by Jenna Kelly
Reagan's deep blush at her mistake was accentuated by Carrie's loud voice. At least two tables were staring across at them. The spiky haired woman's sparkling eyes watched her carefully, looking for any sign. If this one had been bisexual, she definitely wanted in on the action. If not… well... she liked a challenge!
"No, girl," she continued, as if her intentions had been pure all along. "I meant a dancing partnership. You and me doing a double act up on stage. I was thinking about suggesting it to Big Jack."
The redhead quickly shook her head. Her relief was countered by the suggestion. "No, please, don't do that. He'd jump on the idea, I'm sure." She hesitated. "I've nothing against it, Carrie, but I'm kinda hoping I won't be doing this whole thing much longer, that I can move on."
"What?" the brunette asked, unable to disguise look of genuine surprise. "But you're perfect for this. And the money's good. Why give it up?"
Reagan shivered at the woman's words. She was perfect for this?!? Carrie had no idea what she was like, other than a superficial view. She just had to get away from everything! Why the hell had she got mixed up with that bastard, Charles?
"Because it's not me," she nervously answered, "and can we keep our voices down? The whole room's listening in on this conversation!"
Carrie laughed again, swinging around in her chair to take in the people around her. For a horrible second, Reagan thought her new friend was about to complain to anyone looking her way and let out a sigh of relief when she turned back. "Okay," the brunette agreed with an over exaggerated whisper. "I'm kinda used to speaking my mind and not giving a damn about others!"
Reagan raised her eyebrows. This was quite a girl!
"How well d'you know Big Jack?" the brunette asked, resting on arm on the rear of her chair as she leaned backwards. "I mean, I don't want to fall foul of the boss, so anything you can tell me would help."
"Not that well," Reagan hesitantly said. "To be truthful, until the yesterday, I've tried to keep out of his way."
"Yesterday?"
Reagan paused, feeling her heart beat faster in anticipation of where the conversation was going. She didn't want to share what had happened between her and Charles with too many other people, particularly those who knew her well. But maybe sharing a little with another female might help? "My boyfriend ran out on me," she confessed. "He owed money and Jack paid the debt. But that means I owe him."
"Sounds like bad news," Carrie sympathised, "and let me guess how he wants you to pay it off!"
The words hit home, and the tears that were never far away couldn't be restrained any longer. Carrie moved chairs so she could slip an arm around the redhead. "Let them out," she told her. "Let them out, girl."
Carrie handed over some tissues and as Reagan wiped her eyes, she glanced around the small café. God knows what her face looked like. "I'm sorry," she blurted, taking a little comfort that she'd found someone she could open up to.
"Nothing to be sorry about," Carrie softly smiled, with more tenderness than Reagan thought the brunette was capable of. The spiky haired woman was brushing her fingers through her loose hair and it felt reassuring. "So, yesterday with Jack," Carrie continued. "That was part payment?"
Reagan nodded, eyes growing wide. "He wanted a private dance. Then we fucked."
"For God's sake, girl," Carrie joked, "I'd have fucked you in that dress! You looked smokin'!" Both women laughed. "But listen, Reagan, you're fucking clients anyway. What's the difference?"
"I'm not sure," Reagan responded. What was the difference? David? "I've met this guy, Carrie, a poker player. I really like him -- I mean really! I need to find a way out if I'm to have a chance with him." She stopped herself, suddenly aware she was saying too much, but the brunette's eyes showed only concern.
"How much do you owe?" Carrie asked, moving back in her chair and pulling her fingers away from the silken red hair. If she weren't careful, she'd be dragging those full red lips to hers. She picked up the now lukewarm coffee, more for something to keep her hands occupied.
"Fifty thousand," Reagan answered. The tears threatened to return, but she choked them back.
"FIFTY THOU!!?" Carrie spat, slamming the cup back down onto its saucer. "Fuck girl, what did your boyfriend get into to owe that much? Rob a bank?"
"Gambled it away," Reagan quietly told her, wiping her nose with the tissue. "Don't ask me how, he just lost it gambling."
Carrie's eyes narrowed. "You don't know? Then how'd' you know how much he owes?"
"Jack told me," the redhead confided. "He took over the debt from loan sharks. Kept them off my back."
"Did he now?" the thoughtful brunette mused. That might well be the case, but a man like Big Jack didn't have any morals. He wouldn't pay off a debt that size unless he had something up his sleeve. "Tell me Reagan?" she asked. "Do you have anything to do with Kyle?"
The brunette shook her head. "No, I stay away from him," she answered. "I've never liked the way he looks at me, so I just stay out of the way."
"And do you ever hear about Jack's business dealings? Anything going on that shouldn't be?"
"No," the redhead answered, her features switching into a frown. "The only thing I know is that he makes his girls service private parties.
"What sort of parties?"
"You know. Mainly male only, but not always. They pay for some of Jack's girls to dance for them."
"That's all?" Carrie asked, unable to hide the twinkle that suddenly appeared in her soft hazel eyes.
Reagan gave a shudder. "That's all that's official. But when you hear some of the girls talk—"
"Ever done any?"
"No! No way, Carrie. There're not for me!"
The spiky haired girl shrugged her shoulders. "They'd be a way of reducing what you owe Jack," she explained, "but I'm sure you've already thought of that. Anything else going on?"
Reagan's hair danced on her shoulders when she shook her head. "Don't know of anything, but as I told you, I'm not that close. Why do you ask?"
Carrie hesitated a second while she thought it through. "Well…" she eventually explained, "I'm just thinking… he must get up to different things, that's how these people work. If you and I keep our ears open, we might discover something that could lead to him wiping out that debt. What d'you think?" She paused long enough to let the implication sink in.
Reagan's green eyes widened as she stared at her new friend. "If we keep our ears open? You'd… you'd do that for me?"
Carrie gave the sweetest smile she could muster. "Think of it this way, Reagan," she said. "I hate any man taking advantage of a woman. And if we work together, I might yet persuade you into forming a dancing duo!"
The two women laughed. "Help me wipe out my debt, Carrie," Reagan grinned, with just the hint of a blush, "and I'll give you that private dance the next time."
The lustful look that flashed across her friend's face made her think maybe the suggestion wasn't such a good idea. The moistness she instantly felt between her legs told her something else.
***
David continued to fold anything other than premium cards. He needed to settle down. Grizz continued with his baiting at every opportunity, and the crinkly haired young man surprised himself at the ease with which he ignored them.
It was the kid who'd defended him against Grizz earlier, who sucked him into his first misstep. Under the gun, his Ace-King of diamonds saw David make the usual raise of three times the big blind. Then the kid surprised him.
After several folds in front of him, the youngster pushed all-in from his position on the button. Just like that! When David glanced at the kid, the keen blue eyes stared straight back at him, then the youngster slowly winked.
What the hell did that mean?
David puffed his cheeks out as he sat back. Despite his attempt to pick up a tell, the kid had slipped his shades on under his shock of curly, blonde hair and sat as still as a rock. With a monster, it was unlikely the young man would have pushed all in. That suggested Ace-Queen or Ace-Jack, b
ut probably a middle sized pair.
He'd dominate either of the first two hands, but up against a pair, he'd be in a race. There wasn't much point to that, at this early stage of the tourney. "Take it," he murmured, tossing his folded his cards into the middle of the table.
The kid grinned and turned over Five--Three of hearts, before raking in the pot. A gasp went around the table, mingled with some laughter.
"Freakin' brilliant," Grizz growled, loving the opportunity to stick another needle in David's effigy. "That's poker."
Stroking the crystal, David resolved to stay calm. You couldn't win the tournament on day one, but you could lose it. It was probably the truest cliché in poker and with such a long way to go, he just had to pick and choose his spots and he'd be back in things again.
***
"So, my little girl's full of surprises," Samson Smith smiled at Natalie.
The brunette returned his smile. His relaxed, sexy attitude with her was in complete contrast to the way he'd handled her when they first met. Then, he'd been establishing his dominance. Now, he was sure of it. It made her feel much more comfortable around the African American.
"In what way, Samson?" she asked, seductively unbuttoning her blouse as she wandered around to his side of the large desk.
His hands went to her naked breasts as she straddled him. "Got our own signature song, have we?" he smiled, kneading her aroused swells. "I hear it brought the house down last night?"
"Mmmm," she agreed, snaking one hand around his neck and pulling his head to hers. "Want to hear it?" she mumbled into his mouth as her busy hands worked his trousers open. Fishing out his cock, she led him to her already wet opening and lifted her hips up before slowly jerking down on him.
"I was born a while ago…" she softly sang once he was all the way inside. Locking her hands around his broad shoulders for additional purchase, she began to ride him like she was sitting on a moving carousel, gentle upward and downward undulations. "Right back in eighty four…"
"I was born to fuck my man…" She fucked slowly, wanting to hear his moans before she upped the pace. "Once and then once more…"
"Ngh!" he grunted, groaning with each slow, tantalising, down-thrust. Her mouth and lips drifted around one side of his neck as she sang, then the other. When he started to lift his hips upwards, her teeth pulled down on his earlobe.
"Her man wants… Natalie to fuck him…" she sang, jerking down violently.
"Oh yeah, baby," he grunted, his fingers gripping tighter as he tried to fuck back. But the singer was in control, their skin slapping against one another as she drove them on. She was an oily machine now, pistoning down with hard, rhythmic thrusts on the black tower that so beautifully filled her.
"Wants her to fuck him… hard and good…" Her words were gasped out now, all pretence at singing lost in her urgent fucking movements. Calm down, she told herself, rubbing her sweaty brow against the side of his face. Make him want it. Make him beg! She slowed the pace again, her tongue cleaning his ear as she gingerly ensured he bottomed out with each down-thrust.
"So good," Samson grunted through gritted teeth. His hands gripped tighter, telling her he needed more action.
"What d'you want, baby?" she asked, easing her hips upwards every time he tried to thrust up into her. "Want Natalie," she teased. "Want your Natalie?"
Her hands tightened around his neck and her mouth returned to his, nipping at his lower lips as she began to take him there. "Want to hear my song?" she grunted as her thrusts became more aggressive. Her intenal muscles tightened, clutching his cock in her hot wetness with each downward jerk.
"What's my name…" she sang, her voice reverberating as she bounced harder. "It'sGrace Lane! She repeated the words with each down-thrust. "What's my name? Natalie Lane!"
The African American grunted with each down-thrust. She was controlling him, bouncing him towards his climax, and he loved it. His throaty growl told her how close he was, his brow knotting with his near-release.
When his hands clutched her perfect ass, digging into the bouncing flesh as he prepared for release, her hands gripped his hair and pulled his face to hers. "What's my name?" she asked through gritted teeth.
"Natalie LANE!" he growled, jerking his head upwards and firing out a howl as he released his manjuice into her sucking body. Hot bursts of hot cum fired into her slippery sex. It felt like it lasted forever.
When he came crashing back down from his high, her tongue licked its way around to his ear. "Natalie is ready to become an angel, Samson. What d'you think, baby?"
***
"No fuck ups," Big Jack told his number two over the line, his tense voice shrill with excitement. "Understand, Kyle? No fuck ups. Tonight establishes Big Jack as the man in Vegas!"
"I understand, boss," the older man grunted into the phone. There'd be only one fuck up tonight, and it had nothing to do with his job. He'd fuck that sexy, spiky haired bitch—Samson's bitch—and his boss knew nothing about it.
He'd never hidden anything from his employer before, which was what made the thought even sweeter. He'd watched her dancing and this one was special. The way she'd sucked his cock yesterday had confirmed that, an animal seeking out and feeding on his cum. Fuck, she'd been like a succubus, coaxing everything out of him before swallowing him whole.
God only knew what she'd be like to fuck—
"You get everything sorted?" Jack was asking him.
He jerked his thoughts back from the delights in store. That could wait a little longer, even though his hard cock was telling him something different. He'd even masturbated last night, thinking about the sexy woman.
"You can rely on me, Jack," he confirmed. "Everything's in place. Tony's coming with me, I can trust him. Next time we speak I'll be giving you the good news—"
***
Rachel was clear on what was expected. Jake had started the job perfectly yesterday—it was her turn today. Kaitlyn had told to expect someone with the sexy yet innocent quality that the adult film industry cried out for. This blonde fit the bill, but what she hadn't anticipated was that additional quality, the sparkle in Marissa's eyes that the young blonde didn't even appear to know was there.
It promised so much…
The photo session had gone well. Kaitlyn's idea to have them dressed as Indian squaws had been unusual, but inspired. As was the setting. The Grand Canyon, for fuck's sake! She had to hand it to Kaitlyn, she knew how to do things!
The shoot gave the opportunity for some scandalously tiny costumes and the two models had filled them so well. Marissa's body was as hot as her own and the thought of corrupting the young woman sent a thrill down to her toes. As yet, the blonde had resisted the coke she'd offered, but it wouldn't be long now. Her resistance was weakening. It was only a matter of time.
Kaitlyn had plied them with wine during each break and it wasn't just the weather that was hot. Things couldn't have gone better. Using Meredith rather than Daryl had been a brilliant idea. All girls together. The auburn haired photographer had built up the pace, changing the mood from light and sensual to one of sexual tension and arousal. That woman was a genius behind the camera.
She was particularly wild in bed, too.
"Sexy little thing, don't you think?" Rachel asked Marissa as they took a break. When the blonde glanced around, she nodded across at the diminutive woman. "The best female photographer in the States, and she fucks like a rabbit too."
Marissa giggled. She'd had way too much wine today, and that was before Kaitlyn had opened the last bottle they were close to finishing. She liked Rachel's rawness. The exotic beauty had no inhibitions.
Rachel was already sliding her chair opposite Marissa's as the blonde stared at the photographer. With the top four buttons of her blouse undone, her lacy pink bra had been on constant display, adding to the sexual theme that consumed everything that had gone on during the day.
The small, khaki coloured canopy provided some relief from the heat of the day between each shoot. Mar
issa glanced over at Rachel as the model changed position, gracefully unfastening the straps of her sandals before raising her dark skinned legs and settling them across Marissa's thighs. "Like the tattoo?" she asked, her toes pushing the blonde's short leather skirt up to her waist.
Marissa's mouth went dry as she realised her damp thong concealed nothing. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to act as casually as her modelling partner. Her shaking hand ran across Rachel's right foot. The Chinese dragon seemed to be rising out of the woman's toes. "It's really unusual," she smiled, fully aware that the model's dark eyes were observing her closely. "What's the story?"
"Ah, that's really interesting," the exotic looking beauty began, her foot sliding between Marissa's legs and pushing into her crotch. "I'll tell you one day," she huskily told her, her big toe rubbing against Marissa's slippery folds.
