Fantasy Friday (The Billionaires Temptations Book 5)

by Annalise Wells

  I am quite slow in answering the question. I am still thinking of how similar me and Bell would look from a distance. I suppose we could in a way, pass as sisters, apart from me having blue eyes and fuller lips, but body size and hair, we could do just that.

  “Sorry, I was miles away. He is not actually my boyfriend,” I reply.

  “Yeah, Shona mentioned that’s what you’d say.”

  “Everyone keeps saying it, and I have only just met Alex.”

  “Why have you come here to help him then?” Bell asks.

  “Hmm, it seems like the right thing to do, will that pass as an answer?”

  Bell shakes her head. “Not in the slightest.”

  Bell turns to me as we make our way into the parking lot. “I guess you have nowhere to stay.”

  I shake my head. “No, everything was a rush, not that it needed to be after all those delays,” I reply.

  “You can stay with me, it’s not much, and we will have to share the bed,” Bell replies.

  “That is fine with me. I just need to rest, for now, it’s been a grueling journey.”

  “That I can understand, I much prefer traveling on land myself,” Bell says.

  Bell leads me to her old Chevy, she bangs the passenger door and tugs on the handle. “I know it’s not much to look at, but it is reliable,” she says.

  Bell starts the engine and makes the twenty-minute drive to a motel on the outskirts of town. “Lucky Aces… is everything in this town named after gambling?”

  Bell laughs. “Almost.”

  Bell opens the door to her motel room. It’s nothing like the main places on the strip, but it looks clean enough. Bell shows me around her humble abode.

  “Bathroom is there, and tiny kitchen area is there, and as you can see, the bed and a table and chairs there. That’s it.”

  “The fastest tour I’ve ever had,” I reply, obviously giggling.

  “Well, it’s better than living on the streets, or living with a bike gang,” she replies.

  “You can travel for a full day and find you are still no further forward.”

  Alex

  “Is an addiction and addiction, if you are made to do it?”

  Brent had given me some extra cash. I had enough for a cab back to the warehouse, and if Mikey let me go again, I had enough cash for another cab ride back to Brent’s apartment. This had actually been the case. Mikey had omitted to tell me that it was not just one night’s game… it was over four nights.

  He did let me stay with Brent for the duration. Mikey had made sure I would stick to my word, because next time he had to convince me, it would be Ronny I would be influenced by, not him. I agreed, it would take more than a bag of frozen peas to get the swelling down.

  I got back to Brent’s apartment, and two things ran through my mind. The first was about what was Brooke doing, but more importantly, the first night’s game.

  This took over any thoughts of Brooke. I had intended to call her, but, Mikey being Mikey, just so happened to confiscate my cell phone. Why the fuck didn’t you do it earlier?

  Brent wasn’t home when I got there, so I lay on the bed and go through everything in my mind. Just to make sure I am ready for the following game. I didn’t want to miss anything, so I recap every little detail I can.

  The warehouse looks different, maybe it’s the guy on the door wearing a tuxedo and all the limos that are in the parking lot. Anyone passing would think it was a glitzy club that was on the down low, but in reality, it was just a shitty warehouse that had a crummy bar… and now, a poker table.

  I wished Brent was dealing, that would give me such a boost. He had a good feel for the cards, and over the years we had built up some very subtle body language that had (on some occasions) affected the outcome of a game.

  I walk back into the warehouse and can see a few people milling around. Mikey had made a male effort and placed a dozen plastic tables and chairs next to his crummy bar area. He provided tablecloths and ashtrays, and that was kind of unbelievable, really. I was surprised by all of it. The whole place looked… half charming, compared to my hammer scenario. The dinginess was almost gone. The place looked somewhat café style, with a hint of car tire smell.

  I walk to the bar and grab a whiskey on the rocks. I had to play the part; that was what Mikey had told me to do.

  I sip from my glass and look over at his office. He comes strutting out as if he is Al Pacino or Robert De Niro; he actually looks more like Joe Pesci. Even the gold rings he has on his fingers seem to be weighing him down.

  Mikey introduces everyone and starts to explain the rules of the game.

  “Gentleman, these four nights will be written in the history books. No place in Vegas will have had four games this big,” Mikey says.

  The men look around and smile.

  “Four separate games. Four different dealers. And if you drop out, someone is willing to take your place.”

  I see all the players nodding their heads in agreement, one or two are looking slightly worried. I mean, maybe four nights makes them realize, they are not as rich as they thought.

  “One rule is, you can’t drop out if you are winning,” Mikey says.

  This makes a few ears prick up, maybe these games will be slightly different. You can’t take your winnings and run. You have to play until the death.

  How fucking big is that pot going to be on the last night?

  I order another drink and think about what Mikey has said, he wanted me to clean the Russians out, and now I wondered how on earth I was going to do it.

  Four different dealers, though. That was the bit that interested me. I lean on the bar and rub my fingers. I wonder, can I somehow manage to get Brent into the last game?

  Mikey hadn’t told me what the buy in was; he had said there was no minimum bet as long as no one was stupid. Maximum bets were capped until the last night, and he didn’t want too many players dropping out until the final game.

  To make things more interesting, everyone was handed a tray of chips. Each one held half a million. Mikey said this would stop anyone knowing who had the deepest pockets. That I agreed with. I would have two chips worth twenty bucks if I had to stump up my own money.

  I could see that the Russians had already taken a shine to the high-class hookers that had been shipped in for the event. Damn, four nights of cards and a woman to go along with it. What visiting card player could ask for more? Me for one. I could ask for more. I could ask for Brooke to be with me, but that was not going to happen. All I could do was think that she was with me, and do something I was not very used to doing. Pray.

  I came up with a stupid idea in my mind. I could play with the top button on my shirt, pretending it was a cross. This was in my mind, the silver cross that Brooke had bought from Mary’s souvenir shop. It was stupid, but it was all I had, spiritually speaking. Apart from my skill at playing cards and reading people, my button representation was going to be my lucky charm.

  Everyone finally takes their places at the table. Chips are removed from the trays and stacked up on the table. I expected Mikey to just have a large dining table or something, but he had a legit poker table brought in just for this event.

  Texas Hold’em was the chosen game. It was the most popular and added that little, extra, piece of intrigue to the mix.

  The dealer deals two cards to each player. Now the fun has started. The first few hands would be throwaway hands just to see how the other players went.

  I sit in the middle opposite the dealer, this time around it is not up to me to make a blind bet. These are made, and everyone looks at their cards. Everyone is deadly serious and slips on their poker faces. A couple of the Russians wanted to wear sunglasses, but Mikey pointed out, this was not allowed. I wasn’t totally sure, but I thought he had made that up as he went along.

  The dealer deals three cards face up. The three community cards make the game a lot more interesting, you either have something at this point, or you find you are holding a bag of sh
it.

  No one folds, I sensed a few were holding a bag of shit but wanted to keep it close to their chest. A couple of thousand lost was not going to make a big difference out of half a million.

  Raise, call, raise call. Now it is time for the turn. The fourth card is the one where you can see sweat and twitches starting to appear. The dealer turns the card, and as predicted, a couple of eyes twitch, and a nose or two move.

  For some reason, I never twitch, and guys find my eyes off-putting; women drool over them, but poker players hate them.

  I don’t have much of a hand, but it is worth holding onto. I didn’t want to fold in the first game; that would bring bad luck. I fumble with my top button, and think of Brooke’s cross, a few of the players must have thought this was a reflection of the hand I was holding. I could use this later. How wrong they would be.

  Now it was time for the dealer to deal the final card. The river. This could make or break a hand. For a first game, my hand was already set, two pairs… that was unless the river turned out to be one of the cards I was holding, then I would be promoted to a full house.

  No such luck, the card turns, and I am stuck with two pairs. That hand means nothing, it is a throwaway. Now, I have to get serious.

  The second game is more intense. Cigars are lit and puffed on, and hookers put their hands onto shoulders. The hands that are quickly brushed off. All these signs give away what the players are thinking.

  Still, I stare, a couple of times I fumble with my button. I pray for a miracle, not just to win, but to save my fingers if I lose. Mikey walks around the table. He watches the game, but most of the time he watches me. He has risked a lot, and he was hoping I could do what he couldn’t.

  A royal flush, and there is my first winning hand. A few thousand up by the second hand. It looks like my fingers are back in action. Or somehow, Brooke’s luck had been passed to me.

  “Is an addiction and addiction, if you are made to do it?”

  Brooke

  “Who says water conservation has to be boring?”

  I am restless. I had tossed and turned as I tried to sleep. It was no use. No matter how many times I thought, “Where the fuck are you, Alex?” I never got an answer.

  I wasn’t sure how Bell was putting up with my turning. I must have pulled the sheet off her well into double figures. I was not used to sharing a bed with anyone, especially a woman. But I had to admit, the times I had put my arm over her to put the bed sheet back, had felt kind of erotic.

  I had only just experienced a man’s touch, that had taken me a while to get used to, and the last thing I wanted or needed was to find myself thinking about women. Especially women as sexy as Bell.

  Tomorrow, I will start trying to find Alex, and all I have to go on is a photo on my phone, that is the only lead. I finally find myself slipping into sleep, not a deep sleep, but just enough that would make me feel rested.

  I wake and I finally swing my legs from the bed and walk to the window. I pull back the curtains and stare from the motel. I hear a murmuring from behind me and turn.

  “How long have you been awake?” Bell asks.

  “Just a few minutes,” I reply. “I hope I didn’t disturb you?”

  “A few times when you pulled the bed sheet off me, but at least you put it back,” she replies. She even looks gorgeous in the morning. Unbelievably so.

  Bell sits up on the edge of the bed. I notice the tattoo she has down the side of her body. “Wow, that must have hurt?” I ask, curious.

  Bell pulls up her vest, the tattoo stretches from her waist and reaches around to her breast.

  “It hurt like a bitch, right on the rib cage,” she says.

  I wasn’t really listening, I was thinking of how much fun the tattooist had holding her breast.

  Bell runs her fingers through her hair and walks to the tiny kitchen area. “You want coffee?”

  “Yeah, I would love one,” I reply.

  “I bet you are a cream and sugar girl?” Bell says.

  “I am.” I feel like she is flirting with me.

  “The best I have is coffee whitener; the refrigerator is pretty useless here, so cream and milk start to stink before I can finish them,” she says laughing.

  “That’s fine, just dump an extra couple of sugars in, I need the energy.”

  “No problem, I get the sachets from the diner over the street, it saves me buying them.”

  “How well do you know Vegas?” I ask.

  “I have been here for a couple of months, I know my way around,” Bell replies.

  “What do you do for work exactly?”

  Bell smiles and looks at me. “A little bit of this, and a little bit of that.”

  “So, you have no regular job?” I sit at the table desperate for coffee.

  “To be honest, I don’t need to work. There was a bonus sharing scheme from Beau a while back, and I was paid for services rendered,” Bell explains.

  “Why do you live in a place like this?” I ask.

  “It’s all about image, the bit of work I do, I have to show I live in a shit-hole,” Bell says.

  “But why do you do a little bit of this and that if you don’t need to?” I ask.

  Bell sits at the table and hands me my mug of coffee. “I like the excitement.”

  “Ah, you are one of those thrill junkies,” I say.

  “Something like that,” Bell says. “So, what is your plan?”

  I sip on my sweet coffee and shake my head. “No plan, all I have is a photo on my phone of Alex,” I say, feeling a touch worried.

  I turn on my phone and find the picture of Alex. “Damn, no wonder you have come looking for him, look at that body,” Bell says.

  “Ahem,” I reply, coughing.

  “Sorry, but you did say he wasn’t your boyfriend,” Bell replies.

  I sigh. “I did say that didn’t I?”

  “I think we should ask around, I know a couple of people who work in the casinos. If Alex is in that much trouble though, I don’t think he will have been playing those sorts of games,” Bell explains.

  “Does that make it easier or harder to track him down?” I ask, hoping to get a revelation.

  “Well, if you manage to find a person who is lucky enough to play in these sorts of games, it can be easy, or if no one has ever known him, it will be nearly impossible,” Bell says.

  “Alex did tell me he managed a couple of underground clubs. I think that was when he started to get into trouble.”

  “More than likely, you get a lot here who get good at cards. They have the same get-rich-quick thoughts in their heads, and then it all crumbles.” Bell smiles. “But if he managed clubs, maybe we have a start.”

  “We better get moving in a minute,” I say, excited to see him again.

  “I agree, but there is one thing I forgot to mention,” Bell says.

  “What’s that?”

  “The water in the shower, the hot water is limited. We will have to share,” she says grinning, seeming to flirt with me.

  I find myself fumbling with my cross. Dear God, will I be cast into hell? First Alex, and now I am sharing a shower with a Bell.

  “If that’s how it is, that’s how it is,” I reply.

  “It takes a few minutes for the boiler to kick in and then we have around ten minutes as a maximum,” Bell explains.

  She steps into the bathroom and turns on the faucet. I see her lift her vest from her body. The tattoo sits brightly against her skin, and it does look kind of sexy, that’s if you’re into large tattoos on hot women.

  I nervously slip from my t-shirt and remove my panties. Bell steps into the shower and offers me her hand. She looks at me through her wet strands of hair.

  “Quickly. It is getting warm.”

  I step in the shower. I suddenly notice, it was not made for two. Bell’s body rubs against mine as she tries to soap herself.

  “This won’t work, it will be easier for us to soap each other,” she says.

  I would
have thought you were making a pass at me, but the shower is small and I have to agree.

  I stand with my arms above my head, and I face the wall of the shower. Bell rubs my back with the sponge. Her hands glide over my shoulders and finally run down my spine to the cheeks of my ass.

  I feel her soft, tender touch as she massages the soap into my soft velvety skin. It does feel quite nice.

  “Turn around,” Bell says.

  I turn and hold my hands over my head. Bell runs the sponge down my arms and then moves her attention to my exposed breasts. I hope my wet hair hides the expression on my face, but I doubt it.

  I feel myself biting my lip, Bell has (without any conscious effort) made my nipples throb and start to harden. I close my eyes as her hands rub soap over my flat stomach. God knows what is going to happen when she reaches my thighs and my pussy.

  Her hands finally reach my legs. I find myself widening my feet as her hands run up my inner thighs.

  “Ooh,” I whimper.

  Bell chuckles as her hand gets closer to my pussy. “I bet you were not expecting this,” she asks

  “Not at all,” I reply, feeling extremely taken by it.

  “All done, now my turn,” she says, handing me the sponge and the soap.

  Bell stands with her back against the wall of the shower. I follow the movements she did and start by soaping her raised arms. I breathe deep as I lower my hands and start soaping her breasts. Bell stares at me endearingly through her dark hair. I drop the sponge into the holder and use my hands, my fingers brush over her erect nipples as I gently rub soap all over her breasts.

  My hands finish her chest and move to her lower body. I run my fingers around the outline of her tattoo and trace the line down as I lose a breath. I lather my hands and rub them against Bell’s thighs. I hear her sigh as my hand rises and brushes over her pussy.

  Now I am confused…

  I rub my hand over her pussy. I can feel Bell’s hot breath as she pants. I consciously stop myself from pushing my hand harder against her pussy.