Vegas Secrets

by Jenna Kelly

  "And that's precisely what you must do, darling," Kaitlyn's confident voice told her. "At the moment, I don't have any specific modelling jobs for you, but I'm sure something will come along! Let's talk more at tomorrow night's party."

  "Party?"

  "Yes, didn't I tell you? I always throw a party after a successful shoot. But I warn you," she added with a laugh, "We start late and end late. You know, wouldn't it be great if Natalie would come, too? Think you can persuade her?"

  Marissa grinned. "Oh yes, my sister's a real party animal. At least, she has been since she arrived in Vegas," she added with a cheeky laugh. "I'll make sure she comes along. Where and what time?"

  "Details!" Kaitlyn said, standing up and dismissively waving a hand in the air. "I'll get all that to you, don't worry. Just make sure you and your sister join us!"

  She smiled into the blonde's grateful face. Rachel will change your mind. She'd better…

  ***

  Things felt surreal. David hadn't played particularly well in the Main Event, nor had the cards been kind to him. Yet here he was, in Day Three, and still competing. Surviving might be a better word. The first couple of hours play had followed a similar pattern to the previous two days.

  Frustration was setting in, compounded by the fact he was tired.

  Wasn't it Barry Greenstein, who'd said, If you have sex before you go to sleep, you'll probably be more rested and less distracted when you play. Therefore a sex partner who travels with you can be a big asset.

  The bearded poker professional may have been correct, but unless Reagan allowed him more sleep, he'd be dead on his feat if he somehow found a way to remain in the tourney. Reagan! Why was it he felt warm whenever he thought of his new girlfriend? Girlfriend—is that what she was?

  The small smile that played across his lips may have been imperceptible to others, but it meant everything to him. Maybe he had his priorities wrong? When he was knocked out, he'd have more time to spend with the redhead. As attractive a proposition as that was, he was determined to remain in contention for as long as he could. If he could just reach the cash places—

  The poke in his forearm brought him out of his reverie. "Your turn, man," the friendly Southern drawl on his right told him. "You taking a nap?"

  "Geez, I'm sorry," he told the guy, glancing at the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. Must be contact lenses. Swinging his embarrassed gaze around the rest of the table, he wondered if he looked as tired, rough and unshaven as most of the other faces staring at him. Only theirs were filled with some amusement.

  All except one. The attractive professional player, Katrina Jett, had dropped her sunglasses into place over her eyes, which meant one thing. She'd made a raise. "All folded to you," the Southern drawl helpfully pointed out.

  David checked his cards. Pocket sixes weren't exciting, but they were the best he'd been dealt today. The problem was he was facing a sizeable raise and, in the big blind, was out of position.

  The stunning looking brunette had been steadily building up her chip position in the first two hours of play, as David would have expected. One of the few female poker pro's remaining, Katrina Jett was playing some of the best poker of her life. She wasn't shy of carrying out a little trash talk, either.

  "Why don't you just fold and then you can get back to your nap?" she playfully told him, tossing those wonderfully thick locks over her shoulders. "It'll be a break soon, it'd be a shame to damage that fragile chip stack."

  David grinned at her, nodding as if in agreement. "Can't argue with any of that, Katrina," he told her. "The problem is, I like my hand."

  "Re-raise?" she asked, though the question was more of a challenge.

  "Nah," he laughed, throwing enough chips into the middle to call her bet. "Let's just see what the flop brings."

  It had to bring him something soon, otherwise he'd be making a quick exit. Running well below the chip average was a recipe for disaster. While it didn't improve his hand, the flop did offer promise.

  Seven-Five-Four. A straight draw to go with his pair.

  Should he push it in there and then? The brunette could have an overpair pair, of course, but more likely she held Ace-King or Ace-Queen. Those were the sorts of hands she'd been raising with in early position so far. Despite his instincts, he eventually checked. His chip stack suggested caution and a free card would come in very hand at this stage. Katrina Jett didn't afford him that luxury.

  "All-in." Her voice was decisive.

  David tried to search her face, but the shades did their job well. His mind went through the options. If she'd hit a set, she would've flat called. If she had an overpair, it was the type of bet she was likely to make. But that was also the case with Big Slick or Ace-Queen—and those two hands kept dancing around his mind. The more he thought, the surer he became. That meant he was ahead, and with lots of outs even if she hit a pair.

  If he called, he'd be in a race, but the potential rewards were too great to ignore.

  Common sense told him that he should have been the one pushing all in, not her. A tactical error. If his read was correct, he was maybe 60-40? What was the crystal in his pocket telling him? The obvious, really—with his chip stack being the size it was, how often could he keep folding? He'd invested in the pot already. While he wasn't quite pot committed, he wasn't far away.

  His read was correct. The slump in Jett's shoulders as he turned over his pocket pair told him that even before her manicured red fingernails flipped over Ace-Queen. Now, 'all' his hand had to do was hold up. He was still only 60-40. "No Aces or Queens, please dealer," he muttered under his breath.

  The turn revealed the two of diamonds. Damn, why couldn't it have been a trey?

  The brunette removed her sunglasses, casually dangling them in her left hand as she awaited her fate. As usual when an all-in was broadcast, it took a while before the dealer was told to reveal the river. An eternity, David thought.

  The sight of paint made the Englishman's breathe catch, but it was a King. A black King. That sigh that ran through David's body almost made his toes curl. A double up was exactly what he needed at this stage of the tournament.

  ***

  "Where are you?" Rachel asked the woman at the other end of the line. Settling back on the couch, her leg reached across the divide and onto Jake's knee. The distance between the couch and his favourite chair was perfect. They both knew what she had in mind. The male model shuffled forward, allowing his girlfriend's foot to snake across his black boxers. His cock instantly reacted.

  "I'm at the airport," Kaitlyn Kristen responded, the noise from the overhead tannoy threatening to drown out her words. "It didn't go as well as I'd hoped," she said, unsuccessfully attempting to find somewhere quieter to speak.

  Rachel's caressing foot pulled away from its target as she sat up from the couch. "Really?" she half gasped. She'd thought they'd set the blonde up perfectly. And her fee for taking part in the movies was being swelled by the bonus in place for helping seduce Marissa into the scheme. "But—"

  Jake's hand grasped her ankle as she attempted to sit up, pulling her foot back to its original target. His soft fingers traced across the tattoo of the dragon and then pulled out his half erect cock. When his girlfriend ran the tips of her toes along his length, he settled back again. Her foot could stroke him while she was speaking on the phone—she'd done it before…

  "No buts," the Agency Head was telling Rachel. "It's down to you, darling. You have some work to do. You're seeing her tonight?"

  "Yeah. We're going to see her sister perform and then I'm staying the night at her suite." She let out a loud chuckle and lifted a second foot to join the first. It gave her better purchase on his growing cock. "Time for some fun."

  "Forget Natalie," Kaitlyn snapped. "I want that girl to be given the night of her life. Understand?"

  "Yes," Rachel smiled, watching Jake close his eyes as her toes masturbated him. Tonight would be a pleasure. "I understand."

  "Good. I've told her about tom
orrow night's party. Just remind her and make sure she invites her sister."

  The exotic model laughed. "Should be fun—"

  Kaitlyn's cold tone stopped her. "This isn't a game, darling. I want her for those movies. You and Jake convince her tonight. Understand?"

  "Jake?"

  "That's right, darling. Change her mind. Think you can do that?"

  The exotic model slid to the floor as she closed the call. Reaching for Jake's cock, she spit along the length and rubbed the saliva into his hardness. When he gave a low growl, she smiled. "I have some good news about tonight, baby," she told him as she lowered her mouth.

  ***

  Was it coincidence that had taken them back to the same Starbuck's that Reagan and Carrie had enjoyed their first meaningful conversation? The redhead reflected on how much had changed since that meeting.

  A couple of days ago, she'd complained to her new friend about what had happened with Charles, and the money she owed Big Jack. Now, she'd got herself out of that seedy job, the club owner hadn't yet come after her for what she owed and even better, she'd met her knight in shining armour.

  "It all sounds like life's on an upswing," the spiky haired woman smiled, leaning across to plant a soft kiss on the redhead's cheek. Watching Reagan's face lighten up with a wide beam of happiness, she decided there and then she not only ingratiate herself with Big Jack by returning Reagan to the fold, she'd take her to bed, too.

  She'd find a way, she always did…

  "Couldn't be happier," Reagan laughed, pulling her hair out of the ponytail and shaking it free across her bare shoulders. "Cheers," she added with a laugh, clinking cups with her friend.

  "Cheers," Carrie repeated, her dark eyes taking in every expression on Reagan's face. Her eyes dropped to the cleavage peeking over the thin, white top. "Freckles are a real turn on, you know," she said, her soft tone making the words sound even more seductive.

  The redhead felt her nipples rise. "That's what David says," she said, laughing to cover her embarrassment. The spiky haired woman certainly had a way of sending hot flushes right down to her sex. That first encounter on the dance floor was never far from her mind.

  "Yeah… this David," Carrie murmured with that mischievous smile of hers. "Want to know something funny?"

  "What?"

  "I've got some photos!"

  Reagan felt like she'd been punched. Surely her friend wasn't going to prick a hole in her newfound happiness. "Photos? Of David?"

  "Nah," the spiky haired woman laughed. "Of his ex-girlfriend. The new singing sensation. Got them from a friend who took them in a nightclub." Her eyes rolled upwards. "Very compromising! I got them at home, want to see them?"

  Reagan shook her PRETTY head. "No, I'm not interested, not in his ex-girlfriend."

  "But you are in David?" Carrie quietly smiled, conspiratorially pulling her chair closer, "he's the reason for your good mood?"

  Reagan's grin split her face. "It's that obvious?" she asked, the strong aroma of the brunette's heavy scent adding to the warm feeling inside her. "What perfume is that, by the way?" she asked.

  "Great, isn't it?" Carrie beamed. "It's Alicia Stiles Swelter. Here, smell it properly," she said, offering the redhead her cheek. When Reagan leant across her, she swung her head around to kiss the full, red lips.

  "Carrie!" Reagan gasped, somehow stopping herself from responding when she felt the hot woman's tongue flick across her lips. Her nipples must be clearly on show now! God, how embarrassing!

  "Gotcha," Carrie laughed, knowing that soon, she would. "This David, tell me about him. He plays poker doesn't he?"

  The redhead nodded, instantly feeling like she needed to offer some sort of explanation. "Yes, but he's not your typical poker player. Most of them are deadbeats, but he's different."

  "That right?" Carrie asked with a warm smile. "In what way?"

  "He's playing in the Main Event," Reagan enthused, and then started to explain. "That's—"

  "I know what it is!" Carrie laughed, reaching for the sugar and pouring half a sachet into her half drunk coffee. "All of Vegas know about the Main Event, honey. It's what increases our earnings, after all!"

  Reagan threw her eyebrows to the ceiling. "Doh!" she said with an embarrassed grin. "I told you he dropped everything to rescue me from that apartment?" she said, referring to their earlier conversation. "Well… we've been together ever since."

  "Ever since?" Carrie asked. "He's playing poker every day, isn't he?"

  "Yes… well, yes… but we're together every night!"

  The spiky haired woman threw her head back and laughed. "You mean you fuck him every night? Probably every morning, too, from the look on your face—"

  The redhead's facial expressions changed from smile to frown to confusion in a nano second. Surely Carrie wasn't trying to pour cold water on her new relationship? "It's more than—"

  "I know, honey," the brunette reassured her. "I was just wondering how much you know about him?

  "Quite a lot," Reagan quickly said. "We've talked for hours. He knows everything about me, and I know all about him."

  "Hmmm," Carrie wistfully said, sending her friend a quizzical look. "Let's test that out. He knows where you work, and what you do?"

  Reagan's expression switched to serious for the first time in their conversation. "Where I worked," she corrected. "And what I did! That's behind me, Carrie. And of course he knows."

  The spiky haired woman nodded. "Yes, where you worked," she mimicked, with a cheeky smile. "I forgot you retired. So… does David know how much you owe Big Jack? I presume that's one of the things you've told him?"

  The strained look that suddenly appeared on Reagan's face gave her answer even before her words confirmed it. "Well… not exactly…"

  "Mmm-hmm," the brunette murmured, shooting her friend a knowing smile. "Well, just know one thing, girl, at some stage you'll have to repay that debt. I can get you back in Big Jack's good books when you need to go back. He's mad now, but Carrie will take care of you. Okay, honey?"

  "Carrie!" Reagan exclaimed, her voice rising to emphasise the point. "I appreciate that, but I'm not going back to the club. I'm finished with it for ever!!"

  "I understand exactly how you feel," the brunette smiled. Enough said, no need to push things. She'd sown the seeds. Now for the extra push. "What's the story between David and the blonde, then?"

  "What story?" Reagan asked, a puzzled smile creasing her face. "Jessica's his friend. They only met once he got to Vegas."

  "So did the two of you," Carrie pushed. "Has he told you he's fucked her?"

  "Fucked her?" Reagan's voice was shrill… disbelieving… shocked.

  The brunette pulled out the newspaper article. "Well, I don't know," she told the redhead, shrugging her shoulders. "But from everything I've read in the press, it sure looks like there's something going on! I hate to suggest it Reagan, but he could be another Charles!"

  Another Charles? No, that wasn't possible! Her shocked eyes stared at the spiky haired woman and then she picked up The Lovers from England. She needed to read this…

  ***

  Matusow hadn't let up much. Not with the trash talk. As usual with 'The Mouth,' some of it was good-natured, some more barbed. Because of Jessica's early dominance over him, he seemed to take delight in finding put-downs just for her.

  It made no difference to the blonde. Words meant nothing to her. And she knew what a dangerous player he was. Take her time, she told herself.

  The couple of occasions he buffed her off hands, he turned over his cards and told her—yet again—she was in the big time and needed to be careful not to 'fuck around' with him.

  "Fuck around with you, Mike?" she repeated after yet another warning from the unshaved poker professional. "I don't go with fat guys…"

  Each burst of laughter further infuriated the short-tempered man. That made no difference to the blonde, either. Focus on your game! Take advantage of his mood if the cards allowed. Soon, she had the chanc
e.

  Pocket Kings.

  "Re-raise," she calmly announced. A pot-sized bet seemed appropriate.

  The Brit, two seats to her left, thought for a long time. His flat call was unexpected. Surely it was raise or fold?

  Matusow showed no such timidity, pushing all-in for the second successive hand. He looked down at the green baize after his move, resting his head on his hands. Jessica shivered. The last time he'd done that, he had pocket rockets.

  Her call was automatic.

  The Brit to her left sadly shook his head as he mucked his cards. "Can't go up against the big guns," he smiled, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back in his seat.