Vegas Secrets

by Jenna Kelly

  "Good fold," Matusow told him. As the words escaped his mouth, Jessica's heart sank. He didn't need to flip over his Aces for her to know with an instinctive certainty that her suspicion was accurate.

  "Told you, girly," he gloated, standing up and leaning over the table. "I told you I'd be getting my chips back, with interest." He wagged a finger at Jessica, the other hand pushing his glasses further up his nose. "You mess with Mikey, you're dead. You stick those tits out and think they'll do the business for you? Believe me baby, you can't beat me. I'm twice the player you are. You're tits are nothing to me. And you're nothing to me."

  "That's okay, Mike," Jessica responded, raising her sunglasses so he could see her eyes. She needed him to see she wasn't intimidated. "Win or lose, that's fine with me. But either way, I'll do it with some class."

  "Class?" Matusow sneered. "I don't give a shit about class. Class is for losers. All I care about is winning, baby."

  The dealer tapped on the baize and made Jessica's day. Two Kings and a Jack.

  The blonde stared disbelievingly at the cards. Matusow sank to his knees. The buzz at the table was electric and the Brit was out of his seat too. "I folded Jacks. Jacks!" he cried, swinging around to his supporters at the rail. "I would've flopped a full house, but she hit quads. Quads!"

  Matusow was almost inconsolable as he climbed to his feet. Nearly in tears, he sloped away from the table to the part of the rail where his brother and his mother, Gloria, were standing. They wearily shook their heads in incredulity as he reached them.

  "Aces. Aces! And the bitch hits quads. Why me?" he asked them. "Why always me? Every time. Every fucking time!"

  Jessica couldn't resist. "Take care of those balls, Mike," she softly called.

  ***

  The rap on the door sent a final flutter through Marissa's stomach. She'd hated turning Kaitlyn's offer down, but the thought of spending the evening with Rachel was some compensation at least. Everything Natalie had told the blonde about her sex with Lindsay Wellson had been festering away in her mind. She wanted that experience. Tonight, she'd have it.

  A glance at her watch told her that the model was late getting there. How many times had she checked the time in the last hour? They'd be pushed to catch all of Natalie's performance…

  She picked up her Indian jacket on the way to the door, nodding her approval as she checked herself in the mirror for the umpteenth time in the last fifteen minutes. She'd tied the short black wrap-dress so that the deep cleavage formed by her red push-up bra was on full display. Sexy, even if she said so herself.

  "My, you're keen!" Rachel giggled as she pushed past Marissa into the suite. "No rush is there—I thought you'd show me around? Why don't we have a quick drink first? You've got some good wine in the fridge?"

  ***

  "Hi, my name's Natalie," the Vegas singing sensation said, giving her customary welcome as she pulled the microphone down to her full lips. "And I'm here to sing for you."

  It wasn't just the rapturous applause that sent her excitement spiralling off scale. Nor was it the knowledge that in a few short days, she'd established herself so comprehensively on the Vegas scene. It was the fact that Lindsay Wellson was standing unnoticed in the audience, ready to soak in Natalie's performance before joining her on stage.

  It'll give me the chance to see your moves, the international megastar had told her, so that I'm ready for our duo. We're gonna rock this place…

  That duet was an hour away. Natalie spent every second of that time playing the crowd, bringing them in to her performance, warming them for the extravaganza that would soon be heading their way. She also wanted Lindsay to see her at her best. A kind of throwing down the gauntlet. After all, she was Natalie Lane—

  After her first Vegas performance, she'd returned to the stage outfit that was so familiar in England. The way she dressed was her instrument, almost every bit as her voice. Within a few minutes, the waistcoat was unbuttoned, a couple of songs later it was removed, revealing the green camisole top underneath. This was her—Natalie—and she felt at home.

  Turning around and swinging her ass from side to side, the now familiar sight of the garment narrowing into a thong that disappeared into the top of her low-rise jeans brought cheers from the crowd. It was expected from her now. What they were waiting for! The audience were really up for it, the place rocking to the stamping of their feet and the cheers after each song.

  In deference to Lindsay, Natalie left off the oversized aviators until it was time for the singer to join her. And that time came soon enough…

  When Lindsay made her way onto the stage, it wasn't just the audience whose excitement threatened to spill over. Natalie felt her breath catch in her throat as she saw the way Lindsay was dressed—a mirror image of herself. The camisole was exactly the same Natalie's, just a different colour. It looked so sexy disappearing into Lindsay's tight, black jeans. Even the high heels the blonde megastar had especially worn for the performance, matched Natalie's.

  "It's yours," the blonde giggled into Natalie's ear before the English singer could ask about the camisole. Then they were kissing—to the audience, a kiss of two stars meeting on stage. To the women, a kiss of two hungry lovers.

  Within seconds, the singers had the crowd swaying and dancing, clapping their hands above their heads and swaying their bare waists and hips to the beat of the music. They each owned half the stage, danced towards then past one another as they built up the pace.

  The songs they'd agreed beforehand consisted of a few of Lindsay's hits and some of Natalie's music. The surprise was their final song, one that neither had sung before, but was certain to bring the house down.

  The crowd swung, danced, whistled, cheered and swooned throughout the performance. The band behind them was on fire, too—each member from the base guitarist through to the keyboard player given the opportunity to show off their individual talents. In front of them, two hot female vocalists smiled at one another at every new roar from their fans.

  Lindsay had cottoned on to every one of Natalie's moves while she'd watched the singer earlier. She put her new findings to good use. The sight of the two of them, backs to the crowd, legs spread wide, arms stretched high above their heads, hips grinding sexily from side to side, almost took the roof off.

  Then it was the finale. Where had the time gone?

  "Okay," Lindsay shouted into the mic, "Raise those hands and clap!"

  The crowded club mimicked her, hands raised above their heads, as Natalie went into the final number:

  Where's all mah soul sistas

  Lemme hear ya'll flow sistas

  Hey sista, go sista, soul sista, flow sista

  Hey sista, go sista, soul sista, go sista

  Natalie turned her back to the crowd, teasing with her trademark moves, as Lindsay took over the next lines. The blonde swung her hips to each heavy beat.

  He met Marmalade down IN old Moulin Rouge

  Struttin' her stuff on the street

  She said, "Hello, hey Jo, you wanna give it a go?" Oh! uh huh

  As they hit the chorus, the two women went into overdrive, strutting and flaunting their dancing bodies as the audience screamed their approval.

  Giuchie, Giuchie, ya ya dada—Hey hey hey

  Giuchie, Giuchie, ya ya here—here

  Mocha Chocalata ya ya—oh yea

  Creole lady Marmalade

  Their voices complimented each other and with each shorter chorus, they both held their mic's out to the clubgoers, allowing them to sing the words…

  Voulez-vous coucher avec moi—ce soir

  Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

  As the audience sang, the two women gave an impromptu dancing performance. Bumping and grinding their bodies at each other, lost in a tide of excitement and arousal that just couldn't be denied.

  ***

  Marissa had missed the greatest performance of her sister's life, but three bottles of wine later, it didn't seem so important. What did, was the coke she
was snorting with the most beautiful model she'd ever seen, and the interested way Rach had listened to her life story and aspirations.

  "Don't worry," the black haired beauty had told her. "You and I are gonna appear in a porno together—more than one. Talk to Natalie again, honey. Then you and I are gonna be ready to go."

  It felt like great advice. The thrill of her time at the porno shoot was lodged in her body forever. It'd never be assuaged until she'd met her dream. Rachel had just told her that, and she knew it was true. But she knew she couldn't.

  "Rach, Natalie is worried it'll damage her future. I just can't…"

  The exotic beauty stilled her protest, her hand snaking around the blonde's neck, pulling Marissa's face to hers. That wonderful mouth was open before it reached her, and then Rach was biting down on her lower lip, tugging on it playfully before sliding her tongue inside the blonde's mouth. Wetness flooded her thong.

  She lay still, hazy-eyed, when the exotic model pushed her back on the comfortable couch. Gracefully easing herself to her feet, Rach kept her sparkling eyes on Marissa's lustful gaze as she unzipped her little red dress. With a toss of her dark hair, she allowed it to drop to her feet.

  The reclining blonde ran her tongue across her lips as she feasted on the near naked form in front of her. The sexy model wore no bra; her full, youthful breasts didn't need one. Only the skimpy, black panties protected her modesty.

  Rachel nodded at her prey. An unspoken instruction. Marissa obeyed.

  She untied the belt that kept her black wrap-dress closed. Frantically, she pulled it open and off, pausing to display herself to her soon-to-be lover.

  Rachel's eyes narrowed at the sight of the skimpy red thong and lacy bra. She closed the distance quickly, sliding down between Marissa's legs as they kissed once again—more insistently this time. The soft, wet sounds filled the room.

  Marissa could resist no more. She cupped Rachel's jutting young breasts as their kiss deepened. It became hotter and more passionate. Marissa's hands explored Rachel's tits, gently squeezing and savouring each delectable swell. The beautiful model's low moans were like homing signals.

  The erect nipples felt like twin pinpoints of heat burning against each palm. She lowered her head. Her hands slid away to caress Rachel's hips, tracing along the delicate strands of her g-string. Her searching mouth took control of her left nipple. She sucked it in, tugging on it with her teeth. When the exotic model cried out in pleasure, the blonde formed her lips in a tight seal around the soft flesh. This was her moment. She badly needed it.

  Marissa whimpered in disappointment when the dark haired beauty pushed her away. But it was only to allow her the room to pull the blonde's bra off and dip her head to return the favour. The young woman groaned as the supercharged tongue flicked one hard nipple and then the other. They took turns, their mouths passing back and forth between each other's saliva covered breasts.

  A knock on the suite door temporarily broke the spell. The exotic beauty was completely unfazed.

  "Don't move, lover," she whispered, jumping up and racing across the room. Through a haze of lust, Marissa watched the girl's tight body prance away. She had a fanciful tattoo of a butterfly across her lower back, where the narrow stings of her panties met in a T.

  Checking first through the spy hole, the model unlocked the door. Without a word, she immediately returned to the couch. Marissa began to pull her dress back around her naked chest, but Rachel simply giggled and tore it away, tossing it over her shoulder.

  "Uh-uh," she whispered, shaking her head. "We've got some loving to do."

  Marissa gasped as the dark haired beauty pushed her backwards again. Before she could react, her new lover was licking her way down her trembling body. Rachel's strong hands kept her legs parted wide and her fingers slid into the sides of the red thong. She roughly pulled it from Marissa's body, the delicate material tearing away. Her eyes snaked to the blonde landing strip.

  She looked up at Marissa, her brown eyes dancing, as she lowered her head. The blonde's aroused clit was standing at attention. In an instant Rachel sucked it into her wet mouth.

  Marissa cried out, bucking her hips up into the beautiful face. Her lover's sharp fingertips dug into her ass. Rachel's mouth was devouring her. She sucked, licked and nipped as she drove the blonde towards her goal.

  Marissa tangled her hands in the long, wavy hair. Her orgasm was closing in. This was what she wanted, had imagined, was waiting for. Rachel eagerly hoovered up her love juices as she writhed and moaned beneath her. Her head thrashed back and forth. She was losing control.

  She nearly cried out as Rachel paused, withdrawing slightly. "Open your eyes, lover," she whispered. Marissa did.

  Jake was leaning against the wall. He was naked. His firm hand stroked his impressive erection as he watched the two women. The evening was supposed to be about her and Rach but for some reason, she was happy to see him. Porn stars performed for others didn't they? She and Rach could perform for her lover's boyfriend.

  She smiled at him, but when the exotic model's lips pursed around her pearl, she lifted her ass from the cushions as she exploded. Her love juices gushed forth like a spring. Rachel drank in the sweet nectar, her lapping tongue prolonging the sensational climax.

  ***

  Approaching the final stages of the third day, David felt in control. His increasing chip stack was evidence of the way he was playing and the cards coming his way. The only blot on his horizon was the older guy across the table. The African American had been taking an unusual interest in him. Why?

  The guy had a healthy stack and was playing fast and aggressive. That was fine. It was the continuous smug smiles he kept sending the Englishman's way that confused David. This was more than just poker. But what?

  Moving into the final few hands, the players were told to race off their green chips and replace them for the higher denomination black. Play slowed a little as the exchanges were made, and David decided to close down and see the night out unless he was dealt something out of the ordinary.

  The King-Queen of hearts was borderline—but in late position, he decided to play. A standard raise might just be enough to take the pot. It almost was, with a series of folds around to the African American. In the big blind, he gave David that smug smile as he flat called. The call was unusual, in view of the guy's propensity for aggression. Normally he'd have folded or raised.

  The Queen-Three-Four gave David top pair.

  Very nice. His raise was three quarter's of the pot.

  "You travelled all the way from England for the Main Event?" the African American conversationally asked.

  David blanked the man. They could have the conversation when they were out of a hand. During play, the guy was simply trying to identify a tell, or put him off his game. He may be new to Vegas, but he wasn't wet behind the ears.

  "Not by yourself, though," the smiling man continued. "Shame about you and your girlfriend. Must have thrown you when she dumped you, huh?"

  What the hell? Pins and needles were suddenly attacking David's tired body. How did this guy know about him and Natalie? It wasn't possible.

  "Raise," the older guy told the dealer, his deep voice loud and confident. Letting his words sink into David's psyche, he doubled the bet.

  David instantly called. Too quickly. He believed he was ahead, but he should be thinking this through. Instead of concentrating on his hand, his thoughts were flashing warning signs. What did this guy know about him and Natalie?

  The turn was an eight.

  David checked. It was a weak play, but he needed a few moments to gather his thoughts. Forget about what he was being told until the hand was played out. Until then, focus. Think!

  His opponent kept the pressure on with a pot sized raise. What the hell? An outright bluff? Or maybe—just maybe—he'd called preflop with a pocket pair. Had he hit a set?

  "She's doing well," the African American started again. "Your Natalie is doing verywell." He gave a deep chuckle.
"Oh, sorry, she's not your Natalie is she? Not any more, is she David? It is David, isn't it?"

  The confused Englishman sat quietly. The guy was playing with his head big time and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. Who was this man? What did he know about him and Natalie?

  "Call," he announced, against his better instinct. He was pretty sure he was ahead, but the guy could have a set. It was either a raise or a fold.

  The river brought a Jack and his opponent pushed all in.

  Without any straight or flush possibilities, the guy must have a set. Or two pair? Maybe he had nothing? David was lost.

  "She's hot, that ex-girlfriend of yours," his opponent continued, shaking his hand in the air while letting out a low whistle. "Real hot. Told me she'd do anything to perform at my club. Anything! And she did!"