Fantasy Friday

by Annalise Wells

  “Now get out. You eat my pussy and then you think I am cab,” Ingrid says, loudly laughing at me in a weird, unusual tone.

  I step out of the car at the front of the warehouse. I was hoping to have a rest, but things went on a little longer than expected.

  The tuxedo guy opens the door. I see people sitting over by the bar and a new dealer is readying the table. I walk to Mikey’s office and knock on the door.

  Mikey looks up. “What the fuck did I tell you about keeping away from me at night,” he yells quietly.

  “Don’t fucking blame me, you wanted me to go with Ingrid. She has only just dropped me off,” I say.

  “You mean… you have not rested?” Mikey asks.

  “I had no chance at all,” I reply, truthfully.

  Mikey looks at his watch. “Alex, it is nearly nine, you have less than an hour,” he says.

  “You have to let me rest in here, then I need a shower, at least. I have no idea what I smell like,” I say.

  “Okay, just rest yourself on the couch, and there is a shower in the back,” he says.

  I lay on the couch. Mikey huddles over his desk and giggles. “Mikey, I need peace and quiet, what are you doing?” I ask.

  “You Tube.”

  “Will you fuck off for half an hour,” I snap.

  “Keep your fucking hair on, it is my office you know,” he replies in a serious tone.

  “Half an hour of silence, that is all I ask.”

  “Forty minutes, then you have ten for a shower,” he says.

  “Thanks.” Fucking jerk.

  Mikey finally leaves his office and I pull the cushion over my face. I can hear the faint clinking of glasses outside and some heavy Russian conversation.

  I do some deep breathing exercises to calm myself back to a playing level. Playing poker is an art, and the more relaxed you are, the harder it is for the other players to read your movements.

  Whatever technique you can use to mask emotions when playing, at some point I had used them. From the sunglasses to the headphones, and I found that none of them really helped. At the end of the day, you just had to play the best-damned cards you could. It didn’t matter if you had your favorite music blasting out in your ears, it wasn’t going to help with the cards. Mostly, I just stuck to having a dead-pan stare, hardly blinking and using piercing eyes that could burn through them.

  My mind had drifted away from the game that was due to start in less than an hour. I was thinking about the game that was scheduled to start in forty-eight hours. About how could I influence that, it was a hard undertaking, how to wipe out a few Russians and Mikey at the same time.

  That game would be the ultimate, it would be time for me to finally pack up my bags and sail off into the sunset. Well, I would have to do something, money would no longer be a motivation, and all I wanted was Brooke. I would be set for life.

  I sigh as I pull the cushion harder over my face. It would be easier to win the lottery than pulling that sting off under Mikey’s nose. I glance at my watch and see it is time to freshen up. I just hope I can pull off the same thing I did last night. As long as I can come out ahead, or even level, I am still in with a chance.

  I swing my legs off the couch and start walking past Mikey’s desk toward his shower. I notice my cell phone on the desk. I can’t take it, but I can text Brooke and tell her I am okay.

  I open the message app and start typing. I see the battery is almost dead. “Crap. I can’t finish the message.” I hit send, and the battery dies.

  At least Brooke will know I am alive and kicking, but there is no way she can contact me back. What a fucked-up situation.

  Mikey’s shower is not the best or the cleanest in the world. It will have to do, though. His choice of deodorant and cologne is also not my ideal choice. The seventies style resemblance just keeps on going. I splash it all over as they did in the seventies and find myself smelling like a Saturday night fever wanna-be.

  The last thing is clothes. There is no way I can play in the clothes I wore this afternoon. Luckily, Mikey has some clothes laying around. It is a hard choice. Do I go for the aging porn star look, or the has-been film star? Oh well, it will confuse the hell out the other players. Aging porn star it is. At least this shirt had a top button I could fumble with, and pretend it was Brooke’s silver cross.

  I walk from Mikey’s office. I have time for a couple of calming drinks before the game is gonna start.

  Mikey stares at me strangely. “I have not come in fancy dress, these are your clothes,” I say.

  “I know exactly whose fucking clothes they are,” he replies.

  “I have to wear something, my other one’s stink of Russian hoo-haa,” I reply sharply. Anything is better than Mikey’s after shave.

  “So how do you feel now, are you up for the game?” he asks.

  I gesture with my hands toward myself. “Hello, who do you think you are talking to?” I say.

  “There is no need to get cocky, just make sure you fucken stay in the game.”

  I lean on the bar and pretend I am not actually speaking to Mikey. “The worst I will do is break even, that way I am still in. After all, the last night is the big one,” I explain.

  “Just don’t fucking lose. I have everything riding on this, and I mean everything,” Mikey says, and he’s not trying to hide the fact he is talking to me. So much for being quiet about knowing me.

  I look around, and I can’t see anyone who gives a flying fuck about Mikey knowing me or not. I think they are all concerned about their trays of chips not being emptied.

  The dealer rings a small brass bell and tells everyone to get themselves to the table. Five minutes to go and then there is another long night of playing cards.

  A quick silver cross fumble of my button and I am ready. I feel as fresh as I can, and my fingers are getting more flexible. The only thing I was missing was Brooke. I wished she could be here with me, especially on the last night, I could do with her somewhat lucky streak rubbing off on me.

  “Oh Brooke, where are you when I need you?”

  “What a movie star, I can play my part so well…”

  Brooke

  “If at first you don’t succeed, just have another go later.”

  The pizza is huge, and I can see why Bell has chosen the place. Extra cheese at no additional charge. Not bad for a quick flash of your cleavage, or at least Bell’s cleavage.

  I carry the box and rest it on the top of the car as I bang my hip against the car door. I grab hold of the box and manage to slide myself in without the box slipping from the horizontal position.

  “All we need is something to drink,” Bell says as she drives away from the pizza place.

  “You will have to get it, there is no way I can move from here now,” I say, holding the pizza box safely on the dashboard on the top of my breasts.

  “No worries, there is a place by the apartment, I will run ‘round and get something,” she replies.

  We finally arrive in the apartment’s parking lot. Bell slides the pizza from under my chin, and I climb out of her car. I balance the pizza box on one hand and manage to get the key in the door before everything collapses on me.

  I was not sure if the pizza was huge, or the table was small, but there was not much space left to get a place or a drink on the outside of the box.

  Bell comes into the apartment and bursts out laughing. “That is what I did the first time I had one,” she says. “I finally found out the floor is better.”

  I put the pizza box on the floor and grab a couple of plates. Bell grabs a bottle opener and a couple of glasses.

  “What have you got to drink?” I ask.

  “Two packs of beer and a half bottle of the good stuff,” she says.

  “Crap, I am bad enough on champagne.”

  Bell pours a couple of shots and pops off the caps on a couple of beers. She puts the others in the freezer compartment of her crappy refrigerator.

  “I hope they stay cold,” she says.
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  “Let’s tuck in,” I say.

  “Hang on. Where are my damned cards? Let’s see how freaky you really are,” Bell says.

  I slide a slice of pizza onto my plate and take a huge mouthful. Bell bites on hers and shuffles the cards she finds. A sip of beer cools the hot spicy mix that is mixed with the cheese.

  “Geez, it’s a bit spicy,” I say.

  “It has a good kick and then just makes you feel warm, you watch,” Bell says, as she sips on her beer.

  She hands me a shot and we down them in one. “Yah, yah,” I say as my body shudders.

  “Not used to whiskey?”

  “No, the strongest thing I used to drink was communal wine on a Sunday,” I say, laughing.

  “Have enough of this, and you will be talking to God, the effect is the same,” Bell says, pouring another shot.

  She holds a card up in front of me. “What’s this?”

  I concentrate on the card she is holding. “Is it red?” I ask.

  “Wrong,” she says, in a stupid, high-pitched tone.

  Bell holds up the second card. “Try again,” she asks as she takes a bite of her pizza.

  “Black,” I say.

  “Lucky guess, try this one.”

  “Black again.”

  “You’re a fraud Brooke,” Bell says giggling.

  “Maybe I have to be playing cards to be able to see?” I say.

  “What games do you know?”

  “Strip poker from when I was a kid.”

  Bell pours us both another shot. “I think you better have another drink.”

  She deals us each seven cards. I pick mine up. I sense I have a better hand than Bell. I smile as I down my shot of whiskey. “You lose,” I say.

  “How do you know?” Bell asks as she tops up my glass.

  “A pair of eights,” I say smiling.

  “That was a lucky guess,” Bell says.

  “Right, now we will play for real. Loser downs a shot and removes something,” Bell says. “And to make it a lot more enjoyable. You can’t look at your cards, you can only touch them.”

  “That’s unfair,” I say, as I down my shot and sip on my beer.

  “You haven’t lost yet,” she says.

  “Yeah, I know, I just wanted a drink.”

  Bell tops my glass and deals seven cards onto the floor. She picks hers up, and I place my hand flat on top of mine.

  “Loser,” I laugh, as I point to Bell.

  “Turn your cards.”

  I turn my cards. Three of a kind. “Fucker, a pair,” Bell says.

  “Off, off, off,” I cry out, happy she is the one taking off something.

  Bell downs her shot and removes her socks. She deals a few more hands, and we take it in turns to remove an item of clothing. No matter how drunk I was starting to feel, the cards still became clear to me about what Bell was holding.

  The whiskey was taking hold of me, and I found myself nearly falling over as I tried to pull off my jeans.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask Bell.

  “Wobbly,” she says, laughing loudly.

  “Ha, ha, ha. Me too. I think I need to lie down,” I say.

  “We haven’t finished the game,” Bell replies.

  “We are both in bras and panties, that is close enough,” I say.

  “You’re a chicken Brooke,” she says.

  I look at Bell and grin. “You want a winner, okay, you be the winner,” I scream as I pull my bra off.

  Bell points at me. “That is not a loser, a loser has no bra and panties on, see…” She unfastens her bra and pulls off her panties.

  I wobble as I stand by the edge of the bed. “You lost,” I say giggling.

  “Hang on, let’s look at your cards,” she says.

  “Go on then,” I say, now nodding.

  Bell turns my cards. “You cheat, you lost,” she says.

  I stand resting my hand on the edge of the bed giggling. Bell stands and grabs hold me. “Come on, don’t be a sore loser.”

  Bell pulls at panties and they shimmy down.

  “Oh,” Bell says.

  “I am the winner,” I say, raising my arms above my head, now completely naked.

  Bell grabs hold of her panties and pulls them over her curvy ass.

  “Not now, we are both losers,” Bell says as she pushes me onto the bed.

  I wriggle my body up the bed as the room spins slightly. I feel Bell slide up and lay next to me. I put my hand over toward Bell to shake her and tell her something. My hand slides over her hips, and I feel my fingers brush against the soft lips of her pussy.

  “Oops, sorry,” I say as I tilt my head to Bell.

  Bell turns her head in my direction. “No need to say sorry, accidental, oops… sorry. Accidents happen,” she mutters. “If I put my hand on your breast like this, that is not an accident, that is on purpose,” Bell slurs.

  “Why would you do that on purpose?” I mumble as I look at Bell’s hand on my breast.

  “Because I would want to, that is why,” she says seductively.

  “Ah, I see. So, if I put my fingers on your pussy, that is because I want to,” I mumble, through numb lips.

  “Yes, exactly,” she replies.

  I lift my hand and put it back on Bell’s pussy. “Like that,” I say grinning.

  “Did you want to do that?” Bell asks.

  I give a single drunken nod. “Yes.”

  “Oh, I wish I could put my hand on your pussy,” Bell says.

  I nod again. “You can… go ahead,” I say. I spread my legs slightly.

  Bell giggles. “This is fun, and my lips feel numb,” she says.

  “Mine as well. I wonder what it is like to kiss with numb lips?” I ask.

  “Come on, let’s try,” she says.

  We roll to face each other. I feel my breasts pushing against Bell’s breasts as we push our heads closer together.

  Our lips touch, and we both giggle. “It tickles,” I say.

  Bell puts her hand on my cheek. I look deeply into her eyes. Our lips lock firmly together. I feel her warm breath filling me as our tongues swirl against each other. I put my hand on Bell’s waist and begin to stroke the soft skin of her ass.

  I push away slightly. “What’s wrong?” Bell asks.

  “Is this wrong?”

  Bell shakes her head. “No, it is not wrong, this is nice.”

  “Good, that was what I was thinking,” I reply, feeling my body wanting hers.

  Bell pushes her body closer, her leg slides between mine. I feel the warmth of her pussy rubbing against the skin of my leg. I am sure this is wrong, but there is no penetration, Alex won’t mind.

  I push Bell onto her back and kneel at the side of her. I gaze down into her dark eyes as she plays with the peaks of her nipples.

  My body wobbles as I grin. “I have never tasted pussy before.”

  Bell opens her legs and gently slaps her pussy. “Go on then, enjoy yourself,” she says.

  “Okay, I will. See you in a few minutes.”

  I move my body and crawl between the soft skin of Bell’s thighs, I see the bottom of her tattoo wrapping around her hips, as I run my tongue over the fine lines and trace a line to her pubic bone.

  I smell Bell’s feminine fragrance as I part her lips. The soft groans fall from her mouth as I flick my tongue inside her moist pussy lips.

  “Ooh Brooke, that is so nice,” she murmurs.

  I flick my tongue against her clit. Bell grabs my hair and pulls me closer to her body. “Oh, shit, bite me, bite my clit,” she says.

  I push my mouth hard against her pussy, I feel her clit between my teeth. I clamp myself gently against it as her body squirms with satisfaction.

  I look up to Bell. “I have to stop, I feel dizzy,” I say.

  “It’s okay, we can try another time,” Bell says.

  “Okay,” I reply. “I would like that.”

  “Let’s just cuddle.” Bell smiles.

  “Yeah, let’s cuddle,”
I reply. “And I promise not to steal the bed sheet.”

  “If at first you don’t succeed, just have another go later.”

  Alex

  “Running on auto-pilot can carry you through the most tiring times.”

  We had sat around the poker table ready. The dealer had dealt the first two cards, again. I wasn’t interested in these yet, I wanted to check the new players at the table.

  Three had been cleaned out from the first night, and replacements had been invited to join the table. They were at a disadvantage because they had missed the throw-away hand opportunity that all the first players had. They could try and have their own way to warm up, but they had missed the boat. All the other seven players had now got accustomed to each other.

  The blinds are in, and everyone carefully looks at their cards. The new three are watched by the rest of the table for those tell-tale signs of weaknesses, or a good hand.

  The chips clatter into the middle of the table as all the players make their first couple of bets. I had noticed that the players who sat either side of me were put off slightly by the after shave I was wearing. Thank Mikey for that one, not me.

  The dealer deals the three cards face up. I have a decent hand already, but I don’t want to give the game away. I would do the ‘silver cross’ fumble when I wanted to bluff, that would throw them off the scent slightly.

  The play slows as the new players are thinking how to proceed. I take the opportunity to think of Brooke. I pictured her on the blanket at Lovers Cove.

  How the sun washed over her naked body as I had kissed and caressed her curves. Her breasts had heaved as I had tantalized her budded nipples.

  Brooke had fully embraced my touch and had willingly given herself to me again. Her juices had flowed as I had filled her with my rock-hard shaft. I had thrust my hips forward and filled the hidden depths of her pussy.

  “Your bet Sir,” the dealer says.

  “Sorry, I was miles away.”

  I pick up a few chips and toss them onto the stack. I glance around the table. There is nothing to do until the dealer turns the next card. A few more minutes; this game is slow.

  My mind goes back to Brooke…