Always Bet On Black

Chaz continues placing numbers on the inside, as does Cherise, who's bent over as she reaches for the far numbers. I look her over for a moment, my eyes averted from the perky blonde dealer, taking in this woman.

At this point, it hits me - damn. Cherise is, to put it nicely, fucking hot. Her ass is definitely her best feature, filling out her jeans so perfectly. It's so round, so big, sticking out as she's reaching for some numbers. And she's not shy about it, letting her ass wiggle and shake as she works her magic. I take in a shocked breath, not sure what hit me - and then I see a little more.

Underneath her jeans. She's that far bent over, yes - and her jeans are now unable to obscure the barely-there blue g-string underneath. This thing leaves nothing to the imagination - yes, it's there, and it contrasts a bit with her gorgeous ass, but pretty much all I see beyond that is the bare top of her ass. Fuck, I think. And this is just her ass; I haven't even gotten a good look at the rest of her very impressive figure.

I snap back into reality as I hear the ball bounce off a number in the wheel, stopping wherever the hell it lands. Not sure what's going on, but I can't let myself get that lost in thought again. Cherise is hot, yes, but she's a fantasy. I don't usually allow myself to dive into fantasy, so it's a bit of a crazy ride when I do.

I look over at Molly, who now seems kind of plain by comparison, looking at the ball, ready to make a call. At this point, I've pretty much forgotten about what I bet on - then I look at my stack of chips. Then at the ball.

"Thirteen black!" calls out Molly, and I look dead-on at the layout - fucking A. I have a stack of chips on thirteen, as does Cherise, and we're the only two winners. I collect my $200 in winnings, so Cherise doesn't have to cover me, and then comes the time to rake in my big win for number 13.

"Pay him in value," instructs Cherise, and I agree, since I'm ready to color up and take my winnings - over a thousand dollars. This out of twenty dollars, just like that, I collect my winnings, turn it into ten black $100 chips and some leftover red $5 chips, and head over to Chaz, who's reaching into his wallet again. Dumbass.

"Hey, what are we doing after this?" I ask - and Cherise interrupts me.

"You're going with me, sexy," she fires back. "I'm taking you to the bar."

"I don't think so," I answer, ready to walk off. The last thing I want to do is get into trouble, and the fastest way to get into trouble is time alone with this woman.

"I said, you're going with me," she icily demands. "We had a deal. You won a hell of a lot of money here, and so did I."

"I was joking when I agreed to that," I chuckle - she's not smiling. "I thought of you as something of a good luck charm, not as someone I actually thought about spending time alone with." I turn to Chaz, preparing to walk away. "I'm going back to the room."

Chaz grabs my shirt. "If you don't do this, I will lose all respect for you and shit in your mouth when you sleep." Well, fuck. "It's a fucking drink. It's not cheating."

"Well," I cut him off, "to me it is."

"Are you really that fucking lame?" he exclaims. "Was it cheating when Marilyn fucked her tutor?"

"You told me you wouldn't mention that again!" Pure rage from me. "We worked through that. It's over."

"Right, you worked through that," Chaz snidely remarks. Cherise is looking a little impatient. "What about a couple of weeks ago when I saw her go into that motel with her best friend's ex?"

OK, now I know this is bullshit - he steps back and grabs his phone, shuffling through the pictures. This guy takes a lot of pictures, mostly of blondes. Go figure. But then he gets to the pictures in question - that's her, all right, in a motel outside of town. And the exact guy she was talking about.

At this point, I'm not sure what to do. I'm a little numb to the realization that Marilyn hasn't stopped cheating on me. I forgave her once. I could do it again. I could go back up to my room and cry. It's what I did the first time, and it sounds good to me. I love Marilyn. I want to marry her. I can get past this.

"I'm waiting," the words from an impatient Cherise. "Are we doing this?"

I pause. I look her over. This is a sure thing. Even if I don't take it farther than a drink...I need to talk with someone. And Chaz isn't interested. He's too busy handing over money to a blonde. Fine.

"I'm in," I answer. "Let's go."

(Friday night, Planet Hollywood bar)

"I'll take a sex on the beach," Cherise calls out to the bartender, a guy, as she orders me a whiskey sour. "So I know i was little aggressive back there, and I didn't mean to be. I was just having fun."

"At this point, Cherise," I fume, "I don't give a fuck what you do. I'm just so fucking pissed off now."

"I get it," she answers. "This is why I don't like to be tied down. And you're way too young to be tied down. I mean, come on, you're twenty-two? Did you just graduate college?" I confirm it. "Just do me a favor." OK. "Don't be a whiny little bitch around me about this. Your fiancee is a whore. She doesn't deserve you crying over her. What she deserves," she continues, "is you getting some revenge."

"Look," I tell her, firmly, "I know she's cheating on me. But there's no way I'm sleeping with you."

"Who said anything about that?" she laughs as our drinks arrive, prompting her to hand over her credit card - a shiny black American Express card - to open a tab. "I'm just showing you a good time."

"I don't get it," I stammer. "Why me? Who exactly are you that you can just blow all this money in Vegas?"

"Take a guess, Dave," she slyly invites me.

"Ummm...I got nothing." I really have nothing. At least nothing that doesn't turn her into some kind of ghetto stereotype on the run from the law. "Lottery winner?" At least that one speaks more to her age than her race.

"You're funny," she chuckles. "I'm a venture capitalist. I invest in new businesses and make crazy money off them."

"Wow," I marvel. "I always thought of venture capitalists as-"

"Old white guys?" she laughs. "No one thinks that's what I do. But I'm damn good. I cleared nine figures last year." I look at her stunned. "Just out of curiosity, what did you think I did?"

I think about my answer for a second - and blurt it out thoughtlessly anyway. "Drug dealer."

At this point, she loses it - laughing, fortunately. Damn, this woman's cool. And she's paying for me to drink? Why was I wasting my time with a cold bitch like Marilyn when there were women out there like Cherise - probably right under my nose, too.

She calms down from laughing at my "drug dealer" comment and finally turns back serious for a moment. "I love your honesty, Dave," she smirks as she talks. "A lot of guys are afraid of me. I think you could handle me."

Wait, handle her? "What do you mean?" I blurt out.

"We all know where this is going, Dave," she continues. "Let me write down my room number. I'm having a party tonight. Open bar, crazy times. I hope you and your friends are there." She grins as she writes it down - she's across the Strip at the Bellagio.

She kisses me on the cheek and walks away, and I watch her head out, studying her walk. She moves in an easy, casual manner, her long legs supporting her big, round ass. I think about the g-string I saw underneath, licking my lips as I see her saunter away. She flips her long, wavy, black hair as I see her disappear from the bar as I imagine myself undressing her in her suite later tonight and-

I almost have to slap myself back into reality. Cherise may be hot as fuck, but she's just a fantasy. No way is she interested in a guy like me. I'm just some new college graduate who bet $20 on a roulette table opposite her three thousand. I'm nobody. Besides, I'm getting married in a week. I shouldn't be here.

But, on the other hand, Marilyn just fucked her best friend's ex. She's still cheating on me. She probably won't stop, so I guess I just have to work harder at forgiving her. Besides, if I don't, and I end the relationship, that's a lot of pissed-off guests next weekend, and her old man's out twenty grand on wedding expenses. That's fine with me, except I'll be working for him starting the Monday after the wedding. I need this job. The economy is shit, and he's doing me a favor. I guess letting his daughter fuck around is the price I pay for a good job.

I sit and finish my drink as Chaz walks up, looking more pleased than before. "You left too soon, buddy!" he shouts. "The thirteen came two more times. I put fifty bucks out there and hit it twice! I made three grand!" Good for you, I think, as I clutch the napkin. "What do you have in your hand, bro?"

"Nothing," I answer. "Just my napkin. Spilled my drink a bit."

:"You're such a fucking klutz," he taunts as I continue to hold it in my hand while he approaches. Finally, he stops at the seat on the other side and looks closely. "What's written on it?"

"Nothing!" I snap back.

"Bullshit," he teases, taking it out of my hand before I can answer. One look at it and his eyes light up. "Oh, fuck yes, dude! You got her room number! You are doing this!"

"No!" I shout back. "I'm not doing this!"

"After what that bitch did, you're not doing anything to her?" he screams.

"No! I'm not!" I try to continue, but I'm getting nowhere.

"This girl is crazy about you, and you're just blowing her off?" He looks over the napkin - just her name and room number. "I know the Bellagio, and this is a fucking presidential suite."

"I don't care!" At this point, I'm almost hoarse. "I'm not cheating on Marilyn."

"Why?" Because it's wrong, I think. "Because her asshole father hired you?" That, too. "Her father's a middle manager at a damn accounting firm. Cherise has money for luxury suites at the God damn Bellagio!"

"It's not about that!" I shout. "Cherise is a venture capitalist. She'll eat me alive. Besides, she offered me a drink, not a job."

"Like you need a fucking job," he laughs. "Just hook up with Cherise and make her your sugar mama."

"I don't do that," I dismiss him. "Besides, she doesn't like to be tied down."

"Who the fuck said anything about being tied down?" he snaps back. "Just fuck her, spend her money, and live life. Move out here to Vegas or something. That's what I'm doing."

"You live in a fantasy world, Chaz," I scold. "Your parents gave you everything. I worked for what I have. Besides," I continue, "she's inviting me to her suite for a party, not sex. Not that I want-"

"We're going," he interrupts. "I don't want to hear another fucking word. We're going."

"Have fun," I fire back. "I'm going up to the room."

"Whatever, dude," he exasperates. "When you decide to stop being a lame-ass, come join me at the Bellagio."

That will be never. I'll be a lame-ass who's faithful to his future wife. I'll be the good one. Let him fuck up his life. Besides, I don't go to parties.

(Midnight Friday, Bellagio)

"This is the place," Chaz tells us as the four of us arrive at the suite Cherise wrote down. I don't know anything about her - maybe she really is a drug dealer or something - and here I am going to her suite. What in the fuck is going on, and why did I let Chaz talk me into this?

After Chaz knocks, a woman answers and sees me, looking me over. "You must be Dave," she slurs, sipping a cocktail. "And his friends. Get in here! Woooooooooo!"

I look her over - she seems oddly familiar. Blonde, a nice pair of breasts in a low-cut top, cutoff shorts, heels - and Chaz calls out, "Dibs on this one!" pointing to her. I look down her shirt briefly, studying her - holy shit, no wonder she looked familiar. She just paid me a shitload of money on the roulette table. I briefly wonder if her name is really Molly - she confirms it is.

I nervously stay with my group, although Chaz is instantly all over Molly while the rest of us head closer to the window. I grab a drink from what appears to be an open bar and kill time looking out the window at the Strip. Chaz is definitely getting lucky tonight. Good for him; I'll just wait here and wait for a chance to leave.

I wander a little bit, more trying to stay out of people's way than anything, when I bump into a woman, spilling a bit of her drink on her. After apologizing profusely, she looks me over and pauses for a moment. "Did you come here with that crazy white boy?" She'll have to be more specific. "The one with that blonde?" Yes. "You're the one from the roulette table that won all that money with my girl Cherise, right?" Wait, who the-wait. She's the other woman Cherise was there with.

"I thought you looked familiar," I awkwardly tell her.

"Dave, right?" I confirm it. "I'm Monet. Cherise and I are business partners. And she left two spins too early." Yes, I know. "And she's looking for you." She directs me through a door, and without thinking, I head in there, not seeing anything.

I instantly wish I didn't - the door shuts behind me, and there stands Cherise wearing just the g-string I saw under her jeans earlier and a matching blue bra. "Glad you made it," she softly tells me. "Like what you see, Dave?"

"What the hell is going on?" I demand. "Did you just get me up here to-"

"Fuck your brains out?" she interrupts. "Of course not. I'm a lot classier than that. If anything, I'm a lot more interested in your brain. I'm always looking for new entrepreneurs."

"Look, Cherise," I cut her off, "I have a job already. I start in a week."

"A job." She seems dismissive. "Doing whatever some fucker tells you for a paycheck that's too fucking small. You can do so much better. You're a smart guy, Dave."

"You don't know anything about me," I snap.

"Come on, Dave. All that stuff about the odds of the game." And that means what to you exactly? "You know numbers. You're smart. And I could use a guy who's smart for some business ideas I have. I just need the brains. I have the funding to get you started. I can make you rich."

Rich, huh? I suppose you're a great fuck, too. "Not interested," I fire back. I prepare to turn around.

"Dave, hang on." I'm not ready to. I want to get the hell out of here. "If you walk away from me, you're going back to your boring life. Working some boring-ass job while your new wife fucks someone else. Is that what you want?" I pause for a moment. "Well, is it?"

I can only manage one thing: "I love Marilyn."

She chuckles. "And yet you want me."

"You're not my type," I fire back.

"Don't knock it until you try it," she replies. "Now let me work my magic."

"Cherise, I'm sorry, but," I pause, "I'm not into black women."

"I get that a lot," she answers. "You know how many guys I get with who say that?" Umm, no? "And do you know how many guys who say the same thing afterwards?" Really now. "Hell, I hooked up with a guy like you a while back in Vegas. A lot like you - married, worked as a store manager, trying to buy a house and start a family. He came out here with a couple of friends, he saw me, and the next thing he did was fly home, leave his wife, quit his job, and came right back out to Vegas. Now he owns a strip club. He makes millions and I see him with a different woman every time I visit." I'm sure she's fucking with me. "He also fed me the same line of bullshit you just did about not liking black girls. And damn near every girl he dates now is black."

"Look, that's a very interesting story," I dismiss as she approaches me. "Now let me get back to my life."

"Look at me, Dave," as my eyes follow her. It's not hard to look her over; she's gorgeous. "Tell me you don't want to fuck me."

"OK," I reply. "I, um, don't want to, um-"

"Spit it out," she interrupts, "or I'll do this."

Before I can move, she presses her body against me and kisses me. Her big, round breasts press into my chest, her tongue parts my lips, and her hands go straight under my shirt before I can even react.

My God, I think. This is incredible. Marilyn doesn't kiss me like this. I wonder if she kisses anyone else like this. But instead of thinking, I just melt.

I kiss Cherise back. She's a wonderful kisser. She's passionate, sweet, and tastes heavenly. I don't know how to describe it, but I don't want to think about it.

I don't even notice she's removed my shirt, so her bra is now pushed against my bare chest. For a moment, she breaks the kiss and whispers, "How was that?"

"Fuck," I whisper. "You're good."

"Now would you like me to take your pants off?" she asks.

"Yes," I answer, almost on autopilot.

"Good," as she undoes my belt, and my pants drop to my ankles and soon come off completely. I'm in my boxers, which she pulls down quickly as she looks my naked body over. I feel a little jealous that she's still in her bra and g-string, but I get the feeling I'll have her naked soon as well.

"I knew you wanted me," as she takes my manhood in her hand - hard as a rock. Not that it wasn't the minute I saw her stripped down like this - or even bent over at the roulette table. She's sexy as hell and she knows how to use it.

She starts sucking me, fast, passionate, and with purpose, as I look down at her. Her ass is so big, so round, so perfect in that g-string, and it sticks out from her body. Her skin is so dark and so smooth, like dark chocolate. Her breasts...fuck it, I think, as she sucks me, and I bend over and grab the hooks on her bra.

Without waiting, I unhook her bra, and she lets it slide off, baring her magnificent breasts. I get a good look inside the bra, seeing the size tag - she has a beautiful pair of DDDs. I immediately grab them and squeeze them lightly as she continues working me over with her mouth.

"You want more, baby?" she asks me as she pauses.

"Fuck yes," I answer.

"Good," she smiles. "Let's fuck."

"Do you have a condom?" I ask.

"Fuck that," she replies, sliding off her g-string and revealing a neatly trimmed landing strip. "I'm on the pill. I just love hooking up. Now let's go," as she throws me down on the bed and immediately climbs on top of me. "You're a lucky guy," she says, smiling. "You got a sexy woman who wants your cock. And I know you can handle me. How big are you, anyway?" I don't know the answer. "Doesn't matter. You're huge."

She kisses me again as she straddles my eager manhood, riding me as she slips her hot, wet tongue in my mouth. Damn, this woman can do anything she wants to me. I think for a second about how I'm blatantly cheating on Marilyn, but I'm beyond caring.

"Fuck!" she shouts as I'm sure the other guests can hear us, even over the loud music. "Damn, Dave, you're huge." I grab her ass as she rides me, squeezing her round, amazing cheeks as she rides me hard and fast. I love how she doesn't fuck around and gets straight to business - after years of Marilyn's bullshit, it's nice to have a woman cut straight to the chase and give me exactly what I want.

With every bounce of her big, round ass, she pushes me deeper into her, giving me the most intense pleasure of my life. Damn, this woman can fuck. I don't even have to do anything but squeeze her ass, and she's rocking my world.

She kisses my neck, my bare chest, my mouth, all over me as she rides me. Her breasts jiggle right in front of my face as I watch her work her perfect magic. Over her moans, I grab her breasts, squeezing them just like her ass - and just like her ass, they're firm, smooth, and so perfect. Her big, round DDDs are all my hands can handle.

I kiss her deeply, muffling her moans a bit as she bounces on my cock. She's not changing things up much, just riding me hard and fast as I caress and grope her beneath her magnificent body.

Her moans get louder, even through the deep, sustained kiss, and I can tell soon enough she's near climax. I've never been with a woman who loves to fuck as much as Cherise, and she's making it incredible for me, riding me as fast, deep, and hard as she can.