Then the next button follows. And so forth. All the while, his gaze is lost in mine, and he smells like heaven, and he’s as beautiful as a sunset. When he’s down to the tie of my shirt, he gently pulls at my shirt tail, and my top becomes undone. I close my eyes, wanting him to touch me.
And he doesn’t disappoint. As the palm of his warm hand strokes my belly, my whole body melts under his touch. It quivers, wanting more. But then… his hand travels to my rear, and further south where he sticks his finger in the ripped hole just under the pocket, and draws lazy circles on the back of my thigh. He’s perched over me, and I find myself pressed against the wall of the lift.
Ding. We’re finally here.
Noooo.
I don’t want to have arrived. I’m usually thrilled to arrive places, but now, not so much. I wish this house had two hundred floors. He smiles and presses the bottom level button. “Back down we go.”
“We’re not visiting your dad,” I say.
“Another time,” he says. “I would never bring a guest, unannounced.”
I nod. “Makes sense.”
His finger is back in the hole of my jeans, toying with me. I’m usually not fond of tight spaces, but I’m certainly not complaining. When he presses his hot mouth against the side of my neck, I lose all resolve. Whatever he wants tonight, he gets.
Before long, we land back on the main floor, and I reluctantly exit the elevator. I wish we could stay in there until the morning, but a game of blackjack is apparently in the cards.
We head down to the lounge area on the lower level, a grown-up playroom. It’s where the white candy room and the red room are, and I find that a little encouraging. He settles himself behind the blackjack table, and shuffles cards with a fancy gadget, just like in the real casinos. I sit on one of the stools across from him. “What are we playing for?” I ask. “Not money, I hope, because I don’t have any.”
He smiles. “We’re playing strip blackjack,” he announces. No asking. Just telling.We’re playing strip blackjack.
I rake a hand through my hair, a nervous habit. “What if I don’t want to?”
“You want to,” he says simply. And he’s absolutely right.
“You take something off every time you lose, and ditto for me,” he explains. “As the dealer, I need to stay at seventeen, and must draw another card under seventeen. You can split if you want. You know how to play blackjack, right? I didn’t even ask—”
“Yes, I know. I’ve been to the casino, like everyone else in this town.”
“Okay… let’s get started.”
I mentally catalogue what I’ve got on. There’s my shirt and pants of course. I’m wearing a belt which is a good thing right now. I also have my fuzzy socks which count as two items. And the earrings and necklace, and my ring, a gift from my mother. And finally, my bra and undies. I’m still doing the math as he deals me my cards. A queen and a seven… not bad. I wave my hand as a signal to stop, just like you do at the real casinos. I am wearing eleven things. He has a queen showing, and I study him as he flips his other card. It’s a six.
Yes! He only has six items of clothing by my count; jeans, a t-shirt, socks, a ring on his finger, no chain that I can see. No bracelet. And boxers I assume. He’s at a clear disadvantage.
He turns the next card and it’s a nine. Bummer for him.
“Bust!” I cheer. “Something’s gotta come off.”
He shakes his head, and he doesn’t seem too shy when he peels off his t-shirt. Damn. I’ve seen it before; the six-pack, the tattoo, but under the bright lights of the rec room, it’s even better.
A mischievous smile plays on his lips. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. “Shall we get back to it?”
“We shall, yes,” I say, excited to see more of him. I wonder what he’s going to take off next.
He lays out my cards, and reveals a two and a three which I’m not impressed with. I tap the table, and he deals me a nine. What to do? I tap on the table once more, hoping for a seven. Wouldn’t that be glorious? But no such luck. He deals me a ten, and I bust.
A huge smile practically breaks his face in two. “Your turn.”
I scowl at him as I remove one earring gingerly, and set it on the table.
He laughs. “Yep… we both know this is a game of chance,” he says. “But then again… I’m a very lucky guy.”
“Oh, I bet you are,” I say. “I bet you get lucky all the time.”
He doesn’t break stride as he deals the cards once more. I don’t fare any better on my third turn. I stop at sixteen, and he reaches twenty. Stupid move. Maybe I subconsciously want to get naked for him. I wouldn’t put it past me. He laughs once more at my expense as I remove my other earring. Thank god I wore jewelry tonight. I often don’t, save for my ring.
