early. Everyone folded around to Holly. In the big blind, she made a speculative call with suited connectors. Nine-Eight of hearts.

The flop helped. Nine-Two-Three.

When Holly checked, Matusow wasted no time following through on his preflop raise. Holly flat called his half the pot raise. It was possible he had an overpair, she thought. Let's see what the turn brings.

The Eight gave her two pairs. 

She took her time before betting half the pot, then sat back and arched her back. Give the boys something to concentrate on, she thought. It didn't go unnoticed.




The Strip Ch. 09



"Don't bother pointing those in my direction," Matusow barked with a curl of his lips. "They won't help you, girly."

His pot-sized raise surprised her. She took her time thinking it through. All pointers suggested this was a typical Mike Matusow bluff. Surely, he would've played the hand differently if he'd hit a set? In truth, he could have anything. At best, a high pocket pair. Possibly a straight or flush draw? 

Or nothing at all? She pushed all-in.

"I got you," he immediately told her, looking for a reaction.

Holly nearly responded, but despite the heavy thump-thump inside her chest, she sat still. His failure to instantly call immediately told her she was well ahead. 

"Want me to call?" he asked, staring intently at the blonde.

Theatrically, she removed her sunglasses so she could look him straight in the eyes. "That's up to you, Mike," she calmly told him. "Just how big did you say your balls are?" 

The laughter made him flinch. Matusow feinted towards his chips, his keen eyes watched for any response. When her eyes stayed steady on his, he waited a few seconds and then folded.

"Okay, girly, I'll let you win just one," he huffed.

As she pulled the large amount of chips across the baize towards her, she couldn't resist the dig. There was only one way to deal with bullies. "Your balls shrinking?" she asked. 

Laughter ran around the table again. 

Matusow scowled as he watched her stack the chips, his eyes never leaving the blonde. A silent war was underway—though 'The Mouth' never remained silent for long. Two hands later, he pushed all-in. When everyone folded, he flipped over Three-Two.

"That's the only way I've got chips this tournament, because I've been card dead," he told anyone who would listen. "You guys get the cards, I play real poker—but don't worry, I'm a survivor. And little Missy over there is going to be giving me all my chips back soon."

***

Carly purred like a cat as she licked around Big Eddie's discharged cock. It was her speciality. One of them. She enjoyed licking a man clean, especially when she was able to produce the reaction she was achieving with the gangster. In a few minutes he'd be ready to go again.

Samuel always reacted to her teasing mouth. Without exception. But that man was remarkable. Even at fifty, he could go three times in succession when her mouth got to work. A world record, she giggled inwardly. Eddie wasn't quite in that category—yet. Give her another few weeks, she'd have him fully trained.

"Feel better, honey?" she slurped, her right handing cupping his balls as her mouth gently caressed his crown. He'd been in a foul mood when she'd got to work, but she was comfortable that with each sexual act, she was gradually gaining his confidence.

"Yeah," he growled, flopping his head back against the chair rest. Somehow the tongue and lips working on him were soothing as well as arousing

"That's good, honey," she purred, her eyes staring up at him from her position between his legs. She'd worn the short skirt deliberately. Shuffling her body, she pulled the thong down her tanned legs while keeping her mouth on him. Practice made perfect, and she'd had plenty. He was ready for her to fuck him now, but she wanted information first. 

"Let Carly soothe away all those worries," she murmured, thumb and forefinger circling the head of his cock while her tongue worked its magic up and down his now hard length.

His head jerked forward at the same time as his hand found her hair. "That's good, baby," he muttered, "but it'll be some time before my worries ease. I'm working on it, though."

"Really?" she slurped, dropping her mouth to suck in his right ball. Once his fingers tightened in her spiky hair, she let it go. Slowly does it. "What's on your mind, Eddie? I bet you're good at getting your own way?"

He groaned as she sucked in his left testicle. The way she rolled it around the inside of her mouth was amazing. This kid was talented. "Revenge," he growled, feeling his manhood stiffen further. "Revenge's on my mind. And I'll get it. In my own time."

"Revenge?" she innocently asked, pushing up on her knees so she could change angle. She blew on his cockhead. This was good, guys were so easy when they thought with their dicks. "What sort of revenge?"

"I'll get that bastard Samuel Smith," he answered, almost without thinking. Why was the dame asking questions? Suddenly, he was jerking her head upwards, his angry eyes staring down into hers.

"Ow! Eddie—"

"What's it to you?" he suddenly asked, his voice dark and threatening. "What the fuck's goin' on with all these questions?" He pulled more tightly, causing her face to crease with pain. "Huh?"

Her mind ticked over quickly. Think, dammit, think! "'Cos I thought you meant Rosie," she gasped, raising her hands to hold his forearms, attempting to ease the pain. He'd pull her fucking hair out! "I was thinking… I could help get her back… if that's what you wanted."

The pressure instantly eased. "No, I didn't mean that bitch," he growled, his hands now stroking rather than pulling her hair. "But you can bring her to me?"

She sat back on her haunches, rubbing her head. "Fuck, Eddie, that hurt," she snapped, feigning mock annoyance. It was a risky strategy, but the rewards would be worthwhile if he fell for it. "Why'd you do that? I'm on your side. I want to help you, Eddie. Why'd you hurt me?"

His eyes flickered, not exactly with remorse. Probably with the feeling that he might be throwing away something that could help him. "I'm sorry, baby," he said, leaning forward and pulling her head against his shirt-covered chest. "Too much on my mind. You know where she is?"

"Not exactly," she said, playing for time so that she kept all options open. Her fingers flicked open his middle two shirt buttons so she could stroke his chest. "But I can ask around the other girls. Someone's bound to know something. If I find her, what d'you want me to tell her?"

The hardness returned to his voice. "Tell the bitch I'll cut her fingers off if she doesn't give me my money!"

She slid upwards, pushing his pants down from his thighs so she could reverse back onto his lap. "I could, Eddie," she hesitantly said, giving the impression of thinking things through. "But don't you think that'll just scare her off? If you want your money, you've gotta be more subtle."

"Subtle," he growled, jerking his head involuntarily as she gently reached under her, taking hold of his cock. "What d'ya mean, subtle?"

She had him!

"Well first," she said, rubbing her wet labia along his hardness, "you've gotta make her feel wanted, just like my pussy wants you." Easing up on her tiptoes, she led his hardness to the Promised Land. "Then you slowly bring her back into the fold," she murmured, feeling Eddie's hands cup her tits from behind. Her own hands covered his as she sank down on his thickness. "Then you can fuck her real good," she said. "Just like Carly's gonna fuck you!"

The sensation as she began to fuck him was electric—but this time she was more focused on her own pleasure than his. The bastard had hurt her, and her orgasm would be her first revenge. Serving him up on a plate to Samuel would be her next.  

The way she threw her arms back behind her and wrapped them around his neck made him growl. She pounded down, his hands tightening on her bouncing breasts as she arched her back in search for fulfilment. Eddie was moaning too under the force of her down thrusts. With a twist of her face, she went for broke, jerking down hard and fast as his breath changed to short pants. 

When her climax sought her out, she lost herself in the orgasm, allowing it to sweep over her in long waves, ripples of pleasure permeating through her. The spiky haired woman's body trembled on his cock, until she found a second wind. She'd reached her climax—now for his! 

"Wait," he commanded, wanting to regain control. The brunette had no intention of waiting. She tightened her sucking sex around his cock until he had no option but to respond. His hips thrust upwards, his breath became a wheeze. With a sway of her head and curl of her nostrils, she rode him to his nirvana.

"Baby," he groaned, his body tensing as he prepared to fire. "Babeeeeeee…."

***

Rosemary's Restaurant was a favourite of Kay's. Michael and Wendy Jordan had put their hearts into the place, and a visit there always felt like a special treat. Taking Lauren to the restaurant was a natural step. The final one, she'd hoped, to bringing the young woman into the adult movie world. 

Her adult movie world.

But what she was hearing shocked her. "Lauren," she responded, attempting to disguise her frustration. She ran one hand through her short raven coloured hair to give her time to recover her smile. "I was so sure this was going to be the making of you. You were wonderful yesterday. And when we talked afterwards… you seemed to have made your mind up?"

"I know," the blonde reluctantly agreed, her dull eyes reflecting her mood.

"And the money!" Kay continued. "A quarter of a million, I mean—you'd never have to work again, darling. Or you could go on and become the biggest star the industry's ever seen. I truly believe that, darling! Why? Tell me again!"

She knew why, of course. The blonde had just explained. But if she got the young woman to continue talking, she might find a way to change her mind. After all, this was the first woman Kay had cultivated, who'd subsequently turned her down. The brunette didn't take defeat easily, and that's what this felt like. 

It wasn't just the wasted effort. This girl was a natural, everything about her spelt sex. She'd be sensational in the trilogy of movies Kay had planned. The small print included an option for half a dozen more movies, too. All in all, Lauren would be tied in for as long as it took to make Kay serious money. 

But that meant the blonde would make a lot of money, too—so you couldn't knock it, right? Everyone was a winner.

It wouldn't quite be a quarter of a million dollars that the girl would earn, of course. Naturally enough, there'd be the usual percentage deductions, agency fees and so on. And the actual earnings would be based on the success of the movies. Those sorts of things were always covered in the small print and the type of girls she dealt with never bothered with that sort of thing.

Not that Lauren knew any of that detail. Why worry her? 

Right now, all of that counted for nothing. It was clear to Kay that she'd have to tone down her expectations. Hmmm… or perhaps it was just the timing she'd need to rethink? Never say never. She, of all people, knew that. If she didn't snare the blonde this time, Rachal would tonight.

"It's my sister," Lauren was repeating, for the third time during their discussion. She spoke in a whisper, so they couldn't be overheard. "What would it do to her career, the public knowing she had a porn star for a sister? I've talked it over with Grace and I just can't do it, Kay, as much as I'd like to."

"I understand," Kay tried yet again, topping up their glasses with the remains of the burgundy. "You must do what's best for you, darling. Just remember that adult movies are a legitimate profession nowadays. And they can lead to some serious acting offers, too. Just look at Todd and Michelle!" 

Lauren had no idea who Todd and Michelle were, but from Kay's earnest expression, it seemed they were big stars. The fact that the husband and wife pornstar team's first legit film had succeeded mainly as a result of the publics' curiosity, and the second had bombed completely, was lost on her. 

"Combing that with your modelling career and the sky's the limit, Lauren," Kay continued, sowing the seeds that she hoped would pay dividends.

"I understand everything," the blonde answered, her face curled in a mixture of regret. "But I could only do it if Grace was happy for me—"

The Agency Head raised a hand, calling for the check. She hadn't long to get to the airport if she was to catch her flight to Miami, but she wasn't letting the young woman go so easily, not after the money she'd 'invested'. "You're sure she's not being selfish?" she threw out as a final thought, running her fingertips along the blonde's golden tanned forearm.

Lauren shivered at the touch. She'd been on such a journey since arriving in Vegas and she felt competing pangs of confusion and regret now the adventure was coming to an end. "No," she told the brunette. "Grace's always been there for me in every way, Kay, and I can't do something that hurts her. I just can't!"

The brunette smiled into Lauren's eyes. The warmness in the look didn't reflect the way she was feeling, but she'd accept the position—for now. Rachal would change the blonde's mind tonight. Or else. 

"I understand, darling," Kay lied, checking the bill. "You know I only want what's best for you. So tell me, what's next for Lauren Buchanan?"

The blonde hesitated as the waiter took Kay's credit card. Waiting until the transaction was completed, she shook her head, her soft blonde waves bouncing on her shoulders. "I'm not sure. Grace wants me to stay with her in Vegas—"

"And that's precisely what you must do, darling," Kay's confident voice told her. "At the moment, I don't have any specific modelling jobs for you, but I'm sure something will come along! Let's talk more at tomorrow night's party."

"Party?"

"Yes, didn't I tell you? I always throw a party after a successful shoot. But I warn you," she added with a laugh, "We start late and end late. You know, wouldn't it be great if Grace would come, too? Think you can persuade her?"

Lauren grinned. "Oh yes, my sister's a real party animal. At least, she has been since she arrived in Vegas," she added with a cheeky laugh. "I'll make sure she comes along. Where and what time?"

"Details!" Kay said, standing up and dismissively waving a hand in the air. "I'll get all that to you, don't worry. Just make sure you and your sister join us!"

She smiled into the blonde's grateful face. Rachal will change your mind. She'd better…

***

Things felt surreal. Daniel hadn't played particularly well in the Main Event, nor had the cards been kind to him. Yet here he was, in Day Three, and still competing. Surviving might be a better word. The first couple of hours play had followed a similar pattern to the previous two days. 

Frustration was setting in, compounded by the fact he was tired. 

Wasn't it Barry Greenstein, who'd said, If you have sex before you go to sleep, you'll probably be more rested and less distracted when you play. Therefore a sex partner who travels with you can be a big asset. 

The bearded poker professional may have been correct, but unless Rosie allowed him more sleep, he'd be dead on his feat if he somehow found a way to remain in the tourney. Rosie! Why was it he felt warm whenever he thought of his new girlfriend? Girlfriend—is that what she was?

The small smile that played across his lips may have been imperceptible to others, but it meant everything to him. Maybe he had his priorities wrong? When he was knocked out, he'd have more time to spend with the redhead. As attractive a proposition as that was, he was determined to remain in contention for as long as he could. If he could just reach the cash places—

The poke in his forearm brought him out of his reverie. "Your turn, man," the friendly Southern drawl on his right told him. "You taking a nap?"

"Geez, I'm sorry," he told the guy, glancing at the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. Must be contact lenses. Swinging his embarrassed gaze around the rest of the table, he wondered if he looked as tired, rough and unshaven as most of the other faces staring at him. Only theirs were filled with some amusement.

All except one. The attractive professional player, Katrina Jett, had dropped her sunglasses into place over her eyes, which meant one thing. She'd made a raise. "All folded to you," the Southern drawl helpfully pointed out.

Daniel checked his cards. Pocket sixes weren't exciting, but they were the best he'd been dealt today. The problem was he was facing a sizeable raise and, in the big blind, was out of position.

The stunning looking brunette had been steadily building up her chip position in the first two hours of play, as Daniel would have expected. One of the few female poker pro's remaining, Katrina Jett was playing some of the best poker of her life. She wasn't shy of carrying out a little trash talk, either.

"Why don't you just fold and then you can get back to your nap?" she playfully told him, tossing those wonderfully thick locks over her shoulders. "It'll be a break soon, it'd be a shame to damage that fragile chip stack."

Daniel grinned at her, nodding as if in agreement. "Can't argue with any of that, Katrina," he told her. "The problem is, I like my hand."

"Re-raise?" she asked, though the question was more of a challenge.

"Nah," he laughed, throwing enough chips into the middle to call her bet. "Let's just see what the flop brings." 

It had to bring him something soon, otherwise he'd be making a quick exit. Running well below the chip average was a recipe for disaster. While it didn't improve his hand, the flop did offer promise. 

Seven-Five-Four. A straight draw to go with his pair. 

Should he push it in there and then? The brunette could have an overpair pair, of course, but more likely she held Ace-King or Ace-Queen. Those were the sorts of hands she'd been raising with in early position so far. Despite his instincts, he eventually checked. His chip stack suggested caution and a free card would come in very hand at this stage. Katrina Jett didn't afford him that luxury.

"All-in." Her voice was decisive.

Daniel tried to search her face, but the shades did their job well. His mind went through the options. If she'd hit a set, she would've flat called. If she had an overpair, it was the type of bet she was likely to make. But that was also the case with Big Slick or Ace-Queen—and those two hands kept dancing around his mind. The more he thought, the surer he became. That meant he was ahead, and with lots of outs even if she hit a pair. 

If he called, he'd be in a race, but the potential rewards were too great to ignore.

Common sense told him that he should have been the one pushing all in, not her. A tactical error. If his read was correct, he was maybe 60-40? What was the crystal in his pocket telling him? The obvious, really—with his chip stack being the size it was, how often could he keep folding? He'd invested in the pot already. While he wasn't quite pot committed, he wasn't far away.

His read was correct. The slump in Jett's shoulders as he turned over his pocket pair told him that even before her manicured red fingernails flipped over Ace-Queen. Now, 'all' his hand had to do was hold up. He was still only 60-40. "No Aces or Queens, please dealer," he muttered under his breath.

The turn revealed the two of diamonds. Damn, why couldn't it have been a trey? 

The brunette removed her sunglasses, casually dangling them in her left hand as she awaited her fate. As usual when an all-in was broadcast, it took a while before the dealer was told to reveal the river. An eternity, Daniel thought.

The sight of paint made the Englishman's breathe catch, but it was a King. A black King. That sigh that ran through Daniel's body almost made his toes curl. A double up was exactly what he needed at this stage of the tournament.

***

"Where are you?" Rachal asked the woman at the other end of the line. Settling back on the couch, her leg reached across the divide and onto Jimmy's knee. The distance between the couch and his favourite chair was perfect. They both knew what she had in mind. The male model shuffled forward, allowing his girlfriend's foot to snake across his black boxers. His cock instantly reacted. 




The Strip Ch. 09



"I'm at the airport," Kay Kristen responded, the noise from the overhead tannoy threatening to drown out her words. "It didn't go as well as I'd hoped," she said, unsuccessfully attempting to find somewhere quieter to speak.

Rachal's caressing foot pulled away from its target as she sat up from the couch. "Really?" she half gasped. She'd thought they'd set the blonde up perfectly. And her fee for taking part in the movies was being swelled by the bonus in place for helping seduce Lauren into the scheme. "But—"

Jimmy's hand grasped her ankle as she attempted to sit up, pulling her foot back to its original target. His soft fingers traced across the tattoo of the dragon and then pulled out his half erect cock. When his girlfriend ran the tips of her toes along his length, he settled back again. Her foot could stroke him while she was speaking on the phone—she'd done it before…

"No buts," the Agency Head was telling Rachal. "It's down to you, darling. You have some work to do. You're seeing her tonight?"

"Yeah. We're going to see her sister perform and then I'm staying the night at her suite." She let out a loud chuckle and lifted a second foot to join the first. It gave her better purchase on his growing cock. "Time for some fun."

"Forget Grace," Kay snapped. "I want that girl to be given the night of her life. Understand?"

"Yes," Rachal smiled, watching Jimmy close his eyes as her toes masturbated him. Tonight would be a pleasure. "I understand."

"Good. I've told her about tomorrow night's party. Just remind her and make sure she invites her sister."

The exotic model laughed. "Should be fun—"

Kay's cold tone stopped her. "This isn't a game, darling. I want her for those movies. You and Jimmy convince her tonight. Understand?"

"Jimmy?"

"That's right, darling. Change her mind. Think you can do that?"

The exotic model slid to the floor as she closed the call. Reaching for Jimmy's cock, she spit along the length and rubbed the saliva into his hardness. When he gave a low growl, she smiled. "I have some good news about tonight, baby," she told him as she lowered her mouth.

***

Was it coincidence that had taken them back to the same Starbuck's that Rosie and Carly had enjoyed their first meaningful conversation? The redhead reflected on how much had changed since that meeting. 

A couple of days ago, she'd complained to her new friend about what had happened with Charlie, and the money she owed Big Eddie. Now, she'd got herself out of that seedy job, the club owner hadn't yet come after her for what she owed and even better, she'd met her knight in shining armour.

"It all sounds like life's on an upswing," the spiky haired woman smiled, leaning across to plant a soft kiss on the redhead's cheek. Watching Rosie's face lighten up with a wide beam of happiness, she decided there and then she not only ingratiate herself with Big Eddie by returning Rosie to the fold, she'd take her to bed, too. 

She'd find a way, she always did…

"Couldn't be happier," Rosie laughed, pulling her hair out of the ponytail and shaking it free across her bare shoulders. "Cheers," she added with a laugh, clinking cups with her friend.

"Cheers," Carly repeated, her dark eyes taking in every expression on Rosie's face. Her eyes dropped to the cleavage peeking over the thin, white top. "Freckles are a real turn on, you know," she said, her soft tone making the words sound even more seductive.

The redhead felt her nipples rise. "That's what Daniel says," she said, laughing to cover her embarrassment. The spiky haired woman certainly had a way of sending hot flushes right down to her sex. That first encounter on the dance floor was never far from her mind.

"Yeah… this Daniel," Carly murmured with that mischievous smile of hers. "Want to know something funny?"

"What?"

"I've got some photos!"

Rosie felt like she'd been punched. Surely her friend wasn't going to prick a hole in her newfound happiness. "Photos? Of Daniel?"

"Nah," the spiky haired woman laughed. "Of his ex-girlfriend. The new singing sensation. Got them from a friend who took them in a nightclub." Her eyes rolled upwards. "Very compromising! I got them at home, want to see them?"

Rosie shook her PRETTY head. "No, I'm not interested, not in his ex-girlfriend." 

"But you are in Daniel?" Carly quietly smiled, conspiratorially pulling her chair closer, "he's the reason for your good mood?"

Rosie's grin split her face. "It's that obvious?" she asked, the strong aroma of the brunette's heavy scent adding to the warm feeling inside her. "What perfume is that, by the way?" she asked.

"Great, isn't it?" Carly beamed. "It's Alicia Stiles Swelter. Here, smell it properly," she said, offering the redhead her cheek. When Rosie leant across her, she swung her head around to kiss the full, red lips.

"Carly!" Rosie gasped, somehow stopping herself from responding when she felt the hot woman's tongue flick across her lips. Her nipples must be clearly on show now! God, how embarrassing!

"Gotcha," Carly laughed, knowing that soon, she would. "This Daniel, tell me about him. He plays poker doesn't he?"

The redhead nodded, instantly feeling like she needed to offer some sort of explanation. "Yes, but he's not your typical poker player. Most of them are deadbeats, but he's different."

"That right?" Carly asked with a warm smile. "In what way?"

"He's playing in the Main Event," Rosie enthused, and then started to explain. "That's—"

"I know what it is!" Carly laughed, reaching for the sugar and pouring half a sachet into her half drunk coffee. "All of Vegas know about the Main Event, honey. It's what increases our earnings, after all!"

Rosie threw her eyebrows to the ceiling. "Doh!" she said with an embarrassed grin. "I told you he dropped everything to rescue me from that apartment?" she said, referring to their earlier conversation. "Well… we've been together ever since."

"Ever since?" Carly asked. "He's playing poker every day, isn't he?"

"Yes… well, yes… but we're together every night!"

The spiky haired woman threw her head back and laughed. "You mean you fuck him every night? Probably every morning, too, from the look on your face—"

The redhead's facial expressions changed from smile to frown to confusion in a nano second. Surely Carly wasn't trying to pour cold water on her new relationship? "It's more than—"

"I know, honey," the brunette reassured her. "I was just wondering how much you know about him?

"Quite a lot," Rosie quickly said. "We've talked for hours. He knows everything about me, and I know all about him."

"Hmmm," Carly wistfully said, sending her friend a quizzical look. "Let's test that out. He knows where you work, and what you do?"

Rosie's expression switched to serious for the first time in their conversation. "Where I worked," she corrected. "And what I did! That's behind me, Carly. And of course he knows."

The spiky haired woman nodded. "Yes, where you worked," she mimicked, with a cheeky smile. "I forgot you retired. So… does Daniel know how much you owe Big Eddie? I presume that's one of the things you've told him?"

The strained look that suddenly appeared on Rosie's face gave her answer even before her words confirmed it. "Well… not exactly…"

"Mmm-hmm," the brunette murmured, shooting her friend a knowing smile. "Well, just know one thing, girl, at some stage you'll have to repay that debt. I can get you back in Big Eddie's good books when you need to go back. He's mad now, but Carly will take care of you. Okay, honey?"

"Carly!" Rosie exclaimed, her voice rising to emphasise the point. "I appreciate that, but I'm not going back to the club. I'm finished with it for ever!!"

"I understand exactly how you feel," the brunette smiled. Enough said, no need to push things. She'd sown the seeds. Now for the extra push. "What's the story between Daniel and the blonde, then?"

"What story?" Rosie asked, a puzzled smile creasing her face. "Holly's his friend. They only met once he got to Vegas."

"So did the two of you," Carly pushed. "Has he told you he's fucked her?"

"Fucked her?" Rosie's voice was shrill… disbelieving… shocked.

The brunette pulled out the newspaper article. "Well, I don't know," she told the redhead, shrugging her shoulders. "But from everything I've read in the press, it sure looks like there's something going on! I hate to suggest it Rosie, but he could be another Charlie!"

Another Charlie? No, that wasn't possible! Her shocked eyes stared at the spiky haired woman and then she picked up The Lovers from England. She needed to read this…

***

Matusow hadn't let up much. Not with the trash talk. As usual with 'The Mouth,' some of it was good-natured, some more barbed. Because of Holly's early dominance over him, he seemed to take delight in finding put-downs just for her. 

It made no difference to the blonde. Words meant nothing to her. And she knew what a dangerous player he was. Take her time, she told herself.

The couple of occasions he buffed her off hands, he turned over his cards and told her—yet again—she was in the big time and needed to be careful not to 'fuck around' with him.

"Fuck around with you, Mike?" she repeated after yet another warning from the unshaved poker professional. "I don't go with fat guys…"

Each burst of laughter further infuriated the short-tempered man. That made no difference to the blonde, either. Focus on your game! Take advantage of his mood if the cards allowed. Soon, she had the chance.

Pocket Kings. 

"Re-raise," she calmly announced. A pot-sized bet seemed appropriate.

The Brit, two seats to her left, thought for a long time. His flat call was unexpected. Surely it was raise or fold? 

Matusow showed no such timidity, pushing all-in for the second successive hand. He looked down at the green baize after his move, resting his head on his hands. Holly shivered. The last time he'd done that, he had pocket rockets. 

Her call was automatic.

The Brit to her left sadly shook his head as he mucked his cards. "Can't go up against the big guns," he smiled, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back in his seat.

"Good fold," Matusow told him. As the words escaped his mouth, Holly's heart sank. He didn't need to flip over his Aces for her to know with an instinctive certainty that her suspicion was accurate.

"Told you, girly," he gloated, standing up and leaning over the table. "I told you I'd be getting my chips back, with interest." He wagged a finger at Holly, the other hand pushing his glasses further up his nose. "You mess with Mikey, you're dead. You stick those tits out and think they'll do the business for you? Believe me baby, you can't beat me. I'm twice the player you are. You're tits are nothing to me. And you're nothing to me."

"That's okay, Mike," Holly responded, raising her sunglasses so he could see her eyes. She needed him to see she wasn't intimidated. "Win or lose, that's fine with me. But either way, I'll do it with some class."

"Class?" Matusow sneered. "I don't give a shit about class. Class is for losers. All I care about is winning, baby."

The dealer tapped on the baize and made Holly's day. Two Kings and a Jack. 

The blonde stared disbelievingly at the cards. Matusow sank to his knees. The buzz at the table was electric and the Brit was out of his seat too. "I folded Jacks. Jacks!" he cried, swinging around to his supporters at the rail. "I would've flopped a full house, but she hit quads. Quads!"

Matusow was almost inconsolable as he climbed to his feet. Nearly in tears, he sloped away from the table to the part of the rail where his brother and his mother, Gloria, were standing. They wearily shook their heads in incredulity as he reached them. 

"Aces. Aces! And the bitch hits quads. Why me?" he asked them. "Why always me? Every time. Every fucking time!"

Holly couldn't resist. "Take care of those balls, Mike," she softly called.

***

The rap on the door sent a final flutter through Lauren's stomach. She'd hated turning Kay's offer down, but the thought of spending the evening with Rachal was some compensation at least. Everything Grace had told the blonde about her sex with Lisa Welles had been festering away in her mind. She wanted that experience. Tonight, she'd have it.

A glance at her watch told her that the model was late getting there. How many times had she checked the time in the last hour? They'd be pushed to catch all of Grace's performance…

She picked up her Indian jacket on the way to the door, nodding her approval as she checked herself in the mirror for the umpteenth time in the last fifteen minutes. She'd tied the short black wrap-dress so that the deep cleavage formed by her red push-up bra was on full display. Sexy, even if she said so herself.

"My, you're keen!" Rachal giggled as she pushed past Lauren into the suite. "No rush is there—I thought you'd show me around? Why don't we have a quick drink first? You've got some good wine in the fridge?"

***

"Hi, my name's Grace," the Vegas singing sensation said, giving her customary welcome as she pulled the microphone down to her full lips. "And I'm here to sing for you."

It wasn't just the rapturous applause that sent her excitement spiralling off scale. Nor was it the knowledge that in a few short days, she'd established herself so comprehensively on the Vegas scene. It was the fact that Lisa Welles was standing unnoticed in the audience, ready to soak in Grace's performance before joining her on stage.

It'll give me the chance to see your moves, the international megastar had told her, so that I'm ready for our duo. We're gonna rock this place… 

That duet was an hour away. Grace spent every second of that time playing the crowd, bringing them in to her performance, warming them for the extravaganza that would soon be heading their way. She also wanted Lisa to see her at her best. A kind of throwing down the gauntlet. After all, she was Grace Lane—

After her first Vegas performance, she'd returned to the stage outfit that was so familiar in England. The way she dressed was her instrument, almost every bit as her voice. Within a few minutes, the waistcoat was unbuttoned, a couple of songs later it was removed, revealing the green camisole top underneath. This was her—Grace—and she felt at home.

Turning around and swinging her ass from side to side, the now familiar sight of the garment narrowing into a thong that disappeared into the top of her low-rise jeans brought cheers from the crowd. It was expected from her now. What they were waiting for! The audience were really up for it, the place rocking to the stamping of their feet and the cheers after each song.

In deference to Lisa, Grace left off the oversized aviators until it was time for the singer to join her. And that time came soon enough…

When Lisa made her way onto the stage, it wasn't just the audience whose excitement threatened to spill over. Grace felt her breath catch in her throat as she saw the way Lisa was dressed—a mirror image of herself. The camisole was exactly the same Grace's, just a different colour. It looked so sexy disappearing into Lisa's tight, black jeans. Even the high heels the blonde megastar had especially worn for the performance, matched Grace's.

"It's yours," the blonde giggled into Grace's ear before the English singer could ask about the camisole. Then they were kissing—to the audience, a kiss of two stars meeting on stage. To the women, a kiss of two hungry lovers.

Within seconds, the singers had the crowd swaying and dancing, clapping their hands above their heads and swaying their bare waists and hips to the beat of the music. They each owned half the stage, danced towards then past one another as they built up the pace.

The songs they'd agreed beforehand consisted of a few of Lisa's hits and some of Grace's music. The surprise was their final song, one that neither had sung before, but was certain to bring the house down.

The crowd swung, danced, whistled, cheered and swooned throughout the performance. The band behind them was on fire, too—each member from the base guitarist through to the keyboard player given the opportunity to show off their individual talents. In front of them, two hot female vocalists smiled at one another at every new roar from their fans.

Lisa had cottoned on to every one of Grace's moves while she'd watched the singer earlier. She put her new findings to good use. The sight of the two of them, backs to the crowd, legs spread wide, arms stretched high above their heads, hips grinding sexily from side to side, almost took the roof off.

Then it was the finale. Where had the time gone? 

"Okay," Lisa shouted into the mic, "Raise those hands and clap!" 

The crowded club mimicked her, hands raised above their heads, as Grace went into the final number:

Where's all mah soul sistas

Lemme hear ya'll flow sistas

Hey sista, go sista, soul sista, flow sista 

Hey sista, go sista, soul sista, go sista 

Grace turned her back to the crowd, teasing with her trademark moves, as Lisa took over the next lines. The blonde swung her hips to each heavy beat.

He met Marmalade down IN old Moulin Rouge

Struttin' her stuff on the street

She said, "Hello, hey Jo, you wanna give it a go?" Oh! uh huh

As they hit the chorus, the two women went into overdrive, strutting and flaunting their dancing bodies as the audience screamed their approval. 

Giuchie, Giuchie, ya ya dada—Hey hey hey

Giuchie, Giuchie, ya ya here—here

Mocha Chocalata ya ya—oh yea

Creole lady Marmalade

Their voices complimented each other and with each shorter chorus, they both held their mic's out to the clubgoers, allowing them to sing the words…

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi—ce soir

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

As the audience sang, the two women gave an impromptu dancing performance. Bumping and grinding their bodies at each other, lost in a tide of excitement and arousal that just couldn't be denied.

***

Lauren had missed the greatest performance of her sister's life, but three bottles of wine later, it didn't seem so important. What did, was the coke she was snorting with the most beautiful model she'd ever seen, and the interested way Rach had listened to her life story and aspirations.

"Don't worry," the black haired beauty had told her. "You and I are gonna appear in a porno together—more than one. Talk to Grace again, honey. Then you and I are gonna be ready to go."

It felt like great advice. The thrill of her time at the porno shoot was lodged in her body forever. It'd never be assuaged until she'd met her dream. Rachal had just told her that, and she knew it was true. But she knew she couldn't.

"Rach, Grace is worried it'll damage her future. I just can't…"

The exotic beauty stilled her protest, her hand snaking around the blonde's neck, pulling Lauren's face to hers. That wonderful mouth was open before it reached her, and then Rach was biting down on her lower lip, tugging on it playfully before sliding her tongue inside the blonde's mouth. Wetness flooded her thong.

She lay still, hazy-eyed, when the exotic model pushed her back on the comfortable couch. Gracefully easing herself to her feet, Rach kept her sparkling eyes on Lauren's lustful gaze as she unzipped her little red dress. With a toss of her dark hair, she allowed it to drop to her feet.




The Strip Ch. 10



This is a rewrite of 'Vegas', combining both Books. While maintaining the theme, it offers a completely different and fresh take for the main characters.

Grateful thanks go to the best editor in the world -- thesoundandfury - not only for his editing, but also for the constant encouragement, suggestions, and for helping me to become a better writer.

Chapter 10: An unhappy ending

"Can I ask you something?" Rosie said to her boyfriend.

Daniel grinned. Despite his refreshing shower, he still felt worn out by this sexy woman. He wasn't that sure he was up for another 'session' right there and then. Nor did his busy morning schedule allow him that luxury. "Anything you want, Rosie," he hesitantly told her. "But I don't have time—" 

Her laugh was delightful. "Oh, I could change your mind if that's what I had in mind," she murmured, crossing the room and throwing her arms around him. Her kiss was soft, loving. She cocked her head to one side inquisitively as she thoughtfully took a step away. She opened her mouth to speak, unsure of how to go about this. Instead, she picked up the paper from the nearby table.

"The English lovers," she read aloud, pushing the two-day old edition of the Las Vegas News into his hand. 

Ah, so that was it, Daniel thought, feeling his scalp begin to burn uncomfortably. "Rosie…" he began, then stopped. This was delicate. She'd been through enough without the need to worry her further.

She flopped down in the chunky chair. "Rosie, indeed," she nodded. "Daniel, I've told you everything about my life. I thought you had, too. You've told me about your friendship with Holly but you've never mentioned this. Why?"

His heart caught in his chest. Should he explain everything that'd happened? Or keep it simple. He and Holly had had a brief thing, but that had been a one-off. There was no relationship other than their newfound close friendship. Keep it straightforward, he told himself. "Because it's not true," he said out loud, the shrug of his shoulders not entirely convincing.

"Charlie kept things from me, Daniel," she quietly told him, her eyes looking at the floor. It was as if she didn't want to look into his face for fear of what she'd see. "I never want to be in a relationship like that again. I want us to know everything about each other. No secrets."

"I want that too, Rosie," he smiled. "We do have that type of relationship!"

"If the story's not true," she continued, her green eyes sweeping up to find his, fixing on his face now, "why would the newspaper print a story like that?"

"Why?" he nervously laughed. "Because Holly and I were knocked out of that tournament at the same time. By Doyle. It was news. And we're both amateurs. From England. So they thought they'd elaborate to make it a bigger deal. Sell more papers, understand?"

"Don't patronise me," she angrily said, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's a straightforward question, Daniel. Why haven't you said anything about the article? Couldn't you have warned me about it, rather than letting me find out by accident?"

"Yes," he conceded. That much was true. Had it not been for the grain of truth in the story, he would have told her a couple of days ago. And why the hell hadn't he confessed about him and Holly anyway? He'd told her most everything else about his life. "That was thoughtless," he said, crossing the room and taking her hand in both of his. "There's just been so much going on lately…"

"I know," she said, her face softening. "The story should be about us, shouldn't it? A whirlwind romance, isn't that what they call it?"

Daniel joined in her laughter. "Something like that. But it doesn't feel good to have anything published about my private life…"

"I know," she said, bouncing to her feet and crossing her arms around his neck again. This kiss was longer, deeper. "It's a relief to know there isn't anything between you and Holly. I guess I'm just feeling vulnerable…"

Daniel's hands on her breasts stopped her mid sentence. The formal presentations of his and Holly's Practically Poker bonus cheques were less than an hour away. They didn't have time. But somehow, those tits were irresistible.

"Mmmm," the redhead moaned into his mouth, her own hands dropping to unzip his jeans. "Someone needs attention…"

"Rosie," he grunted. They really didn't have time—

Her mouth cut his thoughts off. "No more surprises, Daniel," she told him, panting the words as her tongue lapped up and down his hardening shaft. "Think of this as your reward."

The Englishman grunted again when she deep throated him.

***

It felt like they'd been making love all night. They had—apart from brief naps. But even those brief moments of sleep had been disturbed when one or the other woman awoke and began the pleasuring again. 

They'd already agreed to spend the next night together, once Lisa returned to the hotel from her Vegas promotional appearances. But with the blonde licking Grace to another orgasm, tonight seemed a long way away. How many had she had since they'd arrived back in Lisa's suite in the early hours? 

She pushed her ass upwards as the climax ran through her, arching her sweat covered body so that only the back of her shoulders and the soles of her feet touched the bed. Her toes dug into the mattress and her fingers clawed at the bedclothes as one guttural moan after another faded away into the empty air.

"Two angels together," Lisa purred, looking upwards from her place at the foot of the bed. Flat on her stomach, she continued the slow, teasing movements of her fingers and tongue as if pacing Grace down from her orgasm. "You've come a long way, baby girl."

Grace let her body relax on the crumpled white sheets. God, she was sore. Lisa was right, she had come a long way, and in such a short space of time. And now she was invincible. Grace Lane—Superstar! This lifestyle would never end.

Her eyes met Lisa's. The blonde's hair was matted to her face and yet she'd never looked sexier. "God, I'd forgotten how good you are—" Grace panted, her voice sounding as raw as it felt.

Lisa tongued her way up Grace's body, leaving a meandering trail of saliva and juices on the way to her breasts. "Well, I hope I've reminded you," she murmured, licking around the brunette's lips but refusing to close in for the kiss. It was sexier to tease.

Grace's head raised from the pillow, once, twice. Each time, Lisa pulled away with a soft chuckle. "Show me your tongue," she told the brunette.

When Grace provocatively wiggled it at the teasing woman, then tried to kiss her, Lisa rolled away onto her back. With another sexy chuckle, she sat up against the headboard, dragging a sweat stained pillow under her ass. Pulled her blonde hair onto the top of her head, she held the pose while widening her bent legs. "Well, use it," she cheekily grinned. "I need that tongue again... show me what you can do…" 

Grace didn't hesitate, twisting her glistening body to slide between the open thighs. A hand underneath each knee, her head dipped forward. She moaned as she ran her tongue softly over the beautiful nether lips. Only a woman's skin could feel so smooth. She felt them easily part as she slipped her tongue along them, softly lapping. 

 Her fingers exposed the long clit, allowing her to flick the nub with her tongue before licking it softly. She softly lapped up and down the rosy bud before sucking it inside her mouth. Lisa allowed a long moan to slip through her parted lips as she hips responded to Grace's tongue.

Reaching down with one hand, she pulled Grace's hair over her left shoulder, allowing her a better view of the brunette at work. Grace's eyes smiled upwards. She tenderly lifted Lisa's right leg and placed it over her shoulder. She'd make this the best orgasm yet. And they'd had a few.

Her fingers stroked along the soft inner thigh as she lapped at the juices beginning to flow from the aroused sex. She savoured each taste. Her eyes held Lisa's as she blew along the blonde's soft folds. They stared at each other for a good thirty seconds. Without speaking, Grace slid her tongue back to the sensitive clitoris. 

Her eyes closely watched her captive's reaction to her long, circular, licking motions. Lisa looked so sexy, one hand still holding her hair on the top of her head, eyes narrowed, staring down at her over her full breasts. Her tongue flicked across her lips. Her left hand stroke Grace's head.

"That feels soooo sexy," she murmured. "Please don't stop."

She chewed on her lower lip before her head flopped back against the headboard with a soft thump. Her eyes closed in satisfaction at the gentle pleasuring. Her throaty growl was sexy. The sudden arching of her back and hips gave her lover a clear indication she was eager for more.

Grace slid her tongue between the megastar's juicy folds. Lisa gasped. Both hands clutched for Grace's matted hair, running her fingers through the knots. The brunette rotated her face on the wet, swollen lips. Her nose undulated against Lisa's clit whilst her hard tongue began to fuck the beautiful blonde. The free flowing sweet nectar warmed her face. 

She lifted Lisa's second leg over her shoulder as she increased the pace of her tongue fucking. Lisa tensed and moaned. Grace knew the signs. 

Her tongue jabbed and twirled faster. Lisa's back arched higher. She gave out little animalistic yelps as the first spasms overcame her. Her hands tightly gripped the crumpled white sheets either side of her as she ground her sex into Grace's wet face. The brunette's mouth went for broke, her hands sliding under the trembling buttocks as Lisa began to spend. 

She lapped at the blonde's juices until the trembling body began to calm. Slithering upwards, her cum-soaked kiss was eagerly accepted as the blonde's full, succulent lips meshed with her own. 

"Did I show you what I could do, then?" she asked, referring to Lisa's earlier directive.

"Fuck yes," the blonde groaned, pushing a loose bang behind Grace's ear.

"Good," the brunette responded, "but I haven't finished yet!" 

She backed away, pulling Lisa with her. Adjusting their positions, her legs scissored Lisa's, their thighs sliding along one another. She watched Lisa watching her, the woman's surprised gaze locked on Grace's almond coloured eyes. That was good. 

Slowly and precisely, her hips ground against Lisa. The blonde gasped. Labia met smooth labia, gliding softly together with a low purr from each woman. Their clits found one another. The friction was sensational, but Grace wanted more. She reached forward, taking Lisa's peach-like buttocks in her hands and rocked her hips faster. The megastar took the hint, thrusting and grinding back. 

"Oh, yesss…" Grace hissed as they fell into an amazingly satisfying rhythm. 

Lisa's hands dropped to Grace's hips. Her polished fingernails dug in, making sharp indentations. Both women gasped loudly. Grace's clit slipped up the other woman's oily sex, brushing against the blonde's. 

It was like setting a flame to a fuse. Without breaking the soft press of sex-on-sex or her vice-like hold Lisa's ass, she used her one free hand to pull the woman's mouth to hers. Their kiss was wet and loose, too hard to maintain but too good to let go. 

Grace wailed as she reached her climax, releasing the blonde and pulling her tightly into her arms. The smell of sweat and girly cum on her body was intoxicating. Her firm breasts compressed deliciously into her own. Grace felt Lisa's small yelps of pleasure against her neck as she climaxed, sending her deeper into her own orgasm. 

It took a while for the shuddering of their entwined bodies to abate. 

***

"It's Carly," Rosie told her boyfriend. They'd just been about to leave Daniel's suite when the call came through on her cell phone. "You go on ahead, I'll catch up."

The Practically Poker presentation for their achievements in the Binion's tourney was taking place in twenty minutes. He couldn't afford to be late. That wasn't the only reason Rosie allowed him to leave without her. He knew Carly was a good friend of hers, but he didn't know the full story. Nor was he aware of how much she owed Big Eddie. 

Better not to allow him to overhear their conversation.

Those thoughts made her grimace. Hadn't she just lectured Daniel on the need to be completely open? Why hadn't she confessed the amount of her debt? She convinced herself that she hadn't wanted to burden him. It was nothing to do with the possibility of it damaging their relationship…

She took the call as the door closed behind Daniel. "Hi," she greeted her friend, "How's it going?"

Carly's sigh answered before she spoke. Something was wrong! "Er… are you free to meet?" the spiky haired woman asked.

"Sure… when?"

"How about fifteen minutes? We can—"

"I can't, Carly," Rosie interrupted. "Daniel has a presentation right now. It's important. I'm heading there with him." She paused, waiting for Carly to respond. Something wasn't right. She just knew. A feeling of dread ran through her. "What is it, Carly?" she nervously asked, pulling away from the door and walking back to the centre of the room.

The pause seemed to last a lifetime. "Big Eddie," Carly said at last, her tone reluctant. 

The redhead knew it in her bones—he wanted his money. "What about him?" she panted, already aware of the answer.

"He's passing your debt back to the loan sharks," the spiky haired brunette lied. It was all she could think off to re-engage Rosie in talks with the gangster. She'd promised Eddie she'd bring the redhead back in to see him. That would cement her position as his lover and confidant. She surprised herself with her genius at times. "We gotta talk."

Back at the door, Rosie leant against the frame. The feeling of faintness running through her made it difficult to stand unaided. "I'll meet you this afternoon," she slowly answered, her voice a trembling whisper. "Say two o'clock? Starbucks?"

***

"Eddie," the African American's deep voice drawled into the phone. "Thanks for taking the call. And please accept my condolences about Desmond. Terrible that. A man going about his own innocent business..."

The sarcasm wasn't lost on Big Eddie. The gangster could barely contain his rage. It was one thing, Samuel Smith having the gall to phone him. But if the bastard had called to gloat…

"I know you were behind it," he spat, unable to hold himself back. A voice in the back of his mind was telling him to stay calm and collected. But the red mist was already descending.

"Me?" Samuel Smith asked, his amused voice rising in mock-surprise. "Now, Eddie, please correct me if I've got this wrong. But as I understand, word on the street is that he was busy fucking somebody's girlfriend when he shouldn't. And the boyfriend got annoyed. Well, you would, wouldn't you?" 

"That was nothing to do with it—and you fucking know it," the gangster snapped.

"Really?" the deep voice cut in. Smith was enjoying this even more than he'd anticipated. "That's the way it seems to me. To the police too, I believe. Of course, then there's all that explosive they found in the boot. Rumour has it he was on his way to set fire to somewhere, Eddie. Now, who d'you think that was aimed at?"

"I know nothing of any explosive," Big Eddie growled menacingly.

"Is that right? I'm sure you'll be able to explain that to the cops when they visit you. What with Desmond being you're number two 'n'all."

"The cops can do the same as you," Eddie shouted, spittle flying from his twisted lips. "Fuck off." 

"Not nice, Eddie, not when I rang to help you."

"Help me? You?" snorted the gangster. "Listen, you bastard. "You think I don't know you took him out? Just understand one thing, Smith. I'll pay you back. I'll get even."

"Now, now," Samuel Smith's soothing voice told him. It was like taking candy from a baby. "That's no way to talk, Eddie. Not when I've called you in an attempt to put an end to all this stupidity."

The gangster wasn't fooled, but the words momentarily stilled his anger. Find out what the bastard had in mind. Then use it against him. "What d'you mean?" 

"Well," the deep voice said, purring like a car in neutral. "I've been thinking, Eddie. Clearly, we can both do without all this trouble. So let's look for a win-win. I mean… things are going so well for me… I'm expanding all my business interests. Whereas, you're on the way down. In a hole. Why don't I buy you out? Why don't I buy Midnight Hot?"

Big Eddie's calm disappeared in a nano second. His blood pressure hit the danger zone. "You fucking bastard," he shouted, completely out of control. "Mark my fucking words. I'll get even. Just fucking wait! You'll see—"

***

"This isn't quite what I was expecting," Daniel whispered to Holly as they stood to the side of the small platform. The young Practically Poker representative had been droning on to the assembled throng for a good ten minutes, extolling the virtues of their site.

"What did you expect," she asked, out of the corner of her mouth. He seemed unusually nervous. It wasn't like her crinkly haired friend.

"Not as many people as this," he softly said. "I thought there'd be a few. They'd give is our cheques… take a photo and that would be that. I didn't expect half of America's press to be here. And that they'd have laid on a spread. It's like a like Vicar's tea party."

Holly's laugh rumbled in the back of her throat. "I doubt they'd know what a Vicar's tea party is," she said. "And don't they usually take place on the lawn?"

Daniel grunted. At first Holly thought it was a flicker of a smile that crossed his face, but his gritted teeth told her she was mistaken.

"Look at them," he complained, feeling his anxiety rising. Rosie was standing near the door. Her face looked white. This 'English Lovers' story was affecting her more than he thought. "There must be at least a dozen people from Practically Poker," he snapped. "But the rest are from the fucking media. All after the same fucking story!"

Holly held back the giggle. She hadn't heard the Englishman curse before. It added a raw edge to him. She liked it. What she didn't like were the photographers present. Keeping her shades on provided some anonymity. Pulling her hair back into a tight ponytail had been a good idea, too. Changing her features from soft to hard would make it difficult for anyone seeing her in public to recognise her in any photographs.

The soft ripple of applause drew their attention. The Practically Poker whiz kid had finished his spiel and was waiving them up onto the small stage. "Ladies and gentleman," he beamed, turning yet again to pose for the photographers. "Let me introduce the cream of England's poker players. Only a fluke hand by the legendary Doyle Brunson deprived them both of the chance to win their first much-coveted bracelet."

Turning to them, he made a point of vigorously shaking Daniel's hand and kissing Holly's cheeks. It took all the blonde's willpower not to shrink away. She didn't mind the smell of garlic… but that was overpowering.

"At their first attempt," he continued. "How about that?"

Daniel glanced over at Rosie as another smattering of applause broke out. She was smiling now, too. That was better.

"Incredible to think our couple travelled all the way from London together," he said, handing the oversized cheques to Daniel and then Holly. "And," he continued, "If you read the papers, are about as close as its possible to be. Let's give them a big round of applause."

Daniel felt his heart sink. His eyes glared at the man with the microphone. You stupid bastard, they told him. The self-congratulating beam on his face indicated he couldn't read the Englishman's expression.




The Strip Ch. 10



His eyes flicked back across to Rosie. After their morning discussion, those were the last words she needed to hear. 

Holly's gaze followed his. "Trouble?" she asked as they posed for the obligatory photographs.

"Take the shades off, honey?" a couple of the shabbily dressed photographers shouted as they gathered around.

"Fuck off," she mumbled under her breath, though her wide smile conveyed nothing but pleasure at being there. "This is how I play poker, boys, " she shouted back. "You want the real me, don't you?"

Ignoring the requests for the two of them to pose kissing one another, she quietly repeated her question in Daniel's ear. "Trouble?"

"Rosie was just feeling a little sensitive this morning," he whispered back. "She saw the 'English Lovers' article. This isn't helping at all."

"I understand," Holly sympathetically said, flashing him a wry smile between shots. "We women can be strange creatures where affairs of the heart are concerned." 

Daniel nodded. That was certainly true. "Look, Holly," he said, the idea suddenly hitting him. "Would you see if you can speak to her before we leave here? Reassure her?"

The blonde glanced across at Rosie before nodding. From the glum look on the redhead's face, she needed quite a bit of reassurance.

***

Big Eddie was still cursing to himself as he drove across Vegas to his club. Why was the traffic always like this when you were in a hurry? He narrowly avoided a car that'd stopped suddenly and sent a loud curse across to the driver. It was lost in the morning air. Boneheads! Didn't people know how to drive?

His thoughts returned to his conversation with Samuel Smith. The nerve of the bastard! Offering to buy his club. His club! On his way down, was he? That's what the bastard thought, did he? He'd find out that when Big Eddie had his back to the wall, he came out fighting.

The gangster was more certain than ever that his rival had taken out Desmond. That's why he'd called him. To gloat. He'd somehow got wind of what he was up to. Damn! He wouldn't have put it past Smith to place one of his girls in the car with Desmond as a diversion. What the hell was the stupid lump thinking about, fucking someone when he was on a job? 

Desmond had never been the sharpest tool in the box, but he expected more than that from him…

Grabbing the phone from its cradle in the car, his thumb flicked through the names and pressed call. With all this aggravation and tension, he needed some relief. And he knew exactly who'd provide it. In all this aggravation, the girl was proving to be invaluable. Not only as a sounding board, but she had some good ideas, too.

And her loyalty wasn't in question. After all, she was going to find and bring Rosie back, wasn't she? Loyalty was such an important commodity. He'd have to think of a way to reward her.

"Carly?" he growled, when the brunette answered his call. "It's Eddie. I'll be at the club in an hour. Be there. I need some inspiration—"

***

So, it wasn't only the newspapers!?!

Rosie felt all her nightmares closing in at once. 

Even the Practically Poker people were suggesting there was more to Daniel's relationship with Holly than just friendship. What on earth was going on? For the first time in a long, long, time, her life was getting back on track. She'd met a genuine guy who had morals, integrity, and was as sexy as hell. And she'd escaped from the horrors of stripping and prostitution. Or had she?

Big Eddie's decision to call in the loan sharks sent shudders down to the tips of her toes. She wouldn't have a life if they caught up with her. She so wanted to share the problem with Daniel, unload everything onto his shoulders. Two brains were better than one and she couldn't cope with this anymore. Besides, he was her knight in shining armour. He'd help her find a way forward. But now…

Everything she thought about him was in danger of disappearing into thin air. Someone was about to prick her balloon and the waves of stomach clenching ripples were threatening to overwhelm her. Was he two-timing her with Holly? It couldn't be true! It just couldn't…

She'd keep her peace until later tonight. The last think Daniel needed was any more hassle before the Main Event. It was too important to him. Reaching the fourth day was a massive achievement! But afterwards, she'd talk to him about her fears. And he'd explain everything there was to know about him and Holly. He'd put her mind to rest, yes, he would. 

A soft smile touched the edges of her lips. He always did.

Her stomach began to unclench.

The redhead picked up a small vol-o-vent from the long table and slipped it into her mouth. Immediately, she spat it out onto a small, plastic, plate. Her stomach remained in a high state of nervousness…

"The food's that bad?" came an amused voice to her left. "Shame, I was intending eating as much as I could. Would save me paying for lunch." 

Swinging her head to the side, the scruffy looking grey haired guy shot her a smile. His thinning grey hair was parted in the middle, somewhat in the style of an old vaudeville entertainer. And the patterned bow tie was definitely a statement of individuality.

"Las Vegas News," he added, holding up his notebook in one hand and rubbing his pencil thin moustache with the other.

"The food's fine," Rosie said, offering a faint smile.

"Great," he grinned, dropping the notebook onto the table and beginning to fill two plastic plates. "Can't get enough on one," he explained, turning to pour a very full glass of red wine. "Want one?"

She shook her head. "No… thanks..."

He nodded, slurping half the glass then filling it again. He devoured a sandwich in a single second, impervious to indigestion problems as he slipped another into his mouth. "You're with Practically Poker?" he asked, managing to miss her clothes with the crumbs that spat from his mouth.

"No… Yes…" she hesitantly said. "I… mean… I do some promotional work for them."

"Great," he told her, taking hold of her arm. He conspiratorially pulled her a few feet further away from the others who were making their way to the table. His wine and plates went with him. "How d'you like to make yourself a few dollars?" he asked with a knowing wink.

Her wide eyes stared at him. Surely he wasn't propositioning her? Did she look that cheap?

"Just for a little information," he clarified.

The sudden tightness in her chest eased. Of course she didn't look available. In the high-necked red top and low-rise blue jeans, she looked like a tourist, albeit a sexy one at that. "In… information?"

"Good wine, this," he grinned, swallowing the contents of his glass and returning to collect the bottle and bring it over to the end of the table where they stood. "They know how to put on a spread, these people."

"I'm not interested—" she began, only to be stopped by his next words.

"Anyway," his voice lowered as he glanced at the people now helping themselves to the food. He may have found himself a contact and he wasn't willing to share. "We're doing a piece on the two English lovers. You guys must have the inside story, you always do. I'll pay for anything you can give us. Easy money," he nodded. "Not to be sniffed at!"

Rosie shook her head. Too violently, too quickly. "They're… they're not lovers…" she gasped.

The older guy laughed, slurping the rest of his second glass of wine and instantly refilling it. "Baloney!" he told her, stuffing a sausage roll into his mouth. "Is that what they've told you to say?"

"No… no…" 

The newspaper hack laughed again. This time her clothes weren't so lucky. "Damn, sorry," he grinned, reaching out to wipe the crumbs from her red top. 

She took a step back. She'd had enough of being pawed by men. Adding this disgusting old guy to the list wasn't going to happen. 

"Hell, Mr. Smooth over there already said in his speech they're as close as its possible to be," he continued, returning his hands to the remaining food on his plate. There wasn't much. "We know all about it!" His stale breath hit her as he leant in more closely. "Got lots of sources on that," he confidently told her. They're lovers all right! Hey, where're you going?"

"Sick…" Rosie gasped. "Feel sick…"

The way the colour had drained from her face confirmed her words. It was true? Daniel was just another Charlie? Carly was right? He was just another deadbeat poker player who messed around with other women? 

The hand grasping her gut tightened its grip.

The newspaperman gazed for a few seconds at her fleeing figure, and then looked down at his empty plates. Damn. Maybe more wine would help mitigate the dodgy food he'd just eaten?

*** 

"Hey," Rachal greeted Kay. Just hearing her voice at the other end of the phone sent a tingle through her. Made her think of tonight's party. It was like being invited to an orgy. Drink, drugs, strippers, sex. Her body shivered in anticipation. The other emotion was fear. Kay wasn't going to like her news.

"How's Miami?" she asked, trying to put off the inevitable.

"The same as it always is, darling," the voice laughed down the line. "But how did last night go?" she asked.

"Last night… and this morning, too," the mocha-skinned beauty told her. "Jimmy and I've just got back to our apartment. Once she got into it, that babe is wild, fucking wild."

"Great! I have a deal in place for three movies, shooting in three months. I want you in them, Rach, but I need Lauren in them, too. I've promised the backers a new face who'll blow their minds away."

"It's not going to happen," Rachal's soft voice hesitantly answered. Her sigh indicated her apprehension at imparting the news. "I quizzed her on it a few times last night, Kay. The stupid girl is adamant she won't do anything to hurt her sister's career."

Kay felt the anger rising through her slender body. After all the time, effort and money she'd invested in the blonde, she had the nerve to turn her down!?! She'd been sure that a dose of Rachal and Jimmy would win her over. The fucking bitch! She'd have to find another woman from somewhere, and where would she get someone as hot as Lauren?

That question was secondary for the moment. She'd have three months to come up with an answer. The more urgent aspect right now was revenge. On Lauren and her sister. They'd fucked her up. It was only polite for her to do the same. And maybe make a bit of money at the same time?

Tonight's party would be the first step. 

"I expected more from you, darling," her cold voice told her young accomplice. Suddenly, her tone softened. "But I understand. Okay, one step at a time. Give her a call later today, Rach. Make sure she'll be at the party tonight. And I want her sister there, too, okay?"

"Sure, Kay, of course."

The Agency Head's voice turned cold again. "And Rach, this time, don't let me down…"

***

"You okay, dear?" the older woman asked Rosie. Her alarmed eyes as she looked at Rosie told the redhead that her distressed face must be all too obvious. A glance in the mirror confirmed that.

She nodded. "Fine… thanks…"

Waiting until the washroom door closed behind the departing woman, she checked her face again. God, she looked rough. The cold water she splashed on her face made no difference. The anguish was on the inside, not the outside.

Perhaps she was overreacting? The phone call from Carly had spooked her. If Eddie were setting the loan sharks loose, she'd need to get out of Vegas and fast. But where? Wherever she went, they'd find her. She'd have to meet the club owner again, reach some sort of agreement with him to repay her debt. Charlie's fucking debt!! 

The thought was almost as terrifying as the loan sharks. The snarling look of rage on his face that last time reappeared in front of her. Oh, God! How stupid was she, thinking that walking out of Midnight Hot would solve her problems!?! Of course, Big Eddie would want what was due to him. 

Maybe those thoughts were magnifying her concerns over Daniel and Holly? With him, she could do anything, conquer any problem, and resolve any difficulty. Without him—

She ran some water over her face again. It helped this time. Feeling calmer, she placed her palms face down on the dark countertop and looked at herself in the mirror. Daniel was genuine. Every instinct in her body told her that. Yet, there was something that didn't add up. Because of what Carly had suggested? Or was it as a result of her conversation with the newspaper guy? No, it was more than that... 

Daniel had been nervous when she'd asked about him and Holly. There'd been a look in his eyes. It was telling her something!

"Are you okay, Rosie?"

The redhead jerked around. She'd been too preoccupied with her thoughts to hear anyone enter. It was her! The blonde. Holly... 

The blonde smiled inwardly as Rosie pulled herself to her full height. She was proud, this one. Unwilling to come over as weak, confused. It was an admirable trait. Daniel had good taste.

"I'm fine, Holly," the redhead responded, making her voice sound as confident as she could. Maybe she could clear everything up here and now? "Just a little puzzled. Maybe you can help me?"

"I hope so," the blonde answered with a sympathetic smile. She gently eased her way across the washroom towards her, as if scared any sudden movement would spook the redhead. It was important Rosie realised she was on her side. On her and Daniel's sides. 

Rosie felt her chest tighten. This was a seriously good-looking woman. Holly's breasts swayed gently underneath the thin black top as she walked. And what breasts! The woman was a turn on, no doubt about that. Although she'd drawn her hair into that tight ponytail, there was no mistaking how attractive she was. And those lips…

God, what was she thinking? 

Holly pulled herself up on the countertop next to the redhead. "You and Daniel care a lot for each other, don't you?" she softly said, shuffling her bottom to become more comfortable. Her dark eyes smiled warmly into the attractive redhead's. "He and I haven't known each other long, but he's a good friend. I hope we can be too, Rosie."

"You and Daniel…" Rosie began, her eyes flickering across the attractive figure. She wondered how to take this forward, then decided to just blurt it out. She had to know. "That's it, then. You're just friends?"

Holly's only immediate change of expression was the raised eyebrow. Then the corners of her full lips turned up, as if in sympathy. "Why do you doubt it, Rosie? Daniel's told you that, hasn't he?"

"Because of the newspaper article," the redhead answered, her voice sharp and tense. Her green eyes covered every expression on the blonde's face—if there were something there, she'd find it. 

"It was made up," Holly answered, sweeping her hair over her shoulder.

"And that reporter who's just spoken to me," Rosie added. "He told me he has evidence that the two of you are lovers. What I need to know is why Daniel would keep that from me?"

There was something in the blonde's eyes. You needed to look closely. Only a woman could tell. Only a woman in love could tell. Was this why everything hurt so much—because she'd fallen in love with the Englishman? 

"Rosie—" Holly began.

There! It was there! Something in those eyes. A flicker. Hidden as quickly as it appeared, but there all the same.

"Holly, I know," she lied, hoping to provoke an answer. "If you want us to be friends, then please be truthful with me. No more lies. If Daniel cares so much for me, why does he want to hide things?"

The blonde slipped down from the counter. Her brown eyes smiled at the redhead, sending out signals of empathy, of warmth. Rosie needed the truth. She owed her that. Besides, once she was aware of the nature of her and Daniel's 'one-off,' Rosie would understand. That would allow the two of them to get on with their relationship.

"That's why, you silly girl," she said, reaching out to hold Rosie's shoulders as she spoke. The look of concern on her face showed how much she wanted to make this right. "Because he does care for you so much! He doesn't want anything to get in the way of that. Daniel and I have been together once only, Rosie. Before he became involved with you. He needed some comfort after Grace and—"

The redhead took a step back, then another. It was true, after all! Didn't anyone understand? It wasn't the fact that Daniel had fucked Holly. For God's sake, she'd been with enough men. That wasn't the point! He'd hid it from her, even when she'd asked him outright. And however well meaning Holly was, she'd just confirmed that. 

"He lied," she said, her eyes instantly filling with tears. "He lied—"

Turning on her heels, she ran towards the door.

"Rosie—" Holly shouted. It was too late. 

***

"Penny for them?" Carly asked, leaning in the doorframe. 

The gangster looked up. She'd caught him lost in thought, thinking of Samuel Smith and ways to get even. He hadn't even heard her approach his office. Instantly, he realised why he'd ordered her there. 

One hand on her hip, head tantalisingly cocked to one side, she was sex on legs. His eyes swept down to the black, skin-tight jeans that hung low on her slender hips. Then up to the white tee shirt. Her braless breasts pushed against the material, her dark areola and hard nipples visible against the thin cotton.

"Thinking about that bastard, Smith," he told her. "He called me earlier. Had the nerve to offer to buy me out. Can you believe that?"

"Yeah," she said. Samuel had the nerve for anything.

"What?"

"He… he has the nerve for anything," she said, recovering her slip, "From what you've told me. Tell you what, Eddie… once I've delivered Rosie back to you, why don't you and I think of ways we can get even with him?"

"You've found her?" he asked, sitting forward and planting with elbows on his desk. The way he rung his hands together was as if he was anticipating a delicious meal that had just been placed in front of him.

"Seeing her later," Carly grinned. She liked the redhead. But like everyone else in her life, she was purely a means to helping Carly get what she wanted. Another stepping-stone. Rosie was walking right into her trap. She just had to dig the knife in about her boyfriend. She'd think of something when she had her under her control. That would start when she had her working back at the club. At tonight's party. Even better, it had been some time since she'd enjoyed a woman's body. Rosie's was perfect. 

"But listen, Eddie," she told him. Her voice was firm but that was okay. He listened to her now. "No losing your temper with her. We break her in gently, make her feel wanted. I'll position tonight's party with her before we get here. That'll be her first step to paying you back."

"Fucking bitch, running out on me," he growled.

Carly ignored the threatening tone. "Listen, Eddie. I'm giving you the chance of getting your money back. You growl at her and she'll run again."

The gangster paused. This woman always talked sense. She always looked fucking hot, too. "Okay, okay. I hear ya…" 

Smiling, Carly waltzed into the room, circling the desk and allowing his eyes to feast. They homed in on her breasts, pushing so provocatively against that thin top. Swinging her body around, his gaze dropped to the dimples of her lower back, to the tattoo of the snake appearing above her jeans. 

Head grinning at him over her shoulder, she swung from one foot to the other, her taut buttocks dancing before his eyes. The poor bastard couldn't tear his gaze away. She had him…




The Strip Ch. 10



"I understand you need some inspiration?" she asked, swinging back to face him. With a provocative smile, she yanked the tee shirt over her head. Her pear shaped breasts danced sublimely before settling. 

He licked his lips. She smiled. Sex was on his mind. Hers, too. Her hands rose to cup her breasts. "Want them?" she asked, rolling her eyes as he adjusted his position in the large chair and began to unzip his trousers. 

"You have no idea," he growled, fishing his lengthening cock from his pants. "Shut that door and come here, baby."

Carly walked to the door, and then hesitated. "Let's leave the door open," she told him, turning back as she unzipped and somehow dragged off her tight jeans. Big Eddie's eyes widened when he saw she wasn't wearing underwear. "I love danger, don't you?"

If anyone came up the stairs to his office, they'd see the two of them. That made the whole experience hotter for the spiky haired seductress. She didn't give him time to object. In four short strides, she'd crossed the office and slid to her knees. Since receiving Eddie's phone call, her body had been moist. She loved that. The anticipation of sex. She adored being in control, manipulating the next sucker to her will. 

It kept her almost constantly horny. 

"Oh yes, like that," he groaned, burying his hand in her spiky hair as her mouth slithered downwards and sheathed her target.

She took it slowly at first, licking along both sides of his hard length. Pausing for a second, she glanced upwards, the string of saliva between her lips and his cock slowly thinning until it dropped away. "What made you ring me, baby," she asked, her dark eyes teasingly staring into his. "You needed your Carly fix?"

"Too fucking right," he agreed, his words a throaty growl that reverberated around the room. This was the start of moving forward. The slut between his legs was right—she could help him get one over on that bastard Smith. He'd soon be on top of things again. "You and I are gonna go places, girl. Play your cards right and Eddie will take care of you."

"Mmmm," she murmured, deep throating him before pulling away. "I like that. You're gonna be top dog, baby? Carly likes top dogs."

He gasped when she took him deep in her throat again, throwing his head backwards as he fought of an imminent orgasm. Damn, she was good.

She helped his struggle by pulling away. She didn't want him cumming too soon. She needed satisfaction, too. "Gonna get rid of the opposition, baby?" she asked, swinging around and leaning forward over his desk. She wriggled her ass, telling him that her derrière was all his if he wanted.

"Too fucking right," he told her, his words a growl as he stood up and traced the snake tattoo downwards with his fingertips. When he reached her the snake's tongue that disappeared between her cheeks, he jammed his thumb inside her ass. "This is what I'll do to that bastard Samuel Smith," he grunted. "I'll fuck him over. The bastard better be prepared for what's coming to him."

He was knuckle deep, and expected her to flinch. Instead, the sexy little bitch snarled her delight, rotating her ass on his thumb and growling her approval. "Oh yes, baby," she snarled. "Want Carly's ass, Eddie? It's all yours! Tell me what you're gonna do to him, Eddie. Tell me while you fuck your little slut."

His thumb withdrew, replaced almost instantly by the tip of his cock "Uhn!" she moaned as he pushed himself an inch or two inside. She tightened her fingers around the edge of the desk. "Yesss… so fucking good!"

She drew a half breath before he pushed again, and again. He was halfway inside, then three quarter's of the way. "This is how I'm gonna fuck that bastard Smith," he snarled as he slid back and then lunged into her again, harder than the first. 

"Oh, yeah, Eddie," she huffed, as his driving hips picked up speed. The desk creaked in protest. "What… are… you gonna do… baby?"

"I'll work it out," he growled, his eyes narrowing as the tightness of her ass closed around his manhood. "Geez…!"

"God, yes," she moaned, resting her head as far forward on the desk as she could. She lifted up on the balls of her feet, pushing her ass up higher as he fucked her. "Yes, Eddie, fuck your bitch!"

"Too fucking right," he snarled again, feeling his balls begin to tighten. "No one fucks with Big Eddie. When it's time, I won't need to worry about that bastard anymore! He'll be gone…" 

He pushed down on the small of her back, shoving her flat on the desk as he went for broke.

Carly began to growl. "Ohgodohfuckohgod!" she cried, struggling to catch her breath. How long was it since she'd been assfucked? She'd forgotten what she'd been missing…

"Like that baby," he growled, driving into her. His eyes closed, attempting to delay the exquisite moment of release for as long as he could. His release was teetering on the edge of a knife. "Oh Goddd!"

"Oh Goddd!" she repeated, somehow manoeuvring a hand down between her thighs to allow her fingers to strum across her clit.

She came at precisely the moment his cock went off in her buttery cavity. His world was bathed in a red haze—hers in a series of psychedelic colours. Her body jolted in great, exaggerated ripples with the force of her climax. Each hot spurt of cum that invaded her ass brought another low howl. 

Eventually, he pulled himself free with a fleshy pop. "For fuck's sake, Carly," he grunted, his pumping heart working overtime. "You're something else. Keep this up and you'll be the death of me!"

She slowly swung around and pulled him into a long kiss. Then her hands were playfully tugging on his goatee as she smiled deeply into his eyes. "You'd better believe it, Eddie!"

***

The fifty players remaining at the start of day four were all dreaming of Main Event glory. All except for one. Daniel was still reeling. Holly had related her conversation in the washroom. That explained why Rosie had walked over to him, handed him the watch he'd just bought, and left. 

You lied, she'd said. 

Since then, she hadn't answered a single one of his calls.

He'd been shocked and instead of stopping her, had watched his girlfriend leave. After twenty minutes of brooding, he'd left the Rio and travelled to Midnight Hot. He'd miss the start of day four, but so what? 

She hadn't been there, of course. Not that he'd expected her to be. The barman said they hadn't seen her since she'd walked out. He knew that anyway. But he had nowhere else to search. Yes, she had an apartment, but he had no idea where that was. Carly was her friend, but he didn't have her number. He was lost… 

Right now, all he wanted was an opportunity to explain everything. To make things right again. Why the hell hadn't he just told her about having sex with Holly? Explain the circumstances. She would have understood. It wasn't the sex that was a problem. It was the lie she couldn't accept.

Returning to the Rio, he was an hour late for the start of play. A few blinds had gone. And now he was trapped in a room with fifty other competitors, playing in the most important poker event in the world. He couldn't have cared less. His mobile phone was at his side—if only it would ring!

Holly headed over to him. "Any luck?" she asked, though his glum face told her the answer. "I'm so sorry," she added. "This is my fault."

Daniel sadly shook his head. His eyes were firm as he looked into hers. "No, Holly, it isn't. It's my fault. All I had to do was to explain things and I didn't. I still don't know why, but I didn't. The fault's all mine."

"What next?"

The crinkly haired Englishman shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know where else to look, Holly. I've just got to wait until she contacts me again."

"She will," Holly told him, though she was far from sure. Her hand softly rubbed Daniel's arm. "Listen, you've got a poker tournament to play. And it will take your mind off things. Just focus on what you have to do. The phone will ring when it rings. Don't throw this away…"

He nodded, but his deep sigh indicated otherwise. Running a hand through his hair, he glanced around, listened to the noise. Despite Holly's wise words, he just didn't want to be there.

"Look at your table," she urged. "Three pros."

His eyes wandered across to them—the delightful duo of Gavin Smith and Humberto Brenes, and the brash and dislikeable Josh Arieh. It was being called the year of the professional. There were considerably more pros in contention at this stage than there'd ever been since the Chris Moneymaker revolution. "So…?" he asked.

"So, they'll eat you up if you don't snap out of it. Look Daniel, if you fuck up and Rosie calls you later, you'll feel like a complete idiot. Push this to the back of your mind. Get on your game. Fuck, you don't want one of the last girls in contention to beat you, do you? I'm here to win this thing. So are you!" She dropped her sunglasses back over her eyes. "Okay, I'm heading back to my table to kick ass. Let's see you kick some, too…"

***

"Hey, girl," Grace greeted her sister, kicking the door to their suite closed behind her. "How's it going?"

Lauren's wide beam answered for her. The blonde was tucking into the soup and sandwiches she'd ordered from room service. "Goin' great," she murmured, jumping up from her seat beside the window and giving her sister a warm hug. "Here, I got some wine, too," she said, pouring and handing her sister a glass.

"Shit," Grace groaned, looking around the room. "I see you haven't done any tidying up. What the hell did you and Rach get up to last night?"

Lauren let out a delightful gurgle. "If you think this is a mess," she told her sister with a mischievous smile. "Wait until you see the bedroom!"

"Mmmm," Grace grinned, flopping down on the couch and taking a long gulp of her drink. "I so needed that," she said, holding out her glass for a refill. "So—a successful night, little sister? Spit it out…" 

Lauren's eyes betrayed her child-like excitement. "I can't explain, Grace," she said, topping up her sister's glass. "I'm no innocent, but I did things since coming to Vegas that I've never previously done."

Her older sister laughed. "You're certainly no innocent, Lauren."

"True," Lauren chuckled. "But I've really pushed the boundaries, Grace. And the thing is, I want more. More experiences!"

Grace nodded, waving her glass in the air. She flopped back so that her feet could reach across to the top of the ottoman. "So…" she said, enjoying the wine. "This Rachal was everything you expected? Why didn't you keep her here for me to test drive? I cudda joined in! That's selfish, sis—"

Lauren felt a shudder pass through her. Rachal and Grace—now that would be an interesting threesome. There'd always been something about her sister's body—

Shaking her head to throw away the thought, she brought the bottle across and topped up both glasses. When she sat beside Grace, her sister saw that there was something else.

"What?"

Lauren pulled a mischievous face. "It wasn't just me and Rach…"

"What?" Grace repeated, almost spitting out the drink she'd just taken. "She brought a friend? Who? Don't tell me it was Kay? That woman is seriously sexy!"

"Not a woman," Lauren quickly explained, raising her eyebrows and wiggling them suggestively. "Her boyfriend."

"The other model?"

"Um-hum!" The smile on the blonde's face couldn't get any bigger. She looked like a kid who'd been given every Christmas present she could possibly have wished for.

"And… they stayed the night?" Grace asked, a sparkle in her almond coloured eyes. When Lauren winked, she threw her head back and guffawed. "Hell, girl, you got one up on me."

"It was incredible," Lauren enthused, standing up and twirling in an exuberant circle of joy before flopping back down again. "I have to tell you all about it. But how was Lisa?"

"How was Lisa?" her elder sister bellowed. "That woman has more tricks up her sleeve than a Kama Sutra instructress!"

Lauren threw her arms around her sister's neck and the two women collapsed in laughter. "I want to hear more," she said into Grace's neck, tears running down her cheek. "Kama Sutra instructress—I've found my true vocation. That's what I want to be!"

"Don't worry," Grace stuttered, her thumbs wiping away Lauren's tears of laughter, before she attended to her own. "I'll give you all the details. But let me have a pee first, sis. I'm desperate."

"You seeing Lisa again tonight?" Lauren asked as she unravelled herself.

"Yeah," Grace answered, heading towards the bathroom. "Why?" she asked with a sultry smile. "Does my little sister wanna join us?"

Do I ever, Lauren thought. Yes, please! answered. "It's not that," she settled for saying, "Kay's holding a party tonight. In celebration of the shoot. She wants you to come, too. From what Rach told me last night, it should be wild…"

Grace paused at the bathroom door. "Wild? And a chance to meet this Rach! I tell you what, little sis. I'll give Lisa a call. How about both of us coming along with you?"

Lauren's blue eyes sparkled their delight. "Really? That would be fantastic, Grace. Hey," she added with a wicked smile. "Maybe you and I could swap Rach and Lisa for a while? Try them out? What d'you think?"

"I think you're turning into a sex fiend," Grace grinned, hurrying into the bathroom. "But you know what, little sister?" her laughing voice shouted through the open door. "A foursome might be fun…"

***

The amateur from Ohio had controlled the early action. His chip stack was so superior to the others that even the three pros were staying out of his way. His strategy was to play just about every hand from the start, making big raises irrespective of the cards he was being dealt. It was powerful big-stack poker—stealing blinds, punishing raises. For a while it seemed that the table was unable or unwilling to prevent his march to glory.

Had Daniel been given any sort of hand, he would have pushed in against the golden haired man. Double up or get out. Despite Holly's supportive words, he had no intention of grinding through a long day. Besides, as soon as Rosie called, he was outta there. 

But the cards hadn't come. Without them, he had no opportunity to be aggressive, not unless he had a suicide wish. These guys were just too good.

Approaching the first break, pocket Queens gave him the opportunity he'd been craving. With the chip leader to his left, he simply called, waiting for the inevitable raise. It was five times the big blind. Perfect. Daniel pushed all in when the play got back to him. 

The man from Ohio grinned. "Trapping, huh?" he gently said. "Okay, I'm here to play. I call."

When he flipped over Jack-five, laughter ran around the table. "Man, I wish you'd play like that against me," Josh Arieh aggressively sighed. "You wouldn't last five minutes, man."

The flop was okay, but with Three-Five-Eight showing, it gave the chip leader some outs. 

When the Jack hit the turn, the whooooshing noise that began at the table ran around the entire playing area. All the other players cared about was that another competitor was about to be knocked out. The bad-beat nature of Daniel's demise was irrelevant. 

"Man, I'm on a roll," Willson barked, shaking his head.

Daniel sighed. As much as he'd begun with a feeling of not caring, to go out in this way was still hard to take. He'd have been better sticking everything in with whatever he'd had in the first hand of the day. At least he'd have saved himself a few hours irritation.

Standing up in time-honoured tradition, his chair squeaked on the floor as the back of his legs pushed it away. Then Holly was by his side, crossing her hands under her chin as if in prayer. "Pair the board," she repeated over and over under her breath, "Pair the board…" 

The eight of spades on the river sent another sound flying around the room. This one was a gasp of disbelief. She'd got her wish.

Doubling up took Daniel from the bottom half of the field into the middle. Another double up would actually put him in contention! Maybe his good fortune would transfer to the phone? With a grateful grin to Holly, he picked up his mobile and moved away from the table. Rosie didn't answer. How many times was that? 

With King-Jack of diamonds in the next hand, his aggressive raise was as much a result of his inability to contact his girlfriend as anything to do with his hand. Or was that his ex-girlfriend? Giving him back the watch seemed so final…

Willson called. "We meet again," the man from Ohio smiled.

The flop of Seven-Eight-Nine was no help at all. Not even a single diamond. 

Adrenalin flowing, Daniel bet the pot. That would be enough to force the chip leader into folding—unless he had something. If so, Daniel would be in danger of returning the chips he'd won to the confident, golden haired man.

Unfortunately, Willson wasn't going anywhere. He made the call with all the confidence he'd shown since the start of play. Damn.

The turn was a six. Straight draw.

It was unlikely Willson had the five or ten, but with his loose play, the Englishman couldn't be certain. More likely he had a pocket pair, or Big Slick or Ace-Queen. 

Daniel thought long and hard. Maybe he should make another small bet, to find out where he was? The problem was the size of Willson's chip stack. He'd be bound to at least call another small bet, no matter what he had. And then he'd be pot committed on the river.

The Englishman only had two options. The first was to check. He chose the second and pushed all in. Stupid. Foolhardy. But he did it all the same. 

"What the hell," he heard Willson say. Daniel looked up to meet his opponent's stare. The man from Ohio slowly counted out the chips needed for the call and made a move to push them into the middle. Damn, damn, damn! He had his straight!

But the move was a feint. Designed to produce a reaction. In normal circumstances, he might have got one. But Daniel felt so blasé about whether he stayed or went—he was motionless. 

Not getting the reaction he wanted, Willson sat back. He placed his hands on the back of his neck and continued to stare at the Englishman. Daniel's gaze held steady. Eventually, Wilson checked his hole cards again and casually tossed them into the middle, displaying pocket threes. 

"I guess you hit the straight," he smiled.

Daniel turned over his King-Jack. The gasp around the table felt comforting. Two double ups in succession. Maybe he actually did have a chance of winning this damn thing? 

Okay, start again. Park Rosie to the back of your mind like Holly suggested. For the time being. And play some poker…

***

"Geez, you look bad," the spiky haired brunette said, pushing up out of her chair to embrace the redhead. "Here, sit down, honey." 

Rosie accepted the seat. She'd cried so much on the way to their meeting, she'd had to find a washroom to compose herself and freshen up. Then she'd been caught in the middle of that damn rain. 

"I got you a cappuccino," the spiky haired woman told her, watching Rosie shake. "But you look like you could do with something stronger. Eddie's really got you scared, hasn't he, honey?" 

"It's not that," Rosie said, then corrected herself. "Not just that, Carly. It's Daniel…"

Every nerve in Carly's body tingled. This sounded great news. If the couple had quarrelled, Rosie was falling into her arms. Not to mention her bed. "What's happened?" she breathlessly asked.

"We're finished, Carly…"

The spiky haired woman watched carefully as Rosie fought back the tears. Bingo! She was instantly on her feet, her hands pulling Rosie up with her. "Look at you," she sympathetically said. "Wet and miserable. Come on, we're leaving."




The Strip Ch. 11



This is a rewrite of 'Vegas', combining both Books. While maintaining the theme, it offers a completely different and fresh take for the main characters.

Grateful thanks go to the best editor in the world -- thesoundandfury - not only for his editing, but also for the constant encouragement, suggestions, and for helping me to become a better writer.

Chapter 11: The Party.

Sending a limo for Grace and Lauren made the sisters feel special. They nudged one another as it pulled down the Agency Head's palm-tree lined road. It was less than a week since they'd landed in Vegas and they'd made the big time! 

The bright lights lining each side added a surreal quality to the evening. Evening? It was half past one in the morning. This was what stars did. Grace had made it. And Lauren was on her way there! The excitement of what lay ahead ran through them as if someone had just switched on an electric current.

The sound of Lisa Welles blared out from a state-of-the-art stereo system as Kay ushered them inside. The spacious room wasn't too large, but was ideal in accommodating the partygoers already there. Kay had clearly identified numbers perfectly and the party was already in full swing. 

"Ladies!" she smiled, planting a soft kiss on both of their lips. It was more than a peck. Grace shivered. She'd found the Agency Head extremely sexy since their first meeting. That seemed a lifetime ago. An instant wave of arousal flowed through her—if this was what the evening had in store, bring it on.

"Where's Lisa?" Kay asked, glancing behind them before closing the heavy door.

"Caught up in a transatlantic phone call," Grace smiled, pushing a hand through her hair. "A gig at Wembley Stadium, I think. She said she'd meet us here."

"Ah," Kay nodded, waving a hand in front of her as she swung around to look across the room. "Just think, Grace," referring to the music. "Next party, and it could well be your voice we'll be hearing."

The singer's eyes clouded over as her future flashed before her. Could all this have really happened so quickly?

"And look at you both," Kay continued, taking a step backwards as her eyes swept across their dresses. "So sexy. Give me a twirl."

Grace went first, gracefully executing a three-sixty. Her wonderfully short, cream, halter dress bounced and fluttered around her thighs—displaying her shapely, tanned legs to perfection. She watched Kay's eyes filter down to her breasts. The neckline plunged much deeper than she'd ever have dared wear before. But then—why not? She was Grace Lane—Superstar, after all!

Lauren quickly followed. The slinky red number was a completely different style to Grace's, yet managed the impossible by displaying even more flesh while remaining classy and refined. She just loved it!

"Beautiful," the Agency Head purred. Her piercing eyes sparkled at them as Lauren completed her twirl. "Just beautiful, both of you."

"Newly purchased today," Lauren confessed with a nervous laugh. "Especially for the occasion." A month ago, the sisters would have been shocked at the price tag on their outfits. Now, money didn't matter. "Formal wear tonight is such a wonderful idea," she added.

"Mmm," Kay smiled, enjoying the compliment. "I wanted a chic, sophisticated theme for the night. Beautiful people. Beautiful clothes."

"Well, you seem to have that," Lauren agreed, glancing around the impressive room. Not that it was the dresses and tuxedoes that were at the forefront of her thoughts. If Rach's description of what was in store was only half correct, the evening would degenerate into decadence pretty quickly. The sister's had talked of nothing else for the last two hours. They could hardly contain themselves. 

"Talking of chic, that dress is stunning," Grace told Kay, making a point of avoiding a potentially damaging faux paus. But it wasn't simply etiquette that drove her comments. Although the black number adequately covered her cleavage, it looked like it might have been moulded to her full breasts. The dangly diamond earrings complimented it perfectly. 

"Thank you," Kay beamed, throwing back her head as she laughed. "I do try…"

"You always look perfect," Lauren smiled, meaning every word. "We're so looking forward to the party. Rach has said it's going to be great fun!"

"Oh, you have no idea," Kay laughed, turning towards the guests who were already enjoying themselves. She reached for a candy platter covered in blue and pink pills. "Pink for the ladies," she said, holding it out to them.

Lauren eyed it a little warily, asking, "What is it?"

"Oh, just something to get the party started right," Kay winked. "You like designer things, don't you, my dear?" The way she said it implied that anyone who didn't probably shouldn't be at this party.

"Sounds fun to me," she whispered, popping one of the pills into her mouth. Grace followed.

Kay set it back down and smiled. "Now, I suggest you grab a drink, find a room, enjoy some snow and identify your targets for the evening…"

"Targets?" Lauren instantly asked. She coloured as Kay's meaning dawned on her. "Oh…yes…"

The Agency Head laughed louder. "The entertainment hasn't arrived yet. The real fun won't start until then. After that… well, darlings… fill your boots, as I believe the English say…"

***

Rachal loved the formal dress theme. It gave her the opportunity to wear the tiny purple dress that so brought out the mocha colour of her skin. The indecent neckline left nothing to the imagination, and there wasn't a man in the room who'd failed to notice the way her erect nipples pointed proudly upwards through the material. As for the way her lacy thigh highs bounced into view with each step, she was every man's wet dream. 

She looked hot… and she felt hot…

Jimmy looked good, too, in his tux. She loved the look of a man dressed so formally. She might make him keep it on when she fucked him later. But that wouldn't be until they returned home. Until then, she'd review what was on offer at the party. She'd heard Terrelle was attending. Now that would be interesting!

Glancing around, she watched two couples taking turns doing lines of cocaine off one of the coffee tables. From the way the dyed blonde women's hand was stroking her man's cock through his pants, it wasn't their first hit. The second couple were gyrating against one another as they snorted, moving in time to Lisa Welles gravely tone. They let out howls of laughter as they moved away towards a waitress. Champagne would compliment the cocaine.

"The fun's already started," Jimmy grinned at his girlfriend. His reference wasn't just aimed at the foursome as they lurched away. All around them, the flowing drink and readily available coke was having its effect.

Rach wasn't listening. Her attention was diverted. "Wait here, I want some of that," she told him, looking across at a gorgeous Asian waitress who supplying the two couples with more bubbly. 

The servers' French maids outfits were a stroke of genius. Not only did they look sexy, they provided a wonderful contrast to the formal wear of the guests. And while the primary role of the waitresses was clear, Kay had hired them to serve their guests with much more than champagne when requested.

With a grin, the exotic looking woman made her way over to the waitress and whispered in her ear. The Asian beauty smiled in response, then waited patiently as Rachal snorted a line. The lacy tops of the model's thigh highs were provocatively on show as she bent forward and the narrow Oriental eyes took in every tantalising detail.

Tossing her long black hair back with one hand, Rachal pinched her nose with the other as the powerful narcotic washed through her body. Her shudder was in part due to the drug, and also the olive-hued Asian's soft tongue. It licked along the model's slender neck, in tandem with each caress of her tiny hands that had found the tanned flesh between the top of her thigh high's and thong. 

Standing straight, Rachal pulled the waitress into a long kiss, her succulent mouth homing in on the Oriental woman's tongue as if she was sucking on her cock. The Asian woman was taken by surprise, her hands momentarily stilling their movements as the mocha-skinned beauty gave a sexy blowjob to her tongue.

Jimmy had seen it before. The incredibly sexy act often led to an inevitable outcome. From the way the waitress's hands had left Rachal's body and fluttered by her side, like butterfly wings, the technique was having the same effect.

Rachal's hands began to stroke the olive-hued Asian's pussy through her tight, black dress. Saliva ran down their chins as she increased the pace of her sucking. Then the Oriental's body began to crumble. The exotic model gave a final suck with her mouth, one last stroke with her hand. She held the beautiful waitress's trembling body upright while the orgasm burst inside the woman, then gave a final kiss. 

"Two more glasses of champagne, please," she husked over her shoulder as she sexily sauntered back to where Jimmy stood applauding.

*** 

Walking into the busy living area, Rosie decided to put all negative thoughts out of her mind. Carly had spent the whole ride over assuring her that everything was cool, and that she was back in Big Eddie's good books. The redhead listened to everything the short-haired woman told her, yet she desperately missed Daniel. Had she been too hasty? 

It didn't matter—it was too late now. 

Besides, she couldn't let Carly down. Her friend had gone out on a limb for her and she'd be the one to suffer if Rosie pulled out. No, it was better to forget the Englishman. Concentrate on what she had to do.

She was still on a sexual high from her lovemaking session with the spiky haired woman. They'd made out throughout the taxi journey to the venue, Carly's fingers touching her like no other woman had before. She was different to anything Rosie'd ever experienced—and she wanted more. She'd eagerly agreed when her new lover had suggested she stay over at hers tonight.

Before then, they had a job to do. With her body already on fire, she had to confess she was actually tingling at the thought. Despite the outcome of her one and only previous private party, the thrill of dancing in front of the cheering group had stayed with her. Another similar experience, with the sexy Carly beside her, was arousing her much more than she was willing to admit.

Carly had promised not to leave her side afterwards. If there was any fucking to be done, she said she'd lead the way. Rosie only needed to get involved where she was comfortable. Even the mental pictures Carly' words created turned the redhead on. She'd never dreamed she'd have a threesome with another woman before.

"Well, darlings," the smiling woman said to them as she ushered them into her home. "Don't you look good? Big Eddie said I wouldn't be disappointed and he was right! I'm Kay, by the way..."

"Hi, Kay," the spiky haired woman replied, still provocatively chewing on the gum Rosie had suggested she lose before reaching the door. "We aim to please. I'm Carly. This is Rosie."

"Nice outfits," the Agency Head smiled, her eyes wandering across both the women's bodies. 

"Thanks," Carly said with a grin, dropping her small pink shoulder bag to the floor. She'd persuaded Eddie to buy the two dresses for them when he said it was formal wear. The tiny gold number clung to her perfectly and Rosie looked like sex on legs in her scandalously short green item. "Eddie said it's a posh do so we thought we'd dance in them. They won't be on long anyway," she added with a laugh.

Kay smiled. "I like that thought, Carly," she said, leaving the women to wonder whether it was their intention to dance in the dresses that appealed, or the fact they'd be quickly removing them. She clarified, "It fits in with the formal theme. Very thoughtful." One hand pushed back a loose strand of hair as she continued. "Do you understand what's required? First you dance. Then put on a show. After that, you're available to anyone who wants you. Yes?"

"No problem," Carly smiled. "Looking forward to it."

Kay nodded, then swung her gaze to the redhead. "Cat got your tongue?"

"No…" Rosie hesitantly said, wondering what the sophisticated looking woman meant by 'putting on a show'. "I'm… I'm fine."

Kay frowned. She hadn't paid out good money to be disappointed and didn't need Eddie trying to palm her off with a nervous newcomer.

Carly took control. "Don't worry," she beamed at their inquisitor. "Rosie's always bashful before a performance. I can assure you that you'll be very satisfied with what we have to offer, Kay."

The Agency Head nodded, reluctantly accepting the reassurance. I'd better be, was the message shooting from her piercing eyes. "You have music?" she asked.

"Sure," Carly said, reaching into the pink shoulder bag and handing Kay a CD. 

"Good," the brunette smiled. "Find somewhere to put your bag and then use that room to do whatever you need to do to prepare." She nodded at a door to their left. "After that, get back out here and mingle. People will think you're guests. When you hear the music, I expect you to immediately start your performance. Just don't disappoint me." 

Carly took a step closer to their host. Standing on her tiptoes, she leant forward as if to whisper something into their host's ear. When Kay turned her head to the side to listen, the spiky haired woman's hand pulled her face to hers and gently brushed her lips across the Agency Head's. "Believe me," she breathed against the older woman's lips, holding Kay's gaze. There was no mistaking the promise in her sparkling eyes. "I'm very good, Kay! Once you've experienced Carly, you'll want more…"

***

Terrelle grabbed Kay's arm as she left the two women. "It's one of them you want me to fuck?" he asked. 

The brunette softly shook her head, grabbing a flute of champagne from a passing waitress. She pointed across to Lauren. "You remember the blonde you fucked at the audition?" she asked.

A slow grin spread across Terrelle's ebony skinned features. "Yeah. Lauren. That babe is hot."

Kay gave a lascivious grin. She certainly was. "The woman next to her," she told him, "is her sister. Grace. She's yours for the evening. Just wait 'til I give the word, that's all."

The muscular man nodded as his eyes homed in on the singing star. "She looks hot, too," he mumbled.

Kay let out a soft laugh as she clinked her flute of champagne against his. "You need more bubbly," she playfully told him. "All the women here are hot, darling. Even the waitresses."

"You look good, too, Kay," he grunted, half turning towards her.

She felt his eyes run down her body as he spoke. Maybe she had time to sample the goods before she let him loose? He did look especially sexy in that white tuxedo. She hadn't anticipated that. Normally, he wouldn't have been on any sort of list she prepared, but tonight she had a specific task for the porn star. She needed Grace on film. The lewder the better. See what that would do for her career! Then Lauren would have no reason to turn down her movies.

The Agency Head smiled up into his black eyes. Never fuck the hired help. "Do what you're told and I might give you a treat," she lied. "But I need you to do Grace, and do her good. My bedroom, when I say. Understand, Terrelle?"

The ebony skinned man smiled. "If she's anything like her sister, it'll be my pleasure. Then I'm free to look around?" he added.

Kay reached up and gave him a soft kiss on his cheek. "Do Grace good and proper first," she whispered, "then you can have anyone else you wish…"

Smiling like a child in a toyshop, he nodded and turned away to survey the room. His drink spilt onto the floor as he accidentally bumped into Rachal and her boyfriend.

"Hey, Terrelle," the exotic looking model smiled, her eyes glancing down to the champagne on the carpet, then slowly sweeping up the pornstar's body. "My, don't you look smart. I just love a sexy man in a tux!"

The ebony skinned man felt his cock lurch. She'd been a perfect match for him the last time they'd fucked. Their dark skin glistening in a sheen of perspiration as they rutted into one another. He'd been looking for another opportunity ever since. "You look good too, babe," he grunted.

"Well thank you," Rachal told him with that smile of hers that always promised so much. "Here, let me thank you for the compliment." 

Her arms slid around his neck as she closed in for the kiss. Those wonderful tits pressed into him as her mouth found his and, somehow, her hand had slithered down his groin to squeeze the outline of his cock.

He gasped at her brazenness in front of Jimmy, but her boyfriend seemed unperturbed. If anything, an amused expression covered his face.

"Mmmm, baby," Rachal murmured. "Now that's what I call potential. Make sure you come and find me later."

***

Rosie linked Carly's arm as they headed through the door Kay had indicated. "What was that all about?" the redhead asked, a look of shock on her pretty face. "Coming onto her like that? You could have had us thrown out. What would Big Eddie say to that? I've a big debt to repay!"

Carly flicked on the light. It was more or less a cloakroom they were in, though big enough to contain the small white couch and matching chair as well as a few coats on the hooks along one wall. "Nice," the brunette softly said, eyeing the coke on the small, circular drop leaf table beside the couch.

"Carly," Rosie said stiffly. She felt so out of her league. She clung to her friends arm like she would a life preserver in open water. She'd heard exactly what Kay had said. You'll perform, and after that, you'll be available to anyone who wants you. But then, how was this any different than what she'd already been doing? She was a whore; maybe it was all she was cut out to do.

"I mean… how do you know she's into women?" It was silly, but she stubbornly clung to that one protest, as though if she were to focus all her energy on Carly's inappropriate behaviour, she wouldn't have to think about the rest of the night.  

The spiky haired woman swung around, a wicked smile lighting up her face. Her hand snaked around the redhead's neck and pulled Rosie into a long, passionate kiss. Daniel's ex-girlfriend was taken by surprise—but instantly responded. She slid her tongue into her lover's mouth, feeling the need overwhelm her.

"You see," Carly said, pulling back and dragging Rosie deeper into the room. Tossing her bag onto the sofa, she took the redhead's soft face between her hands. "There's no need to be jealous, honey. I'm here for you whenever you need me. But it does no harm to keep in with the host. You never know when we might need her. And by the way, she's into women! The eyes always give it away."

"You can tell?" a breathless Rosie asked, her naïve green eyes widening.

"I can tell," Carly laughed. The innocence in Rosie's sparkling green eyes was definitely a turn on. Now to really get this night started. "Rosie, honey, would you be a doll and loan me a hundred dollar bill?"

"Wh… why?" the other girl hesitated. Her hands shook as she went into her clutch purse and peeled off part of the cash advance Big Eddie had given them. Her eyes kept flickering to the white powder on the table.

"Because coke tastes so much better with a Benjamin," the sassy brunette said sweetly, rolling the bill.

"Carly—" the redhead nervously began. She couldn't do this. A little weed was one thing. Cocaine was an entirely different game; one she didn't want to play. But the look in the spiky haired woman's eyes stopped her.




The Strip Ch. 11



Without another word, Carly leaned over the pedestal table, slipped the bill into her right nostril, and snorted one of the laid out lines. "Your turn," the brunette purred, holding the bill out to the redhead as she perched on the arm of the sofa. "Trust me, Rosie, you'll love it."

She wagged the pro-offered bill one more time, a little impatiently. Finally, the redhead took it, her heart pounding in her bosom like a steel drum. Carly held her long, wavy red hair out of her face as she bent over the table.

"Just like that," the spiky haired vixen encouraged, feeling her pussy flood at such wicked corruption. The short dress pulled past Rosie's taut buttocks as she bent over. Carly loved the girls legs: long and shapely. 

The room filled with Rosie's snort. The beauty tipped her head back and gulped hard, making a face at the medicinal taste that dripped down her throat. "That's nasty!" she complained, setting the bill carefully back on the table.

Carly pulled her down to her, kissing her deeply before guiding her to the couch. "Just wait," she smiled, swinging a leg across Rosie's lap and straddling the wide eyed girl. Slipping one strap of her gold dress from her shoulders and then the other, the clingy, gold material dropped between them to her waist. Rosie stared down at her friends inviting looking swells.

"While you let it kick in, feed on these," Carly sultrily continued, arching her back to feed a hard nipple into Rosie's mouth. 

The redhead felt her desire take control, pushing away all fear and reason. She greedily sucked it inside.

"That's it, honey," Carly told her, a triumphant smile on her lips. "And even if Kay wasn't into women, I like a challenge. I mean—you weren't until I came on the scene. And look at you now!"

Rosie groaned with arousal as she left a trail of saliva around the hard nipple.

"That's it," Carly said, stroking Rosie's silken locks as she moved the willing mouth to her left breast. "You do that so beautifully…"

***

"Well, well, well," Kay said, raising an eyebrow as she allowed Lisa Welles and Samuel Smith to enter the house. 

It was almost three in the morning, much later than she'd anticipated her final guests would arrive. She'd held back the two exotic strippers, waiting for the two of them to make their entrance, but with the amount of drink and drugs consumed, the rapidly deteriorating mood of the party meant she couldn't hold off much longer. Two couples had already had sex on the stairs…

"But I'm so pleased you're here," she added, relieved that her plans could now be put into action. "Though I didn't know you were arriving as a couple."

The thickset club owner smiled as he kissed his host on both cheeks. "Alas, no," he admitted, allowing the singer to ease past him into the room. "It's simply that we arrived at your door at the same time. Beautiful young women don't look twice at me nowadays, I'm afraid."

Kay let out a hearty laugh. "Now, Samuel… this is Kay you're talking to. You grow even sexier with age." Her head swung across to smile at the blonde. "Isn't that right, Lisa?"

"He's always been a sexy man," Lisa purred, putting a hand on Samuel's arm and planting a soft kiss on his cheek. "And always will be."

"Too kind, but I think you're out of my league now," he murmured, his eyes glinting at the young beauty. They both knew his words were just for show. Any angel was his whenever he wanted. "But hey," his deep voice added. "You're playing my favourite singer."

If it were possible for Lisa Welles to blush, she would have done so. Instead, a smile creased the corners of those luscious lips.

"I'd ask for a personal rendition later," Kay smoothly told them, "but I have a feeling we'll all be otherwise engaged."

Samuel laughed. It was a deep bellow. "Your parties are legendary, Kay," he complimented her. "And I have a feeling that this one could outdo all others."

"Really?" the beautiful host asked, raising a perfect eyebrow. "I take it you have your evening all planned out, Samuel?"

The thickset African American revealed his white teeth as he smiled. "I take it your room will be available?" he said. It was more of a statement than a question.

"For you, Samuel," she smiled. "Anything." Turning to Lisa, she ran her fingernail along the blonde's tanned forearm. "And you just have to ask for anything you want, darling," she grinned, waving at a passing waitress.

"And what do we have here?" Lisa asked as Kay handed her a pink pill.

"Something designer," the hostess explained, handing Samuel a blue one. "Think of it as Viagra on steroids, with a little speed mixed in."

"You're always filled with surprises," Samuel laughed with Lisa as they downed the pills with champagne.

"Now that you're both here," Kay said, "why don't you make yourselves comfortable. I think it's time to start the entertainment, don't you?"

***

Rosie was flying high and loving it. Everything felt good. The air was fresh. The company was hot. The music was pumping through her veins like the further hit of coke she'd just taken. 

She flipped her wavy, copper hair as she bumped and grinded against a black man in a white tux. The man had introduced himself as Terrelle, and was the last in a string of hunks she'd been flirting with since emerging from the cloakroom.

Whatever was in that pink pill, combined with the coke she'd taken, had driven all worries about Daniel from her mind. He'd cheated on her, she was on her own now. And she needed to take revenge by satisfying the urges in her body.

Carly hadn't allowed her to orgasm and it had set the redhead on edge, full of pent up arousal. She plastered her toned body against Terrelle's, feeling his muscles there, and thought about how good it would feel to drag this man back into the cloakroom and fuck him silly.

Her gaze found Carly across the room, jammed between a publishing magnate and his dollybird girlfriend. The man's hand was caressing her ass, while the woman was rubbing her sex on Carly's hip. The spiky haired woman raised a glass of champagne to Rosie when their eyes met, as though to say, "Here's to the life."

And this was 'the life,' Rosie thought. Terrelle began nuzzling her neck as his hand slipped over her ass. Beautiful people that knew how to have a good time.

"God, baby, you're so fucking sexy," he whispered in his ear, his voice a soothing baritone. "I love redheads," he continued, his hand slipping beneath the hem of her dress and easing around her hip. "Are you a natural redhead?"

Grabbing the back of Terrelle's neck, she pulled his lips down to his. They kissed aggressively as his fingers danced across her panty-clad pussy. "I am," she responded huskily, feeling her inner slut emerge. Her breath went shallow as his fingers pushed the thong to one side. God, she so needed to cum. "But you'll have to take my word for it," she finished as he ran his thumb across her bald mound.

"Fuck, that's hot," he whispered, his words lost in her mouth as they kissed again. Rosie went up onto her toes as he pushed two, thick fingers into her wetness. Yesss! She was close!

The music Carly had chosen for them to dance to blared over the speakers. Rosie pulled away from Terrelle with a groan; this wasn't fair! She found Carly across the room, meeting her gaze. Time to put on her show!

The lights dimmed, still bright enough for people to see, but dark enough to add an extra edge to the performance. That wasn't Kay's only reason, of course. It encouraged people to let their inhibitions go. The sexual tension created by the drink, drugs and exotic strippers was a proven formula. It always proved impossible to resist. Tonight should be no exception.

Rosie's eyes danced back to Carly's for a second. The part of the musical intro that cued their start was seconds away. She tweaked her nose, still buzzing from the last round of coke she'd shared with Terrelle. Carly's aroused gaze sent out its silent message. Follow my lead, stay loose, enjoy. And give it everything you've got!!

Rosie nodded, slowly swinging her hips in time with the beat of the music. Charlie, Daniel and Big Eddie seemed a lifetime ago. The redhead was so ready for this. No more thoughts of lost love, or crushing debt, bothered her. No more guilt; only pleasure was allowed at Kay's, and all that mattered was for her to show these beautiful people exactly what she was made of. 

When Carly wrapped her hands around the nearest guy, Rosie turned to do the same. Her green eyes alighted on the Asian waitress she'd seen flitting about. Stepping forward, she pulled the gorgeous woman into her arms. Their lips found one another and the woman returned her kisses with more fervour than the redhead expected. She loved the soft sensation of another female's touch—why had she denied herself for so long? 

It took some effort to pull herself away.

The redhead felt the overwhelming swell of arousal between her legs. Was it possible to cum without being touched? The heat that Carly had denied her from assuaging had become a molten furnace. You'll dance better with the need inside you, her spiky haired friend had whispered into her mouth.

They shimmied and twirled through the room, spiralling through the gathering opposite one another. Carly had insisted to work the crowd separately. When they want to join in, we'll start on one another.

Rosie's hips swayed to the hard beat as it filled the room. Arms stretched above her head, she knew the dress had pulled high enough to give her audience a tantalizing glimpse of the bottom swells of her ass cheeks. Her hips swayed provocatively from side to side and as she grinded from one person to the next, her strides were confident. This was so hot—she'd cum if she rubbed herself like that against one more person. 

Carly kept an eye on the redhead out of the corner of her eye. The coke and the booze, not to mention whatever was in those designer pills, had done its work. Rosie was hotter than she'd ever seen her. The girl knew how to move, wild and wanton in her movements. Her instincts had been right, this is what the girl was born to do.

Fuck, she was getting wet herself just from watching the redhead as she danced. And from knowing that soon she'd be fucking her in front of all these people.

Turning her back, the spiky haired woman's body swung in tune with the music, her legs shoulder-width apart, and her hands above her head. Look at me, her movements were screaming to her audience—men and women. Look at me, desire me. I am the most fuckable slut in this room tonight.

She ignored the cat-calls, the: "Over here babe's" and the "Take the dress off's!" She had two targets in mind before she and Rosie met in the middle of the floor.

Her surprise at seeing Samuel there had quickly turned to delight. She'd remind the club owner exactly what he'd been missing. Swaying over to where he was talking to a brunette and a blonde, she rubbed her tits into his chest as her eyes hypnotically held his. When he reached for them, she turned her back on him, grinning over her shoulder as she ground her ass into his groin.

In seconds he was hard. 

Throwing her head back, one arm behind her pulling his forward, she whispered into his ear. "Miss me, baby?"

His teeth bit down on her earlobe as his hands slipped under her dress. Yessss. This was what she wanted. How long ago was it that he'd sent her to Eddie's? 

His fingers found their way into her thong as her ass dry fucked his cock. It was a race to orgasm, but one she was losing. Or was that winning?

When the African American's fingers found her clit, her body went stiff as a mini-orgasm instantly washed through her trembling body. She whimpered as he fingered her, widening her legs to grant him better access. When he jammed two fingers inside her, she came on his hand. Hard.

Rosie twisted and spun, undulating to the changing highs and lows of the music. The heavy thump drove her on. Her dress rode up her legs, baring flashes of her lacy thong. One set of hands after another reached for the pale flesh of her thighs, each person thinking they'd cornered her for themselves, only for the laughing woman to turn and gyrate onto the next person. 

The next guy sank to his knees as she approached, lewdly sticking his tongue out in an obscene licking gesture. Her arousal soared at the sight. She'd give him more than he bargained for! Her hands gripped the back of his hair, dragging his head under her skirt. She fucked his face with her skimpily covered groin. Then she was pushing him away. God, she'd been so close. 

Somehow she pirouetted away and glanced across to see where her spiky haired partner was. Carly had told her to hold out until they performed together. She was unsure if she could. 

The hot little bitch had found Kay. She was gyrating against the Agency Head, pressing their pussies together, leaning back as she braced her hand on the woman's shoulder so that she could erotically shake her head from side to side. 

She was teasing her host. Carly's steadying hand shifted around the brunette's neck. She pulled the unresisting woman close. It would take only a brief forward movement on either's part for their lips to meet. Kay opened her mouth in anticipation of a kiss, and when their lips met it was impossible to tell which of the two women had engineered the final contact.

"Later," Carly sexily breathed into Kay's mouth as she allowed their tongues to flicker against one another, before dancing away. 

She'd have their sexy host before the night was out.

***

Samuel licked the juices from his fingers. He turned to Grace and nodded at Carly. "Sexy bitch," he smiled.

"You two know one another?" she shouted, trying to make her voice heard above the music and catcalls. She tried to keep her tone casual but it was impossible to disguise her annoyance at his actions. If he wanted that sort of action, why hadn't he asked her?

"There aren't many people I don't know in Vegas," he smiled, slipping an arm around her slender waist. "Ready to fuck?" he asked.

The singer's face lit up. "I thought you'd never ask. I've missed you. You've been playing too much poker."

"Time to show me how much you want me," he grinned, leaning into her ear to convey his message above the noise. "Get your sister, too."

It took a few seconds for the words to register. "Lauren?" she gasped. "But the women dancing," she said, trying to buy time to think. "They're not finished. Why don't we leave her here and—"

One flash of his eyes stopped her objection. She didn't need an explanation to understand. The look was unmistakeable. She'd seen it before, and knew what it meant. She was an angel. Complete obedience—even where her sister was concerned, it seemed. 

"Come with us," the brunette shouted to Lauren as Samuel turned on his heels. The African American made his way through the cheering partygoers, towards the door at the far end of the room. It wasn't easy. They were all straining to watch the performance, annoyed that someone was suddenly blocking their view.

Grace left Lauren no choice, grabbing her hand and practically pulling her across the room. "What the fuck—" the blonde retorted, having to push a couple of cheering guys out of the way as she stumbled along. She'd been enjoying the two exotic dancers. Why leave the room now?

The club owner stopped beside the door. He whispered something into Kay's ear. Her eyes widened in surprise and she followed his gaze to the two sisters.

A slow smile spread across the Agency Head's face as she nodded. So, this was what the club owner had in mind? The situation was even better than she could have anticipated. She'd need to edit Samuel's face out, obviously. But two sister's together! It was perfect!! 

Out in the hallway, Samuel nodded at the upstairs landing. Grace understood, pulling Lauren past him. The thickset man followed the two women up the stairs, his eyes bouncing from one sweet ass to the other as they rode the steps. He had to adjust his cock as he walked. He'd never had sisters before. Not together.

The two women waited for him at the top of the landing, holding hands demurely, unsure which way to head. With a smile that said everything, he strode past them and pushed into Kay's master bedroom. A rose coloured hue spread across the room as he door opened. With a grin, he sauntered across to the four-poster bed.

The two sisters glanced at one another. Grace's face was full of apprehension. This wasn't what she'd expected. Nor could Lauren have anticipated the situation, but her younger sister's eyes were shining with anticipation. Was she really up for 'performing' in front of her sister?

It seemed so wrong. But Grace couldn't deny her bubbling excitement.

Samuel unfastened and pulled off his bow tie, throwing it across onto the Victorian shabby chic chair near the bed. His jacket quickly followed. "Come here, baby," he growled at Lauren.

She confidently walked towards him, swinging her ass in supermodel style. She knew from Grace how important he was. That didn't inhibit her in the slightest. She was more interested in his body and what he could do with it. Grace's stories about him made her think of Demetrius.

He reached out to softly touch her face. "Ever had a black man?" he asked.

Her sparkling blue eyes stayed steadily on his, her excitement obvious. Even Grace hadn't seen her sister as provocative as this. "Once," she told him, leaning her head into his touch. "He had a big cock. Have you?"

A slow smile spread across the African American's face. He loved feisty women. Her attitude reminded him of Carly. If this wasn't simply bravado, this girl was going to be every bit as hot as the spiky haired woman. No doubt about that.

"Sweetheart, you have no idea," he told her, taking her hand and pulling it to his cloth covered erection. 

The blonde's expression didn't change, other than the arousal in her eyes increased as she stroked him. "Impressive," she sighed.

Samuel cupped her face as her hand traced the outline of his long cock. The sexy, young blonde was turning him on every bit as much as her sister. His thumbs made little circles along the girl's cheekbones. "Your sister's a hot bitch," he said. "Are you as liberated as she is?"

The blonde leaned into him, her hand snaking around the back of his head and pulling their lips together. She pushed her tongue into his mouth. "Does that answer your question?" she asked with a mischievous grin, tugging down on his lower lip as she pulled away. Her other hand eased down the zip of his pants.

Samuel laced his right hand through the curled, golden hair that sat high on Lauren's head. Pulling out a couple of pins, it fell down onto her shoulders. 

Grace's cough behind them announced that she was still present. "I'll… I'll join the others downstairs," she murmured, her face red with embarrassment and—though she wouldn't admit it—arousal. 

She needed to find someone to fuck.

Samuel's head moved towards her, as if in slow motion. He nodded at the bedside table across from the bed. "Coke," he simply said, moaning at the feeling of her soft hand inside his trousers, closing around his erect cock. "Why don't you cut us two lines?" 

"I can do that when Grace's is downstairs," Lauren interrupted, her thumb spreading a glob of precum across his crown. Fuck! If he didn't stop her, he'd have to throw her on the bed and fuck her lights out. But all in good time. He had other plans in mind before then.

"She's not going downstairs," he told her, dropping a hand to pull hers away from his throbbing cock. He held it as he pulled her towards the table where Grace was completing her task.




The Strip Ch. 11



Lauren felt lightening bolts inside her. He was going to fuck her—and make her sister watch. The idea sent her arousal bubbling like a volcano preparing to spread its lava over an open landscape.

Grace handed the stainless steel straw to Samuel. He nodded at her sister. Lauren smiled as she grabbed it and quickly did a line. Handing the straw back to Grace, she sniffed sharply, rubbing her nose and licking her lips. 

Samuel waved Grace's hand away when she offered him the straw. "It's for you," he told her, disregarding the shocked look on her face. She was beginning to catch on to what he had in mind. "Do it," he rasped. 

Grace bent and snorted the white powder. Her hard body shivered when his hand gently caressed her ass. He was going to fuck her sister while she watched. Then fuck her with Lauren watching. The thought sent hot pinpricks through her body, like little needles of desire. The chemical buzz hit her as Samuel slipped the straps of her cream halter dress from her shoulders. It floated to the ground. 

Lauren needed no encouragement. She had rid herself of her own dress before her sister could turn towards her. Stepping across to Grace, she pulled her into a model-esque pose. Her lacy black lingerie provided the perfect contrast with Grace's half cut bra and high cut matching cream thong. 

"Well?" the younger sister asked the African American. "What d'you think? Hot enough for you?"

Samuel slowly nodded his head. It wasn't just the sexiness of the two hot bodies in front of him. It was also the complicit nature of Lauren's response. Grace had inhibitions with sex in front of her sister. The young blonde had no such boundaries in her mind. The little bitch was really up for it. Would she be just as enthusiastic for performing with her sister.

Half of him hoped not. Coercing women was his speciality. He got off on it. But then again, the thought of the blond hottie taking the lead was such a turn on, too. That's what Carly would do. Maybe he could find a place for her in his organisation? He'd have to speak to Kay about that.

He edged backwards to the bed, unbuttoning and losing his shirt on the way. He let the two women watch him as he stripped naked. "Big enough?" he grinned at the blonde, shuffling his muscular frame onto the sheets. His hand stroked his black erection as he settled back against the headboard. 

Lauren was already moving towards him as he glanced towards the sisters. "Want some help?" her husky voice asked. It was thick with arousal.

***

Kay unlocked and then slid through the door to the small office downstairs, smiling to herself as she glanced at the television monitors. Each monitor was connected to a different room. With hidden cameras placed at the most effective angles, there wasn't anything that went on in the house that wasn't recorded.

When the master switch was turned on, movement triggered the recording machines and on nights like this, she made sure it was operating well in advance. Some instinct made her check the small changing room she'd given to the two strippers. They'd been in there longer than they needed to before mingling with the guests. That often meant one thing.

With a twist of her fingers on the control knob, the monitor sprang into life. She pressed rewind and hit the button again. Her body couldn't help but react to the sight on the screen. That spiky haired little bitch had the redhead pleasuring her tits. Kay gave a low mew of approval. Watching Carly control the redhead in such a blatant sexual way was quite a turn on.

What was it about the girl that gave her Goosebumps? Kay knew the answer before she'd finished asking herself the question. It was the soft hazel eyes. 

They were so expressive. Wild and wanton. So full of life. They didn't just hint of sexual promise—they screamed it. They'd told Kay that the spiky haired woman didn't just want her, but that she was going to have her. The Agency Head felt her body give an involuntary shudder at the thought. 

She flicked on a second monitor before she became too caught up in the exotic stripper's spell. She could review the recording of the two women later. The point of sneaking away from the party was to check on Samuel, after all. 

What she saw brought a triumphant smile. This was everything she could have hoped for. It made her plan crumble into insignificance. She wouldn't need Terrelle at all. It was one thing selling a video of Grace being fucked by a pornstar, for release onto the Internet. It was something else to sell a recording of the brunette with her sister.

That would bring her a tidy, sum. Not only that, it would destroy Grace's career, and with Kay making sure that no more modelling work went Lauren's way, her revenge on the two sisters would be complete.

No one fucked with Kay Kristen. The blonde had turned down the opportunity of a blue movie career -- well, she'd better be ready to deal with the consequences. Kay'd need to be careful to edit Samuel's face out, of course. The club owner wouldn't take kindly to being identifiable in any way. But she had people who were experts in that field. It wouldn't be a problem. 

For a few moments, she watched Lauren give Samuel head. Her smile widened—this girl really loved her work. Demetrius had chosen well. Flicking on the sound, she found herself growing more aroused. But then she'd been aroused since that stripper had come onto her.

Her thoughts returned to Carly as she flipped off the monitors. There'd be time later to review everything and she'd been away from the action for too long. 

The girl was undoubtedly a slut, but that somehow added to the appeal. It was obvious the teasing bitch would be wild in bed. The question was, should Kay give in to the way she was feeling and sample the woman? Later, the dancer had whispered to Kay, as if she knew the Agency Head would be unable to resist. 

She just might be right…

***

Rosie and Carly danced as one now—their long, slender limbs entwined as their lips came together. The redhead moaned as she Frenched the other woman. It was hard and hot, just like everything about her spiky haired friend.

Around them, the crowd was whooping and hollering. They'd arranged themselves in a circle around the sexy women. Carly teased them at first with Rosie's body, lifting the short hem of her green dress to show off the girl's toned buttocks. When she squeezed them, Rosie moaned, throwing her head back and tossing her long, red hair. Carly licked the girl's exposed neck.

Glancing around at her audience, Carly bit her lip as though to ask, You ready, boys and girls? She unzipped the back of Rosie's dress. It fell limply to the floor, pooling around the redhead's stiletto heels. 

Rosie's freckled breasts threatened to spill out of her plunging green bra. With a lustful snarl, Carly ripped the cups of the bra upwards. The sight of the near perfect swells bouncing free was met with huge cheers from all around them. In an instant, Carly had unhooked Rosie's dangling bra. She whirled it around her head, once, twice, three times before throwing it into the rowdy audience.

Swaying in nothing but her skimpy thong, Rosie felt her orgasm building inside her. She wanted to cum so badly.

"Soon," Carly whispered, as if she could read the redhead's mind. 

The spiky haired woman undulated sexily as she lowered the straps of her own dress, shaking it to the floor. She raised her hands above her head, her breasts bouncing as she swayed, an invisible hula-hoop circling her hips. Behind Rosie, she cupped the redhead's tits while she gyrated her voluptuous body up and down the back of her fellow dancer. 

Rosie growled and covered Carly's hands with her own, mashing them into her breasts. Head thrown back against her female lover, she pressed her ass into Carly's sex and dragged one of her lover's hands down to her own pussy. She was on the verge. She needed release so badly. 

But then Carly was turning away, rotating her upper body as she swung in a three-sixty, her gravity defying swells bouncing with each sway. Damn!

Rosie copied her movements, trying to forget the sexual ache that was threatening to overwhelm her. The two hot women rotated in circles, then from side to side. The partygoers were screaming at them, moths drawn to and captivated by the lustful flame of the two strippers. Eyes clouded, the gyrating woman went for broke—breasts shaking, hips undulating. 

Fuck, they felt wild, looked wild, were wild! 

Carly did her party piece, just as she had done their first time together. Rosie was caught by surprise. This wasn't what they'd agreed! But she was in no condition to resist. Her need for release was bordering on desperation. Legs intertwined, the spiky haired woman rubbed herself against the redhead, shoulders and hips moving in time with the music. She saw it build in Rosie's eyes, saw the orgasm begin to bubble. Perfect! She pulled away.

"What the fuck—" the redhead snorted, her angry eyes blazing at Carly.

But the spiky haired woman knew what she was doing, and had timed it perfectly. How else would she have gotten Rosie to agree to have sex in front of so many people?

***

Terrelle was waiting for Kay when she eased herself back into the action. Things had developed since she'd left the room. The guests were gathered around the strippers as if they were watching a gladiatorial battle and all crying for one thing. 

"Where've you been?" he asked, pushing his mouth against her ear to make himself heard. The noise from the onlookers was louder than the music, now. 

Kay's piercing look told him it was none of his business. "What?"

He quickly adjusted his approach. "I mean… where's the woman? Grace? I've been looking around for her. Thought I'd warm her up while she watched the two hotties." 

The Agency Head nodded. Even though she didn't need him anymore, she liked his enthusiasm. Her hand snaked around his head, though—like everybody there—her eyes never left the action in the middle of the room. "Don't worry about it, darling," she shouted in his ear. "The plan's changed."

His downcast eyes displayed his disappointment. "But—" he grunted.

Kay smiled. Men could be such babies when they were deprived of the thing they wanted most. Especially when that thing was sex. Her slithering hand found his erection and lightly squeezed him through his trousers. Like every other man in the room, the sight of the strippers performing had him hard. 

"Poor baby" she sympathised, nibbling on his ear. "But don't worry, Terrelle. There's enough pussy here to go around. Think of it this way. You can now pick and choose. Sample as much as you want. Sounds good?" 

Terrelle's slow grin eventually lit up his whole face. "Yeah," he grunted, jerking his head around the revellers. There were a few women who'd caught his eye but he only had one in mind. What had she told him? Make sure you come and find me later. That time had arrived.

***

"I've been watching you, big man," Jimmy heard a sultry voice whisper behind him. "You look like Tom Cruise…" A soft hand on his shoulder brought his attention off of the strippers.

Turning, the male model was pleased to see the female British rocker on the other end of the tanned arm. "Quite a coincidence," he grinned, pushing a hand through his crewcut like he talked to famous chicks all the time. "Because if I'm not mistaken, you look like Lisa Welles."

Her flirtatious smile matched the aroused look in her dreamy eyes. "Lot's of people tell me that," she laughed. "You like that country acid house bitch?"

"Like?" he said, slowly shaking his head. "I love that woman. Do y'know, I've got all of your CDs."

Leaning into his back, Lisa reached around and unfastened the middle button of his shirt. She had to raise up onto the tips of her toes to whisper, "A fan…" Her fingers found his left nipple, drawing little circles around it. "Mmm, that deserves something. What d'you think, Tom Cruise?"

"I think it deserves something, too," he said, gasping as a fingernail flicked his nipple. "What did you have in mind?"

He followed the blonde's gave to the two exotic dancers. "Come on, let's get a better view…"

The crowd parted around the megastar with an ease that amazed Jimmy, and the diminutive blonde moved through them like she was used to it. They settled into a couch opposite the hot, young strippers, whose mouths were devouring one another in a very bisexual ardour.

"Watch them, Jimmy," Lisa whispered as she snuggled into him. Her hand went to the front of his trousers, pushing up the cummerbund of his tux to get at his zipper. "Do you think they're sexy?"

Jimmy licked his lips, unsure of exactly where he should be looking! Christ, they were sexy! But so was the woman fishing his cock out of his pants.

"Oh yeah," she moaned, eyeing his cock. "Just how I like 'em. Big, long and hard!" Her hand ran up his shaft. "Very hard" she added. "Want your reward?"

Jimmy didn't speak. He could barely breath. He nodded. This was Lisa Welles who was gonna blow him. Lisa Welles. The Lisa Welles!

"Watch them, Jimmy. Soon, we'll be joining them…" There was no finesse, just a desperate need for dick in her wanton mouth.

***

Rosie sank into the expensive, Italian leather sofa as Carly dropped to her knees. The brunette blinked up at her with long lashes, somehow wickedly innocent. You've earned this, they said as she felt her little panties being pulled over her hips.

Rosie didn't object, instead lifting her butt from the sofa. Exposed in this crowd, with every one of their beautiful eyes on her clean shaven sex, her body surged. Geez, she felt alive. Spreading her legs for her audience, she balanced a heeled foot on the lip of the couch as Carly dipped in and swept her tongue along her sweltering furrow.

It was all Rosie needed. Arching her back and thrusting her freckled tits to the ceiling, she came with a loud cry. The soft cheeks on her thighs continued to caress her; Carly wasn't letting up. So different than a man. So fucking good. She raked her fingers through the brunette's spiked hair as a second, then a third, orgasm rolled through her. Oh fuck!!!

When she was at the edge of sanity, the other girl relented. Crawling up onto Rosie's panting body, she slipped out of her thong, leaving her just as naked.

"Look around you, girl," Carly whispered, dragging her silken knee along Rosie's pussy. "They all want us. They all want to fuck us…"

The redhead shivered at the word 'fuck.' She glanced beyond Carly through heavily lidded eyes. Opposite her was a gorgeous looking young man with short, dark hair and a charming, boyish smile. He was smiling right at her. Rosie's lips parted in a gasp when she saw a blonde's head bobbing in his lap.

"That's what you want, right baby?" Carly asked, tickling the side of Rosie's face with the backs of her nails.

Blinking, Rosie refocused on the spiky haired vixen. At the back of her mind, a little voice told her that all she wanted was Daniel. But the drink and drugs in her body had her on a sexual high that was simply impossible to resist. She nodded silently, humping her hips against Carly's thigh.

"Mmm… naughty girl," Carly teased, crushing their breasts together as she slid further up Rosie's leg. "But you've already cum... don't you think you're being a little selfish?" She said it sweetly, but the redhead knew her friend was on heat, too. The brunette reinforced her urgency by grabbing Rosie's hair and yanking her head back, forcing her to meet her stare.

Rosie's eyes shot open fearfully as pain mixed with all the pleasure. "Don't you want to show me a good time, too?"

Rosie tried to nod, but couldn't with the other woman's fist in her hair. "Yes," she said meekly.

"You slut," Carly taunted, her face full of lust as she tightened her grip just a fraction more. "You do, I can tell!" The redhead sighed when her hair was released, although she didn't feel the pain anymore. Her body was on fire! Yes, she was a slut, and she needed to be treated like one. "I see it in your eyes. You can't wait to eat my pussy!" 

If anything, her words inflamed Rosie even more. Carly played up to the audience like the showman she was, looking around as she pushed the redhead onto her back. "You all want to watch?" 

The crowd cheered for it. Salivated for it.

Rosie glanced to her side, at the Tom Cruise look-a-like, suddenly worried of what he'd think about her. His dark eyes met hers with hunger. And the girl sucking his cock had paused to watch as well. Rosie's heart skipped a beat when she realized it was Lisa Welles!

Then Carly swung her leg across her head, blocking out everything but the tantalizing folds of her bare sex.

***

"Ngh!" Grace couldn't help the moan. Nor could she stop her fingers from slipping inside her thong. She realised what a sight she must be—leaning back in the antique chair, legs splayed, masturbating—while watching her little sister give head to the African American who was making her a singing star.

For a brief moment, Lauren pulled her head upwards, a drop of saliva hanging from her sweet, pink lips. She smiled lasciviously across at her sister as her right hand wrapped around Samuel's hard, black cock. Didn't think your little sis was this good, her eyes seemed to be saying. 

"Join us, Grace?" Samuel offered, taking advantage of the moment. The view of the brunette playing with herself was almost as intoxicating as watching Lauren give him head.

Join them? "I…I…" Grace couldn't find the words. It was her sister working on him, for God's sake.

Her gaze flicked to Samuel and then to Lauren. Her sister's naked body looked sensational. She'd had that flawlessly tanned skin for as long as Grace could remember. But the peachy ass, full breasts, brown nipples—geez! She'd admired her body in the past, but she'd never lusted after it. What the hell was she thinking? It must be the coke—this was her sister, for God's sake!! 

However much she tried, she couldn't wipe the thought from her mind. There was something so sexy about the way Lauren's thick, flaxen blonde hair bounced on her shoulders as her mouth worked its magic…

And then there was the wanton look in Lauren's eyes. Her kid sister was actually smirking as she kept her eyes on Grace. Slowly, sensuously, her pink lips lowered back to Samuel's manhood, impressively engulfing a good portion with her mouth and slowly working on him again.

Grace felt a surge of wetness between her legs. Her heart began to beat faster. She shook with excitement. Her nipples hardened further. She knew that the last thing she should do was get involved, but every sense inside her was screaming to join them on the bed.

Samuel's hands rubbed her sister's neck and back, drawing featherlike circles on her soft skin. His eyes narrowed, but still firmly held Grace's lustful gaze. Her arousal deepened.

"Want it, Grace?" she heard a voice ask, and lowered her eyes to Lauren. Her sister had slurped off the throbbing penis and was offering it to her. She'd turned her body enough to flash the side of one of her firm breasts.

Glancing back at Samuel, the African American nodded. Grace felt an overwhelming force guiding her as she scrambled up from the chair. The thought of joining the two of them was like an aphrodisiac injected in her body.

Her body stretched like a cat as she crawled beside them, unhooking her bra and dropping it onto the carpet. Lauren was naked. She'd soon be, too. But before she could reach for her thong, Lauren had snaked a hand behind her head and insistently pulled her towards the black tower. When the singer momentarily paused, her sister tightened her fingers in the long brown locks and jerked Grace's head downward. 




The Strip Ch. 12



This is a rewrite of 'Vegas', combining both Books. While maintaining the theme, it offers a completely different and fresh take for the main characters.

Grateful thanks go to the best editor in the world – thesoundandfury - not only for his editing, but also for the constant encouragement, suggestions, and for helping me to become a better writer.

Chapter 12: Three Months Later

Three months had slowly passed since Daniel had reached the World Series of Poker final table. In that time he'd left his job back in England, moved out of the London apartment he and Grace had been renting, found a temporary bedsit, and spent most of his time playing poker… and drinking. 

He was better at poker than even he had suspected, judging by his results. His drinking habits were rapidly improving, too—he often started in the morning and continued 'til late at night.

Two days back in Las Vegas, all the old memories had returned. Contrary to his expectations, the excitement of the City that never sleeps was still there. Excitement… and also anticipation of what tomorrow would bring. Whether two days reacclimatizion was enough, he wasn't sure. But then, Holly had only returned last night. He hadn't been in good enough condition to see her, too much drink. Instead, they'd arranged lunch today. 

Daniel made a pact with himself to stay off the booze until the afternoon. Or maybe 'til after the Main Event? If he could…

Bobby Baldwin's poker room at the Bellagio was becoming to feel like home. He'd seen more of it than the inside of his hotel suite, though they were about the only two sights he had enjoyed so far. What else was there to see? 

Yes, it was true he'd twice found himself outside of Midnight Hot. He had no intention of entering, of course. Why would he? Rosie had made her feelings clear and he understood why. He'd lied. And he was a deadbeat poker player. With all that had happened with her previous boyfriend, the sweet redhead had had her fill of that combination.

Hell, he didn't even know if she'd returned to work there. She might not even be in Vegas. He had no idea where she was. All he did know was how much he missed the redhead. That feeling hadn't gone away. 

It increased with each passing day...

***

The giant's bushy beard provided quite a contrast to his baldhead. Grace remembered the interesting combination so well. She loved every aspect of his roughness. That was why she'd returned to his shop, she guessed. Yes, she wanted the tattoos. But she craved the rough, dirty sex, too.

"Well, Missy," the grizzly man's deep voice growled. "There we go, two more angel tattoos. What d'you think—old Sam's done a good job?"

Grace sat cross-legged on the long table to check her ankles. "Perfect," she answered, with that little come-on smile of hers.

The short, black skirt rode up to her waist, allowing the bear of a man a clear view of her thong covered crotch. The black lace disguised very little, but that was part of the excitement. Could he see how wet she was?

With her three-month contract at Samuel Smith's now completed, she had several producers clamouring with record deals. If the number of hits on You Tube and My Space were an indicator, she was already an international star. That first album was a guaranteed success. The competing money on the table for her was mind boggling, but it was only the start.

Grace Lane—Superstar! Fame and fortune was just around the corner.

Her idea for the additional two ankle tattoos was to emphasise she was the best angel of all. Not yet, okay. But soon she would be. The side benefit was seeing old Sam again. Despite moving in her sophisticated new world, the idea of seeing the worldly-wise biker again was almost too good to resist.

"Perfect is right, Missy," he grinned, his eyes drawn to her crotch.

Grace remembered that grin… the stained smokers' teeth. The sleeveless black tee shirt with its skull and crossbones design fitted him so well. She adored tattoos and his muscular arms were covered with them. 

So rough… so dirty… so dangerous. 

Hot flushes of arousal were already pumping through her hot body. They changed to a fiery furnace as his hand sneaked under her skirt and homed in on her sex. 

"Ngh!" she cried, tossing her long dark hair as his probing fingers stroked her through the lacy thong. Her body arched up, bucking her hips up into the penetrating fingers. She came so hard that his other hand needed to steady her shuddering body.  

"Nice, Missy," he muttered. "You're nice and ready for old Sam, aren't you? You want a bit of this rough old bastard again, right?" Pulling his hand from between her thighs, he fed his fingers to her lips, smiling as the woman lustfully licked her juices from them. This was one hot bitch! "Now why don't you slip off that top for me? Let me see them tits again—"

With a lustful groan, Grace pulled her top free of her skirt, and then yanked it clean over her head, her breasts bouncing deliciously. Sam's head instantly dipped and his lips sucked in a hard nipple. His hand raised to her other swell, his thumb gently flicking back and forth across her extended dark bud.

Grace moaned again as he suckled her. His tongue flicked and licked around her hard nipple. Her hands found his head, encouragingly rubbing across his bald skin. For such a large man, he could be incredibly gentle. 

Suddenly his other hand was between her thighs again, gripping the waistband of her thong. With a grunt, he ripped the flimsy covering from her body, holding it up in front of her, as if displaying his prize confirmed his control.

Grace's lips quivered as he dipped his head again, both hands roughly cupping her breasts, pushing them inwards towards his sucking mouth. The torn thong fluttered to the floor.

Both her hard buds were swelling in his mouth, reacting as he swept between one and the other. The feeling of his saliva dripping from her breasts onto her stomach only added to her arousal. Her hands left his head and dropped to his waist, yanking his belt free and pushing open his dirty black jeans.

The bear's mouth left her breasts. "Gonna take 'im out, Missy?" he grunted, his eyes narrowing as she did exactly that.

She rubbed her clit with the crown of his cock, using him like a dildo. "Ngh. Fuck…" That felt soooo good.

Grace couldn't hold back. She needed him inside her. The brunette pulled him one last time across her silky wetness, then set his purple crown against her opening. He instantly pushed inside, ball-deep in her with three grunting passes. "Oh fuck…" 

Her hands instantly fell to his pumping ass, her fingernails digging into his skin. The table bounced under her with each thrust, threatening to collapse. The giant's response was immediate, digging his hands under Grace's buttocks and lifting the lithe body upwards. His meaty legs spread to maintain his balance, the soles of his feet digging into the floor through his boots.

Grace's hands left his ass to lock around his neck. "Yessss…"

Their hooded eyes staring into one another's as he began to thrust again. Grace felt like she was perching on the edge of a cliff, threatening to fall backwards into the depths beyond. The feeling only added to the intensity of the situation. The big bear continued to fuck her through her immediate orgasm, not even letting up as a second rippled its way inside her heavily sweating body. That made three so far, but who was counting?

"Ohfuck..." she gasped, the words merging into one and reverberating around her voice box.

Old Sam grunted, gripping her ass more tightly with his aching hands. His pleasure weakened legs told him they couldn't last out much longer. Neither could his thick cock. As Grace took his head between her hands and slid her tongue into his tobacco smelling mouth, her actions instantly sent a signal to his testicles.

No angel had ever kissed him before.

He gave a bestial cry as he came. "AHHHHHHHHH!!!" It roared from the back of his throat, starting loud and ending louder. His sack smacked against her juice-slick ass as he exploded, his legs beginning to buckle.

"Hold me, hold me," Grace ordered, partly to make sure she received all of his creamy offering but also to ensure she could grind herself sufficiently to take her to a fourth climax.

Her fingernails dug into his shoulder blades and her heels into his back as she came again, not caring whether she drew blood or how much the panting giant struggled to remain on his feet. He pumped in and out of her shuddering body one final time, releasing the last of his juice as the soon-to-be international star hissed her own sweet release into his dirty ear.

***

"Okay, babes," the photographer called. "That's a wrap. Sorry we couldn't get everything finished off last night, but appreciate you ladies returning early morning. A late breakfast's on me, if anyone's hungry."

"You interested?" the gum chewing Mexican woman asked Lauren, trailing her fingers along the blonde's forearm.

Lauren smiled at the older model. Juanita was around forty, though to be fair she looked much younger. With her long, dyed brown hair and sultry dark eyes, the woman had more sex appeal than the few younger models Lauren had worked with in recent months.

"Not sure," the blonde hesitantly responded, aware of the Hispanic woman's eyes on her as they walked back to the changing rooms. She had some serious decisions to make. They'd have to give up Grace's luxury pad up when her sister left Vegas. The question for Lauren was what should she do?

Grace had suggested her sister accompany her to New York. The alternatives were to return to England, or stay here in Vegas, but since Kay had ended their involvement, all she'd managed to find were some minor modelling engagements. Enough to keep her ticking over, but not much more than that. 

She might as well take her sister up on her offer; she wouldn't make it on her own without Grace, that was for sure. Washed up already? And only twenty-two…

"You should come out," Juanita told her, unfastening her bra two steps into the changing room. Lauren could feel her throat go dry as she watched, her eyes glued to the warm, deep brown skin of the Mexican woman's bare back. With a provocative shimmy, the woman's thong joined her bra on the floor.

She arched a dark brow as she swung around to face Lauren. "Well?"

Lauren was unsure whether the older woman was referring to lunch or her tits. The inviting globes excitedly swung before settling, and were everything they'd promised to be. The Mexican cupped the silicone enhanced swells, holding them for Lauren to admire. The deep brown coloured breasts were big, but not too big, and perfectly shaped. 

"You like?" she provocatively asked Lauren, lowering her head to flick her tongue across an erect chocolate nipple. "You like my tits?"

The blonde's eyes were drawn to the sight like a moth to a flame. The hint of saliva around the dark nipple was incredibly erotic. 

"I see you do," Juanita teasingly smiled, batting those long eyelashes. "Breakfast, then we can go back to my apartment. My boyfriend's at work and my tits need some attention. You like women, Lauren—yes?"

The blonde felt her own nipples harden. The older model circled her, stopping just behind her long enough to untie her bikini top. Juanita's hands were on Lauren's breasts before the garment hit the floor.

"Yes?" she murmured, the tip of her tongue flicking along the blonde's earlobe. "Yours need attention, too, Lauren! A light breakfast… then mine…" 

It was no longer a question.

***

Rosie woke up naked and disoriented—a sensation she was beginning to grow used to. The smell of sex was heavy in the air and she felt sore all over. She'd passed out between two guys who still hadn't woken, and a third was dozing in an armchair in the corner.

Last night returned to her like a slideshow stuck on fast-forward. Cocks in her mouth, in her pussy, in her ass. Separately. At the same time. Thrusting, pounding. A long, drawn out moan that drowned out everything else. And cum everywhere. Inside of her. All over her.

The redhead's heart began to beat quickly before she could shake her head and clear her thoughts. Last night could have been any of a dozen nights she'd shared with paying strangers in the last three months. Maybe it was a little better than most, but they hadn't all been like that. 

Careful not to wake any of her new lovers, she crawled off the bed, gathered her clothing, and slipped into the bathroom. These guys had come to Vegas looking to fulfil that "What happens in Vegas…" cliché. One was getting married, the other two already were. 

It wasn't her business, of course, and she didn't ask about the rings. She just fucked. It was what she was paid to do.

A cloud of melancholy descended over her when she shut herself into the bathroom. Is this what she was meant to do? Was there any way out of this lifestyle?

The fluorescent lights blinked on, casting her pale, freckled body in harsh white light. She'd been in far classier bathrooms than this one, but it wasn't bad. Enough room to get dressed in, anyway. Her mind was already thinking forward to the rest of her day: go home, take a shower and a nap; get her mind into gear again, then it was off to Midnight Hot for her shift; and if Big Eddie insisted on it, maybe she'd have to share his bed afterwards.

Rosie sighed and looked at herself in the mirror. She hated this living prison. "You really screwed this up," she muttered into those large, pretty eyes.

Balanced on the vanity beside the mirror was an oversized water bong. The redhead checked, finding that there was still some un-smoked weed in the bowl. The guys had been taking turns with it all last night, and while it had been tempting, she'd refrained.

There was a time when she'd been high all the time, though. The weeks after her falling out with Daniel had been rough, and it seemed like the best way to deal with it was to soak her brain in chemicals. But it was a similar moment like this, when she looked at herself in the mirror and saw her green eyes dimmed and unfocused, that she realized it wasn't her. 

No matter what she had to do for a living, it was just a means to an end, and she was done playing Big Eddie's game.

Still, there were times when she was tempted to try the drug. Particularly moments like this, when the sadness felt like a yoke on her shoulders, she thought that she could use a temporary dulling of her senses. 

The temptation was never enough, though. Splashing water in her face, she resolved again to get out. Yet by the time she was dressed and in the elevator, she knew there was no out. A month back, when she'd calculated that she was debt-free, she'd approached her gangster boss about leaving. He'd told her with the way interest was adding up, she still owed half the debt.

Then he'd beaten her so badly she'd missed a week's worth of work, and while he'd apologized for it later and didn't dock her pay for the missed time, the message was clear: she was his property until he said she was not.

Rosie knew when to cut her losses. She was a smart girl, despite her situation, and knew that this was one of those times. Without Eddie knowing—or Carly for that matter—she'd saved enough money now to buy a plan ticket out of Vegas and set up a new life for her somewhere else, under a different name. A risk, but she had to take it.

As she passed by the bank of televisions in the MGM Grand's lobby, she saw the recorded footage from last night's news. Holly Willoughby had arrived in Vegas after the three-month break between the World Series of Poker and the Final Table; she was one of what the media had dubbed the 'November 9.'

The redhead had mixed feelings over the beautiful blonde, although she couldn't deny the poker player's beauty. Dressed in her signature black, her dark sunglasses were pushed up into her golden blonde hair like a headband as she wheeled her bag through the Rio's front doors. It was rumoured that she'd been involved with another of the final nine: Daniel Stone.

Of course that man's name would come up at the sight of Holly. Or of the mention of poker. Or of any private party she'd ever had at the Rio—there'd been a few. She still cursed herself for being so stupid; for letting him get away because of unnecessary jealousy.

The Englishman had gone into monk-like seclusion in London over the past few months, but he'd be back for the Final Table. Was that why she was still here? Was that why she was still working for Big Eddie? For some silly-girl dream of making up with her knight in shining armour? To be rescued from her life as a whore?

The redhead needed to talk to someone. She pulled out her phone, thinking of calling Carly for a morning coffee, but decided against that. Since the sassy, young dancer had moved in with Big Eddie and become his unofficial girlfriend, Rosie had found it harder and harder to confide in her friend. 

Or was it her ex-friend?

Carly had changed. Become more preoccupied with other things, other people. The spiky haired woman hadn't even been that sympathetic after Rosie'd been beaten. Said she shouldn't have pushed her luck with the gangster like that…

Anyway, how could she talk to Carly when so many of the things she wanted to talk about had to do with leaving Big Eddie? The spiky haired woman was his main girl there now and Rosie knew exactly what she'd say.

Suddenly, a thought hit her like a bolt from the blue! Could she? Should she? Yes, do it now… do it before she changed her mind!

Anxiously flicking open the phone, she dialled her friend who worked the desk at the Rio. Her heart was in her mouth before the woman even picked up. "Hey, Sue? It's Rosie… I was wondering if you could do me a huge favour… Could you give me the number of one of the guests staying there? Holly Willoughby. I owe you big!"

***

"Where've you been?" Samuel Smith's voice was sharp, full of alarm. "I've been trying to contact you," he rasped. 

Grace smiled patiently. Agitated looks didn't work with her, not even from the club owner. After all, she'd only said she might be stopping by at lunchtime. It had been naughty to turn off her mobile phone when with Old Sam, but then… she hadn't wanted to be interrupted.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she teased, watching him walk towards her. The way he'd thumped his drink on the bar before heading across the veneered wooden floor should have sparked a flame of alarm, bit she was still on a high after her morning with the grizzly old bear. She leant upwards to plant a soft kiss on Samuel's lips. Wait until he saw her tattoos… 

The stare he gave her stopped her in her tracks. His dark eyes were brooding, worried. The moment hit her like a sledgehammer. Something was wrong. Badly wrong. Perspiration broke out on his brow and that was unusual—Samuel didn't sweat. For a moment, she thought he was angry with her. 

"What is it?" she panted, nervousness filling her body. "Samuel…?"

With a frustrated shake of his head, he grabbed the brunette's arm and guided her along the corridor in front of him. It took less than thirty seconds to reach his office. 

For a few seconds, Samuel just stared at her. His son was arriving later today, to see his dad at the WSOP final table. Samuel's intention to show him how well the business was running had hit a major snag. It had only been two days since he'd bragged about Grace's success during a phone conversation with Joshua. Now, everything was fucked up. 




The Strip Ch. 12



He poured two whiskies and handed one of the glasses to her. He needed that deep drink, but he'd already had a couple that morning. Both glasses were emptied in the brief minute it took him to explain. 

Grace heard everything he said, but there were only a few phrases that resonated in her mind. Sex tape… released on the Internet… you and Lauren…

"What? How? Why?" She rasped out the questions without waiting for an answer to any of them. Her brain was still attempting to take in not just the news, but also the implications.

Samuel angrily shook his head, pouring a second whisky and planting the bottle beside them on the edge of his desk. This woman was soon to have been a gold mine for him. His take of her career earnings were guaranteed at twenty percent—that was the deal with all his 'angels.' Such profits seemed a long way away now.

"We'll need to see the tape," the African American told her. 

"But how could anyone have got such a thing?"

The thickset man's contemptuous glance told her that he gave the singer more credit than that. "Grace, where were you this morning?"

She felt herself bushing. "I had two more tattoos," she confessed. "On my ankles. Angels. I wanted to prove how committed to you I am before leaving for New York."

"You don't need to prove a thing," he said, his deep voice softening a little. "Did you fuck Old Sam?"

Her deepening colour gave him the answer without the brunette needing to speak. "Yes," she eventually confessed.

"I already know that," he told her. "I know every-fucking-thing. You've been sexually active ever since you came to Vegas, Grace. There'll have been a hundred opportunities for someone to secretly film you."

"Not with Lauren," she responded, lowering her eyes and biting her bottom lip. "That only happened once. With you."

This was a nightmare. Her worst nightmare. It had taken some time to come to terms with what had happened between her and her sister. Come to terms with it? She wasn't even sure that she had. They'd only spoken briefly about the incestuous tryst, but all that really came out of that was a silent agreement not to talk about it anymore. It was wrong, Grace knew. Not something that could ever be repeated, let alone thought about…

And yet there were a few times when Grace found herself looking at Lauren as more than just a sister, and…

She shook her head, trying to clear those thoughts. Think about now! The brunette had found comfort in the fact that only Samuel knew exactly what had taken place between her and her sister that night. 

Until now. Oh God!!!

"That means Kay Kirsten has something to do with this," the African American man growled, his face creasing in anger as he swallowed the last of his whisky. "I'll pay that bitch back, don't worry about that."

Grace made a weary effort to look upbeat through her trembling lips. "What happens next?"

Samuel shook his head. Sadly, angrily. "It's not looking good. All I know is I've had several calls, and Cowell has cancelled next week's meeting."

"The record producer?"

"Record producer, TV impresario, call him what you like," he snorted. "But if Simon's no longer interested, you can rest assured everyone else will follow. Even for acid house, this isn't the image that people are going to buy."

The stunned woman felt tears hit the back of her eyes. Suddenly, all her dreams were rapidly slipping away. Like smoke evaporating into thin air. This morning, she was on the verge of becoming a Superstar! 

"What do we do, Samuel?" she asked, wringing her hands together.

The African American poured himself another whisky. "I suggest you go back to your apartment for now, Grace. I have some phone calls to make."

***

The way Juanita's dark brown hand had stroked her leg throughout their late breakfast had Lauren revved up and ready to go. She hadn't had sex for a couple of nights and this sexy woman promised to be hot. If they didn't leave soon, she'd have to take the sexy bitch right there on the table.

Giving a soft chuckle, she fantasised about how the Planet Hollywood regulars around her would react to that.

"Something amusing you?" the Mexican woman murmured, her hand creeping further up Lauren's thigh. The short skirt provided minimum protection.

"Just anticipating the rest of the morning," the blonde smiled, widening her legs so that Juanita's hand could slide between them. "Oh fuck…"

The Mexican's beauty free hand snaked around Lauren's neck, pulling her into a passionate kiss. Her fingers worked the blonde's labial lips through the material, bringing another moan from the young model, ignoring the startled looks from the early diners around them. 

"Oh fuck?" the older model repeated into Lauren's mouth. "Baby, you have no idea how I'm going to fuck you. You're gonna scream all day, my baby girl…"

"Looks like I'd better be on my way." The women realised that Jeff was with them. Their combined passion had seen him fade into the background. The dark haired photographer was happy with that—he'd seen enough to realise that three was a crowd…

"Bye," Juanita murmured, dismissing him with one bat of her long eyebrows.

The sound of Lauren's mobile phone briefly broke the sexual tension. It was just as well—people were beginning to stare. Juanita didn't appear to care, but now that the moment was interrupted, Lauren felt herself colouring. Her chair scraped along the floor as she pushed it back. 

Juanita's hand stopped her from immediately answering as Lauren flicked open her phone. "Tell them you're incommunicado for the rest of the day," she sultrily whispered, her dark eyes promising everything.

Lauren nodded as she answered. Her heart was beating hard in anticipation. Juanita may be forty, but she was hot. "Hi. Rachal? Hi, honey, listen, I'm—"

"Lauren. Have you heard about the sex tape? You and Grace?"

The blonde's beating heart went into overdrive. "WHAT!!!" Her incredulity was evident in her almost hysterical voice.

Rachal put as much surprise and shock into her voice as she could. "You and Grace. Together. When the fuck did that happen?" 

The blonde tried to answer. She couldn't. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Her and Grace's uncomfortable embarrassment with each other had faded over the last three months, but despite Lauren's denials to herself she couldn't help the dreams that sometimes left her hot and bothered. She'd never admit her still taboo thoughts to Grace. Ever. 

It would kill her older sister if she found out. 

Reaching forward, she picked up a half full glass of water, not caring whose it was. It helped the dryness in her throat. As far as she was aware, no one other than the three participants knew exactly what had happened. If she believed her friend, now the whole world was about to find out!

"Rach, slow down," the blonde gasped. One hand clutched her heaving chest as she turned in her seat, crouching down in a vain attempt to keep the conversation private. "Exactly what are you saying?"

The mocha-skinned beauty gave a soft sigh at the other end of the phone. She'd have thought that Lauren would know about the sex tape by now! Clearly not. 

"Listen, babe," she explained. "Someone's videoed you and Grace together. On a bed somewhere. I've actually seen it and it's fucking hot. It's on the Internet. Don't ask me how."

Lauren felt her throat warble and fought back the knot. It had been taken at Kay's! That bitch… 

"Rach, it's Kay who's done this—"

"No," Rachal interrupted, playing the part Kay had given to her to perfection. "She's beside herself with anger about it. There's a local gangster—called Big Eddie—he's behind it. I don't know all the details, but he somehow got hold of the tape and released it. For big money, I bet."

Lauren felt waves of nausea floating around her head. It was all she could do to stop herself from blacking out. Another gulp of water and a few deep breaths settled her. "This is terrible!"

Rachal smiled at the other end of the line at the young woman's naivety. Blaming Big Eddie took the pressure off Kay. Not just with Lauren and her sister, but it avoided confrontation with Samuel Smith, too. When Carly fed the same story into the African American, he'd swallow it hook line and sinker.

"I know, I know, babe," the exotic model's voice sympathised. "But listen—turn it to your advantage. Get on the phone to Kay and tell her you want to do those movies."

"Movies?" That was the last thing on her mind.

"Listen to me," Rachal persuasively argued. "You're gonna be so hottttt after this. In demand. This is your chance, Lauren—this is your goldmine, babe!! Kay has someone else lined up, but in the circumstances she'll be feeling guilty. I know the last three months have been tough. This is your chance to get ahead of the game again, Lauren…"

She was right, they had been tough. Even so… "But Rach—"

The exotic looking model wasn't listening. Instead, she was carrying out Kay's instructions to the letter. "Do it, Lauren," her vibrant voice urged. "Just think of how much money you could earn!!!"

Lauren hung up and sighed. The potential earnings from the movies flashed in front of her eyes. But that wasn't her first priority right now. She had to get out of there. Find Grace.

"Time to go, baby girl," Juanita whispered in her ear.

Lauren stared at her, eyes all glassy. "Sorry… I have to call my sister."

The Mexican model tossed her hair, nostrils flaring. It seemed she didn't like being kept waiting. Not when she was so horny. The woman was sending so much steam into the air she resembled an overheated kettle. But she'd just have to wait… she had to ring Grace. 

Her sister's heavy breathing when she answered the phone spoke volumes. She'd been crying! Instead of bombarding her with all the questions dancing at the front of her mind, Lauren instantly changed tack. "Where are you?"

"The apartment," the voice at the other end of the line answered, unable to disguise her cold and shocked tone of disbelief.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes," Lauren blurted as she closed the phone and dropped it into her purse. Glancing across at where Jeff was paying the check, she swung back to face Juanita. "Emergency. I've gotta go," she offered, without further explanation.

The Mexican woman grabbed Lauren's wrist. Her blazing eyes demanded more from the blonde. Lauren lips gave it to her. Leaning down, the blonde's kiss was hard, passionate, and gave the promise of things to come.

"So sorry," she garbled, pulling away. "I want this as much as you, Juanita. But my sister's in trouble. I'll call you soon, okay?"

Another kissed stopped the Mexican from responding. It would have been too late anyway. Lauren was already hurrying across the room towards the exit.

***

Holly sat at the bar at McFadden's, an Irish themed bar that fit right in with the fake façade of the Las Vegas Strip. The call from Rosie had been a surprise, but a good one regardless. She'd seen Daniel only once since he'd returned to England, and he was a mess. And he sounded even worse when she'd called him last night. She'd see exactly how he was doing when they met shortly for lunch. Hopefully it wasn't too late for him.

The blonde adjusted her sunglasses on her head where they were keeping her blonde bangs out of her eyes. Her hair was lighter than ever after all the sun she'd received down in Southern Italy, where her "November 9" profile had her vacationing in luxury. Really, she'd been trailing a drug trafficker who'd pissed off the wrong people and, thanks to her, would no longer be troubling the world of the living.

With luck, it would be her last job.

Savouring the combination of the cognac, Cointreau and lemon juice Sidecar martini, Holly pondered her retirement from her secret career as a hitwoman. Because of her success in the poker circuit, she was drawing too high of a profile to make it feasible. The off-the-beaten-path town of Positano was trying enough. Carrying out a hit in a place like, say, Vegas, was going to get really difficult, really quickly. 

He retention fee from Samuel Smith expired at the end of the year. No matter what, if he didn't take her up on it, that was it. Her mind was made up…

Crossing the room towards her was a redhead that Holly easily recognized. She'd only officially met Rosie the once, in the Rio washrooms. But she'd never forget the anguish she'd seen on that pretty face.

In many ways, this woman looked different. It wasn't just her body, although the young woman was definitely leaner and fitter than Holly remembered. It was the way she carried herself. The way she dressed. Where Holly had once seen a girl pretending to be a woman, the redhead seemed to have matured. Or was it just that she'd aged? 

Her green eyes had lost their sparkle. And if you looked hard enough, that look of anguish was still discernable. This woman had fallen on hard times.

"Holly," Rosie said, coming to a stop in front of the blonde. The assassin-turned-poker-player saw nervousness in the girl's wide, green eyes. She saw the girl Rosie had once been, still twenty-one and innocent "Thanks for meeting me… you… you remember me?"

"Of course, I remember you, Rosie," Holly smiled, putting on a sympathetic face. "How are you?"

The redhead's anxious face tried to smile. It couldn't. "In… in a bit of a mess, I guess," she answered, holding her chest in an attempt to control her over-beating heart. "At the crossroads. I need to get out of here… escape…"  

"Out of Vegas?"

"Yes," the nervous young woman breathlessly answered, perching herself on the edge of the barstool, pausing as a server came by and took their order. She asked for the same as Holly. "Out of this life. Away from the people controlling me."

Holly brushed a hand through her blonde locks, her puzzled look urging the redhead to continue. 

"I'm in a bad place," she confessed. "My fault. I can't blame anyone else. And I'm the only one who can do anything about that."

They paused while the server returned and handed Rosie the drink. Holly flashed a sympathetic smile.

The redhead took a comfort sip. "Wow… that's got quite a kick, Holly."

The blonde laughed. Somehow that brief moment broke the tension between the two of them. It was time to throw in the bomb. "So you're leaving Vegas. What about Daniel?"

The tenseness returned.

"Daniel?" Rosie repeated, gulping as if she were trying to force down a plum. "What about Daniel?"

Holly smiled gently and reached out to cup the redhead's still trembling hands. This was no time for games. "Well," she said, glancing at her Rolex, "I'm seeing him for lunch soon. I assume he's the reason you asked to see me?"

"I… yes, I guess it is. I can't go without trying, Holly. Maybe one last chance. I know he'll be back in Vegas, I've been following news about him in the poker magazines and online. I just wondered if… if… there was any point…"

Holly squeezed the hands she was still holding. She gave the redhead a flat look and rolled her eyes. "The guy's crazy about you." She watched as Rosie looked down and away bashfully, catching the soft tint of red in her freckled cheeks. "So the answer is yes, Rosie. You two need to figure this thing out."

The blonde couldn't keep the smile from her red-painted lips as Rosie's eyes lit up. Then dulled just as suddenly. "It's not that simple…" Rosie started. 

The older woman watched a cloud of hopelessness fall across the redhead's face. She'd seen it before. On Daniel's face. It was the look of someone whose soul was slowly dying. 

"Three month's have passed since I saw him, Holly. I really fucked this one up. If he had any idea what I've done since then… guys like Daniel aren't meant to be with women like me."

Holly kept her smile to herself. Who was she to be judgemental? "But you still want to be with him, right? After all these months, you still think about him?" 

The redhead nodded, tears beginning to fall down her freckled cheeks. She blinked those large eyes up at Holly like a lost puppy. "Yes, all the time. All the time." She paused, choking back the tears. "I love him, Holly…"

"Then do something about it," the blonde said, a tad harsher than she intended. But sometimes a good shake worked better than a hug.

"Don't you think I want to? D'you know how difficult it was just to face you…"

Holly pulled Rosie's hands up so that the redhead rested her elbows on the bar. "Honey, don't make it difficult. You're here now, and I want you to know I'm your friend. I love, Daniel, but not in the way you do. He's my good friend and I'd do anything for him. So that means I'd do anything for you, too. Don't be nervous with me. Just talk to me!"

Rosie took a deep intake of air and pulled her hands away to take another drink. A long one this time. Her face scrunched as the heady combination of flavours hit her. "Wow!" 

Another deep breath followed while she steadied herself. 

"Okay… I took on my boyfriend's debt and all that's happened is that I've been exploited ever since. It's my fault. I'm not blaming anyone. But I'll never get out of this situation if I don't cut and run. I'm outta here as fast as I can. I've got to or my life's at an end. But I just couldn't go without seeing if there was a way that Daniel and I could… could…"

Holly watched the tears fall again. "Look, Rosie, I can't promise anything," she softly said, reaching out and tenderly brushing the tears away with her thumbs. She leant closer. "But before you leave, let me tell Daniel I saw you. Tell him you said, hello? See what his reaction is? That will give us both a clearer view of whether this can work between the two of you."

"Would you do that?" the redhead asked, wiping the tears away. Hope appeared in her eyes again. 

"I can't promise anything," Holly quickly repeated. "But I know how miserable Daniel has been for three months. Give me your cell phone number… and keep it on. I'll call you later. Okay!"

***

Grace's flood of tears surprised Lauren. This was bad news, of course, but the full gravity hadn't yet fully dawned on the blonde. "Don't worry," she comforted, heading straight from the apartment door to take her trembling sister in her arms. "I know it's embarrassing—"

"Embarrassing?" Grace shouted, pulling away from Lauren and pacing across the room. Halfway, she swung back, her tear-red eyes wild with frustration. "Embarrassing? Lauren, I AM FUCKED! I've just finished another conversation with Samuel. All the producers who were interested in me have backed out."

The blonde felt Grace's pain. "But—" 

"ALL OF THEM!"

Lauren stared blankly, listening to the screech. "Grace… I'm so sorry… I didn't think… didn't realise…"

Her older sister took another slug from the whisky in her hand. How many had she had since hearing the news? The liquid no longer burned the back of her throat, it went down all too easily now. "I'm fucked, Lauren," she blurted. "Fucked."

Lauren covered the distance between them and threw her arms around her sister again. "Grace, I'm so sorry," she repeated, stroking the silken brunette hair. "Can't Samuel do anything?"

Grace felt the tears welling up again long before they began to roll down her cheeks. Pull yourself together, girl! What's done is done. There's no one else to blame. She flopped down on a chair, whisky spilling over the edge of the glass and dropping onto her blouse. She blankly glanced at the wet spot for a few moments and then turned her attention back to her sister.




The Strip Ch. 12



"He's done everything he can," she confided, looking up at Lauren. Her mind seethed with the injustice of it all. "I thought Kay had done this, but it's some local gangster. A business rival, Samuel said. Out to ruin him. The bastard has ruined me!"

"I know," Lauren responded. "Rachal told me. There must be something—"

Grace shrugged her shoulders, the hopelessness of everything overwhelming her. "Samuel says the storm will eventually blow over—God knows when! He's keeping me on at the club until my chance comes again. Give me some more of that whisky, will ya?" she asked, pointing at the bottle.

Lauren poured some of the amber liquid into an empty glass for herself before refilling Grace's drink. "That's something," she sympathised, twisting her face at the burning taste. "In time… maybe…"

"Yeah," Grace agreed, beginning to regain her composure. "In time. You know what, Lauren, I got carried away with this. With my own importance. I've done a lot of crying in the last few hours. But I've done a lot of thinking, too."

"Grace, you were excited by what happened, that's all—" Lauren began.

"It's true," her sister cut her off. "Things went to my head. I thought I was a Superstar… a selfish Superstar!"

"Grace—" 

"You know I'm right, Lauren. I mean… just look at you. Stopping you from doing those movies was so selfish. All you've had since then is for few bits and pieces. That's my fault. I was just thinking of myself, and look where that selfishness has got us. You could've been earning a fortune…"

Lauren half smiled. Rach's persuasive words were still on her mind. But wouldn't the movies be taking advantage of her sister's misfortunes?

"What did you say earlier about Rachal, anyway?" Grace asked. "What did she tell you?"

The blonde took another sip from the whisky. She felt better now that Grace's tears had dried up. And who knows, it might not take too long for all of this to blow over? "She phoned to tell me she'd seen the tape…"

For a few moments, both women went silent. Thoughts of that night returned. Lauren watched her sister's luminous eyes dance with something… guilt? Shame? She looked so beautiful, even with her make-up streaked with grief. She'd always been like that: strong, even in the hardest times. Strong and sexy…

It was Grace who broke the spell. "And?"

Lauren's next drink helped sooth her suddenly dry mouth. She coloured, thinking of how mortified Grace would be if she could read the sinful thoughts going through her mind right now. Hell, that's what had got them into this trouble, wasn't it? 

"And?" Grace repeated, pulling the blonde from her thoughts. "C'mon, spit it out!"

"Just…" Lauren began, wondering how to phrase things. "She said she'd watched the video and it was pretty hot." The blonde's blush was nearly as deep as Grace's. Why had she said that? The words had just tumbled out.

"And, erm…. she said that Big Eddie was responsible, just like you said," Lauren continued on quickly, for both their sakes. "She also told me that Kay Kirsten was distraught that it had happened… and that I should call her..."

"Call her?"

"Yes." Lauren's voice was hesitant. "She said that Kay might still give me that movie contract. That after the publication of the tape, I could make a lot of money…" 

Her sister's laugh surprised her. Loud and almost hysterical, it reverberated around the room.

"Grace. I'm sorry—"

"No!!!" her sister shouted, her once stricken face suddenly alive again. "Do it! DO IT!"

"Do it?"

"Yes! It's my fault that things have dried up for you since you turned those movies down. Rach is right, his is a fresh chance, Lauren. It's hardly going to damage me now, is it? Make that call!"

***

The All-American Bar & Grille seemed appropriate for their early lunch. After all, it had been the base for so many of their pre and post chats three short months ago. What made this one different was the state Daniel was in. 

Was this really the fresh-faced young man she'd bonded with so well? She'd only seen him once since the Main Event, and that had been worrying enough. But now! The deep, black rings around his eyes told their own story. Too much drink, too little sleep. Didn't her friend know it was the most important day of his life tomorrow?

Holly waited until they'd discussed everything else before introducing the subject of the redhead. "She really got to you," she said as they enjoyed a post meal coffee.

Daniel nodded. "Seems like it," he grudgingly admitted, knowing instantly it was Rosie she was referring to. "But it's not just that."

Holly's grimace told him she didn't buy the comment. "Then what?" she asked. If he wasn't even willing to admit his true feelings to himself, no wonder he was so confused.

"I don't know," he falteringly began. "Maybe the small piece of fame and fortune isn't what I expected. Perhaps I'm finding everything harder to cope with than I expected?"

"Go on," Holly encouraged. Let's get everything out in the open.

Daniel shrugged as he drained the remains of his coffee. "I've no idea Holly," he sighed, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. "Becoming a poker pro dominated my thoughts for so long. Now that I've been successful, maybe it's just all an anti climax. Not what I expected? Hell… I don't know…"

The blonde's hand reached out to run along his forearm. "Or maybe you're just in denial?" she softly asked.

His head shot up. "What do you mean?"

Holly's gentle gaze stayed on his face—the unshaven stubble, the bleary eyes. Her heart felt for the crinkly haired young man. "You need someone to share all this with," she told him, adding for emphasis, "Rosie!" 

That one word explained everything. They both knew it.

"Forget Rosie," he snapped, turning round and waving the server over. "Look," he rasped, once he'd ordered two refills and watched the overweight server waddle away. "It wouldn't have worked—"

"I saw her this morning," Holly interrupted, leaning forward to emphasise the good news. Her encouraging eyes tried to tell him what he needed to know. "She misses you, Daniel."

For a few seconds, his hurting eyes responded. In her profession, she'd seen a thousand different expressions—the eyes said so much. His gave the impression of hope. For a few seconds anyway. Just as suddenly, his eyes dulled, like someone throwing water on a fire. 

"I told you," he answered a little too quickly. "It wouldn't have worked, Holly. Don't you understand? Her boyfriend mentally beat her up. He was a gambler. A deadbeat poker player. That's how Rosie referred to him. That's what she thinks about all poker players. Who could blame her after what he put her through?"

"Daniel—"

"NO, Holly!" The table shook as his hand banged down on it. His face was full of emotion—anger, confusion, frustration and hurt. Just as suddenly, the young man's shoulders drooped and his head dropped into his hands. "I'm sorry, Holly," he mumbled apologetically. "I didn't mean to shout."

"Hey," the blonde smiled, her sympathetic tone telling him it was okay. "I'm your friend, right? It's good to let your frustrations out!"

Daniel took the comforting hands held out to him. He hadn't realised just how much he was trembling. "Holly," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Don't you think I've been through this a million times in my mind? Let's leave things there, can we?"

The blonde stared sympathetically into his pleading eyes. "Of course," she told him. The hurt on his face, in his eyes, told her she needed to back off. But there was more than one way to skin a cat.

He stood up, sending out a sigh of relief as he glanced around. "Thanks. "I'll get the check. Look, I'm due at the Bellagio. I need a long session before tomorrow. Just another day and then we're famous, eh?" he nervously laughed, as if the long awaited final table was an everyday occurrence. 

"Don't you want some rest?"

"Nah," he told her, his tone and demeanour instantly dismissing the suggestion. "Listen, why don't you head down to the Bellagio with me? I'll be there 'til late tonight. It'll be good to play cards together again."

"I might do that," she smiled, the new idea already forming in her mind. "Not yet, but later. Look… stay there 'til I get there, okay. Or call me if you're going to leave, I don't want a wasted trip."

Daniel nodded. "No problem… I won't be going anywhere, Holly."

"Mm-kay," the blonde murmured, smiling warmly at her friend. "You get on your way, I'll pick up this check."

***

"Long time, no hear, Lauren," Kay Kirsten's voice purred on the other end of the line. It had been, Lauren thought. Nearly three months, in fact, since she'd turned Kay down and all connections had been severed.

"How are you doing, Kay?" Lauren asked, a little hesitantly. Hearing her former employer was much like bumping into a high school boyfriend—there was a lot of history there, but it was just that, history.

"I'm good. Better than you and Grace, I'm guessing," she said ominously.

"Yes," Lauren sighed. 

"I'm so sorry, Lauren. I somehow feel responsible." Kay's voice sounded sympathetic, disguising the fact she was a cat stalking a mouse. "How are you both feeling?"

"Trying to come to terms with everything," the blonde model replied. "It's pretty tough on Grace." 

"I can imagine," Kay's sympathetic voice told her. "Isn't it surprising how things can turn around? Three months ago, you were both riding high. Grace was looking forward to releasing an album. You had the chance to make a lot of money in the movie world…"

She let the words trail away, leaving a trail of smoke behind like a jet fighter in the sky. They were full of meaning, designed to make Lauren realise what she'd missed, and give the young blonde model the impetus to take advantage of the opening. The older woman had been anticipating hearing from the blonde since she'd had Rach call Lauren. Everything was working out perfectly. 

Revenge was so sweet...

"Look, darling. As I said, I feel responsible. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Well…"

"Yes, dear?"

"I was talking to Rachal earlier…"

"How is she, darling?"

Damn! Kay wasn't making this any easier. Lauren drew a long breath. "She's fine. But she said you might still be interested in me making the movie?"

"Movies, darling. Three of them."

"Yes, that's what I meant," Lauren stuttered. "Movies."

"You're interested?"

"Well… hmm… I thought if you still wanted me, I'd like to give it one more shot…" she responded, her voice trailing away.

"Well, I didn't anticipate that…" Kay told her, smiling at the spiky haired woman beside her on the bed. Having the conversation on loudspeaker allowed them both to listen to the conversation. 

Carly closed in and softly kissed Kay while they allowed Lauren to anticipate the Agency Head's reply. Kay ran her hand across the younger woman's naked breasts as she pulled away.

"I mean," she continued, "I've already replaced you, Lauren…."

"Oh!" The blonde woman sounded crestfallen.

"Though… Rachal's involved in other things, using her is a bit inconvenient." 

"Yes, go on..." Lauren's tone had bounced back up again.

"Well… I run a business, as you know, darling. The money wouldn't quite be the same for you. And you'd be appearing with another unknown, so I'd be taking a chance…"

"I won't let you down, Kay!"

"Mmmm… Let me think…" her lips found Carly's again. "Okay," she mumbled, licking along the spiky haired woman's neck. "Come over to see me, Lauren dear. I'm in two minds."

"Yes, of course," the blonde instantly agreed. "When do you want to see me? Where? At your office?"

"No, at my house," the Agency Head seductively murmured. "And come now, there's no time like the present. I'm always at my best at lunchtime…"

"I can… I will!" The blonde's response was almost puppy-like in its desire to please. "Yes, Kay. I really want this. And I'll do anything to show you I'm right for this!"

"Anything?" Kay asked. Her tone left no doubt as to her meaning. "Well that's a start, darling. You know that I just love enthusiastic women…"

***

It was a good half an hour after Daniel left when the plan formed in Holly's brain. Her mind had working like a ticking clock since their encounter. She shuffled in her purse for her mobile phone. Time for Plan B. 

Rosie answered her call within two rings.

"What did he say?" the redhead breathlessly asked.

Holly smiled at her eagerness, the urgency of her question. "He's pretty low, Rosie," she answered in non-committal fashion. "But I've an idea. Are you free the rest of the day?"

"Yes!" Unless Big Eddie caught up with her, the redhead was free the rest of her life.

Holly gave a satisfied sigh. The idea was perfect—a way to get Daniel out of his funk before the Final Table and get these two back together again. She was a genius! "Rosie, want to learn how to play Texas Holdem?"

***

"That was quick," Kay greeted, giving Lauren a slow once-over. "You're overdressed, although that's quite a dress."

"Um… thanks," Lauren stumbled, unsure what to make of the sexy sight in front of her. The last time she'd been here, three months ago, had been the most exciting sex of her young life. The house had been bustling with sexed-up partygoers. Now, it was just Kay, naked but for a black vinyl catwoman mask, black, fishnet thigh-highs, and heels.

"We got started a little before you," she murmured, closing the door and sauntering across the room. "Come and join us." 

The older woman chuckled to herself at Lauren's shocked expression. Wearing the mask had put the sexy blonde off-balance. That was good, but even more importantly, she needed to be unrecognisable if her plan was to work. 

She'd brought the blonde to Vegas with the intention of making money, and she still would, just not in the way she'd expected. The chance to cement her revenge on the two sisters—and make six-figures at the same time—was an opportunity too good to resist.

And on top of that, the movies would still be going ahead. Carly was the perfect replacement for the Englishwoman. 

"Come along, darling," Kay called out over her shoulder, not even bothering to turn her head. "Don't keep us waiting."

There it was again. Us? The surge of apprehension that swept through Lauren's body was fuelled with excitement. Was Rachal here? Jimmy, too? And the mask, what was that all about? The blonde was still aroused from her encounter with Juanita. The hint of sex that hung in was in the air was exactly what she needed.

Kay paused until the eager girl had almost caught up before continuing. Her broad smile was a promise of things to come. Lauren obediently followed, a step behind on the short walk up the stairs to the master bedroom. It was difficult to keep her eyes off Kay's naked body on the way, tight and slender—a body that defied her age.

The last time she'd taken this particular walk, she'd been with her sister. The blonde shivered, focusing on Kay's nudity rather than deal with those thoughts all over again. The all over tan looked real enough, and that peach-like ass was everything it had promised to be, even all those months ago when she'd first met Kay and Dan at her studio. 

There was something sexy about the way the sophisticated woman walked, that model-like stride, the perfectly arched back. 

Swinging open her bedroom door and stepping to the side, Kay allowed Lauren to take in her frontal nakedness for the first time. The blonde felt her heart catch in her throat. She'd been attracted to this woman from their very first meeting and nothing that had happened since then had changed that need. Now, with her future in Kay's hands, her arousal was even more acute. 

Especially with that mask. It would be like fucking Catwoman…

"You like?" Kay asked, posing with her hands on her hips. She threw back her head as she thrust her breasts outward. The older woman looked magnificent. "Well?" she murmured, collecting her exquisite swells between her hands, her hard nipples peeking out between her long fingers

The way Lauren's tongue flicked across her lips as she nodded confirmed her answer. Her soft blue eyes narrowed as she bit down on her lower lip. "I like," she confessed, the words coming from the back of her throat.

Kay smiled sweetly, satisfied with the response. "This is Carly," she unexpectedly said.

It was only then that Lauren saw the girl standing in front of the king-sized bed. Like Kay, she wore a vinyl mask over her eyes and hair, and like Kay, her lips were painted blood red. 

Very surreal—and very sexy.

She stepped forward, the pale light of the sun that blazed into the bedroom enhancing her nudity. Lauren gasped at the rolling curves of the girl's bronzed flesh. Sauntering across the short distance to the blonde, she reached out to cup Lauren's face, her thumbs making little circles along the girl's cheekbones. Closing the distance between their mouths, she pushed her tongue between Lauren's lips. Lauren groaned, returning the lesbian kiss energetically.

The sexy woman laced her right hand through the golden hair, pulling Lauren tighter against her body as she pushed her mouth harder against the trembling lips. 

Her left hand followed the hard curves of Lauren's ass, while her right undid the tie of the halter. She peeled the dress away, pushing it down over the blonde's hips. Her hand skimmed across the flat plain of Lauren's midriff, closing in on the young model's now aching breasts. 

Lauren moaned as this girl—Carly—squeezed and manipulated her soft flesh, painfully but deliciously twisting her nipples. "Oh God…"

Breaking the girl-girl kiss, Carly's eyes spat dominance as she lowered her lips to the exposed breasts. Lauren groaned again, louder, her eyelids heavy with lust as the spiky haired woman sucked in a hard nipple. 

"Nice?" the girl slurped to her captive as she switched nipples with a loud suckle. Saliva dripped onto her stomach from the freed bud.

Lauren made to answer but suddenly Kay had closed in. She gripped the back of Lauren's hair and yanked the blonde's head to hers. The kiss was unbridled and intimate, designed to tell Lauren she was there to do what she was told.

As the older woman devoured her mouth, Carly had her hands on Lauren's hips, her thumbs playing with the edges of her thong before tugging the tiny cream panties down her thighs.

"This is for you, Lauren. It's all you'll be needing for this… lunchtime audition." Kay fastened a black leather collar around the blonde's neck. On a metal loop was a thin silver chain. A leash? 

***

The concentration on Holly's face revealed just how closely she'd followed Rosie's story. It was quite a tale. The blonde assassin poured them both another drink and wondered how many hotel rooms like this the redhead had frequented? How many drinks had she accepted? 

Except, this time the drink was bottled water. 

And the reason for her visit to Holly's hotel suite had nothing to do with sex. 

Not that Holly wouldn't have been tempted by the young beauty. Even in the high-necked top and casual jeans, it was impossible to conceal that near perfect body. The situation brought all the blonde's sexual frustrations to the surface. God knows—she'd gone far too long without sex.

Maybe she should dump her good deed idea and take advantage of the vulnerable redhead? Or pack Rosie on her way and fuck Daniel instead? 




The Strip Ch. 13



This is a rewrite of 'Vegas', combining both Books. While maintaining the theme, it offers a completely different and fresh take for the main characters.

Grateful thanks go to the best editor in the world -- thesoundandfury - not only for his editing, but also for the constant encouragement, suggestions, and for helping me to become a better writer.

Chapter 13: A Night Out

"I still can't believe you reached the final table, pop," Joshua Smith told his father as they drove them from Las Vegas airport to his luxury home. The younger man's beaming smile indicated his excitement. "Hell, wouldn't it be something if you won the whole thing?"

"That's what I intend, Josh," the cocky businessman told his son. "The two amateurs won't last long. The guy's my fish and the woman, well, I have a feeling she'll soon be giving me all her chips."

"Overconfidence, pop?"

"Just the truth," Samuel said with a grin, running through a red light to avoid queuing in the heavy traffic.

"Hey!"

"Just like playing poker," Samuel said to his son with an outrageous grin. "It rewards people who're willing to take calculated risks."

Joshua laughed, running his hand over his shaved head. "Okay, I believe you about the amateurs. That only leaves the six pros. Shouldn't be a problem."

Samuel laughed along with him. "I'll just let them cut each other's throats, Josh. Then I'll pounce. It'll be real sweet, son."

The younger man playfully punched his father's shoulder. "And talking of sweet, how the hell did that tape get onto the 'net? You told me Grace was hot, but that was sizzling…"

"You've seen it?"

"Darn right I have, pop. You mean you haven't?"

"That tape's cost me a lot of money," his father snapped. He'd calmed down from his initial anger, particularly in view of his plans for Big Eddie. The sex tape would be the gangster's final roll of the dice—the little shit wouldn't be a thorn in his side for much longer. "For the time being," he continued. "It'll blow over, things like this always do. But it could take a while."

"Sorry to hear that, pop, I know you had high hopes for her. But listen, you've just got to watch that video, it'll blow your socks off."

"Why should I watch it?" Samuel asked, his wide grin creasing both corners of his lips. "I was there."

"You were there? What the fuck, pop?"

"Watch your language with your father," Samuel snapped, though the grin didn't leave his face.

"Sorry, pop, sorry. But I mean… heck, it's my birthday next week. Those two ladies would make a helluva present for your son!"

Samuel Smith's deep laugh filled the car. "Tonight," he simply said.

Joshua pushed around in his leather seat so that he directly faced his father. "Tonight… what?"

"The blonde sister—Lauren—needs a job. She can sing, too, so I'm thinking of booking her at the club, along with Grace. Can you imagine how many punters the two of them will draw in as a result of that tape? They'll be worth a fortune. When the public forgive and forget, I'll find a producer for Grace again. It'll happen."

"You got it all figured out, pop," Joshua laughed.

Samuel nodded, swinging the Bentley Continental GT off the highway. "Yep, and it may be I use the two of them to perform for important clients. I have people who'll do me a lot of favours for that sort of experience."

"I can imagine," Joshua told him. "But, pop, you said about tonight…"

His father gave him a sideways grin as he pulled into their long, heavily tree lined drive. "Tonight, you and I are taking the sisters to dinner. I've floated the idea of employing Lauren with Grace. You should've seen her face—she was ecstatic. She'll talk to Lauren before we pick them up."

"And—"

Samuel laughed as he turned off the purring engine. "And, my impatient son," he said, turning around to gently slap Joshua's cheek. "We'll have a pleasant dinner, then we'll take turns to fuck them both. How's that for an early birthday present?"

***

Carly powered her Mercedes down the highway, the wind in her hair adding to the exhilaration running through her body. The bracelet around her ankle jangled as she changed gears. The solid gold anklet, with its dangling hearts, flowers and stars was a gift from Kay, confirming the deal that would see her appear in three movies. The astronomical money the older woman had promised would make her independent for the first time in her young life.

Shifting gears, she pounded the Merc even faster. The car was Samuel's present to her—for putting her life on the line by getting involved in Desmond's demise. Loyalty was a rare commodity for Samuel Smith—he'd always believed in rewarding such a quality! Besides, he was as astute as they came. He knew it would keep her sweet whilst she continued to spy on Eddie.

Big Eddie's call not more than half an hour ago had been a surprise, but a welcome one. After her fabulous session with the two women, the gangster's hard cock would be a splendid alternative. The gangster sounded hyper. That meant he had something to tell her… and he'd be feeling like a rampant stallion. Her pussy was already oily at the thought.

The diamond bracelet around her wrist and matching pendant had been presents too—from the gangster. For her loyalty to him!!

Men were such assholes.

***

Grace sat in the Pinot Brasserie, sipping her martini, lost in her thoughts. It was the first time she'd returned to the Venetian restaurant since her visits their with Lauren over three months ago. It comforted her, somehow.

Going shopping had certainly cheered her up, too. A woman could always rely on retail therapy! And if she had overspent on the skimpy lingerie, who cared? She wanted to look good for Samuel tonight, and his son. Just in case…

It would be simply fabulous if Lauren joined her at the club. They could resume their singing duo… well, in part… she needed to keep her top of the bill solo spot for when the paying public forget all about her and Lauren's sex tape and another opportunity to be signed with a record producer presented itself.

Samuel had promised it would. Just give it time, he'd said.

The African American had been fantastic with her—the tower of strength that she needed. Despite the devastating news of that morning, she was already beginning to feel better. As if she'd seen the worst, and now there was only one way to go—back up. She just needed to be patient, that was all.

A second martini followed the first, then a third. Wasn't it easy to let time go by like this? She'd been so busy since her arrival in Vegas, it occurred to her that she'd never really had five minutes to herself. Her selfishness with Lauren had hit her hard. It would be good if Kay had offered her another shot at the movies, but if not, singing at Samuel Smith's was a fantastic alternative.

He was much more caring than he liked to convey. Yes, he had a hard edge to him, but the offer to employ Lauren was out of the goodness of his heart.

She glanced at her watch—it was time to get back. Lauren would probably have returned from her lunch with Kay by now.

Daniel was on her mind, too. The way she'd suddenly left him. Brutal really. She would have to find a way of meeting up with him again. Maybe at the World Series final table tomorrow? Just to say sorry, and wish him all the best. For some reason, her downfall had brought with it a desperate need to right all her wrongs. She really had been a selfish bitch.

But for now, she thought as she called for the check, she'd hurry back to her apartment. Not only was she anxious to hear Lauren's news, she needed to tell her sister about their joint dinner date tonight.

***

"Not yet, baby," Carly told the gangster as he increased the pace of his hip thrusts. The way his face began to curl in that familiar pre-orgasmic grimace was a sure give-away.

Athletically twisting her lithe body from under his, she reversed positions before he had time to blink. Seconds later, she took hold of his sticky cock and speared it into her oily sex.

He grunted like an animal. The tightness of her sex always made him grunt.

Bracing a hand on the nape of his neck, the spiky haired woman began to undulate on him like a rodeo rider. Carly the cowgirl, she laughed to herself. Guaranteed to tame any wild stallion. Or mare, for that matter.

The spiky haired woman fucked down on him like a dervish, fuelled by what he'd confided when she'd arrived at his house. He'd been on such a high, 'ready to deal with that bastard Smith once and for all'.

The squeeze Samuel had been putting on the gangster was paying dividends. Tightening the noose, the African American businessman had called it.

Getting more of Big Eddie's girls to jump ship had helped, of course. Carly's regular words in their ears had had the desired effect. Eddie's in trouble... Samuel Smith pays more… treats his girls better…

The continuous insinuations had worked well. One by one they'd jumped ship and the new replacements were never as good. Business suffered. His profits turned into losses. His demeanour became more and more fractious.

She'd get full details of the gangster's plans very soon… but before then, she wanted to take advantage of his heightened state. He always fucked best when he was in this mood… and after her session with the two women, his cock was a welcome alternative.

Not better… just different.

Carly squealed with each glorious down-thrust, her skin slapping against his as she drove them both towards the edge of that cliff Eddie's face clenched again and she eased off a fraction. "Not until I'm ready, baby," she grunted, leaning forward to scrape her nipples along his chest.

When he reached for her, she rocked back with a laugh, breasts bouncing provocatively as she changed pace. Using the moves she'd developed as a dancer, her hips ground in slow, circular motions.

"Fuck, baby…" Big Eddie grunted, trying to thrust upwards to hurry the release that was ready to burst like water through a hole in the dam. His sweaty hands grasped upwards, gripping her breasts, pulling on her nipples.

"That's good, honeybaby," she moaned, reaching down to slide her tongue into his mouth. When he responded, she grew more aggressive. Her tongue dove deeper, her downward thrusts increased again. Her hands took his and pinned his arms at his sides.

"Ngh…" he moaned, twisting his head to the side, his face pushing into the white pillow as he tried to wait for her body to catch up.

Carly's eyes narrowed. Nearly there! Her orgasm was… yes… oh God… she was there… she was THERE…

It ran through her like an unleashed tidal wave that even Canute wouldn't be able to turn away. Her body shuddered… trembled… as if a thousand bolts of electricity were being pumped through her. Her sex gripped his cock, tightening around the invading shaft until her spasms subsided.

"Good, Eddie" she gasped, lowering her head and biting down on his nipple. Time for his release. Straightening, she bounced faster, throwing her head and body back, her hands grasping her ankles behind her as she gave him her first pussy ripple. "Time for you to cum…"

"Oh God…" His body jerked like a puppeteer was pulling it.

She fired a second ripple, then a third.

Eddie's face twisted like a tortured prisoner. "Ohgodohgodohgodohgod..."

He burst like a fireman hosing the inside of a building, splattering her insides. What seemed like gallon after gallon of hot cum burst into her slippery sex, the female puppeteer yanking her marionette's body with each additional squeeze of her greedy inner walls. All the time, her sweet murmurings into his ear coaxed further mini blasts from her sex toy.

Yes Eddie… let it go… cum for Carly… good boy… give me that seed, honey…

When he came crashing down from their high, the spiky haired woman cradled him to her bosom as if he was a small child. "Now then, Eddie," she murmured, nuzzling into his goatee as she stroked his dyed black hair. "Tell me exactly what's in store for that bastard Samuel Smith…"

***

Lauren sank back in the large tub, soaking her long blonde hair. She closed her eyes, encapsulated by the luxurious warmth of the water, and sighed. She needed this brief sanctuary after her "audition" with Kay and Carly.

"Mmmm…" she mumbled, sinking her head beneath the water. Her words turned to bubbles. Could this day get any crazier? On top of learning that an incestuous sex tape was making its way across the Internet and spending the afternoon servicing a couple ravenous, masked women, she'd been fist fucked to oblivion by her replacement!

The bath helped soothe the soreness, but just thinking about what she'd done brought a shiver of excitement to her sex. "You're such a slut," she giggled to herself. How could she still be horny after so many orgasms?

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Grace's shocked voice broke her from her revelry. Lauren jerked in the tub, splashing water over the lip as her face coloured. She'd been playing with herself without realizing it, lazily stroking her silky smooth mound as she daydreamed.

"Grace, hold on, sorry…" Lauren stuttered, turning in the tub to give her a little bit of privacy. Finding her older sister at the door, she realized it didn't matter. The brunette was half turned away, the tanned skin of her face bright red. She deliberately kept her eyes off of the tub.

"I should have knocked. Um… anyway…"

Were her sister's nipples hard through that tight little top of hers? Lauren's pussy grew even warmer. "What's up?" she said cheerily, ignoring the sexual tension and awkwardness that permeated the steam-filled room.

"How did your talk with Kay go?" Grace asked, blinking as she kept her gaze averted.

How to answer THAT question, Lauren wondered with a chuckle. "She said she would get back to me in a couple days. She'd already cast a replacement for me, but she said she had a few other things in mind…"

"That's great, Lauren! I'm so happy for you."

Lauren heard the strain in her sister's voice. She knew Grace meant what she said, but couldn't keep the melancholy from her thoughts.

"Any word from Samuel?"

Grace shifted in the doorframe. "He called. He's working on smoothing it over, but there's only so much he can do…"

"What else?" Lauren asked. She knew her sister too well for her to hold anything back.

"Well, I wasn't sure how things would go with Kay, so I talked with Samuel. He said he'd be interested in giving you a job when I mentioned that you had a great voice—"

"I couldn't compete with yours…" Lauren interrupted, but liked what she was hearing. She'd enjoyed her short stint on the stage back in London—not quite as much as she liked modelling, but that wasn't going so well.

"Anyway, he wants to talk to us over dinner. Tonight. You available?" A dinner with her sister and Samuel Smith? Lauren had to squeeze her taut thighs together as she thought about those implications. Reading her mind, Grace quickly added, "His son'll be there, too. Joshua came into town to watch Samuel tomorrow at the Final Table."

Lauren wasn't sure if she was disappointed or not, but she certainly was relieved. At least that took the pressure off.

"Sounds fun. We're going some place fancy?"

"Does Samuel Smith dine anywhere else?" Grace laughed. It was good to see some mirth in her face once again. "I'll leave you to your bath. He'll be picking us up around eight."

***

"Samuel? It's Carly." Her voice sounded breathless. She'd arranged with Kay that she'd called him to plant that it was Big Eddie who'd released the sex tape. But her additional news was breathtaking.

"What is it, baby?" he asked. "Joshua's here. We're heading out shortly."

"I've got some news?"

"News?" She heard his sharp intake of breath.

"Uh hum. Two pieces. First, Big Eddie's bragging about how he sold a sex tape for release on the Internet. Said he'd destroy you and your star singer," she lied. But it was a small lie, it didn't harm anyone did it?

The African American paused. "How did he get the tape," his suspicious voice asked his informant.

Carly grinned to herself. The second piece of news would take his mind off the where's and how's. It fitted so well, it was like a gift from the Gods. "Listen, baby, it gets worse. He's taking out a contract on you."

"What the fuck?"

"It's true," she told him, her words starting to tumble out, one after the other. "You're hurting him bad right now. He still hasn't got over Desmond. Or your offer to but his club. That hurt him. It's known around Vegas and he thinks it's made him lose face. Then there're the girls we've persuaded to leave. He says that's the last straw, that he's losing money now."

Samuel growled. "That all sounds fucking good to me…"

"It is, honey," she responded, "but that's why he wants to hurt you bad. First he destroys Grace's career. Then he kills you. I think he's gone mad…"

"He's gone mad all right," the shrewd businessman mumbled, his brain clicking into gear. "I didn't think the little shit had the nerve. Try and get his own back, yes… but never this."

"It's why you've kept me at the club, Samuel," Carly slyly told him, stroking his ego.

She wasn't being disloyal to him, spilling that story about Eddie and the sex tape, right? Hell, it made no difference to Samuel. Besides, she was saving his life. Okay—and feathering her own nest at the same time.

She really was a clever bitch!

"This's why you kept me there," her soothing voice continued. "That was smart, honey. And you knew that Carly would do the business for you…"

"Yeah," he thoughtfully responded, blowing out his cheeks. He knew exactly what he was going to do, and it fit perfectly!

Holly was back in Vegas. With the final table tomorrow, he already knew that. The assassin wouldn't be happy with the timing, but she'd made a commitment. An evil smile crossed his face. This really was perfect. Get rid of his main business rival, and remove one of his poker opponents from the final table at the same time!

"Call me when you know more," he told her. "Understand?"

"You know I'll do that, Samuel," she said a little petulantly. "Have I ever let you down?"

He picked up on her grouchy tone immediately. "You're the best, Carly" he told her, his voice filled with warmth. "And there'll be an even bigger bonus in this one for you. Gotta go now but we'll speak later..."

Carly tapped on the horn of her car three times as she ended the call. When other drivers glanced her way, she lifted her hand into the air and gave them all the finger. Don't get in my way, guys, she shouted as she threw her head back and laughed. I'm a mean bitch…

***

"Okay," Holly told the redhead, turning away from the window at last.

She'd been thinking about Big Eddie and Samuel Smith for the last half hour. Different scenarios presented themselves, but her most logical option was to call the African American. Technically, she was still in his employ and she'd never broken a contract yet.

"I think that's enough for now," she said. "Times getting on."

Rosie's green eyes remained on the screen as she played through a few more hands. "Just a little more? I'm up two hundred from this afternoon."

Her poker teacher sent a sympathetic glance in the redhead's direction. It was her fear of what they were about to do that made her reluctant, not any desire to win a few more dollars. "Unfortunately, Rosie, we don't have time."




The Strip Ch. 13



"I know," the young woman softly answered, her frightened face looking up at the blonde. She was so close to seeing Daniel again. "I'm scared."

"Of course you are," Holly told her. "Just stayed patient, only play the right hands, and be aggressive when you play them..."

"That's not what I meant…" Rosie ruefully smiled.

The blonde laughed aloud. "I know, honey. I know…"

Rosie pushed the laptop off her knees and flopped back against the arm of the couch. "You really think we can pull this off?"

Holly nodded, her eyes drawn to the full breasts under that tight top as Rosie pulled up her arms and tousled her red hair. "Let's get the poker bit right, first. Do that, and we're halfway there."

Rosie kept her hands on the top of her head. "You really think I'm ready?"

"As ready as you're ever gonna be. Someone once said poker takes a few minutes to learn, and a lifetime to master," she grinned, repeating that oft stated poker phrase. "Absorbing the intricacies takes much longer than we've had, but we've got you playing solid. That's all you'll need for tonight."

"I love it," the redhead enthused, beaming at Holly's words of praise. She took a long drink from the cool glass of water beside her. "I can't believe the adrenalin rush. Is that how you and Daniel constantly feel?"

"Sometimes," the beautiful blonde responded. "But there are more lows than highs!" Her black t-shirt rode up as she stretched her toned body. Gratifyingly, she watched Rosie's eyes flicker to her tanned, flat stomach. If only circumstances were different…

"He'll be shocked to see me."

"To put it mildly," Holly agreed, turning her thoughts back to the matter in hand. "Rosie, I've no idea how he'll react. But if this doesn't work, nothing will. I want you to go back to your apartment now and dress as sexily as you can."

"Really?"

Holly laughed. "Nothing over the top, honey. I'm not sure 'Bobby's Room' would approve. Wear something casual, but I want those legs shown off. And those tits, too. You have great breasts, Rosie, so let's display some cleavage. Can you get back to your place and change, then meet me at the Bellagio in an hour?"

"No problem," the redhead grinned. It appeared that giving her hope had had a liberating effect on the young woman. She sexily pushing up from the sofa and pulling the graphic tee tight across her full bosom. "You really like my tits?"

"You're one hell of a tease, Rosie," Holly softly answered as her eyes fell to the thrusting breasts.

Rosie gave that infectious, little chuckle of hers. "I know, always have been. By the way, you have great breasts too…!"

The blonde groaned inwardly. If this were anyone other than Daniel's girlfriend, she wouldn't have been able to resist...

***

"You really dated that Daniel Stone guy?" Joshua asked Grace over dinner. They were into their third bottle of wine and all four of them were feeling good. "That's quite a coincidence."

Grace nodded, sipping the expensive Pinot Noir. "We came to Vegas together."

Joshua shook his head. "Such a small world. Now, you're dating my dad, who's playing him tomorrow at the final table!"

"Son, we're not talking about that," the older black man interrupted, causing both Grace and Joshua to roll their eyes. Despite his boasting in the car earlier, Samuel was surprisingly superstitious when it came to poker and had refused all night to dwell on the tournament that had already made him over a million dollars.

The table sat in silence for a few minutes, each of them sipping their wines thoughtfully. Nothing had been mentioned about the video that three of the four members at this table had participated in. It was the elephant in the room, and it was only a matter of time.

"Lauren, how did your meeting with Kay go?" Samuel asked at last, as the servers cleared their plates.

The blonde felt a shiver run up her spine. If only he knew what they'd got up to! "I think it went well," she settled for saying. "It was certainly different…"

"Well, if it doesn't work out, then I'm sure I could fit you in at my club."

Lauren opened her mouth to thank him when his son added, "Or you could come out to LA with me."

The blonde cocked her head to one side as Samuel Smith explained. "Josh's made a name for himself in the local hip-hop scene in Europe." The way he said it was filled with pride. "Although his lifestyle's a little… loose." The two men laughed.

"Oh, I think Lauren could handle it," the younger man smiled, winking at the blonde. He was a good-looking guy, just like his father, the younger sister thought. His shaved head glistened in the soft light of the restaurant. She liked the look. "And I've seen the video to prove it."

There it was, the unspeakable had been spoken. Lauren watched her sister's face turn bright red, and as much as the memory warmed her thighs, she knew it was time to diffuse it. "That was a while ago," she explained breathily. "We were all really high and I still can't believe we did that!"

"So it's a… how do you Brits say it? A 'one-off?'" Joshua said, showing his straight, white teeth.

Lauren nodded. "I'm afraid so, love." Her blue eyes twinkled. "I know how you men like those things. But that doesn't mean I couldn't handle… whatever you had in mind."

Samuel rose to his feet. "With that note, let's all take this back to my place. I could use a nice, long soak in the Jacuzzi."

Lauren and Grace glanced at one another, wondering what the hell they were getting themselves into.

***

It was just as well she'd checked her phone on the way to the Bellagio. The message from Samuel had been left some time ago. Getting the taxi to drop her a few minutes walk away, Holly returned the call.

"Where've you been?" the deep voice aggressively asked her. "I thought you were always available. I pay you to be always available!"

"I'm available now," she told him, ignoring the jibe. "I had intended phoning you when I saw the message."

"Never mind that," he responded, dismissing her comment as if swatting away a fly. It was just as well they'd just returned to his house. He could speak with some privacy. "I need you to carry out a job."

Two offers in one day! Things were quickly hotting up. "Who?"

"Big Eddie. I need the little shit taken out quickly. Very quickly."

"Something's up?" She knew what it was. The question was whether Samuel Smith was aware of the gangster's plans. He was.

"He's planning to take out a contract on me. Can you believe that?"

Holly paused for a second, thinking things through. "Oh, I can believe it," she answered. "But don't worry, you're safe."

"I'm safe, am I?" he snorted. "And just how is it you know that?"

"Because I'm the person he's contracting to make the hit."

The long pause was followed by a chuckle, which grew into a belly laugh. "Well, well… the dumb fucker. How stupid is that?" The laugh grew even louder until, as if someone had turned off a switch, it suddenly ended. "Wait a minute, I hope you're not getting any ideas?"

It was Holly's turn to laugh. "I work for one client at a time, Samuel. You've paid me a retention fee, so you have my loyalty for as long as that lasts. Besides, would I tell you he was trying to hire me if I was thinking of trying to take advantage?"

"Hmm…" It was more of a grunt. "Okay, makes sense. But I'm not taking any chances. I'm calling in our deal. I want Eddie taken care off. Understand?"

"Yes, Samuel," she calmly responded. This could all fit together quite nicely. Then he dropped the bombshell.

"Tomorrow."

This time Holly couldn't disguise her surprise. "Not tomorrow…" she instantly responded.

"Tomorrow," he repeated, his deep voice brooking no argument. "I paid you the money on the basis you'd take the contract when and where I want. That was the deal, was it not? You never break deals—"

Holly thought quickly. He was right, she couldn't break the arrangement, but there had to be a way around this. "I have to get to Vegas," she tried.

Samuel Smith smiled to himself. He was the one in control now. Who the fuck did she think she was dealing with? Some novice from out of town?

"You're already in Vegas," he calmly told her. "Don't shit with me."

Holly knew from the confident tone in his voice that she was in trouble. This man had the upper hand and it dawned on her why. Shit! There could only be one reason. He knew she was in Vegas. There could be only one reason was insisting on tomorrow—the bastard knew who she was…

"Tomorrow morning," she suggested, playing her last card.

"I don't think so," the club owner drawled, turning the knife. "Late afternoon works best. That's when the target will be… occupied!"

The silence between them lasted a few seconds. An invisible electric current ran down the line. It would have been a battle of wills, except there was no way out. Holly knew that, and was only too well aware that he did, too.

"And you can forget that phoney Irish accent," Smith grunted, a not so subtle reinforcement of his command of the situation. "But to show you I'm a good guy, you lose all your chips to me tomorrow and there's another one hundred grand bonus in this for you. Understand?"

Holly didn't answer. If he weren't careful, he'd push her too far.

"Listen!" Her cold voice cut through the air like a knife through butter. "I'm committed to the arrangement, we both know that. It's what we agreed and I'll carry it through. Change the timing and I'll do it for free…"

"Can't be done," he told her, his commanding smile apparent in his tone. "I'm not taking any chances with that little shit. Besides you could earn more from this than playing at the final table. After all, if you're knocked out early…"

Neither spoke for a few moments. Then the businessman threw in a final thought. "And maybe afterwards, you and I—"

"Understand one thing," Holly instantly told him, her tone soft and deadly. "I'll take care of business tomorrow, just get me the usual details..."

"No problem," he began.

She cut him off. "I haven't finished. If you ever make reference to knowing me again, or do anything with that information, I'll come and find you. If you ever fuck around with me, you're dead! Mm-kay?"

***

With Doyle Brunson, Ted Forrest, Mel Juddah and Phil Hellmuth all at the table, Daniel's concentration had needed to be at its sharpest. Instead, he'd been consumed with thoughts of Rosie, making it all the more remarkable that he was a few thousand ahead. To be fair, he was well aware it was due in high measure to the Poker Brat. As usual, Hellmuth was donating his money to others in a high stakes cash game, while bemoaning his luck.

Daniel had benefited most.

His lunchtime meeting with Holly had played on his mind all day. She'd actually seen Rosie! He'd swept the comment to one side, as if it meant nothing!! Was he really that stupid? He'd have given anything to see the redhead again.

Somehow, he'd stayed off the drink today. God knows, he needed the support of more alcohol. But the thought of Rosie had strangely encouraged him to stay on the straight and narrow. He had a big day tomorrow and needed to keep all his faculties intact. He owed that to himself.

"Shouldn't you be in bed by now, Daniel?" Hellmuth asked, as he sent a few more chips the Englishman's way. "Big day tomorrow. Don't want to use all your luck up tonight."

Daniel glanced across at his opponent. The Poker Brat had been riding him for the last hour. He'd had enough. "Look…" he began.

The arrival of Holly stopped him mid sentence. She'd promised to join him and hadn't let him down. He somehow needed the encouragement of a friendly face and her beaming smile was a welcome sight.

She wasn't alone, and the woman she was with looked familiar. Daniel knew her, he was certain of that. But with hair drawn up under that black baseball cap and her eyes were hidden behind a oversized pair of dark, Dolce & Gabana shades, it was impossible to make a clear connection.

The Englishman's mind ran around all the female poker pro's, but none of them had a body like this girl's. The short, creamy silk dress was one step up from lingerie with its spaghetti thin straps and lacy-work around the hemline, but no one was complaining. She had long, slender legs and deep cleavage mottled with a dusting of freckles.

Freckles? Just like Rosie's. The thought stopped him mid appraisal. Hell, would he ever see the redhead again?

"My friend'll take the spare seat," Holly said, breathing a soft sigh of relief that recognition hadn't yet hit Daniel. Getting the redhead to pin up her hair had worked and that bought some time. She needed him to see Rosie play for a while before the penny dropped.

That would wash away his concern about her attitude towards poker players. After that, it was in the lap of the Gods.

The first part of the plan was working perfectly. The cleavage on show was almost as attractive to the men around the table as the fact that this new woman was obviously inexperienced. The way her hands constantly shook was a clear giveaway. Holly could read their thoughts. Easy money!

She stood behind Rosie, close enough for the redhead to 'feel' her support, without getting involved. Every so often, between hands, she leant forward. "Keep focused. Premium cards only," she kept whispering.

Watching the action reinforced her decision that once Big Eddie was history, poker was her future. She loved the feel, smell and banter of the poker table.

Samuel couldn't hurt her, there was nothing to connect her to any of her previous hits. That was about the only piece of good news—an assassin whose identity was known was on borrowed time in that profession.

Not to be recommended…

***

Kay sat back in her studio, sipping her crystal glass of Chablis while she edited the recordings of her afternoon action with Carly and Lauren into four separate videos. Each as hot as the other.

Damn, they were fantastic. She'd already masturbated twice watching their entire sessions through again. The blonde and brunette made a wonderful combination, and yet were as different as it was possible to be. Lauren's sexy innocence was a wonderful contrast to Carly's overt wickedness.

Even though she was English, Lauren had that All-American goodness about her. A cheerleader type who'd be popular in school, and who everyone would want to fuck, from the football jocks to the class nerd.

Whereas Carly's entire demeanour spelt out her genuine penchant for pussy, a real love for fucking other women. And as Kay had discovered in the previous three months—for cock, too. Her delightful pussy was always moist with excitement, a wicked temptress always looking for her next conquest.

Maybe she'd think of setting them up for a movie together some time in the future? When the blonde had learned the perils of crossing her!

In the meantime, the four videos she'd just finished editing would easily bring six figures into Kay's coffers, providing a very healthy return on her small investment, and she wouldn't be required to pay Demetrius a bonus, either!

The self-satisfied woman knew exactly who to start her negotiations with. Refilling her glass, she reached for the phone.

***

As she watched the nervous redhead play, Holly's mind settled on Big Eddie and what the small time gangster had done to Rosie. Her story was heartbreaking, though familiar. That type of man used women as if they were disposable tissues to be thrown away on the wind. There was no way the redhead should have been responsible for her boyfriend's debts—that was simply a clever ruse to get what he wanted. It had worked perfectly.

Holly still felt some guilt at the inadvertent part she'd played. Rosie was getting herself away from him three months ago—until Holly had blurted out that she and Daniel had been together. Shit! That well-intentioned admission had been a bad move. All it had achieved was to send the naïve young woman straight back into Big Eddie's clutches again.

That's what made the idea that just occurred to her all the more appealing. A way of making amends. Of course she wasn't going to carry out a hit on Samuel, but Eddie didn't know that. So the text she was in the process of sending to him, giving a price and bank account number for killing the black man, was likely to result in her fee finding its way to the account on schedule.

It was a final act of retribution, a sense of correcting an injustice.

Rosie had earlier responded to Holly's request and given her bank account details to the blonde assassin. She hadn't even asked why. It was Rosie's account number she'd fed to the gangster. The money would give the redhead the independence she deserved. And recompense her for what the gangster had put her through.

It felt the right thing to do…

***

"You won't be needing your suits," Samuel said as he stepped out onto the high-fenced patio. The submerged lamps shining up out of the luminous waters of the Jacuzzi was the main source of light, although the few paper lanterns strung around the parameter added to the ambience.

"How did I know you'd say that?" Grace smiled, watching her lover pull his t-shirt over his powerful upper body.

"Because you know me too well," he grinned, his trousers going next. Both women stared at the older man's taut buttocks. For his age, his body was very impressive. "Well, ladies, you're not going to leave me hanging, are you?"

The sister's glanced at one another. No words needed to be spoken to confirm they were both up for this.

As he turned in profile, his semi-flaccid black cock caught in the light. Grace felt her heart flutter. Such a thing of beauty. To her left, her sister was already unzipping the back of her dress and shimmying out of the tight thing. The brunette forced her eyes away from the tempting sight, focusing on Samuel.

Sauntering up to the naked businessman, she wrapped her fingers around his thick cock and whispered, "I won't leave you hanging." She immediately felt his flesh stiffen at her touch.

"Of course you won't, baby," he grumbled, his eyes shifting from her grip to her sister. "But why don't you follow your baby sister's lead. Isn't she sexy?"

Grace flicked her eyes over her shoulder, where Lauren was pealing her g-string down her thighs. Her perfect tits dangled like ripe fruit before her, as succulent as ripe grapefruit. Grace began stroking Samuel's thick girth as her almond coloured eyes met her sister's. She saw lust there, and immediate guilt when she realized that the lust was returned.

Just get over it! Grace scolded herself as her sister stretched to full height. The brunette glanced across her bronzed landscape one last time. Lauren had a body built for sex—she'd always had. She turned back into Samuel and began peeling off her own, little black dress.

"I've fixed us our drinks," Joshua said, joining them just as Grace removed her bra and thong combination she'd purchased today. "And just in time, too!"

Samuel and the sisters took a few steps and then slipped beneath the hot, bubbling waves of the Jacuzzi as the young Smith handed out drinks. Grace and Lauren watched him strip, admiring his toned frame and muscled chest. There was something about muscular black men…

He had a tattoo of a wolf stretching from his right shoulder down to his thick bicep, which barely showed up against his beautiful, midnight-hued complexion. Like his father, his cock was semi-hard—an impressive sight even through his boxers. Both men seemed to be idling in the 'ready' state.

Grace nor Lauren exchanged glances again, telling each other that they both wanted to try the son out. After all, it was his birthday soon.




The Strip Ch. 13



Leaving on his boxers to tease his audience, Joshua reached onto the tray that had held the drinks, retrieved a large blunt he'd rolled before coming out, and lit it up. Nothing went better with Jacuzzis and hot women than some primo smoke. Holding the joint in his teeth, he let his boxers fall around his ankles.

The girls gasped.

He was as thick as his father, and incredibly, looked like he could be longer.

"So, honey," Joshua said as he slid into the water next to Lauren. "Still think you can hang with me and my friends?"

Lauren pinched the joint from his fingers, took a long drag off of it, rocked her head back, and blew the smoke straight up into the air. Her swollen nipples brushed along his hard chest. Holding the smoking cigarette out behind her for Grace, she looked into Joshua's eyes and said, "Here, let me prove it."

When Grace took the joint taken from her hand, she slipped beneath the water. Joshua suddenly felt a slippery sensation wrap around his member—cooler than the heated water, but wonderfully different.

The blonde emerged between Joshua's legs, water cascading along her rich body as she covered his mouth with hers. "That a good enough example?" she whispered, holding his shaved head in her right hand for leverage. The other was in the water, between them. "Or will you need more… uhh…"

Joshua groaned as Lauren's lithe body sank onto his cock, gently adjusting herself until she'd sheathed him completely. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him against her breast, and began to bounce in the water. Only a few hours ago she'd been on her back, being pleasured by two hot women, and now black cock was drilling her. She loved Vegas!

Grace felt prickles of excitement spread across her skin like an out-of-control forest fire. Only part of that was the strong weed burning in her lungs. When she felt Samuel's hands on her shoulder, her chest and then her tits, she couldn't wait to get him inside of her, too.

Passing the joint back to him, she sidled back into his lap, took his thickness in her hand, she let him pierce her from behind.

Finishing off the blunt, he flipped it onto the patio behind her and returned his familiar hands to her tits. Grace had fucked a lot of guys since she'd come to Vegas, but there was one cock she'd never tire of.

"They're hot together, don't you think?" Samuel whispered in her ear as they watched the young lovers going at it. Lauren's eyes were closed as she thrust her body hard in Joshua's lap, their connection lost beneath the choppy waves of the water. "She's hot, don't you think?"

"Yesss…" Grace hissed, allowing her desire to overcome her shame.

"You want her," his voice rumbled in her ear. The brunette pushed her fingers down between her legs, rubbing her clit as Samuel's teasing voice and throbbing erection pushed her to oblivion.

"I do," she admitted, biting her lip. A few feet away, she heard Lauren's orgasm overtake her.

"My home is safe," he assured, pinching Grace's nipples. "No cameras. No tricks. No one will ever need to know…"

Her eyes were slits as she watched her sister fuck Samuel's son. How many times had she thought about that night? How many times had she looked at her baby sister's lips and wanted to kiss them. Or watched her get dressed and wished she could taste her again.

"Oh, fuck!" she cried as she began to cum, little dizzying, blinding lights exploding behind her closed eyelids. "OH FUCK!"

***

Rosie glanced at her hole cards. Ten-Two offsuit. She knew what that was commonly known as. Holly had told her all about Doyle Brunson. To be at the same table as the veteran, or any of these players, should have been unnerving. Not that they meant anything to her other than what she'd learned today. But there was something about them, the imposing way the spoke and acted, that was designed to intimidate.

The difference was that their intimidation was minor league compared to her life working for Big Eddie. Yes, her hand trembled when she played her cards, but that was a facet of the newness of everything. With Daniel observing every move, she didn't want to appear stupid. She wanted to impress him.

In early position, a small Hellmuth raise saw everyone fold around to Rosie. In the big blind, it wouldn't cost much to call. See a flop in those positions, Holly had drilled into her. Then if you miss, don't get involved.

The flop brought Ten-Ten-Two. Full house!

Rosie checked, hoping her face didn't give the game away. Or her voice. Her hands were trembling so much, she wouldn't have been able to lift her chips, let alone push any into the middle.

The turn brought an Ace.

How on earth should she play this? The redhead's trembling hands threw in a few chips. The dealer gave her a friendly smile as he pointed out the error. Her raise had been below the minimum. No one laughed, but the exchange of glances between the pros said much more than mere words could convey.

Hellmuth re-raised her. Not a lot, just enough to keep her interested. This stupid dame had no idea what she was doing and she was trying to take on the best player in the world! He'd teach her a lesson she'd never forget. His Ace-King hole cards had him well ahead. Goodness knows what she had. She'd checked the flop! Probably a small pocket pair. Threes or fours.

The river was a King.

Hellmuth disguised his smile. His two pairs were well ahead.

Rosie's hands shook again as she made another raise. Was that the right thing to do? She bet half the pot, hoping the aggressive man would just fold and go away. The tension she'd felt when learning the game earlier that afternoon was nothing compared to this feeling. She wasn't intimidated, she was scared! This was Holly's money she was playing with!

Immediately, Hellmuth pushed all his money in the middle, and then sat like a statue in that familiar way of his.

Behind the action, Holly moaned to herself. What the hell did Rosie have? Unless there was a ten in her hand, she was dead and buried. If she had the ten, she'd played the hand perfectly. If in doubt, fold, she'd drummed into her. There's always another hand! Was she capable of sucking the world champion in like this?

She had only seconds to wait to discover the answer. Rosie instantly called and nervously showed her hand.

As Hellmuth exploded in rage, he flung his Big Slick hand across the table like skimming pebbles across a pond. His chair cartwheeled onto the floor behind him as he jumped to his feet. "Freakin Ten-Two," he ranted, pacing up and down the side of the room. "I have Big Slick and she has freakin Ten-Two. Ten freakin' Two! These freakin' donkeys don't know what they're doing!"

"Easy, Phil," Daniel told him, his eyes glaring at the large man. "Show some respect to the lady."

Hellmuth ignored him, swinging around to glare at Holly. "What the fuck are you doing bringing someone like this to the table?" he demanded, hands on hips. "Freakin women…"

Holly threw her head back, her laughter reverberating around the room. "I thought you only posed for the cameras, Phil?" she murmured, dropping her hands onto the redhead's shoulders. "Nice hand, Rosie!"

Rosie? Rosie?!?! "FUCK"

This time it was Daniel's voice, not Hellmuth's

***

Samuel's hot body was all over her as she came down from her orgasm. His lips on her neck. His hands on her tits and stomach. And his cock was as thick and as hard as a steel rod in her oily sex.

"Lauren, honey, why don't you come over here for a moment," he ordered, holding out his hand to the blonde.

The young model floated the short distance over to where Grace was resting limply against her lover's hard body, still panting, still recovering. Joshua watched excitedly over the blonde's shoulder.

"Yes," she said sweetly, batting her long lashes. She ran her fingers back over her head, smoothing out her wet locks.

"Grace has something for you…"

The blonde's blue eyes glittered as she looked down at her older sister, who'd snuggled deeper into Samuel's black body. She beckoned Lauren to her with the crook of her finger. "It's not much," she whispered through her smile. "But I've been holding onto it for months now…"

Grace curled her fingers around the nape of her sister's neck and pulled her lips against her own. A moment later and their tongues were flooding one another's mouths. It was barely checked hedonism. It was soft ecstasy.

The brunette felt Samuel grow as she kissed her sister. It only spurred her on. Pulling Lauren onto her and forcing her to straddle her thigh, she attacked the sexy girl's lips and neck like a wild animal.

Lauren met her sister's assault with her own elation. She'd fantasized about this moment for months, and only kept it unrealised because she was afraid it would horrify her big sister. Now…

The blonde pulled back from the incestuous, bisexual kiss as a sinister thought crossed her mind. Pulling herself up out of the water, she perched her taut butt on the lip of the Jacuzzi and spread her legs. "Been saving anything else?" she asked Grace with a wickedly arched brow.

Grace slithered off of Samuel's cock and followed her sister to the edge of the water. Her eyes devoured her sister's slick nudity. Her wet and tawny skin caught the light magically. She looked perfect. A Goddess, even.

The sisters shared a look that communicated volumes. They both knew this was wrong. They both knew they were flirting with disaster. But neither of them gave a fuck.

Rising up out of the water, Grace let her sister's thighs rest across her shoulders as she closed in on Lauren's clean-shaven mound. When she ran her tongue along the other girl's heated furrow, both sisters shivered.

"Gah!" Lauren cried, resting back on her hands and lolling her head to the side as Grace's tongue worked patterns of bliss across her sex. She swirled and swirled her clit, pulling away just as it became too much. Kay and Carly had been skilled in the art of girl-girl sex, but Grace seemed to read her mind.

She arched her back even harder as her big sister rammed two fingers into her pussy. She needed rough and Grace was delivering. "Yes, yesyesyes…" she huffed. Her hands buckled behind her and she slipped painfully to her elbows.

"NGH!" Grace moaned, her mouth leaving her sister for a moment as Joshua lined himself up behind her and thrust inside her hot, needy body. Lauren pulled her sister's lips back onto her pussy, laying back all the way onto the warm wood of the patio deck.

A shadow passed over her eyes. Looking up, Lauren smiled at the imposing body of Samuel Smith. "Having fun?" he asked, crouching down next to him.

"I have a feeling I'm about to have a little bit more," she grunted.

The club owner said nothing more as he swung his leg over her face and fed his erect cock between her lips.

The foursome thrust and throbbed against one another—a moaning, orgasmic sex machine. Lauren, with a black cock down her throat and her sister's mouth supping on her sex, came first, setting off a chain reaction in both directions.

Samuel raised up off her face, jerked his thick member a few seconds more, until he covered the young model's face and tits in his cream. Catching the facial out of the corner of her eye sent Grace over the edge. Slurping off of the quivering pussy, she grunted loudly as her orgasm raced down her spine. Joshua, inside of her, went off a second later, filling her depths of liquid pleasure…

The night was only just beginning.

***

"I have a surprise," Holly told the two lovers. She'd been at the card table for the last hour, taking Rosie's place while Daniel and the redhead had retired to the bar to talk things through. From the warm, tender, loving looks on their faces, they'd ironed everything out pretty quickly.

The idea of phoning for a limousine occurred to her out of the blue. It was a great way for the two of them to end the evening.

"Surprise?" Daniel asked, smiling up at his friend from their seat in the corner of the Fontana Bar. Their position offered a breathtaking view of the spectacular dancing waters, but the aquatic escapade was lost on the two lovers. Until Holly joined them, they only had eyes for one another.

"Mmmm… it's outside now," she told them.

Following the blonde beauty through the casino and along the long narrow corridor flanked by shops and restaurants, Rosie's jaw dropped open when she the vehicle that was waiting outside for them. Long, sleek and perfectly white. If it wasn't the biggest limo she'd ever seen, it was close to it.

"I've always wanted to ride in a limousine," she told Holly, her eyes wide with excitement as she swung around to face the blonde woman.

"Now's your chance," Holly grinned, accepting the tight hug that the redhead gave her. "After what my poker protégé did to Hellmuth, you deserve a reward. Enjoy it, kiddies. I'm going to have an early night before the rigours of tomorrow. Maybe you should do the same, Daniel?" she joked.

Her beaming smile broadened at the cheeky grin he flashed back at her. Maybe this could have a happy ending after all?

"Want us to drop you off at the Rio?" he teased.

Holly's turned her withering look from Daniel to Rosie and then back again. "As if…" she told them, arching a blonde eyebrow. "Two's company! I'll catch you in the morning. Both of you, I hope!"

Throwing a final smile over her shoulder, she was on her way. A half an hour's walk at this time of night wasn't a bad idea. It was a chance to think things through. With Daniel and Rosie settled, there were other things to consider before she could allow herself to sleep…

***

Lauren stood motionless in the doorframe of the large bedroom, watching the lurid sight on the bed. She'd never been more impressed with her sister. Grace was on her hands and knees, sucking Joshua's cock while his father ravaged her from behind.

It was loud, hot, and dirty sex. The brunette attacked the cock with her throat, ramming her head forward in time with Samuel's thrusts. Joshua held her head steady with a fistful of dark hair. His father held her hips in his large hands. All three fought to be the first to cum.

Lauren felt her arousal deepen at the thought of being the girl in the middle.

Squeezing Grace's hair harder, Joshua threw his head back and let a bellow tear from his throat. Lauren's pussy trembled. God, that was sexy.

The son sat back, spent for now. He stretched his muscular arms behind his head. His erection glistened with her sister's saliva. Delicious.

Demurely, Lauren crossed the room, feeling the eyes of father and son on her.

Samuel pulled Grace up to her knees, keeping his cock inside of her but shifting to shorter, slower strokes. "So tell me, Lauren, are you hot for your sister?"

Grace's golden skin was glistening with sweat—it was a softer sheen than when they were in the Jacuzzi, but no less sexy. The blonde nodded.

"Say it."

Lauren crawled up onto the bed. "I'm hot for my sister," she giggled.

"Kiss her. Show me."

Straightening up in front of Grace, she did just as she was told. Again, the sisters shared what they should not. Again, they didn't care.

"With an act like that, pop, you'll have a sell-out crowd every night."

"And I'll never get any sleep—FUUU…" Lauren had reached between her sister's legs and had begun to caress his balls. It took Samuel by surprise so fast he nearly lost it.

Pulling away from her sister's lips, Lauren looked into the brunette's eyes. "Thank you for sharing your boyfriend with me," she whispered. Samuel almost protested, he wasn't anyone's boyfriend, but he held his tongue.

"Want to show the two of us your gratitude?" Grace asked playfully.

Lauren's blue eyes twinkled. She kissed Grace's mouth one last, sweltering time before leaving a trail of kisses down her sweat-damp body. Flipping onto her back, she slid her head right between their thighs, lifted her chin, and swallowed Samuel Smith's balls into her mouth.

Grace looked over her shoulder, found her lover's eyes, and kissed him. "Thank you," she whispered, unsure of what she was thanking him for. For seeing her through the hardest times? For not throwing her onto the street when news of that video was release? For letting her indulge in her most shocking fantasies? Maybe all? She didn't know.

He just nodded, his eyes glazed with pleasure.

Joshua was hard enough that he could push his black monster between Lauren's open legs. He found her swollen vulva, oily smooth and ready for his cock. Grace watched him slid it into her, shuddering as she felt her baby sister's mouth leave Samuel and tease her clit.

With a heavy breath, Grace lowered herself between Lauren's thighs, teasing her in return.

A hand on his son's arm, Samuel's eyes instructed that they move away. Their own orgasms could wait, there was all night. Standing back, father and son watched the sister's sixty-nine one another to one orgasm after another. If they could bring a fraction of the energy they showed in the bedroom to the stage, then Joshua was right: a sell-out show every night.

***

"Just cruise," Daniel told the driver once he and Rosie were settled in the air-conditioned interior.

"Yes," Rosie excitedly grinned. "Up and down the Strip. I've always wanted to do that!"

"My pleasure, folks," the smooth character grinned back. "There are drinks in the cabinet in front of you. All paid for. Enjoy the ride." With that, he pressed a button to raise the privacy window and smoothly pulled away from the hotel.

"Let's see what's in there," Rosie laughed, her wide green eyes sparkling with all the enthusiasm of a child at Christmas time. "Champagne!" she whooped as Daniel pulled open the liquor cabinet.

The crinkly haired Englishman handed her two flutes before uncorking the bottle. Rosie held them out in front of her, giggling as she just managed to catch the bubbly in them before it overflowed onto the floor.

Rosie handed Daniel his drink, her face almost hysterical with happiness. "Let's drink to the person who's made this happen," she told him, clinking glasses.

Daniel nodded, his face serious for a second. "She's a wonderful friend. To Holly," he agreed

"Then we each have to give another toast," Rosie told him, crinkling her nose as the bubbly hit her.

"Okay," he smiled at the redhead, loving her child-like enthusiasm. He'd missed that side of her so much. "You go first."

"No," she shook her head. "It has to be you first."

Daniel grinned at her over the top of his flute. "Oh, really, and why is that?"

Rosie turned around so that her back was to him, and then eased backwards so she could snuggle into his chest. "Because… I have two. And if you choose one of them, I'll be left with the other."

She could feel his chest heaving into her back as he laughed. "Is that right, you have two? Well, how about tonight, we have those two toasts, and if you miss mine, I'll give one as well."

"Okay," she murmured, twisting her head for a loose, over-the-shoulder kiss. His lips felt warm, tender. "First, a toast to you winning the World Series," she said, holding her glass to the side so that he could clink it with her own. "Mmm… that tastes so nice, don't you just love champagne?"

"So," Daniel joked. "My lady's a champagne drinker? Where did you learn such expensive habits?"

Rosie was pleased she was facing away from him. Her face would have given her away, otherwise. What could she answer? At some of the private parties where the hosts plied her with bubbly before fucking her?

"Never mind that," she answered, quickly recovering and hoping her shaky voice didn't arouse suspicion. "What d'you think of the toast?"




The Strip Ch. 14



This is a rewrite of 'Vegas', combining both Books. While maintaining the theme, it offers a completely different and fresh take for the main characters.

Grateful thanks go to the best editor in the world -- thesoundandfury - not only for his editing, but also for the constant encouragement, suggestions, and for helping me to become a better writer.

Chapter 14: Final Table

The promotional interview was straightforward enough. But then, it should have been. Norman Chad, the renowned poker commentator, had primed Daniel and Holly in advance. He wanted to ensure there'd be no bolts from the blue for his new poker friends.

Holly had promised the interview three months ago, providing the diminutive TV man used his influence to get the media off their backs. Stop 'The English Lovers' myth. Unfortunately, it hadn't worked out well enough to present the three-month hiccup with Daniel and Rosie. 

But with their seemingly happy ending, Chad was calling in the marker. And with the Main Event starting within a couple of hours, the timing was perfect.

Settling back into his comfortable leather chair, the immaculately suited Chad began with the most straightforward of questions. They'd twice rehearsed the answer. "Tell me about your feelings on reaching the final table. On being two of the players now commonly known as the November 9. You first, Daniel." 

The crinkly haired Englishman's impassive face turned into a forced smile. This was more nerve wracking than playing poker. At least Chad had given them the easy question he'd promised to kick things off.

"A fairy tale," he blandly answered. "A dream come true."

The bleary look in Chad's eyes made him realise the banality of his answer. He groaned inwardly. Pull yourself together. Stop talking in clichés. The two deep breaths he took helped, but before he could respond, Chad had turned to the blonde sitting next to him on the couch.

"And you, Holly?" the commentator asked, his eyes silently begging for a more interesting response than Daniel had just provided.

"We're the lucky ones," she answered, tossing back her wavy, blonde locks for the benefit of the camera. The heavy shades protecting her face gave her sufficient anonymity. "Poker requires a lot of skill, and a lot of luck. I think all of us who've reached this stage have needed that bit of fortune."

Chad nodded. "You can't survive without it," his squeaky voice agreed. "You've had your share of good luck so far, Daniel?"

The crinkly haired young man nodded, beginning to find some confidence from somewhere. "It's interesting, Norm. If you're a bad player you need good luck; if you're good, you need to avoid bad luck."

"So… which category are you?" Chad quipped in that deadpan way of his.

Daniel laughed, glancing at Holly. "Well, this girl is good," he answered. "As for me, I'm not so sure. But I can tell you I've seen some horrendous beats to date. Maybe mine lies ahead but so far, so good."

"Okay," the diminutive TV pundit smiled, adjusting his spectacles and flicking his tongue across his small moustache. "For those viewers who aren't aware, how many WSOP tourneys have the two of you actually played?" 

Daniel and Holly sent another smiling glance at one another. "This is both of our first times in Vegas," Holly said. 

"You arrived together?" Chad asked, his warm smile providing encouragement. The pre-arranged piece was designed to kill off all the rumours. 

"No, not at all," Daniel confirmed with a wry smile. "We didn't know one another until we played in the Binion's tourney."

"You didn't know one another before you arrived?" Chad repeated for effect. Let's make sure the viewers understand…

"Not at all," Holly interrupted. "Though it turns out we've played each other many times online. We're both regulars on the Practically Poker site."

Daniel grinned. Ching! Another fifty thou fell into their combined coffers for the promotional reference. Not that money was a problem any longer for the Englishman. 

"And this Binion's tourney…" Chad picked up. Having set it up, he'd get back to their relationship, or lack of it, later in the interview.

"That seems a long time ago now," Daniel added with a smile.

"Only a bad beat by Doyle Brunson knocked them out when they were in the last four," Chad told the viewers, with a sideways look at the camera. He turned his attention back to the couple on the couch. "Two tournaments, two final tables. Impressive, don't you think?"

"Not for us to say," Daniel modestly answered, giving his lopsided grin. "But clearly, we're both very pleased with what we've achieved so far."

"So far," picked up Chad, shuffling in his seat. "Six professionals and three amateurs remaining. It's been debated many times in the three months since we reached the final table. Just about every poker pundit is united in believing it's the year of the pro…"

"The odds are on that," Holly agreed, as the interviewer turned his gaze on her. "But you never know."

Chad nodded wisely, though it was unclear what it was he was being wise about. "So, either of you could still become another Moneymaker?"

Daniel laughed. "Not at all. Chris's epic victory in 2003 changed the face of poker," he commented as he took a drink. The sip of water helped the dryness in his mouth. "As wonderful as it would be for either of us to win, all that would do would be to make either of us famous. There's no comparison."

"Perhaps," Chad said, turning back to the blonde. This bit wasn't in the script, but with the interview going much better now, he thought he'd try a different line of questioning. "But from what I hear, you in particular, Holly, have brought a new fan base to the game. Is your appearance at the table designed to put people off their game?"

"My appearance?" she repeated, her voice and face all innocence, even if her knowing eyes were alive with wickedness. "What d'you mean?"

Chad coughed. "You know exactly what I mean, Holly. You've brought a sexiness to the game that's commented on by just about every fan and news reporter. You must be aware of that."

The blonde laughed, one hand casually pushing a strand of blonde hair behind her bejewelled ear. "There're a lot of sexy poker players, Norm," she answered, dealing with the question as easily as swatting away a fly. "Men and women. And there are lots of very good female poker players. I'm just doing my best to be one of them, but there's a long way to go."

Chad grinned. That might be 'advantage Holly', but he wasn't finished. "Just a thought, but maybe you could take those sunglasses off. Let people see your face. I've been asked that a million times, to let people see the real you."

She shook her head, her pouting lips parting as she smiled. "I'm a poker player, Norm, and this is what I look like playing poker."

"Maybe just a peek…" he tried again.

Holly didn't need to answer. Her amused smile spoke for her.

"Good for you," Chad responded, with that trademark phrase he used when he found himself behind the eight ball. His cough was one of frustration as he changed the subject. Time to get back to the agreed script and clear up the 'English Lovers' conundrum. "Tell me, Daniel," he asked, switching focus to the crinkly haired young man. "There's been a lot of press comment on the two of you being in a relationship. What have you to say on that subject?"

Daniel gave a good-natured laugh. "You know the answer to that, Norm," he said. "Anyone close to the poker scene knows the answer. Holly and I are really good friends. But I'm already taken…"

"Engaged?"

Daniel arched a dark eyebrow. "Not yet, but we're on the right track…"

Chad grinned merrily. The admission was more than he'd expected. "That's good to hear," he said, his shining eyes confirming that Daniel's answer was mission accomplished. Time for some fun. "And you, Holly? Are you taken?"

The blonde woman laughed, sweeping a hand through her silken locks again. "No, Norm, I haven't found Mr. Right as yet."

The diminutive reporter straightened his shirt. "That's very interesting. Not many people are aware, but did you know that I'm available, too?"

Holly laughed again, leaning forward conspiratorially. "Yes, actually, I know that. And if I find anyone who'd be interested, I'll be sure to let you know."

"Good for you," the commentator responded again, this time with a deadpan grimace at the poker-playing woman. Swinging around in his chair, he nodded at the cameraman. "That's a wrap."

***

"Carly? It's Kay."

"Hi," the spiky haired woman said into her cell phone. She casually raised a foot out of her bubble bath as she spoke, studying her toenails. She'd need to apply more polish before she left her apartment. Maybe black, in honour of Big Eddie's departure from her life and this world. 

She gave a soft chuckle.

"Something amusing you?" Kay's voice came down the line.

"Just lying in my bath, thinking delicious thoughts," Carly murmured, switching the cell phone to her left ear so that she could drop her right hand under the welcoming bubbles. Her clit was already erect.

After one final celebratory fuck—boom—the gangster would be yesterday's news. The thought of being there when the assassin blew his brains out, just like with Desmond, sent little shivers of excitement through her. The feeling of her fingers squeezing her little bud was almost impossible to resist. 

"Replaying yesterday…" the Agency Head suggested.

Carly's mind switched to the threesome with Lauren. It was such a shame the blonde wouldn't be filming with them, there was so much more that Carly would like to do with that innocent, yet knowing, little bitch. Still, Kay had enough on tape to make a killing from interested buyers. Carly's reward was the starring role she'd been promised in the three movies.

"You're okay for tonight's flight?" Kay asked.

"Yes," Carly breathed, the thoughts of what she'd done with Lauren, and was about to do with Big Eddie, sending waves of arousal through her bubble covered body. Concentrate, she told herself, but the three fingers inside her were making life difficult.

"You'll be here this afternoon as arranged?"

The panting woman reluctantly pulled her hand away from her clit so that she could suck her juices from her slender fingers. The orgasm would have to wait until this conversation was over. "Ah, sorry, that's a problem. I just have a little errand this afternoon. Can I meet you a little later than planned?"

"Little errand?"

The spiky haired woman gave a nervous laugh. "Yes, I just need to take care of a problem, that's all. Nothing serious. It won't take long."

Little errand! Nothing serious! Her fingers slid down her stomach and found her clit again. Oh fuck! The thought of fucking Big Eddie when the assassin blew his brains out, just like Desmond, had her overheating. 

Do this, Samuel had told her when he'd returned her phone call, and you can do those movies with my blessing.

She didn't need his blessing for anything. Not with the money she'd earn from the three movies. But this was a man she didn't want to cross. He'd looked after her when times had been bad and she wouldn't be in this position if it weren't for Samuel Smith. She'd do anything for the man.

Besides, she'd pay him for the pleasure of being there at the kill…

***

"I've got to hand it to you pop," Joshua Smith said to his father, stopping mid sentence as Samuel's housekeeper brought more orange juice and toast to their table on the terrace. Diana was a sexy, little thing, even if she was in her mid thirties. Those black stockings on display underneath the almost obscenely short maid's uniform already had his cock stirring.

"Don't waste your time," Samuel murmured, following his son's gaze as the strawberry blonde retraced her steps. He helped himself to another strawberry. "Diana's into women, not men."

Joshua's dark eyes lit up. "Really? Maybe we should set her up with the two sisters? Yesterday was a hell of a birthday present, pop."

"Didn't I tell you?" Samuel told his wide-eyed son. He poured himself an orange juice and raised his glass as if in toast. "But don't expect that sort of gift every year."

Joshua laughed along with his father. Despite his regular flings in Europe, it had been a long time since he'd enjoyed such a raw, uninhibited night like that. Maybe Elise and Louise, the two French sisters who worked side by side in his Paris office, might be up for something similar?

"What about this Carly woman?" the young man continued. "You said you'd introduce me the next time I was in Vegas?"

Samuel gave a deep, throaty laugh. "Make no mistake, that one would eat you up and spit you out," he growled. "Alas, when she's completed her work this afternoon, I've given her a few month's sabbatical. A chance to make some money in the film industry before she returns to my employ."

Joshua pushed up in his seat, his dark eyes flashing with sudden interest. "Film industry? Adult?"

His father raised his eyebrows as he chuckled. "I'll get you a personal copy—they'll be worth watching, believe me."

The two men momentarily grew silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Carly featured in all of them. 

Then Joshua pulled himself out of his fantasy. "You think she'll have the nerve to go through with this afternoon's plan?"

His father let out a belly laugh, picking up a strawberry and throwing it at his son. "Nerve? The little minx gets off on it."

Joshua caught the piece of fruit and popped it into his mouth, sucking the fruit from the stalk. "Well, pop… I guess that'll take care of Big Eddie once and for all. What next?"

Samuel threw his arms wide, pointing out over the impressive grounds in their eyeline. "This is all for you, Josh," he told his son. "This is your empire I'm building, for you to take forward after I retire."

"Retire, pop?" the younger man grinned. "I can't see that happening, can you? You're too active! What will a businessman like you do when you retire?"

Samuel's lips curled into a large smile beneath his dark shades. "Isn't that obvious. What does every winner of the Main Event do?" 

***

Ending the call, Carly dropped the cell phone onto the bath mat and flopped back down into the bubbles, allowing the scented water to envelop her. Eyes closed, for a moment she basked in the luxurious decadence of the rippling waves caressing her breasts, stomach, legs and thighs. 

What it would feel like when the assassin pulled her trigger? The same as with Desmond? Except this wasn't the monkey, it was the organ grinder.

With a soft purr, she slipped a hand down her flat stomach, over her smooth mound, flicking the jutting little bud that had been crying out to be touched for twenty minutes. Her middle finger rubbed up and down her wet opening as her thumb stroked her clit. She began to pant. There… that's the spot… 

One finger slid inside, then a second.

"Mumph!" That was soooo good. 

Her free hand joined in the fun, sliding to her breasts. Little electric jolts passed through her as she pulled on nipples that tightened into little points. 

She moaned aloud. Pleasure radiated through her. In her mind's eye, she could picture Big Eddie's face as she took him towards orgasm. Then the assassin would enter. Oh, God! Her fingers moved faster, harder.

The assassin would place the gun at his forehead… pull the trigger.

Her hips lifted from the bottom of the tub as she came, breasts pushing upwards, the orgasm tearing from her throat. Would Eddie's blood erupt from his head the way her hot juices were spurting from her overheated sex? 

FUUUUCK!!

***

The atmosphere was electric, with queues for seats spreading across the hotel. It seemed that the families and friends, together with the few watching professionals, had taken every available seat closest to the action. From her perfect position in the frontal reserved section, Rosie could see everything.

A member of the ESPN production team intercepted the two English players as they walked the few yards to the table after leaving the redhead. It was common practice, he explained, to tell everyone what was expected from a TV perspective, even the requirement to look at their cards in such a way that the lipstick cameras built into each seat position at the table would capture them. 

It was a little like the safety announcement on a departing airplane, everyone knew the drill but it was necessary nonetheless.

"Point of no return," Holly joked to Daniel as they wished each other good luck. "Focus, y'here me? I want to see you play like Desperado!"

She knew her time at the table was limited. The noon start meant that she'd be there three to four hours maximum and the thought of giving her chips to Samuel Smith was weighing heavily on her mind. Despite the prize money she'd already won, the hundred grand bonus was an attractive proposition. But it still went against the grain… 

Daniel grinned. Desperado had been his online poker non-de plume when he'd won his trip to Vegas. He'd undoubtedly improved as a player since then, but he understood the message. Stay tight… selectively aggressive.

He took his place at the table, hating the restricted view of Seat One. At least it blocked out the man who sat immediately to the dealer's left. Not that Samuel Smith had spoken to him again, not yet, anyway. But he would. He'd try and chip away at his composure again. Good luck to him…

This was a different Daniel. The reunion with Rosie had swept away all the madness, and the heartache, of the previous three months. It was doubtful he could win with so many of the top professionals remaining, but he'd give it his best shot. The only small blot on his horizon was that tape. 

Grace and Lauren! 

He'd dismissed it as ridiculous when Norman Chad mentioned it post interview. It just wasn't possible. But Holly had confirmed it to be true. She'd actually seen it. What the hell had the two of them got themselves involved in? It didn't make sense… but then… in Vegas, what did?

"You okay?" he heard Holly ask. His blonde friend gave him a quizzical look from her seat opposite him. His face must have conveyed his feelings.

Daniel's smile reassured her. "I'm fine," he softly replied.

"I'm okay, too, honey," said Josh Arieh, sitting on her right, with a contemptuous sneer. "You wet nursing him?"

Despite the presence of Arieh's wife nearby, the brash man's eyes flickered across her blonde locks, pouting lips, and down to the unfettered breasts pushing against her high-neck black jumper. Daniel smiled. The number of players he'd seen attempting to hit on Holly all had one thing in common: the only thing they succeeded in was in donating to her chip stack.

She knew it. She played on it. Hell, a man would have to be gay not to react.

His own cock always grew a couple of inches when he looked at her! But it was her friendship he craved, not her body. Rosie was the only one for him.

The noise from his left interrupted his thoughts. Samuel Smith was on his feet, acknowledging the cheers from his friends in the crowd. And the Las Vegas club owner had plenty of support. Why not play up to them? Being in the chip lead with over twenty six million put the man in a very strong position and gave him some heavy ammunition for his aggressive style.

The Englishman glanced to Smith's left. In his traditional green cap, Dan Harrington looked for all the world like a pensioner about to enjoy a home game. Despite being the low stack at the table, the veteran world champion was calm and serene. He'd seen it all before.




The Strip Ch. 14



To Harrington's left were Sam Farha and Gavin Smith, engaged in joyful conversation as if this was just another day, just another game. Both sat on around thirteen million chips and were rated hard to beat. 

Farha was the man who'd nearly stopped Moneymaker on his march to the victory that had changed the face of poker. Had he called that bluff when they were head to head, as he nearly did, history would be completely different. Hell, Daniel probably wouldn't even be in Vegas.

Smith, on the other hand, was an amiable, tubby Canadian who was an absolute delight. It seemed the happy-go-lucky man took nothing seriously, though you underestimated him at your peril. Despite his wisecracking style, he knew only too well everything that was going on at the table. 

Holly sat to his left, then the crowd favourite, Humberto Brenes. The Costa Rican was adjusting one of the loud, colourful scarves around his neck. It was impossible not to like the gum chewing grizzly looking man. His beaming demeanour was always positive, always happy, and always full of joy. How else could he get away with his irritating antics with his shark card protector? 

Allen Cunningham was the final player. The Allen Cunningham. The quiet American was widely regarded as the best player never to have won the Main Event, a real compliment when you considered the other worthy contenders. In many ways, he was the antithesis of Brenes, always quiet, cool and seemingly emotionless. In second chip position with just over twenty four million chips, he'd never have a better opportunity to win the title he coveted.

The Englishman's gaze returned to Holly. For a brief moment, she raised her sunglasses above her brown eyes and winked at Daniel. They dropped back into place as the dealer fanned the cards…

***

"Don't know why I can't fly down with you," Jimmy grumbled.

"Because Kay doesn't want any distractions," Rachal huffed, glancing over her shoulder at her boyfriend. Palms flat against the wall as his cock sliced into her from behind, the last thing on her mind was conversation. She loved being taken this way—legs spread, thong around her ankles, ass high.

Time was running out before she left for Kay's, but she always had time for this. Jeans around his thighs, one hand working her clit while the other gripped her left breast, Jimmy was in that wild mood she so loved.

"Oh, yeah," she murmured, synchronising her backward movements to with his forward thrusts. "Pull my nipples, babe…"

The male model obediently complied, pulling and twisting the hard buds as he took out his immediate frustrations on her sweating body. He didn't want her to go without him, and the hard, almost violent fuck was one way of telling her that. He began to thrust faster, grunting each time he bottomed out.

"Yeah, babe," Rachal gasped, sweat running down her back and mingling with that on Jimmy's hairy chest. The harder the better. "C'mon, fuck me good…"

He grunted again, easing his knees inside his girlfriend's legs and using them to push her legs wider apart. His hands left their stimulation and gripped her hips, giving him better purchase to increase the pace.

It still wasn't hard enough for the exotic looking beauty.

"C'mon…" she groaned, feeling the orgasmic tide rising. Her face pushed into the wall, turning at an angle to watch their reflections in the floor to ceiling mirror to her right. The way his hard, muscular buttocks pumped piston-like against her ass was incredibly erotic. "C'mon, Jimmy… c'mon, babe… C'MON…"

He pummelled her harder. Frantic. Desperate. His head flopped down onto her shoulder, sweat dripping from his forehead and onto her soft, mocha coloured skin. Bending his knees for a better angle, he began to move with the speed of an express train, ramming inside her in shorter, faster strokes.

Rach's eyes closed as he brutalised her body. Her face pressed tighter to the wall, her breathing fast and erratic. When she came, she lost herself completely, wailing like a wounded dog as the fucking machine behind her went into overdrive…  

The sudden reverberations running through his sweating body and against hers, prepared her for the eruption. Head thrown back, teeth clenched, Jimmy grunted as if attempting to stave off the inevitable. When Rachal squeezed her internal walls around his throbbing girth, both knew it was a lost cause. 

He began to fire, groaning with each burst of fiery cum. The RPG inside her pulsating sex sent one grenade of sticky juice after another, splashing her imagination as well as her insides…

"So good," she throatily gasped, savouring every fresh burst of creamy manjuice. Her body sucked out every last drop. It had to last her for some time… well… until she experienced one of the hunks waiting for her on the movie set. God, just that thought sent another small tremor through her. 

***

Dan Harrington's advantage was his reputation for tight play. Stealing crucial pots to keep him alive had allowed him to stay in the championship. Whether it was sufficient to overcome the difficulty of his position as the small stack was open to question. He had to push, and push quickly. Unless he quickly tripled up, he was dead—the escalating blinds would see to that.

Twice, without any sort of hand, he got away with it—everyone folded. The third time, with Ace-Queen, Josh Arieh and Allen Cunningham called. The two pros were happy to check it down and despite a much-needed Ace on the flop, the Nine on the turn and Eight on the river gave the brash Arieh two pairs.

"That's the way you're all going to go," Arieh triumphantly told the table as he pulled the 1995 world champion's chips towards him. That one hand had pushed him up to around thirteen million chips, roughly level with Farha and Gavin Smith. Still vulnerable, but much healthier than before.

"I'm here to play, guys. You'd better all keep out of my way," he added.

The brash American was as good as his word, playing any two cards, as was his reputation. Within an hour of the start, he'd doubled his chip stack and he was within a few chips of Daniel. That made their confrontation the next hand all the more meaningful. 

One wrong move, and the loser would go out in eighth. 

The winner would have the chip lead.

With pocket fives, the Englishman called Arieh's one million raise. He'd normally have re-raised, but with Arieh so aggressive, it was impossible to put the American on a hand. But hit a five on the flop and he'd clean him out. 

The flop came Eight-Three-Four. Damn! 

When Arieh checked, Daniel knew his opponent had hit something. He'd have made a continuation bet otherwise. The problem was that it could be anything—a set, two pair. Daniel's fives looked marginal at best.

The Englishman raised another million, a little more than half the pot. Let's find out where he was. 

"What're you doing," the brash American sneered. "That flop didn't help you. But it did me. How the hell did you get to the final table, playing like that, man?"

Daniel didn't respond, but made a point of meeting Arieh's cold stare. 

The brown-eyed American aggressively leaned forward in his seat, his lips curling at the edges. "A million? What sort of bet is that?"

Daniel sensed this was more than trash talk. If Arieh had an overpair, or had hit an eight, he'd have already made his move. That meant a smaller pair—fours or treys. Or maybe even a straight draw. He decided to go with his read, he was pretty sure Arieh wanted to see another card. 

The American eased himself up on his chair, staring Daniel down as he did so. "All in," he announced, turning away and heading across to his cheering section along the rails.

It wasn't what the stunned Daniel had expected. This was power poker at its best. Maybe that was what put these pros in a different league?

His mind whirled. Why would Arieh do that? The more he thought, the more he became convinced. The American wanted to take him off the hand now because he knew Daniel was ahead. The question in his mind changed. Now it was a matter of whether he was willing to put his whole tournament on the line in a race.

Even with two million in the pot, the sensible action was to fold. Stay out of trouble. Even if he were ahead, the American could still get lucky.

Arieh came back to the table as Daniel was on the verge of throwing his cards in. "C'mon, kid. Stop showboating. Fold them and we all move on."

It was the sneer in his voice more than anything. That arrogant superiority. When Daniel picked up his fossil and stroked along the smooth side, both Holly and Rosie picked up on his intentions. Both women shivered.

"Call," he said, attempting to keep his voice calm. Was that his heart trying to explode?

Arieh threw his head back, reluctantly flipping over Jack-Three. Bottom pair! When he saw Daniel's hand across the table, his dark eyes spat venom. "He called with a pair of fives," he shouted to his supporters behind the rail. "What a joke! A pair of fives! That's so sick!" 

"That's either the best or the worst call you've ever made," Holly gasped. 

"I guess we'll find out in a moment," Daniel sighed, with a resigned shrug of his shoulders. What was it he'd said to Chad about avoiding bad luck? It was in the hands of the poker gods. A three or a Jack would end his tournament.

The turn was a Queen. One card to survive. Somehow the entire room was silent, except for the sound of some laughter at the back of the large hall.

Don't do it… Daniel silently prayed. Don't do it…

The gods were listening.

"Ridiculous," spat Arieh, as he saw the King. The angry man snatched his leather jacket from the back of his chair and made his way over to his wife and supporters at the rail. "Won't last another half hour," he sneered, glancing back over his shoulder at the Englishman.

"That'll be half an hour longer than you, then, Josh," Holly murmured, grinning across at the crinkly haired Englishman.

***

Jimmy pulled the Chrysler Sebring convertible into the heavier than normal traffic. Kay's call asking Rachal to go over earlier than they'd arranged had taken her by surprise. If she didn't know better…

Jimmy insisted on running her over to Kay's house, though a taxi wouldn't have been any trouble. She knew why. He was still feeling very nervous about the whole thing. Her previous blue movie performances had been small parts, and each scene had been with Jimmy. Now it would be other men, and her boyfriend wouldn't even be there to keep tabs on her.

He'd always had a jealous side, she pondered as he gunned through the traffic. It was a quality she quite liked in him, made her feel special. 

Still, sometimes it needed to be checked. "For God's sake, stop being so jealous," she told him, settling back in the light tan leather seat. Maybe she could tease him a little? "We have an open lifestyle, don't we? You didn't mind Terrelle fucking me at the party. What's the difference?" 

"You know why," he complained, sending her one of those glances. "Because we're always together when we're with other people…"

Rachal's loud laugh didn't help his mood. "We're always together when we're with other people?" she jokingly mocked, reaching over and flipping on the radio button, searching for and finding a classic rock station. 

"You know what I mean," he grunted.

The exotic looking model reached out and stroked the back of his head. He was so cute when he was jealous. "Listen, Jimmy, you know I'll be thinking of you throughout…"

"Yeah, right," he grumbled, taking a right onto the main intersection.

"It's true," she teased. "When I'm on my back with some big porn star cock fucking my brains out, it'll be you I'll be thinking about…"

He revved the engine in disgust. "Very fucking funny!"

Rach dropped her hand onto his leg, stroking along his inner thigh. "Want me to give you something to remember me by?"

"No," he petulantly answered.

"Apart from letting you fuck me against the wall," she grinned. "That was nice, babe."

His grunt was the best response she was going to elicit.

"So…" she continued, "let me put a little icing on the cake."

Jimmy didn't answer, but the swell in his pants told her she was getting through.

"Better keep your eyes on the road," she grinned, stroking her fingers along the bulge in his black jeans. 

"Don't," he said, but his unconvincing voice was as soft as a whisper. 

"That's not quite what you mean, babe, is it?" she asked, unbuckling her seatbelt. She ran her hand up his trousers, slowly unbuckling his belt. Let's make a show of it, she thought. Only the soft clink of its clasp and the low purr of the engine filled the silence between them. 

"Umph," Jimmy gasped as she pulled down his zip and roughly yanked out his cock. He was already ready for action.

"Has anyone ever blown you while you were driving?" she seductively murmured as she lowered her head. For a few seconds, his eyes locked on hers as her mouth licked around his head. "Watch the road," she snapped, pausing until he dragged his gaze back to the road. 

Satisfied, her long fingers wrapped themselves around his girth and she lowered her wet mouth. The thought of what she was doing excited her as much as him. Her dark eyes stared upwards, partly to ensure he was concentrating on the road, but also monitoring his excitement. 

She slowly bobbed her head, swallowing more and more of his veiny flesh with each dip. When he pulled the car to a halt at some traffic lights, her head shot upwards. Before he could react, her tongue was sliding between his lips at the same time as her hand pushed his trousers further down his legs. 

"Good, babe?" she purred into his mouth, her hand caressing his balls.

The sound of the horn from the car behind told them the lights had changed. With a delicious giggle, she gave the driver the finger as Jimmy drove off. Adjusting her position, the African princess with her almond-shaped eyes instantly went back to work, taking him as deep into her mouth as she could in the cramped space.

"Rach," he gasped, feeling his balls begin to boil. 

He lowered one of his hands from the steering wheel and ran the fingers through her long waves, scraping along her scalp.

She choked a little as he pushed upwards, shoving himself deep into her throat. Her hands went to his hips to steady herself as she felt him try to hold back his climax. "Stop the car," she told him.

"I.. I can't. It's a highway…"

"Stop the fucking car," she growled, clamping her teeth around the head of his cock, as if she was about to bite it off.

The tyres screeched as he suddenly pulled to a stop.

"Rach," he gasped, half turning in the seat as she deep throated him. "Rach…" 

Her name stuck in his throat as he felt the surge, a second before he began to blast cum into her heavily sucking mouth.

Rach felt a series of little tremors run through her. She'd be doing this on camera soon, with well-established porn stars. The thought enhanced the wonderful feeling of the creamy offering invading her mouth. 

Even when he slumped back, sated, her working mouth continued to lick him clean, eager to ensure that not a single drop escaped.

 "There, babe" she eventually smiled, those dark, teasing eyes staring up into his. "Think of that until you can fly down to see me. Okay?"

***

Being chip leader had changed Daniel's demeanour. He had to use those extra chips, be the table bully, the aggressor. Samuel Smith had been the one playing that part, and with twenty six million in chips in front of him, he was still only around five million behind Daniel. 

This was big stack poker at its finest.

The two of them began to push, staying out of each other's way while giving the others at the table no room to breathe. But even though they were running all over the table, progress was slow. The professionals were wily enough not to enter any damaging hands. After all, these two amateurs would run out of steam eventually. Wouldn't they?

It happened in a way that none of them expected. Direct confrontation.

With Ace-Three of spades, Daniel made what was becoming a standard opening raise. With so many chips on the table, a million was neither here nor there. Predictably enough everyone folded. That had been the pattern so far.

Except Samuel Smith. 

His flat call wasn't surprising. Why raise when you were against the chip leader? Not unless you had a monster. See the flop and take it from there.

The flop was perfect. King-Queen-Three of spades.

Daniel had the nuts! 

His instinct said to check, but he immediately dismissed the thought. Smith would be expecting a continuation bet. He raised two million, praying for a re-raise. The African American simply flat called again. That was okay. 

Either his opponent was chasing or maybe he'd hit a pair. Good!

The Englishman couldn't decide if the Ace of clubs on the turn was a good card for him. If Smith had a pair, the Ace could put him off and kill any action. On the other hand, if his opponent already had an Ace, he'd believe he was ahead. Let's find out. He bet four million.

Smith called again, his face impassive. The thickset man prided himself on not needing to wear sunglasses. He had the original poker face. Right then, Daniel wished he could get some sort of tell on what his opponent was thinking. He wasn't going to lose the hand. 

The question was how to extract maximum value.

The three on the river gave Daniel a hint of unease. He'd learned from experience to be careful with paired boards. The way the hand had played out, however, suggested it was extremely unlikely that Samuel Smith had hit a full house. It was much more likely it had given his opponent two pairs. If so, it might well be the card that brought Samuel Smith's downfall…

If the African American had an Ace, the chances were he'd believe he was ahead.

Six million felt the right amount to bet. Just under half the pot. If Smith had any sort of hand, he'd have to make the call. As the thickset man studied Daniel's bet, it suddenly occurred to the Englishman that he had almost forty per cent of his stack in the middle. How did that happen?

Smith surprised him. He didn't call. He pushed all in. 

Power poker, but the African American was taking a big risk. With any sort of marginal hand, Daniel would have to fold. But with a monster, the club owner was committing suicide. He'd misread Daniel completely.

The Englishman called instantly, flipping over his hole cards to show his flush. At almost sixty million chips, the title was all but his. This game wasn't supposed to be as simple as this, was it? There were supposed to be twists and turns…

The smile on Samuel Smith's face told him he'd miscalculated. Big time.

"Not good enough, junior," the African American drawled, flipping over an Ace, and then a three. 

Full house!

Daniel was stunned. The whooping and hollering all around him hardly resonated with him. It was quiet in his mind, matching the numb feeling in his body. He was down to less than five million and all but out. Smith had doubled his stack to over fifty million.

Oh shit…

***

"You're Rosie?"

The redhead turned towards the voice. She recognised Daniel's ex-girlfriend instantly, though she couldn't remember where she'd seen her face. "Yes, hello Grace."

"You know me?" The singer seemed genuinely surprised.

"Difficult not to," Rosie answered, trying to contain the sudden nervousness inside her stomach. What the hell was she doing here? Unfinished business? No, stop it, she told herself. Having made a mountain out of a molehill with Holly, she wasn't going to make the same mistake with the brunette.




The Strip Ch. 14



"I guess that's true," Grace said, a hint of a smile breaking on her glossy lips. She appeared to be just as edgy as Rosie felt. "I seem to have gone from a nobody to famous to infamous in the blink of an eye."

Rosie nodded. Just talking to Grace was surreal enough, but attempting to hold a conversation with Daniel's ex in the middle of hordes of poker fans only added to that feeling. The chanting and cheering all around them continued irrespective of whether play was in progress. 

"I'm sorry about what's happened," she softly said, trying to keep one eye on the players and the other on the woman standing in front of her. Daniel had folded his cards, that gave her more time to devote to the conversation.

Grace shot a warm glance of appreciation. "Well, thanks for that, Rosie. I don't seem to be getting much sympathy right now." She followed the redhead's gaze across to the final table. "Daniel could have done without losing that hand," she grimaced. "Looks like his dream could be over."

"No!" Rosie's response was firm and immediate. "Don't write him off yet, he can come back." Anything had a chance to come back to life, she now knew. "You're here to watch him?"

"Well, actually…" Grace uncertainly began, "I'm here to watch Samuel. Look, do you mind if I sit beside you for a moment? Just a moment?"

The redhead nodded, shuffling to allow Grace to take the spare seat. "Sure." She said the word with more confidence than she felt. What the hell did the woman want?

"Thanks," Grace smiled, her eyes checking Rosie out as she slipped into the seat. Daniel had chosen well. "I've been hoping the guy beside you would leave for a while," Grace explained. "I wanted to speak to you."

"Why?" The question wasn't unfriendly, but nor was there any warmth in Rosie's tone. This woman was trouble.

Grace's lips pursed as she stared into space, thinking through what she wanted to say. "Not to cause any problems," she explained, meeting Rosie's gaze again. "I want only the best for Daniel, and I can see that he's found a real pearl in you." 

It was true. Not only was the young woman a fresh faced beauty, the way she'd instantly rebutted Grace's too quick dismissal of Daniel's chances indicated her feelings for her new boyfriend. Almost despite herself, Grace couldn't help but warm to the redhead.

"Thank you," the redhead answered, her face softening a little. She'd no idea if this woman was genuine, but was prepared to take her at face value until she proved otherwise. Daniel had always told her that Grace's heart was in the right place. Not that men ever really understood these things.

"I wanted to speak to Daniel at one of the breaks," Grace continued, watching as the redhead's expression changed. "Nothing heavy," she hurriedly reassured, "but we haven't spoken since we... I… since I left him."

"You want to get back together with him?" Rosie instantly asked, the hairs on the back of her head standing to attention. Her accusatory tone was clear—this woman was just about to become public enemy number one. The redhead hadn't gone through what she had, to easily give up her man.

"No, no…" Grace quickly reassured the young woman. That wasn't her intention at all. It would never work. Daniel was part of her past and would stay that way. She swivelled in her chair to face the redhead full on.

"Then what?" Rosie asked, taking advantage of the brunette's hesitation. Her look reinforced her words. "What are your intentions?"

Grace smiled uneasily, but it seemed an honest smile. "It's just… well… I just want to wish him all the best, and tell him I'm sorry for the way we parted. I need to do that, Rosie. We both have our separate lives now, but I'd like us to remain on good terms, y'know? And I don't think the way I dealt with things allowed that to happen. I want to put that right."

The redhead slowly nodded, evaluating the words. It wasn't up to her to determine who Daniel spoke to, but at least Grace had taken the trouble to speak to her before approaching Daniel. That meant something—didn't it?

"And as you're with him now," the brunette continued to explain. "I wanted to reassure you I don't mean any harm. I just want to say a proper goodbye."

Rosie's attitude instantly softened. Grace hadn't needed to do this, she could have ignored her completely. "And I know Daniel only wants the best for you, too, Grace. So do I. I appreciate you taking the trouble to talk to me first." She glanced across at the final table. "Just carefully choose your moment to talk to him. He's going all the way in this tournament."

For the first time, Grace's nervousness disappeared. "D'y'know, Rosie. With each word, I can see you're perfect for him…"

***

"How much?" Rachal gasped, staring across Kay's living room at the older woman.

The Agency Head laughed softly. It had been a good morning's work. The same source who'd paid her fifty thousand bucks for the sisters' sex tape had offered a couple of hundred for the new tapes. Kay's recordings of Lauren with her and Carly were paying dividends. 

There was only one proviso. That's why she needed to speak to Rachal.

"It's a lot of money," Kay agreed, sauntering across to the exotic looking model and handing her the glass of the chilled Chablis she'd just poured. "Twenty five thousand is yours." 

Rachal's jaw dropped as she took the drink. "Mine?"

Kay nodded, sitting down on the luxurious couch beside the girl and smoothing the expensive black skirt beneath her legs. "Cheers," she said, clinking glasses and waiting until they'd both sampled the wine before continuing. "It's compensation, Rach."

The younger woman felt her heart miss a beat. Compensation. She knew it! This was bad news. It had happened before, of course. In her business, Kay needed to be nimble on her feet and that meant sudden changes of plan. Rachal never complained, of course. It was part of the territory and her employer always ensured she was adequately rewarded at such times.

"Why do I think I'm going to be disappointed?" she asked with a resigned smile. 

The Agency Head shrugged her shoulders; she knew that the girl was already anticipating the bad news. Not that twenty five thousand bucks was that bad, was it? That was one of the things she liked about Rach; she was always amenable. No histrionics from this girl.

"I'm sorry," Kay said, pulling down on her lower lip. "The deal I've made is conditional on Lauren being in these movies." Making her into an adult movie star would significantly increase the value of the videos, her buyer had pointed out. Releasing them one by one would earn their new owner far in excess of the amount he'd paid. It was a condition that Tony LaParma insisted on. The Miami based entrepreneur was adamant—and that's why he'd paid top dollars, after all.

"The good news," the Agency Head added, stroking her hand along the beautiful model's jean covered thigh, "is that Demetrius is sending over another girl. What d'you think?" she asked, taking a photograph from the side table and handing it to Rach.  

Rachal whistled. "Geez," she gasped, taking in the sight of the ebony skinned beauty. The voluptuous figure took her breath away How could such large breasts defy gravity like that? Whatever she'd paid for them had been worthwhile. And those upturned chocolate nipples…!

"What do you think, darling?" Kay chuckled. "Fuckable?"

"Oh yes," Rachal muttered, her smiling eyes flicking between Kay and the photograph. "Very fuckable—"

Kay leant in for a soft kiss. Lips parted, their tongues softly danced for a few seconds. "If only there was time to finish this," the older woman sighed, reluctantly drawing away. "But I have to finalise arrangements for my trip… and you have to prepare, too."

"Me?"

"Uh-hum. Carmella arrives in Vegas just as I'm flying out. I need you to collect her from the airport. I'm only away for a couple of days. Think you can find a way to entertain her until I return?"

***

Samuel Smith was picking everyone off. With a chip stack of fifty three million, he could afford to. That was more than twice as much as the seemingly passive Allen Cunningham, in second place, and the amateur resembled a steamroller the professionals were finding impossible to stop.

When the African American looked at his watch and glanced across at Holly, the blonde assassin took his meaning immediately. Time to go. Send those chips this way. She'd been expecting the warning for the last twenty minutes. Time was getting short if she was to meet their pre-arranged timings.

With Holly in the big blind, the businessman made a twenty million raise and gave an imperceptible nod. It suggested he had a big hand and this was the moment. His bet just covered the stack in front of the blonde.

The African American's plan was that everyone would fold, Holly would push all in, and he'd hoover up her chips. With seventy odd million, it would be all over. The Main Event would be his.

Except, everyone didn't fold. Daniel called, carefully placing his three stacks into the middle of the green baize. Just under five million chips. 

It looked like a desperate move from her friend and Holly thought things through before calling, "All in." If Daniel had any sort of hand, her chips, along with Smith's would triple him up. If he didn't, it made no difference.

The hum that ran around the watching audience seemed to reverberate around the large hall, bouncing of the walls and then back to the table again. It was the biggest moment of the tourney so far. Play was stopped to allow the usual formalities to take place, even as the hands were turned over. 

Smith had Big Slick, Holly Ace-Ten and Daniel a pair of treys. Surprisingly, the odds were very much similar for all three hands.

The delay while the TV cameras set everything up seemed to last a lifetime. Daniel and Holly took the opportunity to leave the table and head over to where the anxious Rosie was sitting.

"What are the odds?" the redhead asked, her eyes swinging from one face to the other.

"Daniel's a slight favourite," Holly murmured, glancing back at the table. "But there's not much in it."

"Why'd you push all in, too?" Daniel asked, his puzzled face staring at Holly. "Ace-Ten? A big raise and a call. Why?"

The blonde pushed back a loose bang of hair, carefully fitting it behind her ear. "I reckoned I was third favourite," she smiled. "But better for us both to have a chance in a pot against Smith than just the one, don't you think? He's got too big a chip lead. Time to gamble." 

"Gives him the opportunity for him to take you both out," Rosie ruefully sighed. Thanks to Holly's teaching, she'd picked up the intricacies quickly.

"There is that," the blonde laughed, making light of the situation. "But this is the final table. Are we going out meekly? Or roaring like lions?"

The crinkly haired Englishman nodded, giving both women a wistful smile. "It's back with the poker gods…" he said, slumping down in one of the two vacant seats beside Rosie.

"Going to watch from here?" Holly laughed, taking the other seat.

"We're the three Musketeers," Rosie laughed, trying to ease the tension. 

Despite the frivolity, the strain on Daniel's face was only too evident, whereas Holly seemed to be more ready to accept her fate. When the two players grew silent, she sat quietly, too. Daniel and Holly were the two gladiators in the arena, after all. She was just an interested observer, albeit one who was dying a thousand deaths right now.

The noise in the crowd intensified as the flop was revealed. Ten… King… Three. 

Holly'd made a pair, Samuel had trumped it, and Daniel had hit a set. He grimaced at Holly. "Sorry," he unnecessarily said.

The blonde's smile covered her entire face. She couldn't explain, of course, but this was working out perfectly. "Sorry? Don't be silly, Daniel. Unless Smith hits runners, you're back in this. Though it looks like I might be saying sayonara…"

The turn changed everything again. The red ten gave Daniel a full house and Holly a set. "Interesting," grinned Holly, inwardly cursing the fact she had to leave. In other circumstances, she could have actually won this damn thing! Instead, she had to get rid of her chips… and fast. Only one thought occupied her mind—if she could, look for chances to give them to Daniel.

The next few hands brought a flurry of activity. Holly pushed at every opportunity, a couple of times folding what she anticipated was the best hand. 

Damn, getting rid of chips wasn't as easy as it should have been. 

A big Cunningham hand took a chunk. Gavin Smith took some more. With fourteen million, it was well past her time to go. She was already later than she should have been and experience told her that every minute's delay made her mission more dangerous.

Daniel's all in push was timely.

He had a monster. She knew that from the tell she had on him, though he wasn't aware of that. His left hand stroked the crystal while he was watching the action, waiting his turn to bet. She'd seen him do that three times. Twice with Kings, once with Aces. 

When she called, the blonde was hoping she was right. Her suited connectors were exactly the sort of hand that could crack a big pair but she'd never have a better chance to give her chips to her crinkly haired friend. 

She was right. Aces. The flop helped neither of them, nor did the turn. She was out. As planned.

Daniel headed around the table and hugged the blonde. "Holly—"

"Sssh," she whispered to him. "I'm fine. You're back in this now, settle down. I want to see you play like Desperado always did, okay? Tight but aggressive. And for fuck's sake, stop stroking that crystal when you've been dealt a monster. I think I'm the only one who's noticed, but you never know…"

***

The shadow caused Big Eddie to look up from the paperwork on his desk. He hadn't expected to see Carly this early. Her shift wasn't for another few hours. "Hey," he smiled.

"Hey yourself," she answered, slipping inside his office and leaning back against the door that thumped shut behind her. "I'm horny."

The gangster's eyes widened. If only he wasn't so busy. The tax people had demanded this information on three occasions now and would expect it when he met with them later in the evening. Did the goddamn Revenue work all hours?

"That's what I like to hear," he grinned, though the disappointment in his eyes conveyed his dilemma. "But unfortunately…"

Resting the back of her head against the door, the spiky haired woman lifted a finger to her mouth, slowly fellating it. Big Eddie's cock twitched. The sexy bitch didn't take no for an answer when she was in this mood.

"Carly," he began again, trying to disguise the way his hand surreptitiously adjusted his hardening cock. If it wasn't for these damn tax returns…

She ignored the protest, unbuttoning her top and easing one side down her shoulders, then the other. Each movement was slow, provocative. It was the most important seduction of her young life. 

The garment floated to the floor like a feather on the wind. She'd debated with herself beforehand, but decided to wear a bra. The black, half-cup effect was always a turn on for men. Arching her back, she thrust her beauties out, the action telling him they could soon be his.

"Carly," he began again, his resolve to complete his urgent documentation rapidly weakening.

Of course it was. Who could resist her in this mood? The poor bastard was almost panting like a dog staring at its last meal. If only he knew…

Hunching her shoulders, she shook her tits at the hungry looking man. The skimpy bra perfectly emphasised her overspilling cleavage. Swinging around on her heels, the temptress dragged the back of her skirt upwards as she swung her hips—a hypnotic metronome that captured his gaze. 

The skimpy black thong was one she used when dancing at the club. She unfastened the front zip and allowed the skirt to drop at her feet. Three more undulations of her hard buttocks were enough to get him hard. 

He was lost. He knew it, she knew it. She had him now...

Turning to face him, Carly slid her hands up her body, ripping open the front catch on her bra. Her breasts bounced. With a theatrical gesture, she swung the bra around her head before letting it fly on a journey to who knows where.

Her fingers provocatively covered her swells, the hard nipples digging into her palms. Fuck, she felt hot! Arching her back, she swayed as she raised her hands above her head. Her pear-like breasts bounced again. When she shook them at the gawking man, she'd never felt as aroused in her life. 

This was his last supper…

Head back, her tongue ran across her pink, glossy lips and her eyes fixed on the gangster's. She knew he liked that, liked having her eye him before they fucked. Want it, her gaze was asking him. Want this body? How badly?

The sexy woman swayed across the short distance between them, swinging around when she reached him. Lowering herself, she ground her ass down into his cloth-covered erection. There were no more objections, just a silent acceptance of the inevitable from the heavily panting man. 

The hands she felt on her hips were the first tangible acknowledgement of his willingness to participate. Satisfied, Carly athletically swung around to face the gangster. Sweat had formed on his brow. Her hand brushed it away as she straddled him, easing down onto his lap. "Want to fuck me, baby?" she whispered, closing in for a teasing kiss. "Want to fuck Carly?"

She arched back as he tried to deepen the kiss, grinding her pussy harder into his cloth-covered cock and watching the way his eyes clouded over. 

She so loved the feeling that came with control...

"Fuck, but you're sexy…" he moaned, meeting her soft hazel eyes once again. His hands grabbed her arms, pulling her closer to allow his mouth to suck in one of the deep, pink nipples.

Carly's hands snaked to the back of his head, throwing her head back with pleasure as he drooled across one and then the other hard bud. "That's it, Eddie," she moaned, loving the way she could reduce this man—any man—to a quivering, sexually fuelled wreck.

As he sucked, the spiky haired temptress pushed her saliva covered breasts into his face and began to grind harder into his cock. Her unsteady hands found his belt, then his zip. Enough playing—the assassin must be close by now? She wanted the grunting gangster close to his orgasm before the hitwoman arrived. That would be her treat…

***

Holly drove to Midnight Hot as if she was competing in Formula One, though sufficiently on her guard to avoid any confrontation should any hidden traffic cops be in the vicinity. Her mind was ticking as she moved through the busy club. Samuel had passed on the internal layout that Carly had provided. But as she slipped inside the door from the bar area, no one had mentioned the possibility of the pitbull barring her way.

"Where d'you think you're going?" he grunted, stepping into her path from a room to his left. The coffee he was carrying suggested it was a kitchen area.

The thin corridor left no room for easily sidestepping the well-developed man. His physique made her think of Oddjob from James Bond fame.

"Hi handsome," she grinned at him, moving the gum from the left to the right side of her mouth as she chewed. She smiled sweetly as she pushed a hand through her brunette locks. The long brown wig was an essential part of her disguise, as were the pink coloured sunglasses. "You're just in time. Am I goin' the right way? I'm late. Carly and Big Eddie are expecting me."




The Strip Ch. 15



This is a rewrite of 'Vegas', combining both Books. While maintaining the theme, it offers a completely different and fresh take for the main characters.

Grateful thanks go to the best editor in the world -- thesoundandfury - not only for his editing, but also for the constant encouragement, suggestions, and for helping me to become a better writer.

Chapter 15: One for all… all for one

As each player was knocked out, the table took a short break to accommodate the ESPN television crew. That allowed the remaining players to take a breather whilst the departed player was interviewed. Those breaks, together with the regular two hourly intervals, allowed the players a little more breathing room than had been the case in the tournament so far.

At each break, Norman Chad had made a point of talking to Daniel, making him laugh with some quip or other whilst all the time telling him to relax and play solid. Daniel didn't tell the little man how much that meant to him, but both knew how invaluable it was. Granting access to the empty interview room was another example of how thoughtful the diminutive commentator was.

"Where's Holly?" Daniel asked Rosie as they headed for the room to escape the mayhem for a few moments. 

"I don't know," the redhead responded. "Said she had some business to attend to, but that she'd be back shortly."

"Business?"

"Yes… but listen to this, Daniel," Rosie continued, her voice trembling with excitement. "Holly told me to check my bank account this afternoon. Said there'd be a present from Big Eddie there, a recompense for everything he's put me through."

"Recompense?" Daniel stared into his girlfriend's wide, green eyes. Her hands were shaking when he took them in his. "What's he up to, Rosie?" he asked, wondering what more damage that gangster could do.

"I've no idea, but there's a hundred and fifty thousand dollars there," she gasped, her whole body trembling against his now. "Daniel…"

"That's… that's impossible," he mumbled, taking her by the shoulders and staring intently into her big, green eyes. "Rosie, he wouldn't do that… would he? I mean, how… why… what made him…"

The redhead pulled the Englishman into a hug. "Hold me," she whispered, digging her face into his shoulder. "I don't know why," she murmured into his neck. "I don't know. Why would he do that?"

"Better ask Holly when she gets back," he suggested, one hand stroking her silky red hair as he held her tight. "Looks like she has all the answers…"

***

Daniel was still pondering on the money in Rosie's account when he returned to the action. It made no sense! And how did Holly know about it? Put it out of your mind, he told himself, for the moment at least. He had work to do.

Before the first had after the break was dealt, he stroked his crystal four times. Once for each player remaining. He'd done that since Harrington became the first player to fall all that time ago. Why, he had no idea. 

Probably for the first time in the entire tournament, he was beginning to believe he could win. All the sensible money had been on the pros, but with the two amateurs shoulder by shoulder with over forty million, Cunningham had some ground to make up with thirty two million, and the Canadian, Gavin Smith, was suddenly the short stack with 'only' twenty million. 

That made him the target, though not an easy one. A double up would turn him from short stack to chip leader.

Either way, it seemed to make no difference to the tubby joker. In true Gavin Smith style, the Canadian had constantly wisecracked throughout, bringing some light relief from the tensions that had existed throughout the day. It may have been wasted on the indefatigable Cunningham and the arrogant Smith, but he'd found a willing audience in the Englishman.

Daniel found himself enjoying the humorous, teasing repartee and couldn't help but laugh along at the steady stream of one-liners. He'd been feeling the pace over the last hour or so and tiredness was catching up with him, especially after the exhausting but exhilarating night he'd spent with Rosie. 

Thoughts of their lovemaking had begun to flitter through his mind, warming his soul but affecting his concentration. Gavin Smith was a timely outlet…

Play underway, Daniel's King-Ten wasn't a monster, but it was worth playing fourhanded. When Allen Cunningham made the usual button raise, he simply called in the small blind. Possibly a raise was more sensible, but with the unpredictable Gavin Smith behind him, it was a safer option. 

So it proved, the Canadian pushed all in.

Cunningham immediately folded, with that now familiar nervous twitch of his nose. With a call and a re-raise, his interest in the hand suddenly ended. 

That left Daniel with a decision and the Englishman pushed himself back in his chair, his eyes studying his opponent. Gavin Smith winked at him, pushing back the black cap that perched so well on his mop of unruly hair.

"I know what you're thinking," the Canadian grinned, taking a sip from what looked remarkably like a glass of whisky. You never knew with Gavin Smith. "You're thinking I'm making a move because I have to. That I don't really have a hand. But then again, you're wondering if I do. And the last thing you want is to double me up. Quite a dilemma, huh?"

Daniel's deep sigh gave the game away. 

"Confused, huh?" the Canadian chuckled. "Me, too."

The Englishman couldn't help but smile back at the chortling Smith. With that little black cap and light shirt that constantly needed tucking into his crumpled jeans, he looked like a scruffy, overgrown schoolboy.

"Hmmm," the Canadian continued his verbal assault. Didn't he ever shut up? Daniel already knew the answer to that question. "If you're in this much doubt, I'd say you don't have an Ace. That means a King? King-Queen you'd definitely call with, probably King-Jack, too. Okay, that leaves King-Ten. Unsuited. If I were you, I'd fold."

Daniel grinned. The man was uncanny with his reads, but then, he'd been doing that all day. If he called and was right, Daniel would have the chip lead. Call and lose, and he and Smith would reverse positions.

He'd be the target.

"Tell you what," the Canadian chirped, not giving Daniel's mind time to settle. "Why don't we forget the cards? You call, and the first one to complete a hundred press-ups takes the hand. What d'you think?"

It was impossible not to join in with Smith's laughter. The tubby Canadian looked as if he couldn't do five press-ups, let alone a hundred.

"Don't let this exterior fool ya," Smith continued. "Inside, there's the body of an athlete, just raring to go." 

Daniel grinned back at his smiling opponent. It was as impossible to dislike the Canadian as it was to focus in the face of such banter. That may have been why he called, he didn't know. All he did know was that the sensible move would have been to lay the hand down, but Smith's banter and the tiredness that was creeping all over his mind saw him make an uneducated gamble.

The resigned flicker in the Canadian's eyes told Daniel the gamble had worked, even before the professional had turned over his Jack-Ten. 

That was even better than Daniel hoped. He'd been lucky… 

The flop put a different complexion on his luck. Queen-Jack-Two.

"Told ya, ya shudda folded," the Canadian said with a shrug of his broad shoulders. 

Daniel's reaction was nothing more than a sigh. What did he expect, making such a call when it was impossible to put the Canadian on a hand. Yes, he'd sucked out, but Smith could just as easily have had him dominated preflop. Pushing up from his seat, he headed towards the rail. Holly was there with Rosie.

"You're back," he smiled.

"I haven't been away," Holly lied. 

She was taking a risk having Big Eddie transfer his money to Rosie's account, especially having carried out the hit, though it was unlikely that Daniel and the redhead would put two and two together. All the same, let's make sure they thought she hadn't left the hotel. 

"I just had some business to attend to at the back of the hall," she continued, lowering her voice as if disclosing some sort of secret. "Keep it to yourself, but a consortium wanted me to be their face of poker. Having discussed it with them, the small print says I need to invest a lot of money in the idea, so I've turned them down."

Daniel whistled. "Who was it?"

"Can't say, sorry," Holly replied, pulling a face. "Confidential and all that. But I've been keeping an eye on play, that was a bad flop.

"Yeah," Daniel shrugged, resting his arms on Rosie's slim shoulders.

"We have a few outs," the ever-optimistic Rosie muttered. "Ace, King or a Nine will do."

"We?" Daniel grinned, kissing her forehead.

"Yes, you me and Holly," the redhead replied, returning the grin. "The Three Musketeers. One for all, all for one…"

"And you're spot on about what we need," Holly told her. "I can see you were paying attention to your lessons yesterday."

"I had a good teacher," Rosie winked.

The turn instantly killed their conversation. The Ten gave Daniel a pair, but not the one he needed. 

Holly punched through the sombre cloak that suddenly enveloped the 'Musketeers'. "Where's your crystal, Daniel?" 

"On the table," he replied. Surely Holly didn't believe in— 

"Get it," she interrupted.

His puzzled frown disappeared when her eyes told him to hurry. With four long strides, he'd reached the table and then retraced his steps to the two women.

"Give it to Rosie," the blonde insisted.

The redhead took the crystal from him and clasped it in both hands, closing her eyes as if in prayer. 

What the hell was this? The sight of the concentration on Rosie's face made Daniel smile. God, she looked so delectable. The Englishman couldn't help himself, leaning forward to plant a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. Those wide, green eyes opened to smile up at him. 

Two lovers in love.

The river brought gasps, groans and cheers. It took a few seconds to pick up on what had happened. It was a whooping Holly who first got it into his brain. "A nine," she told the two lovers. "We hit a straight."

"You amaze me," he grunted to the blonde, referring to the crystal. "Didn't realise you were superstitious."

"I'm not," she laughed, giving him a high five. "It's unlucky to be superstitious!"

Daniel laughed as he turned to hug Rosie. "Keep the crystal for luck," he whispered as he turned to commiserate with his Canadian opponent. 

"I'm so sorry," Daniel simply said, his rueful look a confession of how lucky he'd been. "I sucked out."

"Yes," responded the stunned Canadian. "But you know what, kid? You played great. Now concentrate on winning the damn thing…"

*** 

Lauren's heart began to palpitate. It was the call she'd been waiting for but not expecting. When she'd eventually dragged herself away from Kay's home yesterday, the Agency Head had said she'd be in touch, but the dismissive smile suggested her relationship with Kay had ended. It wasn't the start of a new chapter.

Now, she was on the phone.

"How are you, darling?"

Lauren needed the deep breath she took before replying. The call reminded her of that time, three months ago, when she'd waited for Kay's confirmation that her modelling audition had been successful. The churning in her stomach told her that she was just as anxious.

"I'm good, Kay, thanks," she answered, swallowing hard in an attempt to rid herself of the knot in her throat.

"You sound surprised, darling. I told you I'd call, didn't I?" The older woman smiled at how easily the line came from her glossy lips. Had it not been for the condition attached to the sex tapes, it was unlikely the blonde would ever have heard from her again.

"Yes… yes, of course."

"Good, darling. The contract's drawn up and ready for signing, together with your flight tickets. You can sign the paperwork during the flight."

Lauren felt the knot in her throat return. OH… MY… GOD! She was being offered the movies!! A wave of happy dizziness invaded her head, her mind. It was difficult to think. She'd have her dream after all!

"What do you think?" Kay's purring voice asked.

What did she think? Just the thought of appearing with the finest men and women the adult film industry had to offer created a buzz that ran all the way through her body and settled on her wet sex. More days like yesterday, sessions like yesterday, but on camera? 

If she touched herself right now, she'd explode…

But wait a moment. "The flight? Sure. But when is it? It'll take a couple of days to—"

"Tonight." Kay's unequivocal voice brooked no argument. "I'm taking a gamble on you, darling, I'm dumping Rachal because of you. I have faith in you, Lauren, you see. I promised I'd take care of you, even when you turned me down I've been looking after your best interests. You're not telling me there's another problem?"

"NO!" Lauren almost shouted her answer. "No… it's just all so sudden…"

Kay's dismissive chuckle sent a shiver through the blonde model. "Sudden?" the Agency Head repeated. "Of course it's sudden. Until yesterday, I had no idea you'd be begging for your chance again."

"Yes, yes of course."

Kay smiled to herself. These young women were so easy to manipulate. "This is your life now, darling," she explained. "You do what I say, when I say. Is that understood?"

"Yes… I understand. Of course, Kay."

The Agency Head grinned to herself, the submissive tone in Lauren's voice was exactly what she needed to hear. "Good! My car will be at your apartment in one hour. Don't keep me waiting."

The blonde nodded at herself in the mirror. So much to do! "Yes, I'll be ready. No problem, Kay. See you soon."

Lauren collapsed into the chunky chair when she ended the call. An hour? She'd need a shower, change of clothes. And pack! She'd could call Grace from the airport, her sister would understand. 

But before then she had some immediate business to take care of. If she didn't get relief she'd go crazy. A porn star! She was going to be a porn star…

Her fumbling fingers unfastened the button on her jeans and dragged the zip down. Raising her hips, she didn't even bother dragging the denims down her legs. It wasn't necessary. Her hand snaked down inside her lacy panties. 

"Aaaah! Geeeez…" 

The feel of her middle finger across her smooth mound sent her imagination off like fireworks. Soon, the world would see her sex. They'd see her tits. They'd see her fuck. And this time, on her terms! Her fingers fired up and down her wet labia. Her nostrils flared as she bounced her head back against the top of the chair. Arching backwards, her hips lifted. It took only one flick across her clit and the deep growwwwl came from the back of her throat.

Even yesterday, she hadn't cum as hard as this…

***

Congratulations," Holly quietly said into her mobile phone. The break in play gave her the opportunity to make the call that Samuel Smith was expecting, even though they were less than fifty feet from one another. "You've had a good day."

"Thank you. You were unlucky to go out so early," he sarcastically responded, "though our side arrangement was for you to transfer your chips my way, was it not?"

The blonde smiled to herself, turning away from some interested bystanders who appeared to be waiting for her autograph. "Sorry, in a moment," she smiled at them. The last thing she wanted was anyone to listen into her conversation.

"What?" the businessman growled.

"Nothing," she told him, just making sure we aren't overheard. "Yes, it was, it was unfortunate that your Big Slick didn't stand up. But after that I needed to just lose them and get out of there. Time was getting on—"

"Indeed," Smith responded. "So tell me, the rest of your day has been more productive than your time at the poker table?"

"Very," she answered, hating the sarcasm in her voice. She could have won this tournament had it not been for Smith calling in his contract.

The club owner's face creased into a smile. "That's good. Well, if you'll excuse me, I have to mentally prepare. I have a feeling this day will end perfectly. Want to wish me luck?"

"You'll only need luck if you ever forget what I told you. Goodbye Mr. Smith."

***

Daniel was shocked. After everything that had happened over the last four months, it took a lot to shock him. But the sight of Grace did.

"Hello." Her voice sounded nervous. "Look, I know this probably isn't the most appropriate time," she confessed. "But there might not be another opportunity to speak."

Daniel nodded, recovering from the surprise of coming face to face with his ex-girlfriend. His gaze went over her shoulder, looking for Rosie.

"It's okay," Grace smiled. "I asked Rosie if she was okay with us having a chat. She was."

"That was considerate," he smiled at her, speaking for the first time. "Look…" he said, glancing around and then taking her arm. The television room would be empty. It took only a few seconds to reach it and close the door behind them. "Is everything okay," he asked, his face full of concern.

Grace laughed, running a hand through her brown hair and nervously pulling it onto the top of her head. She flopped down on one of the chairs, waiting until he did the same before speaking. "Hardly, okay, Daniel," she sighed. "I guess you've heard about everything…"

He nodded, trying to contain the blush he knew was appearing on his face. "I'm so sorry, Grace. Is… is that why you want to see me?"

"Hell, no," she laughed. "At least, not directly. But I've been doing a lot of thinking."

"About your future? I'd thought you were destined for big things, Grace. Always have. I knew that even back in London. And your performances at Samuel Smith's, from what I hear you've been fabulous." 

She flashed a rueful smile at him. "Thank you, we've both come a long way since our days in London, eh? But I'm fine, Daniel. I'm staying on at Samuel's club until all this blows over, then we'll see whether as album is still realistic. But it's still not a bad deal, is it? I mean, from Bobby's Champagne Lounge in the east end of London to Samuel Smith's in Vegas!"

Daniel laughed along with her.

"I can't really complain, can I?" she said, more of a statement than a question.

"That's true," Daniel responded. He paused for a few moments. "You all right, Grace? I mean, are you really okay?"

The proud look in her eyes gave her answer. But then, she wasn't going to confess to anything else, was she? 

"Yes, I'm very good, Daniel, thanks. I could have done without all this publicity of course, but I've no one else to blame." For a few seconds, her eyes flickered in bashful embarrassment, but then she was through the moment, back to the confident Grace he knew so well. "But I love the lifestyle here. And I adore the chance to do what I love best…"

The crinkly haired young man smiled affectionately. He assumed she meant singing, rather than the sex, but even making a jocular reference didn't seem appropriate. "You've always had a brilliant voice, Grace," he settled for saying. "You just needed a break, I've always said that."

"Yes," she sighed. "I guess you have. You were always real supportive… but it was never going to work between us, you know? I mean, it did for a while, and we had some wonderful times, Daniel. But we wanted different things."

"I know," he agreed, suddenly realising that he was the lucky one. Not with poker, but in finding Rosie. Wasn't it strange how life worked itself out? A knock on the door interrupted his reverie. When it opened, Norman Chad's gnome like head appeared. "Play's about to restart, Daniel."




The Strip Ch. 15



The young Englishman craned his neck towards the commentator and nodded. "Thanks, Norm," he told the TV pundit, before turning back to Grace. She'd already stood up. "Look, do you…?"

The brunette shook her head. "No, Daniel, I don't want to prolong this. I've always felt bad about leaving you as suddenly as I did. Leaving was the right thing to do, but I could have handled it much better, y'know?"

He nodded as he rose to his feet. "We could both have handled things better, Grace."

She smiled at him, then took a step forward and softly kissed his cheek. "Perhaps, but I hope we'll always stay friends, Daniel. Always."

"You, too, Grace," he told her, with a rueful look. He really did want the best for her, even though nothing was more certain than his future was elsewhere. "And send Lauren my love, too."

"I will," she smiled, heading towards the door and then pausing. "I guess I'm here to cheer on Samuel," she said. "But I'm rooting for you, too, Daniel."

He gave her the lopsided smile she'd always loved. 

"This is your destiny, Daniel," she added, halfway out of the room. "Don't fuck it up the way I might have done with mine. Y'hear?"

*** 

With sixty-two million chips, Daniel was almost twenty ahead of Samuel Smith. Allen Cunningham was the short stack, if such a term was appropriate for someone with nigh on thirty-two million chips. 

Everyone knew that one good hand could significantly change the dynamics.

The Englishman felt calm. After all, the worst that could happen was that he would finish third and pocket the four and a half million dollars prize money that went with that position. It was half the amount that would go to the eventual winner, but was beyond the Englishman's wildest dreams.

Meeting with Grace had helped his demeanour. It made him realise that he wanted the best for her, but that there was nothing between them. His heart was elsewhere. He had Rosie now, and life had never been better.

"Well, well, who would have thought? A young kid from across the pond at the final table with two American giants. Can't believe your luck, huh?"

The African American had been relatively quiet for a while and it suddenly seemed the thickset man felt the need to goad him. That was a good sign. 

Daniel simply smiled back at Samuel Smith, feeling no need to be drawn into any verbal sparring. His confidence was high, he'd got his second win from the tiredness that threatened to envelop him earlier, and he was focused.

He hadn't come this far to be psyched out. Besides, it was Allen Cunningham he was worried about. The poker pro hadn't seen many cards all day and yet was still as concentrated and alert as he had been when play had started—geez, how many hours ago now? Daniel had lost count.

"Let's see how long you can last," Smith murmured, checking his hole cards and placing his card protector on top of them. The angel figure was so appropriate! It was a sign he was ready to play. "That's quite a big pile you have there," he added. "Don't get careless."

The black man counted out and then pushed three million chips into the pot. "Raise," he unnecessarily said. 

Daniel's Eight-Three made it an easy decision to fold. 

Cunningham didn't. The quiet American gave that traditional wiggle of his nose as he calmly sliced out the same number of chips and called.

Smith glanced at the flop and then at his opponent. Ace-Queen-Eight. 

His set had him well ahead, which meant that if Cunningham had an Ace, he was going to earn the maximum from this hand. Maybe even take him out? Probably too much to ask, but you never knew. 

Then he'd take care of the English kid.

He bet five million. His opponent's response would provide an indication of whether Cunningham had hit.

The quiet man gave his usual sniff and began to count out his chips. He wasn't folding, that was for sure. The only question was whether he intended calling or re-raising. Smith sat impassively. Push them in, he muttered to himself. Go on, superstar, push them in.

Cunningham eventually announced raise, still internally debating the amount.

Make it big, Smith silently prayed—enough to make Cunningham pot committed. That would allow him to come over the top. Some of the press had suggested he'd been lucky to make the final table. A mixture of luck, good cards, and his aggressive style, they'd said. It was time to teach the world that Samuel Smith could play poker. 

"Seventeen million," Cunningham eventually announced.

Smith's face was a mask, hiding the beaming smile that broke out on the inside. Cunningham wouldn't be folding now, not with two thirds of his chips in the pot. He'd be the chip leader in a few moments. Time for some fun first.

"Got something, Allen," he asked. 

Naturally enough, he professional didn't respond, or meet his steely gaze. Instead, in traditional Allen Cunningham style, he stared straight ahead. 

"Big Ace maybe?" Smith suggested, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table. "Maybe King-Queen?"

He was playing with the pro and loving it. All around him, people were wondering what he'd do, probably expecting him to fold in the face of such a big raise. He knew better. So did the millions watching on live television. They'd have seen his hole cards through the lipstick camera. The commentators would be talking about him now, about how he was reeling Cunningham in like a fish. He felt invincible. He was invincible!

"All in," he eventually announced, trying to put a little hesitancy in his voice.

Cunningham's instant call was a worry—he had a better hand than the businessman anticipated, if he was calling that quickly. For a moment or two, his heart skipped a beat, relief only hitting him when Cunningham flipped over his Ace-Queen. Top two pair. No wonder he'd pushed so hard.

The noise in the large hall reached fever pitch when Smith casually flicked over his pocket eights. Not quite slowly enough to be accused of slow playing—but almost. The African American didn't care, he wanted to maximise the moment. He, Samuel Smith, would soon be world champion.

There was no anti climax, thought the arrogant businessman's heart began to thump like a drum at the though of an Ace or Queen on the turn or river. 

Smith turned to Joshua and pumped his arms in celebration while Daniel commiserated with the departing professional. Smith ignored them both. With seventy-five million chips, the title was all but his. The lucky, young Englishman was no match for him, that was for sure.

***

"What d'you think?" Rosie asked as Daniel departed for the restrooms. As much as anything else, he needed to clear his head. When he went head-to-head, he wanted his mind at its sharpest. A few alone moments to compose himself would make all the difference. Get him in 'the zone.'

"Impossible to tell," Holly told her redheaded friend, with an uncomfortable shrug of her shoulders. They were both much more nervous than Daniel, but watching was always that little bit more difficult. "Smith's got the chip lead, and he's more aggressive."

"That's bad for Daniel, isn't it?" Rosie picked up. "When you were teaching me yesterday, you said that aggression was good."

Holly arched a blonde eyebrow—the redhead had a talent for picking things up quickly and keeping them in her memory banks. If she started to play, this girl would do well. Experience was all she needed.

"That's right, Rosie, but Smith is reckless with it. Daniel's a better player. He has more of a solid style, more controlled aggression. Smith will push in with anything."

Rosie frowned. "So…"

Holly laughed. "I know, confusing, isn't it? On the one hand, Daniel's the better player. On the other, Smith has the chip lead. If luck evens out, Daniel will pick him off in the right spots. He'll wait 'til he gets the right cards, right situation. Then he'll take him. But…"

"But?"

"It's unlikely that luck will even out. Over a period of time, yes. But who knows in a head-to-head? Smith's been incredibly lucky throughout the tournament, and when you're aggressive and get the cards, that makes for a powerful combination. It'll make great viewing for the neutral…"

"But we're not neutral," Rosie responded, her eyes scolding Holly for not telling her that Daniel was a certainty to win. "And you missed one thing out from your assessment!"

"Oh, did I, Miss Poker Professional?" Holly laughed. This girl was so cute! "Go on then, Rosie, enlighten me."

"He has three things Smith doesn't have," the redhead chuckled, nudging Holly's arm.

"Yeah? What's that?" Holly asked, wondering where her friend was going with this. You could always rely on Rosie to come up with something off the wall.

"You and me on his side," she firmly stated with a slight inclination of her head, as if it was beyond question. "And this…"

Holly smiled as her friend held up the crystal. It had worked so far—

***

"You can easily take this guy, pop," Josh told his father as they took advantage of the break to mingle with all Smith's supporters. 

His father nodded as he downed the red-white-blue can of Energy drink in one go. In truth he was tired, almost twelve hours at the table was starting to take its toll. Maybe the marathon session with Grace and her sister last night hadn't been such a good idea? 

His cock immediately twitched at the recollection and he smiled to himself. Maybe he wasn't as tired as he thought? When he'd won, he'd invite the two sisters back to his place again. Watch the two of them sixty-nine again, before fucking them, would be a helluva way to end the night. 

After the celebratory party, of course.

"You okay," Joshua asked.

"Yeah, son," the black man grunted. "Pass me another one of these, will you? They'll keep me going long enough to beat the shit out of this young kid."

"That's it, pop," Joshua smiled, opening the can and handing it to his father.

"Yep," the businessman nodded, already feeling the benefit of the lemon-lime tasting energy blast. "He's been fucking lucky to last this long, but this Englishman's been my fish all tournament. Shouldn't take long. That'll make it the perfect day."  

He grinned sideways at his son, and Josh immediately picked up the meaning.

"You're sure about Big Eddie, pop?" he asked, a puzzled frown flicking across his forehead. "How d'you know?"

For a split second, Samuel thought about confiding in his son. Then the recollection of Holly's warning came into his mind. If you ever fuck around with me, you're dead! And it wasn't just the words. It was her tone. He didn't usually take kindly to threats, but equally he knew when to take one seriously.

She'd served him well, and that was that. Their paths wouldn't cross again, other than at the poker table when he was world champion.

On second thought, there wasn't any point in confiding anything to Josh. That boy was headstrong, there was no point in complicating his life with things he didn't need to know. "Just take it from me," his father winked.

Joshua smiled. "Always ahead of the game, pop. So, what's next?"

Samuel rested a hand on his son's shoulder. "I've had my guys do some research. I'll be able to buy Midnight Hot at a knockdown price. Might even put that Lauren in there as the star attraction." He winked again. "That'll pack in the punters, don't you think?"

Joshua laughed again. "She's fucking hot."

His father nodded. "They both are. And maybe I'll put you in charge of the club," he continued. "Let you cut your teeth there before taking over completely. I'll be in demand at poker tables across the world over the next few years. Time for you to graduate, don't you think?"

"Sounds good," his son murmured. He'd had his fill of Europe, if he was truthful. Time to come home. "As I said, pop. Always ahead of the game…"

***

Midnight. The head-to-head had already lasted two hours and the two protagonists were, give or take, level in chips. Smith's straight to Daniel's two pair had given the arrogant businessman a twenty million advantage. The Englishman's nut flush to Smith's King high flush had redressed the balance. 

All to play for.

Samuel Smith had grown quieter as play progressed. His 'fish' was cooler than he'd anticipated and with the television capturing every move and sound, he wasn't about to be caught trash-talking. When he became world champion, he wanted only good things reported about him.

Besides, he needed every ounce of concentration. His continual glances over at his son by the rail confirmed this wasn't going as well as he'd expected.

The black Ace he saw as his thumb flicked up the edge of one card wasn't unusual. He'd had his share of Aces, without anything to go with them. Just give him the monster he craved and he'd finish off this kid. How the hell Grace had ended up with this pain in the ass? Not her type at all.

His thumb flicked up the edge of his other hole card. The second black Ace made his heart leap. It was the chance he'd been waiting for. His aggressive bluffs had produced very little, let's see how the youngster coped against pocket rockets.

Slowly does it…

"Call," he casually said, bouncing his chips into the middle. Let the kid take the lead. Pick him off.

The Englishman obliged. "Raise. Five million."

Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Should he push now and take advantage? Or reel his prey in? Samuel Smith sent an uneasy glance across at his opponent, make the kid think he was unsure. "Got something?" he asked, not expecting an answer. "Don't go thinking you can push me around now, will you?" He counted out his chips and pushed them into the middle. "Call."

The flop was even better than he could have dreamt. Ace-Eight-Eight. Two hearts. With his full house, he was all but guaranteed to win the hand, the question was how much money could he extract?

"Check," he said quietly, watching every expression on the kid's face.

The Englishman thought for a while. Too long. Smith nodded to himself, his internal antenna was working well. The kid either had a pocket pair or a flush draw. Or maybe King-Eight for a set? King of hearts? That would give him the nut flush draw as well as his set. Now that would be something…

Daniel tapped his fingers on the green baize. "Check."

It confirmed Smith's read. He had something or was drawing to the flush. Give him a heart, please. Please!

The turn answered his prayers. Queen of hearts.

The Englishman didn't see his broad smile, how could he? It was on the inside of Smith's face. He could check again, but if his read was right, he had the young bastard. This was being broadcast to millions across the world and he, Samuel Smith, was about to win the Main Event. Time to bet. 

"Ten million," he calmly announced, cutting out and pushing four stacks of chips into the middle of the table.

The Englishman took his time responding. So long that Samuel Smith wondered if he'd misread the hand. Damn, he knew he should have checked. Or perhaps made a smaller raise? If the kid were still drawing, he'd fold.

"Call."

Fucking great! The kid had hit the nut flush flush. Suck him in… get all those chips… this was the opportunity. The opportunity!

The two of clubs on the river was innocuous. 

Time for action. Push all in? If the kid had the flush, he'd almost certainly get a call. But with a paired board, the Englishman might just get away from it. He'd shown some uncanny instincts so far. No, better to be subtle, like the world champion he was about to be. Reel him in…

Make a sizeable bet, one that would confirm the kid's read on him. The Englishman would have him down for an Ace, giving him two pair. What would he expect Smith to bet with that hand? The older man felt sweat forming on his forehead? Damn! He never sweated! Make a bet before his body advertised the strength of his hand.

"Raise. Twenty million."

For a while, he thought he'd lost the Englishman. It was as if the kid was worried about the two eights on the board, as if some instinct had kicked in, telling him that his Ace-high flush was no good. Players who thought for this length of time invariably folded. 

Call, dammit. At least, call!

The Englishman obliged. Hell, he did better than oblige. "All in."

Smith's face creased in a triumphant smile.

***

As soon as he made the call, the manic look of delight on Samuel Smith's face told Daniel he'd seriously underestimated the strength of his opponent's hand. He'd initially put him on a big pair, probably Kings, but the way his opponent played the hand had quickly dispelled that idea. 

The Ace on the flop held no fears for Smith, which suggested either a flush draw, or a pocket Ace. Best-case scenario—two pair, Aces and Eights. Worse case, the nut flush. But the sneering smile that suddenly appeared on Smith's face indicated his hand was even better than that. 

It meant only one thing—pocket Aces.

No doubt about it, Smith had a full house! Aces up! 

Had he known, Daniel would have played the hand completely differently, but it was too late now. It didn't matter, anyway, did it? The African American had called Daniel's all in and triumphantly thrown down his Aces.

Daniel turned over his hole cards but Smith didn't see them. He was already on his feet and heading over to his cheering section—led by his son. The whooping and hollering reverberated around Daniel's head, as loud as at any stage throughout the day, throughout the tournament. 

Stopping a couple of feet short of the rail, Smith bowed as he spread his arms wide, his conquering face beaming across the landscape of the hordes of cheering supporters.

Except… they weren't cheering anymore!?! 

Their expressions had changed, shock written across their faces. 

Especially Joshua's…

Daniel turned to grin at Rosie and Holly. The stunned look of disbelief on the women's worried faces was gradually evaporating. Slowly, the astonishment turned to disbelieving smiles, then to unadulterated joy. They were climbing over the rail, rushing to engulf the new world champion in their arms, tears of joy rushing down Rosie's face.

A pocket pair was a great hand if you caught, but catching quads?! 

On the flop?!! 

The question had then been whether he could close out the tournament with that one hand? With Smith flopping a full house, there hadn't been any skill involved. The cards had decided the winner, not the merits of either player.

Perhaps that was how it should be? How it was destined?

***

"You're kidding me," Grace mumbled, barely able to believe what she was hearing. The incredible noise in the Rio's poker hall made it difficult to hear her sister. The background noise at Lauren's end made it even more difficult. "You're at the airport now?" she shouted, cupping the mobile to her ear with both hands in an attempt to drown out the myriad of sounds competing for attention.

"It just happened so suddenly," Lauren explained for the second time. "Kay and Carly collected me from the apartment. Our flight leaves in hour." 

"Tell me again," her elder sister asked. It wasn't just that she hadn't heard everything Lauren had told her, she was just having difficulty believing it. 

Samuel was in a foul mood after losing the head-to-head with Daniel, and Grace didn't dare show how delighted she was for her ex-boyfriend. It was the culmination of Daniel's dreams, and how many times had she'd moaned to him about his poker? Denigrated his dreams? Her ex-boyfriend was nine million dollars richer and she didn't begrudge him a cent. He deserved it. 

She wanted to add her congratulations, but with Samuel as angry as he was… well, she had more sense than to irritate him further.




The Strip Ch. 15



"Just like I said," Lauren told her, pausing each time another announcement came over the McCarran International Airport tannoys. "Kay called me to tell me she'd pulled Rach from the movies, and that she was giving me my chance. She's been fabulous, Grace. I owe her so much."

"Sounds like it," her elder sister responded, glancing out of the corner of her eye at Samuel and his son. They'd told her they were cancelling the celebratory party despite him finishing second. But that was a fabulous achievement in itself, wasn't it? Men could be so competitive!

"When I find out more," Lauren continued, almost shouting now to make herself heard against the background noises at both ends. "I'll call and let you know. Okay?"

"You call tomorrow, anyway," Grace insisted. "I want to hear every day from my baby sister, just to make sure you're safe, understand?"

"Yeah, but don't worry," Lauren laughed. Having Grace look out for her always made her feel good. "And maybe when I'm settled you can fly down and spend a weekend with me? I'll show you around the studio."

Grace giggled at the other end of the line. "Yes, that'll be good, Lauren. I'm sure Samuel'll give me a couple of days off. But it's not just the studio I want to see, just make sure you introduce me to all the young studs…"

***

Despite the Practically Poker celebratory party still going strong, at three in the morning, Daniel decided he'd had enough. The concentration required throughout the day, together with the heady dollops of adrenaline that simmered or peaked with every twist and turn, had him worn out.

Amazingly, the excitement of the final moment had resulted in him forgetting the million-dollar winning bonus payable by his hosts. They'd made great play of it tonight, naturally enough, but Daniel had posed for his last photograph. 

He'd give them whatever else they wanted tomorrow, but that was enough of being the centre of attention for tonight. 

He glanced across at the two women in his life. Rosie and Holly were in animated conversation, but each had half an eye on the new world champion. It was difficult to keep his eyes from the view of the tanned cleavage on display in their identical tops. 

If he did, he'd be the only man in the place with that self-control.

The two women had hurried to Holly's room before the party, deciding that wearing similar outfits would be kinda cool. Holly said she had two that would knock people's eyes out. She was right! The identical tops—Rosie's dark blue and Holly's, naturally, black—complimented the short skirts and ensured that every male at the party had tried it on at some stage of the evening.

"Maybe we should tell them we're lesbians," Rosie had joked.

"I like that idea," Holly said enthusiastically, reaching and and caressing the redhead's soft face. "I haven't been with a woman in far too long…" She batted her long lashes playfully, but Rosie could tell from the spark in the blonde's eyes that she wasn't joking.

That's when the redhead had the idea, bringing heat between her legs. But she simply smiled and turned away. It could wait until later.

The two women had gone on to play their parts over the next hour, flirting with Daniel, flirting with each other, all for the benefit of their audience—of course.

Daniel had done more than his fair share of interviews—and photographs, but the two hot women had been in demand, too. They'd revelled in the moment, so delighted for the modest new world champion, and determined to enjoy the party to its full. This was what life was all about, right?

"God, I'm horny," Rosie eventually confessed, bring a gurgling laugh from her blonde friend. 

"You're horny?" Holly responded. "At least you have a man to go to bed with. I've been looking around this motley crew. There aren't many viable possibilities, even for someone who needs to be fucked as much as I do."

"Hey girls, I'm horny, too…"

The women swung around to face the scruffy grey haired guy behind them. Holly blinked. There was something about him that was familiar. Was it the middle parting in his thinning grey hair? Or the patterned bow tie?

"Remember me? Las Vegas News," he grinned, swaying slightly unsteadily on his feet. 

The memory came flooding back. This was the man who'd offered to pay Rosie for information on Daniel and Holly. Who'd inadvertently sparked Rosie's reaction after Holly's confession in the washrooms. 

"Well, well, well," the redhead snorted, full of anger for a few brief moments. "Look who it is."

"Ah," he nodded, with a self satisfied smug. His gaze found her breasts, then Holly's. "You do remember then," he wheezed, looking back at the redhead with his slightly bloodshot eyes.

Rosie's anger departed as quickly as it had arrived. She was having too good a time to be upset by the past. "I see you have the obligatory glass of red in your hand," she good-naturedly told him, nudging his arm with her elbow.

For a second or two he looked puzzled, and then he caught onto the joke. His bleary eyes stared down at the half full glass. "You're teasing…"

Rosie winked. "Just a little. I seem to remember you enjoy your food and drink. Did you get your story?"

"No," he confessed, swaying again as he shook his head. He glanced across at Holly, then leant to whisper into the redhead's ear. "Seems there was nothing to it. Still, no harm done, eh?"

"Nah," Rosie said, laughing at the absurdity of the remark. If he only knew! "No harm done. Enjoy your evening."

Taking hold of Holly's arm, she left the swaying reporter and headed the two of them across to where Daniel was standing with a couple of Practically Poker executives. Time to rescue her boyfriend.

"Who was that?" Holly asked as they walked arm in arm across the room.

"You're horny," Rosie replied, with a mischievous glint in her sparkling, green eyes. "And he's horny. That's your date for tonight." 

She threw her copper locks back and let out that delicious laugh of hers.

***

"Oh… my… God!" Grace cried as Samuel's cock drilled into her ass. She'd had some experiences since arriving in Vegas, but nothing had prepared her for this. Her body convulsed with a mixture of pain and delight. 

They'd eaten late, and drank more than they should. Samuel's failure to take the greatest poker prize was weighing heavily on his mind. The fact he'd lost to Daniel, Grace's ex-boyfriend, only seemed to make it worse. 

Adding to his fury was the fact that Lauren had departed for LA. He and his son wanted to sample the two sisters again tonight. In her absence, Grace would have to satisfy both men. The thought sent shivers through her.

The businessman had never treated her so roughly, but she found she'd loved it. He and Joshua had been using her as their sex toy for the last hour and her rolling orgasms had just kept coming. When Samuel told her he was going to fuck her ass, just the thought alone provided her biggest yet.

Despite the—hopefully temporary—damage to her career, the brunette found that more and more she loved these new experiences. Tonight, she'd never felt so used. Never felt so dirty. Was this what Lauren would be doing on camera in LA? Maybe she should have gone with her? 

Two porn star sisters, now there was a thought…

As Joshua swayed his body in front of her, she grabbed his cock, feeding the black rod into her mouth. The thought that she was servicing two black men, front and back, brought her to yet another orgasm. How many was that? 

Samuel grabbed her silken, brown locks, yanking her head upwards. She almost choked with the sudden movement, but held the base of Joshua's shaft with her hand and dragged him between her lips again. Another hard yank told her to do what she was told. Obediently, she let go of the young cock.

Somehow, Joshua was beginning to slide underneath her, on his back. What the fuck? Samuel had his hands under her body, helping raise her upwards while keeping his long cock firmly embedded in her ass. 

It was only then that she realised what the two men had in mind. Oh fuck!

"That's my little angel," Samuel growled into her ear. "Want father and son at the same time?"

When Joshua lined his cock up with her wet pussy and Samuel manoeuvred her down onto his son, she felt another orgasm burst through her, drenching the black cock that was sliding upwards inside her. Blackness whirled around the insides of her mind at the thought of such raw, unadulterated fucking.

It was just as well she didn't need to do anything, other than accommodate the two men. The father and son duo quickly found their rhythm. 

The darkness kept whirling and her pleasure kept increasing.

She tried to breathe through her mouth—had to breathe through her mouth! Short, sharp gasps, as her body adjusted. There were grunts; there were groans. Someone was shouting out, a hot wetness firing into her. Into her ass? Her pussy? It was impossible to tell.

All that went through her mind as she lost consciousness was that she never wanted the Smiths to stop…

***

"There you are," Rosie said cheerily, as Daniel met the two women's gaze over the shoulders of the two Practically Poker Execs. His eyes cried out to be rescued. "We're heading back to our rooms," she smiled at the two men. "I hope you'll excuse us, gentlemen?"

The Executive gazes seemed undecided as to which deep cleavage should be receiving their attention, rotating between the blonde and redhead as the two women each took one of Daniel's arms and headed for the door.

"Thanks, ladies," he grinned, planting a lazy kiss on each of their cheeks. "I'm bushed."

"Not too bushed, I hope," Rosie murmured, running a hand across his hard butt. There was that mischievous glint in her eyes again; the one that meant trouble. 

"Before you two get started," Holly gave a throaty growl. "I have a request."

"Oh, yes," Daniel replied, feeling his cock responding to Rosie's stroking hand on his ass. "What's that?" 

"Could I have your autograph later," the blonde chuckled.

"Yeah," Rosie laughed, her fingers nipping his taut flesh. "I want one, too."

Daniel casually shrugged as he chortled, "Ladies, ladies… I'm afraid you'll have to get in line. I'm famous now, and it's a long line…"

The three of them giggled like schoolchildren as they continued on towards their suites. "My hero," Rosie laughed, leaning into the Englishman. 

"It was nothing," Daniel joked.

The redhead's eyes flashed as her earlier thought returned. "And my heroine, too," she smiled at Holly. "Helping Daniel and I to get back together."

"Now that," Holly grinned back, "was even more difficult than trying to win the Main Event. Maybe I failed with one, but I succeeded at the other."

"And I'm grateful, too, Holly," Daniel responded, pulling to a halt outside of his suite and pulling the blonde into a warm hug. 

Rosie watched the two of them together. This could be perfect. Holly would definitely be up for it, instinct told her that. But would Daniel?

"How grateful?" she asked, slipping the key card into her suite's lock, then swinging around to face the hugging friends. "C'mon, how grateful?"

Daniel's boyish face was a mixture of puzzlement as he pulled away from Holly, and… anticipation? Was her meaning beginning to sink in? As sexy as he was, he could be very naïve at times.

"I don't understand," his faltering voice said, his head swinging from Rosie to Holly and back again.

"Holly brought us back together," she casually said, pushing the door to the suite wide open as she spoke. "She somehow got Big Eddie to put a lot of money in my bank account… and she's as horny as I am. I'm saying it's been a really special day, let's make it a really special night."

Daniel's mouth dropped open. This wasn't true! Couldn't be true? He wasn't hearing this! Was Rosie actually suggesting… 

His cock lurched to immediate attention. He couldn't think straight. He should have been appalled but his previously tired mind was doing somersaults in anticipation of what could lay in store.

"Rosie," Holly slowly drawled, feeling the excitement beginning to build in her own loins. She wanted this… God, she wanted this, but could the couple's relationship stand up to what the redhead was suggesting? "Are you sure?"

"I'm just offering it as a suggestion," the redhead murmured, her mischievous eyes darting demurely between the blonde and her boyfriend. 

"A suggestion?" Daniel blurted, his heart beating so hard that the two women must have been able to hear it. 

"I'm not saying we should set up home together," Rosie grinned, "just that this might be a wonderful end what might be our last night in Vegas together And it's a way to prove to Daniel that my jealous feelings towards the two of you have gone forever."

Daniel glanced sideways at Holly. The blonde assassin returned the look. I'm okay with it, but this is up to you, her eyes were telling him. 

Rosie was halfway through the door to the suite. "But," she said over her shoulder as she flicked on the light, "It's your decision, not mine…"

***

The stewardess refilled the three women's glasses with bubbly before swinging her hips back up the aisle of the plane. Having only three travellers in first class made it an easy flight for her tonight.

"Cheers, darlings," Kay toasted, holding her champagne flute up and clinking it against her two soon-to-be stars. "Here's to the future."

Carly and Lauren obediently clinked glasses. "To us," the spiky haired woman smiled. "For putting our bodies on the line for the good of mankind."

"Good of mankind?" laughed Lauren. Seeing the spiky haired woman without her mask had only enhanced her anticipation of what was to come. She had the most amazingly expressive soft, hazel eyes. What they usually expressed was lust!

"Sure," the sexy, young brunette grinned, somehow draining her glass in one go. "Just think how much the work rate of the average male increases after they've masturbated the night before. What do you English say, had a good wank? Hell, in your country, they'd make you a Dame for what you're about to do, wouldn't they?"

"I'm not so sure about that," Lauren answered, throwing her head back and laughing out loud. She liked this girl. "But it's a great idea, Carly."

"And while we're on the subject of ideas," Kay interrupted, waving the stewardess over for another refill. "You'll have to think of what you're going to call yourselves."

Carly and Lauren glanced at one another. "Call ourselves?" the blonde asked.

"Of course," the Agency Head confirmed. "Your screen names. Something exotic. Have you ever heard of a bland sounding porn Queen? Choose carefully, girls, getting the right name could make all the difference…"

"I know," Carly laughed, holding her glass out while the stewardess topped it almost to the brim. "Fifi and Lola, that's us. You come up with the surnames, honey," she murmured to Lauren. "But from now on, you're Fifi to the wanking world."

Lauren collapsed in almost hysterical laughter. The wonderful company, the heady champagne, and the anticipation of what lay ahead all combined like a powerful aphrodisiac finding its way into her veins. Roll on tomorrow!

***

Daniel stood opposite the two women like a deer-caught-in-headlights. His lips curled up at the ends in embarrassment, wondering what to say, what to do. He'd followed Rosie into the room, as had Holly. That was as far as his thoughts took him. What now?

Rosie helped him out by tugging her top over her head. She wasn't wearing a bra and her large, freckled tits bounced as they were freed. She stood proudly, hands on hips, before unzipping and shimmying out of her skirt. When her black boy shorts hit the floor, she was as naked as the day she was born. Only sexier.

"Well?" she asked with a giggle.

"Perfect," he mumbled.

The beautiful redhead smiled, licking her tongue across her red lips. "Good answer, Daniel. Should we get Holly undressed, too? What d'you think?"

The Englishman didn't answer. He didn't need to. Holly crossed over to Rosie, her hips swaying with exaggerated sensuality. She pulled off her top and unfastened her skirt before she reached the redhead. With Daniel's eyes fixed on her, she hooked her thumbs into her thong, pulling them over the gentle curve of her hips and down over her thighs. With a smile, she turned her eyes on Rosie, just to her right, and curled her fingers around the girl's neck.

They posed, knowing what it was doing to Daniel. Holly laughed as she shook out her wavy, blonde locks behind her.

"Two out of three," Rosie murmured as both naked girls focused on the only clothed person in the room.

"Are you sure?" he asked one last time, standing there dumbstruck. These two were goddesses and they knew it.

"I'm sure," Rosie teased with the girl of her lips. To demonstrate, she turned slightly into Holly. Reaching up to touch the blonde's neck—mirroring the same, gentle caress Holly was giving her—she pulled the attractive poker player into a soft, feminine kiss. She felt her breasts catch on Holly's, the woman's flesh hot to the touch, and pushed her tongue into her mouth.

At last, Rosie pulled away—not because she wanted to stop, but because she knew there would be a lot more of that later. Walking across the carpeted floor towards her stunned boyfriend, she slipped her hands around his neck and pulled him in for his own soft kiss. Running her mouth up to his ear, she whispered, "This is for you, Daniel, one night only. But we'll stop right now if it's too much. Just say."

He took a large gulp of air as she took his head in her hands and looked into his brown eyes. Her arousal was evident, but so were the feelings she had for him. This wasn't going to damage their relationship, they loved one another too much.

"Yes," he hoarsely answered. "Yes… I want this."

Rosie gently kissed him again. "It's my gift," she told him, beginning to unbutton his shirt. As her fingers slid across his hard chest, he felt another pair of hands working on his jeans. Holly's. In seconds, she had them down by his ankles, along with his boxers.

"This is mine and only mine," Rosie told them both, running the back of her fingernails up and down his naked girth. She was establishing the ground rules at the outset. "Anything else goes…"

Taking Daniel's hand, she led him to the couch. It seemed the bedroom was for later. Pushing him down onto the soft cushions, the redhead planted her left foot firmly on the floor and raised the other across his body. The silky wetness of her glistening pussy made a wet trail on his flesh as she rubbed her bare folds across torso on her way to his face.

Up on one leg in a partial squat, partial stand, she lowered herself to his waiting mouth, stopping a few centimetres short.

It was as if she was giving him a choice. The Englishman made it instantly, craning his neck upwards so he could run his tongue across her wickedly smooth sex.

"Oh, yes!" she softly hissed, loving his acquiescence. 

She pushed herself down onto his lips, her hands sneaking to the back of his head. Daniel curled his arms under her thighs, caressing the taut swell of her ass as his mouth and tongue eagerly went to work. 

Her muscles flexed as she began to rub herself across his face. 

"Fuck, baby, so good!" she groaned, raising one hand to pull her hair onto the top of her head as she felt his tongue curl inside her.

Even as he sucked, Daniel wondered what Holly was doing. The hand that circled his hard erection gave him an instant answer. The blonde's mouth followed, swallowing him whole. It seemed it was her pussy that was out of bounds, not her mouth.