44 - The Gambler

Petey’s breath caught in her throat.  She heard his words, and wanted to hear about the rest of their night, but she was slightly distracted by the enjoyable buzz taking place between her legs.

“What?” she breathed, resisting the temptation to lean into his shoulder and cuddle against him. She wanted him to know how she appreciated his not pushing her ‘poor orphan’ story.  Once upon a time, not so long ago, he would have.   That was a different Jon though.  

“We’re going to play a game.”

She drew back, eyes immediately narrowing with suspicion.  “What kind of game?”  Suspicion aside, she couldn’t help but writhe her bottom against his leg.  The subtle vibrations were making her restless for more.

“Upstairs.”  Capable hands encircled her waist and held her steady as they both rose to their feet.  His hard body, pressed close behind, urged her through the living room to the open staircase.  She had scaled the first three steps when he hit the remote again, increasing the power, and her knees buckled beneath her. 

He was waiting, arms outstretched, and caught her, saving both of them a tumble.   “You okay there, Sugar?” he exhaled in her ear, amusement ringing through crystal clear. 

“Mmm hmmm.  You play dirty though.”  She leaned her weight against him, unwilling to trust her legs as reliable transportation just yet.  It felt so deliciously wicked to have all these rampant sexual reactions going on within her body when, by all outward appearances, there was nothing happening but an innocent trek up the staircase.  “I’m not going to make it upstairs like this.”

His hands slid from her waist and crept beneath the hem of her blouse, one wide palm rubbing the bare skin of her tummy and bringing her more tightly against him.  She could feel his erection in the small of her back.

“It’s tempting to fuck you right here,” he admitted, flicking the remote off.  “But I’m old, that’s uncomfortable, and making you wait will be so much more satisfying.”

She whimpered – just a little – at the loss, and then couldn’t decide whether to laugh or complain about his commentary.  His little toy was proving to be more potent than she thought.

“Up, Baby.”  His hands cupped her backside and nudged her upward, still staying close in case she was unsteady on her feet.

They made it to his bedroom without any further incident, and even in the dim lighting, Petey immediately noticed the poker table in the far corner of the room.   His bedside lamp was the only one burning, and the New York lights were clearly visible through the wall of glass encasing the room.  His touch of another switch had floor lamps blazing, effectively blocking out the scenery.  New York could watch them, but they wouldn’t be seeing anything but their own reflections. 

He grinned at her.  “You play poker?”

She could see the writing on the wall here.  Strip poker.  There was no doubt in her mind that’s where this was going.  But that was okay.  Petey had three brothers and her own set of special skills.  Poker shouldn’t be a problem.

“A little,” she conceded modestly.  “What are we playing for?”

With a hand in the small of her back, he ushered her to the round, felt-topped table and nodded toward the two separate piles of folded paper that were waiting there.  The little pieces of paper in the first pile were unlined, and the other little heap looked to be regular notebook paper.  There must have been ten or fifteen in each, and they brought to mind ‘secret ballot’ votes with the way they were folded.

“We’re playing a little game of my own invention, called Bare Naked.  It’s really a simple game of five card draw.  The bets are what make it interesting.”  He nodded toward the table.  “On those slips of paper are the wagers.  You’ll be betting blindly, one folded paper per hand.  Winner gets whatever is written on the loser’s paper.”

She craned her neck around so that he could get the full benefit of her distrust.  “And what’s written on the papers?”

His grin grew a little more brilliant, and a little more wicked.  “It’s a combination of strip poker and twenty questions.  It will either tell you to lose a clothing item, or answer a question.”

She was reluctantly impressed – again.  He was getting cleverer and cleverer about this whole question thing.

“Do you not have anything to do all day but think of arbitrary ways to torture me?”

The buzzing renewed itself in earnest between her legs, and she whipped her head up to find his eyebrow lifted with reproach. 

“Are you complaining?”

There went the heat in her face again, in direct proportion to the intensity of the vibrations he’d fired up.  Why hadn’t they brought wine with them?  She could use a little loosening up before she got tight enough to burst.

“Only a little.”

“That’s what I thought.”  He gestured her toward one of the chairs.  “Sit.”

She did, proud of herself for only squirming and pressing herself a bit more firmly into the folding chair than necessary.  Even though she could play poker, concentration was obviously going to be a more elusive skill during this particular game.

Jon shuffled the cards and cast a knowing smirk at her fidgeting.  “Actually, this is a modified version of something we, in the band, came up with during one of the early tours.”  Cards sufficiently shuffled, he dealt them with the capable flick of his wrist until they had five each.  “We were very clever about coaxing girls into exploring their… creativity.  The strip bets were still in there, but instead of questions, we would include explicit sexual favors.”

They both tossed one slip of paper out of their piles into the center.  She had the solid sheets, and his was the striped.

“Horny rock stars on tour.  How cliché is that?”

“Watch yourself there, missy.”  He gestured to the pink remote resting by his right hand with a wink.  “I could make your night very challenging.”

Petey resolutely ignored him and took a deep breath, concentrating on the cards in her hand.  Garbage.  Complete and utter garbage.  She wouldn’t be able to come up with anything out of this hand.  With a sigh, she discarded everything but the king of clubs and the ace of spades.

“Isn’t it getting awfully warm in here?” 

He laughed outright, considering how little clothing she wore, and tossed one card down.  “Lose this hand and it may get cooler.”

Picking up the deck, he slid three cards toward her, and kept one for himself.  If the self-satisfied glow on his face was any indication, he had a good hand.  Petey picked up her own cards.  Seven of diamonds, two of hearts and five of clubs.  More garbage.

“Whatcha got, Sugar?”

She moved restlessly and fanned herself with the cards.  She was going to melt from the heat within.  “Nothing.  What do you have?”

“Two pairs.  Tens and eights.”  The cards were spread out for her review before he snatched the solid scrap of paper from between them.  “Let’s see what I win….  Aha!”  He turned it so that she could see the question mark inked in its center.  “You owe me a question.”

To his credit, he didn’t gloat.  He merely scooped the cards into a neat pile and began shuffling again, while he considered what he wanted to ask.

“Oh, please.”  Petey rolled her eyes and crossed her legs.  “Don’t pretend you have to think about it.  I’m sure you have a list as long as your arm.”

“I probably do,” he conceded, placing the deck squarely between them.  “But I’m being selective.  And for your little smartass attitude, you can squirm a little more.”  He bumped the center button on the remote, sending a more intense pulsing through her core.

“Mmmpff.”  She tried to keep herself focused and under control, but her body was getting eager.  It took this increased tempo as a sign of satisfaction looming on the immediate horizon.  She gripped the edge of the table with white knuckles, and bit out, “Ask already.”

“Ante up,” he ordered.  “We can talk while you’re dealing the next hand.”

Prying one set of fingers out of the felt, she tossed another solid slip of paper in the center while Jon's ante from the first round remained where it was.  Becoming acclimated to the new vibration pattern, she slowly uncurled the fingers of her other hand from the table.  As sweat began to bead upon her forehead, she picked up the deck and distributed the cards without looking at her hand. 

The heat had begun to radiate up into her belly.  Her body didn’t realize this wasn’t a full-speed-ahead kind of thing and was rapidly racing toward the finish line.

Remember the tortoise and the hare.  Slow and steady. Deep breaths.  Pledge of Allegiance.  Constitution.

She was on the verge of running through the Eighteenth Amendment in an effort to keep her composure.

“What grade did you teach?”

She should have known.  Leaning forward, she repositioned herself, looking for a less ‘stimulating’ way to sit.  “College.”

If he was stunned, he hid it well.  A brief widening of his blue eyes and a curious frown was all the reaction he offered before sweeping up his cards.  Petey did the same, fanning hers out at the same time he fanned his.

Much better.

This time she had two queens and two jacks right off the bat.  She quickly tossed the three of diamonds out of her hand, face down on the table and picked up the deck again. 

Jon frowned and threw down two cards.

Petey dealt the replacement cards, and managed not to crow with triumph at drawing another queen.  Full house.  He would be hard-pressed to beat that.

“Whatcha got?” she echoed his earlier query.

“Pair of sevens.  How about you?”

She spread her lovely ladies out before him, as she was assure he was accustomed to having ladies spread before him.  “Full house.  Your turn to pay up.”

“What do I owe you?” he asked agreeably as she unfolded the paper.  Turning it so that he could see, it revealed the word ‘Strip’ scrawled across its center.

“You owe me clothes.”

She was almost disappointed when the short sleeved tee came over his head and hit the floor beside Petey’s chair.  Clothing was so much easier to give up than information.

He refreshed his wager with another slip from the pile and dealt.

This time, Petey’s hand held the two, six, eight and ten of hearts plus the seven of spades.  Should she try and draw the extra heart for a flush?  Or should she toss the two and try for the nine and a straight?  Statistically, her odds were better with the flush, so the seven hit the table.

“Just one?”

Nodding, she laid a palm against her cheek, hoping to cool it.  If there were a mirror handy, she knew it would show her flushed beyond pink and into red.  She unobtrusively swayed her hips back and forth on the hard chair, sucking in a breath when her tender clit bumped against the unforgiving seat.

“Sit still.”

Her eyes darted up guiltily, finding Jon’s jaw set in a harsh line, his eyes dark.

Picking up her card, she saw the nine of spades.  The odds hadn’t been her friend this time around.  She was going to owe him again. 

“Pair of eights, Sugar.  How about you?”

“Nothing,” she sighed, tossing the cards to the center of the table.  “What this time?”  Petey blew out a breath and lifted the hair from her neck, fanning the uncovered nape, damp with perspiration.

He unfolded the paper and, with a cheeky grin, showed her the ‘Strip’ written on it.

Thank God.

Without hesitation, she stood and unzipped the leather skirt.  It was holding in entirely too much body heat, anyway.

She inconspicuously rubbed her thighs together as she wiggled the leather down over her hips.

“You’d better watch that twitchy little ass of yours.   You might think I’m kidding, but if your wiggly little dance just happens to set off an orgasm…”  Once again, he allowed the threat to hang there. 

Petey wasn’t really sure what he would do.  Deny her the rest of the night?  Tie her up?  She shivered.  Spank her?

Skirt gone, she reseated herself and tried not to lean into the vibrations.

The next hand fell to her, and Jon’s wager was a question.  While he shuffled the cards again, she pondered what to ask him.

All of the biographical stuff was available online, along with a lot of the personal stuff.  What could he tell her that she was unable to find out through another source?

“Why did you get divorced?”

The cards spluttered into an uneven stack strewn across the bright green felt as his hands stilled for a tick of the clock.  Goading them back into motion, and realigning the cards into a neat deck, he glanced at her through hooded eyes. 

“Going straight for the jugular, huh?”  He absently dealt the next hand, but didn’t retrieve his cards from the table, instead placing the deck neatly alongside them.  “If I answer this, I’m expecting you not to shut down on my next turn.  The game is Bare Naked.  In this case that means body and soul.”

Her heart stuttered knowing that, with just the right question, he could completely unravel her secrets.  He’d been a gentleman so far, but he’d pretty well just warned her that this question would bring that to a halt.  Did she dare take the risk?

You unequivocally trust him with your body, but you won’t trust him with your past?

Petey pushed the nagging voice aside.  She would just have to make sure she didn’t lose another hand.

“Understood.”

Steepling his fingers in front of his mouth, he closed his eyes and appeared to carefully consider his response.  She became so rapt with his face that she almost forgot about the stimulation that was taking place inside her.

When denim blue irises became visible again, he locked them on hers, his face somber.  “My wife got tired of being an afterthought.  Dorothea said she and the kids were tired of playing second fiddle to my workaholic tendencies, and she thought I was putting my greed before my family.”

Petey didn’t know what to say.  Her mind was frozen with his brutal honesty, but once she got past the initial shock, it didn’t take long for her natural inquisitiveness to ask the logical follow-up question.  “Were you?”

His gaze never wavered.  He never blinked.  “Yes.”

Talk about putting it out there.  She’d known he was strong, but he had more guts than she’d realized. 

“Next hand.” He attempted to restore the momentum of their game by picking up his cards, but she couldn’t let it go just yet.

“Do you regret it?”

The lines in his forehead and around his mouth grew deeper and, for once, he looked his age.  “You’re setting a precedent here, Sugar.  That’s three questions out of one hand.  Are you willing to reciprocate?”