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It's crowded, and I place my hand on the small of her back as we walk. I move closer to her, not wanting to be separated for a moment. She looks over her shoulder, so our eyes meet, and she slows her pace.
She wants me close to her as badly as I do.
"You know how badly I want you out of that skirt?" I whisper in her ear as we walk through the crowds surrounding a roulette table, past the blackjack tables where high rolling guests are hooting and hollering over their bets.
Side by side now, she looks over at me. "I don't usually let men talk to me that way."
"And why's that?" I ask, memorizing her profile.
"Because I'm a lady, that's why."
Her cute upturned nose, exposed collarbone, her ample cleavage -- it’s all too damn much. She's walking like she owns the place, and yet she has no damn clue that heads are turning as she moves. I keep my hand on her back, not letting go of this perfect little thing.
The top button on her sweater is undone and I'd like to unbutton the rest, see her pretty little tits exposed. I'd pull down the lacy cups of her bra and let those big globes fall out. I'd suck her hard little nipples until she was running her fingers through my hair, begging me for more. Oh, I'd give her more. In fact, I'd give her plenty.
Goddammit, I need to stop thinking this way or I'm gonna find myself in big trouble.
"We're here," she says, and I stop staring at her long enough to see where she's pointing. There are two big slot machines, a pair of chairs in front of massive screens claiming jackpots and big wins, but the only thing prize I want is her.
"That we are." I watch as she slips into a chair and reaches into her tote bag. She looks over at me, then pats the chair beside her, telling me to sit.
I do as she says, hoping like hell my brother and his crew don't see me sitting in front of a machine based on a show about some dating-advice columnist in NYC who wears fancy ass shit and sleeps around.
I pull out my wallet the same time she pulls out hers. I shake my head, slipping a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill into her machine.
"Thanks," she says. "But you're playing too, right?"
I groan. "Do I have to?"
She nods. "You have to."
Shaking my head, I add a hundred bones to my machine as a waitress swings by.
"A glass of champagne for me and an old-fashioned for him," Lucy orders for us as I put my wallet in my back pocket.
"Why this machine?" I ask as she explains what to bet and we both spin the wheel.
"It's silly right?" She kicks off her shoes and tucks her feet underneath her as she sits cross-legged on her chair. The skirt rides up her thighs and damn, I wanna run my hand under the fabric, feel her little cunt, make her squirm in this chair; make her pant in desire. I don't though; it's clear she wants to be treated like a lady and I don't think ladies like being fondled in public.
Besides, looking at her is enough to get me hard. She looks so damn adorable perched like that, looking at the screen in front of her, concentrating as if determination has anything to do with luck of the draw.
"But it's still fun," she tells me. "Sometimes you get to play bonus games. It's a thrill, waiting for those. And honestly, life is hard, might as well take a chance on something good happening for once."
"Lots of bad things happen to you, Lucy?"
"Eh, not as bad as other people, that's for sure." Lucy smiles as the waitress delivers our drinks and she slips a chip on the drink tray. "Cheers," she says, and we clink glasses. I hate the idea of her having been through any shit, but she isn't paying attention to that conversation anymore, she is clapping her hands, exclaiming that she got it. She got the bonus level or game or whatever it is that is making her light up.
Damn, just watching her smile like that is better than any bonus this machine might give.
"What happens now?" I ask, taking a drink of my cocktail.
"Now I choose which character to be and find out what I win."
"How do you decide?"
She looks at me like I'm crazy. "Well, I'm clearly a Charlotte."
"Right," I say, laughing. "I swear to God, I've never been so over my head on a date, you realize that, don't you?"
She spins her wheel, winning seven hundred and eighty bucks in one go. She is damn near hyperventilating as the tally keeps going up. She cashes out and tells me to do the same for good luck. We both stand, and Lucy is just brimming with excitement.
