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Description
The red dice tumbled and bounced down the green felt and rebounded off the bumper. I held my breath. My head swam. My heart pounded.
The dice wobbled, spun, and settled. Two fours, a hard eight, again.
Cheers exploded from the other players around me. They all had money riding on my throw and it just payed off. Big time!
A few hundred for an old chain smoker to my far right. An even two thousand for a too-tanned gin swiller to my left.
For me, ten thousand dollars. I couldn't believe it.
I had already won five thousand on a wild throw. Then for some reason, something told me to let it stand and do it again. Go for double.
For a fleeting moment I had the lunatic thought "Someone up there must like me. God wants me to win this money."
Yeah, sure. God hangs out in a lot of casinos with a bunch of sweaty drunks and ne'er do wells.
In hindsight, I see that someone wanted me to win...only to lose...and it wasn't the deity I was thinking of.
I drew a shuddering breath, licked my lips, and howled in triumph.
"I want to live just like this forever!"
I'd been winning more than I was losing tonight, which was not the usual for me. While the rational part of my brain was warning me to quit while I was ahead, the vodka fogged part of my brain shouted it down. Any seasoned gambler - especially one seasoned to the point of addiction - will generally ignore the little voice telling them to walk away. But walking away when you're riding high is like trying to do jumping jacks in quicksand.
The was a busty blonde in a low cut red dress, if that shimmering shred of fabric can be called a dress, to my immediate right. I grabbed her and kissed her, hard and sloppy. At first she tensed and made to pull away, but then she gave in and kissed me back.
Poor thing. I know I wasn't the first randy gambler who has stuffed his tongue in her mouth and copped a feel of her obviously fake rack. I wasn't going to be the last either. I was just that one tonight. The one she'd help stumble back to his room and share a bed with, tolerate his drunken pawing, and leave soon after with a double handful of hundred dollar plastic chips.
What kind of life is that to live, night after night?
When our kiss finally parted I looked into her eyes and saw something...nothing. Regret, maybe?
"Sorry," I whispered. "Just got caught up in the moment."
"It's okay, sweetie. Happens all the time."
I scoffed. "Yeah, I bet it does."
She smiled. "A winning bet, yet again. Keep it up, slick. I'll go get us some drinks. Another dirty martini?"
"Yeah. Thanks. Two olives and an onion."
She threw me a wink and disappeared towards the bar.
I thought about my order and contemplated. Vodka, olives, and onions. I exhaled into a cupped hand and sniffed my breath. Gross.
I'd have to remember to get some mints or gum if she and I were going to be seeing more - or all - of each other tonight.
I turned back to the table and stared down at my pile of chips.
The stick man raked the gleaming red dice toward me. "Another throw, shooter? Place your bet."
The scent of smoke loomed near and a gravely voice whispered "Go on, son."
The pile of chips in front of me seemed to grow. I blinked twice, gave myself a shake, and looked again. It was still "only" ten thousand dollars. It must have been a trick of the light, or smoke in my eyes or something that made it look bigger a second ago.
A strong hand fell heavy on my shoulder, more like a gentle shove than any kind of reassurance.
"Go on, kid. You're on fire."
"Huh?" I looked at the hand and saw black-lacquered nails and a silver skull ring on the middle finger.
"Um, dude. How about a little breathing room?" I shrugged off the offending grip.
"So sorry, son."
"I'm not your son." I might have put a little more bark in my voice than I meant to. Something about this guy just really got under my skin. Maybe it was his sudden familiarity, the way he got in my space like he knew me or something.
He flashed a grin and me and muttered "That's quite right. You're not one of mine." Then I swear he mumbled "yet" as he quaffed something dark and smoky from his glass.
"What was that?"
He eyes glinted at my challenging tone. He didn't speak, just raised his brows. The simple gesture terrified me. My soul shivered.
"I mean, um, that. In your glass. What is it?"
He chuckled low in his throat. Like he knew in that moment I was a frightened child, trying to backpedal after sassing his dad.
"Relax, kid. It's only whiskey. It's not like I'm standing here drinking the blood of the damned."
My soul shivered again at the mental image. It seemed like it would have been perfectly in this guy's character to be doing exactly that.
"Smells kinda like cinnamon...and brimstone."
He chuckled. "It's Fireball. And the fine cigar I just finished. Would you care for one?" As he reached into the breast pocket of his fine black suit, I noticed that his leather vest was a deep crimson, with glittering silver skull buttons. He extracted two slender cigars and held them out to me.
"Um, no thanks. I don't smoke. Those things will kill you, you know."
He chuckled, placed one back in his pocket, and lighted the other.
"What, do you want to live forever, kid?"
"Long enough, I guess."
"That's not what I heard. Be seeing you." Then he turned and strolled away, grinning like he was the only one in on some kind of joke.
A shimmer of red caught my eye. When I looked back, the guy in the black suit was gone. Only some pungent smoke remained where I'd last seen him.
"Here's your drink, baby." The blonde pressed another glass into my had and pressed her too-perfect breasts against me, and kiss my neck. It felt incredible.
"Were you just smoking? You smelled kinda different."
"Uh-uh. It was this other guy. But he just left."
"Oh. Friend of yours?"
"No. I've never seen him before in my life. But he was acting awful chummy. Kept calling me 'son' and 'kid."
"If he comes around again, you'll have to point him out. Maybe I know him."
"Yeah, maybe. Crazy thing is, I almost think I know him too."
Someone behind me cleared their throat. "Excuse me, sir," the stick man said "You'll need to make a bet or pass it to another player. What will it be? Are you still feeling lucky?"
I shook myself and looked around for the guy in the suit again. No luck. It rattled me how quickly he'd come and gone.
"Um, yeah, no. I think I should cash out. Fun's all over for me."
I tipped the stick man a hundred and dropped a few other chips on the floor as I stuffed my winnings into my pockets.
The blonde knelt, picked up the chips, and slowly, purposefully, pressed herself against the front of my pants as she stood.
She slipped one had into my bulging pockets and kept it there. She gripped the front of my shirt and whispered "Is the fun all over tonight, or is it just getting started?"
"Mmm...just like this, forever."
She slid a hand to the back of my neck and pulled me in for another long kiss.
I thought I heard a deep chuckled and opened my eyes.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him at the bar. The guy in the black suit, with the silver skull buttons. He had a cigar pinched lazily between the fingers of one hand. In his other he had a full glass of whiskey. He smiled, lifted it to his lips, and drained it in one long gulp.
I could only imagine how that must have burned.
I hissed through my teeth the same time the blonde bit my lower lip with hers.
"Sorry. Was that too hard? I'll try to be more gentle."
"No, it's okay," I told her. "It wasn't you."
"Sometimes a little pain is a good thing, no? You know you're still alive if it hurts."
"Yeah. Something like that," I muttered noncommitally. My eyes were still on the guy at the bar. He still stared back.
He took a long drag on his cigar, and I swear his eyes glowed like the ember on the tip. Then he winked at me.
"Baby, you sure you're okay?" The blonde put her hand against the side of my face and pulled me to look at her.
I think she saw a flash of the fear I was feeling because her blue eyes widened a bit. "You look like you need to lie down. Do you want to do it alone, or together?"
I glanced back toward the bar, afraid he might still be there, staring at me. Relief flooded me when I saw that he was gone again. Only a little cloud of his cigar smoke hung in the air.
"We should go lie together. It sure beats lying to myself."

Description
The red dice tumbled and bounced down the green felt and rebounded off the bumper. I held my breath. My head swam. My heart pounded.
The dice wobbled, spun, and settled. Two fours, a hard eight, again.
Cheers exploded from the other players around me. They all had money riding on my throw and it just payed off. Big time!
A few hundred for an old chain smoker to my far right. An even two thousand for a too-tanned gin swiller to my left.
For me, ten thousand dollars. I couldn't believe it.
I had already won five thousand on a wild throw. Then for some reason, something told me to let it stand and do it again. Go for double.
For a fleeting moment I had the lunatic thought "Someone up there must like me. God wants me to win this money."
Yeah, sure. God hangs out in a lot of casinos with a bunch of sweaty drunks and ne'er do wells.
In hindsight, I see that someone wanted me to win...only to lose...and it wasn't the deity I was thinking of.
I drew a shuddering breath, licked my lips, and howled in triumph.
"I want to live just like this forever!"
I'd been winning more than I was losing tonight, which was not the usual for me. While the rational part of my brain was warning me to quit while I was ahead, the vodka fogged part of my brain shouted it down. Any seasoned gambler - especially one seasoned to the point of addiction - will generally ignore the little voice telling them to walk away. But walking away when you're riding high is like trying to do jumping jacks in quicksand.
The was a busty blonde in a low cut red dress, if that shimmering shred of fabric can be called a dress, to my immediate right. I grabbed her and kissed her, hard and sloppy. At first she tensed and made to pull away, but then she gave in and kissed me back.
Poor thing. I know I wasn't the first randy gambler who has stuffed his tongue in her mouth and copped a feel of her obviously fake rack. I wasn't going to be the last either. I was just that one tonight. The one she'd help stumble back to his room and share a bed with, tolerate his drunken pawing, and leave soon after with a double handful of hundred dollar plastic chips.
What kind of life is that to live, night after night?
When our kiss finally parted I looked into her eyes and saw something...nothing. Regret, maybe?
"Sorry," I whispered. "Just got caught up in the moment."
"It's okay, sweetie. Happens all the time."
I scoffed. "Yeah, I bet it does."
She smiled. "A winning bet, yet again. Keep it up, slick. I'll go get us some drinks. Another dirty martini?"
"Yeah. Thanks. Two olives and an onion."
She threw me a wink and disappeared towards the bar.
I thought about my order and contemplated. Vodka, olives, and onions. I exhaled into a cupped hand and sniffed my breath. Gross.
I'd have to remember to get some mints or gum if she and I were going to be seeing more - or all - of each other tonight.
I turned back to the table and stared down at my pile of chips.
The stick man raked the gleaming red dice toward me. "Another throw, shooter? Place your bet."
The scent of smoke loomed near and a gravely voice whispered "Go on, son."
The pile of chips in front of me seemed to grow. I blinked twice, gave myself a shake, and looked again. It was still "only" ten thousand dollars. It must have been a trick of the light, or smoke in my eyes or something that made it look bigger a second ago.
A strong hand fell heavy on my shoulder, more like a gentle shove than any kind of reassurance.
"Go on, kid. You're on fire."
"Huh?" I looked at the hand and saw black-lacquered nails and a silver skull ring on the middle finger.
"Um, dude. How about a little breathing room?" I shrugged off the offending grip.
"So sorry, son."
"I'm not your son." I might have put a little more bark in my voice than I meant to. Something about this guy just really got under my skin. Maybe it was his sudden familiarity, the way he got in my space like he knew me or something.
He flashed a grin and me and muttered "That's quite right. You're not one of mine." Then I swear he mumbled "yet" as he quaffed something dark and smoky from his glass.
"What was that?"
He eyes glinted at my challenging tone. He didn't speak, just raised his brows. The simple gesture terrified me. My soul shivered.
"I mean, um, that. In your glass. What is it?"
He chuckled low in his throat. Like he knew in that moment I was a frightened child, trying to backpedal after sassing his dad.
"Relax, kid. It's only whiskey. It's not like I'm standing here drinking the blood of the damned."
My soul shivered again at the mental image. It seemed like it would have been perfectly in this guy's character to be doing exactly that.
"Smells kinda like cinnamon...and brimstone."
He chuckled. "It's Fireball. And the fine cigar I just finished. Would you care for one?" As he reached into the breast pocket of his fine black suit, I noticed that his leather vest was a deep crimson, with glittering silver skull buttons. He extracted two slender cigars and held them out to me.
"Um, no thanks. I don't smoke. Those things will kill you, you know."
He chuckled, placed one back in his pocket, and lighted the other.
"What, do you want to live forever, kid?"
"Long enough, I guess."
"That's not what I heard. Be seeing you." Then he turned and strolled away, grinning like he was the only one in on some kind of joke.
A shimmer of red caught my eye. When I looked back, the guy in the black suit was gone. Only some pungent smoke remained where I'd last seen him.
"Here's your drink, baby." The blonde pressed another glass into my had and pressed her too-perfect breasts against me, and kiss my neck. It felt incredible.
"Were you just smoking? You smelled kinda different."
"Uh-uh. It was this other guy. But he just left."
"Oh. Friend of yours?"
"No. I've never seen him before in my life. But he was acting awful chummy. Kept calling me 'son' and 'kid."
"If he comes around again, you'll have to point him out. Maybe I know him."
"Yeah, maybe. Crazy thing is, I almost think I know him too."
Someone behind me cleared their throat. "Excuse me, sir," the stick man said "You'll need to make a bet or pass it to another player. What will it be? Are you still feeling lucky?"
I shook myself and looked around for the guy in the suit again. No luck. It rattled me how quickly he'd come and gone.
"Um, yeah, no. I think I should cash out. Fun's all over for me."
I tipped the stick man a hundred and dropped a few other chips on the floor as I stuffed my winnings into my pockets.
The blonde knelt, picked up the chips, and slowly, purposefully, pressed herself against the front of my pants as she stood.
She slipped one had into my bulging pockets and kept it there. She gripped the front of my shirt and whispered "Is the fun all over tonight, or is it just getting started?"
"Mmm...just like this, forever."
She slid a hand to the back of my neck and pulled me in for another long kiss.
I thought I heard a deep chuckled and opened my eyes.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him at the bar. The guy in the black suit, with the silver skull buttons. He had a cigar pinched lazily between the fingers of one hand. In his other he had a full glass of whiskey. He smiled, lifted it to his lips, and drained it in one long gulp.
I could only imagine how that must have burned.
I hissed through my teeth the same time the blonde bit my lower lip with hers.
"Sorry. Was that too hard? I'll try to be more gentle."
"No, it's okay," I told her. "It wasn't you."
"Sometimes a little pain is a good thing, no? You know you're still alive if it hurts."
"Yeah. Something like that," I muttered noncommitally. My eyes were still on the guy at the bar. He still stared back.
He took a long drag on his cigar, and I swear his eyes glowed like the ember on the tip. Then he winked at me.
"Baby, you sure you're okay?" The blonde put her hand against the side of my face and pulled me to look at her.
I think she saw a flash of the fear I was feeling because her blue eyes widened a bit. "You look like you need to lie down. Do you want to do it alone, or together?"
I glanced back toward the bar, afraid he might still be there, staring at me. Relief flooded me when I saw that he was gone again. Only a little cloud of his cigar smoke hung in the air.
"We should go lie together. It sure beats lying to myself."