Always Bet On Black

The conversation lasts about an hour, and it's just as amazing as any conversation I've ever had. Granted, I've never had a job interview from a woman I just fucked, one who sat and talked to me in just a g-string. I don't know if Cherise is just fucking with me, but I'm enjoying myself.

"I'm impressed with you, Dave," Cherise concludes as she snaps her bra on and I put on my pants. "Tell you what. We're all meeting tonight outside the Bellagio for a limo ride. I want you there at seven." I agree immediately, and she kisses me on the cheek after she finishes getting dressed, smiling. "I'll see you tonight, handsome." She walks out the door, wiggling her ass, and I sigh a bit, realizing I'm in love - and not with my bitch of a fiancee.

I get out my phone and text Chaz: "Outside the Bellagio at seven. Trust me on this one."

(Saturday evening, outside Bellagio)

I send Marilyn a text message, essentially telling her to fuck off, and meet Cherise just outside the door, and damn am I happy to see her. I kiss her on the cheek and look her over - As always, she looks gorgeous, and she lets me peek under her jeans - this time, the g-string is black.

"Our ride's here," she says right off, grabbing my hand and walking me over to the line of cars - then my jaw drops. She's ordered a massive stretch limousine. I was expecting a limo, and I've never been in a limo before - that cheapskate Marilyn wouldn't dream of anything like this, even for the wedding - but Cherise goes all-out. This thing could house my school's entire football team with room to spare.

I slide inside, and everything is beautiful. There's a bottle of champagne on ice, a cooler full of drinks, a couple of pizzas - I look at Cherise, stunned.

"You do know this isn't all for us, right? she chuckles. No, I really don't know - I just think maybe she's the coolest woman on Earth.

A couple of minutes later, the limo fills up - friends of hers as well as Chaz and my other friends. Chaz has Molly on his arm, and Cherise's friend Monet is joined by a woman I think I recognize - upon closer inspection, it's Michelle from the high limit table, dressed in a tank top and cutoffs. She's looking hot as hell, but no one looks hotter than Cherise.

"So where are we going?" I ask.

"We're taking this limo all through downtown," she tells me. "We have a few surprises for you guys. Especially you, Dave.."

The limo takes off, and I see the sun starting to set over the Strip. I see Molly all over Chaz, Monet and Michelle getting cozy with what appears to be each other, and Cherise rides in my lap, sipping a glass of champagne she's sharing with me. I lean back, relax, watch the lights, and enjoy Cherise wiggling in my lap. I couldn't be happier.

We roll into downtown Las Vegas, somewhere between 4 Queens and the Golden Nugget...I'm not really paying attention. Then Cherise leans over to talk to me.

"I know it's loud," she whispers, somewhat loudly, "but I wanted to ask you a few things." Meanwhile, she's in my lap, grinding against me, and my cock is firmly at attention. I'll fuck her right here if she wants me to. "What do you think of coming out here to Vegas and helping me build one of these?"

Wait, did she just ask me a business question when we're one step away from fucking in a limo? "What do you mean?" I ask.

"I need a man to run my next project, Dave," she answers. "You have a great mind for numbers and I know you know your stuff." Meanwhile, her ass is firmly planted against my cock, slowly grinding. She sips a bit of champagne as she looks into my eyes.

We return to the north end of the Strip, a little past the Stratosphere, in what appears to be an empty lot. "See that lot there, Dave?" I look out at it - it doesn't look like much but it's big. "I own that. Well, Monet and I do, along with a couple of other people. We're building a casino here. I've looked everywhere for people to help me run it." Wait, is she offering me a job? "If you accept, you'll be my director of finance. And trust me, I pay a hell of a lot better than your fiancee's old man."

I look at the lot as the limo is stopped, my head almost pressed against the glass. I sit there, thinking how this could all be mine. Is she bullshitting me? She owns this?

"You don't have to decide now. I have an offer letter ready to send you this week. In fact, when is your wedding?" This Saturday, late morning. "I'll have a car come pick you up from your wedding and get you out here to fill everything out next Saturday."

I genuinely don't know what to say. I'm not sure if this is for real, but I do know I'm having a lot of second thoughts about marrying Marilyn. And I know that, if there's no wedding, there's no job. And I have nothing else. I might as well go for this if I don't get married.

Before I know it, we're pulled up to just outside the Aria, and people start piling out. Chaz has Molly on his arm while Monet and Michelle pair up with two guys. I get up to head out, figuring dinner and trying to find a place here to bend Cherise over and fuck her - and then she grabs my hand.

"You're staying," Cherise commands. Everyone else piles out, and I smile and sit next to her in a wide-open limo, one with empty pizza boxes and beer bottles from everyone else. And I didn't even get a taste.

"You ever fuck a girl in the back of a limo?" she asks - needless to say, I'm naked in record time and so is she, our tongues almost never departing each other's mouths. Her matching black bra and g-string are halfway across the limo, and I have her bent over the back seat, ready to take her.

I penetrate her fast and deep, fucking her balls-deep and grabbing her DDDs, pulling her close to me. I kiss the back of her neck, wrapping my neck to the front of hers, her sensuous moans right in my ear. I'm not taking it easy on her at all, and I know she doesn't want me to.

She grands her big ass back into me as I fuck her tight pussy, her screams increasing in volume. I've never felt as close to anyone as I do to her right now.

Soon her mouth meets mine in a deep, sustained, passionate kiss, our tongues together as I fuck her hard and deep. My tongue muffles her moans a bit but I can't stop her. I squeeze her breasts, her back pressed against my chest, as I ride her over the seat. I squeeze as right as I can and kiss her deeper and faster, my cock riding her as fast and deep as I can go.

"Fuck yes, Dave," she cries out, "give it to me. Give it to me good, baby," she demands. I feel her tightening around me like the pro she is, her ass pressed against me as I pound her tight snatch with abandon. I feel total power over her, her voluptuous DDDs in the palms of my hands. She's mine.

I bite her neck, eliciting a scream from her and a quick smile - at that point, I know I can get as rough as I want. I throw her body over the seat and slap her round ass and call out, "Shake it for me, bitch," and she does as I command while I vigorously spank her round, gorgeous ass.

"I can get rough too, Dave," she whispers as I turn her over on her back - she grabs me, pulls me close, and we fall onto the floor, my cock never leaving her incredibly tight pussy for a second, and again I'm on my back, the way she likes it. She pins me down and rides me, straddling my body as I look up at her gorgeous, bouncing body towering over me.

I pull her down to me by her hips and spank her ass again; she responds by slapping me right across the face. I look up at her and grin, pulling her down and planting a hickie right on her neck. She does the same, sucking on my neck and giving me one, too.

"Now give it to me, Dave," Cherise commands, shouting. "Fucking cum for me!" She pins me back down as I grab her ass, ready to cum once again at her command, giving her exactly what she wants.

At the same time, she bounces on my cock, ready for an orgasm of her own, her DDDs pressed against me while her ass shakes for me. I fill her snatch up with everything I have while she shouts uncontrollably right in my face, muffling the screams a bit by diving her tongue in my mouth.

Exhausted, I melt into the kiss, lying on the floor with Cherise on top of me, more satisfied than I've ever been in my life. I look in her eyes and smile, not wanting to move or have this moment ever end; she gives me a look that tells me she's thinking the same thing.

After a few minutes, though, we do get dressed, still giggling and talking about the experience in the back of the limo, which makes a stop. I look out at my surroundings, not having paid attention at all to where we were going - we're at the airport. What the hell's going on here?

"Dave, this weekend has been the best of my life," Cherise tells me. "I wish it didn't have to end. But I have to catch a red-eye to Miami tonight; I'm buying a strip club." On Sunday morning? "I have to do it when no one's there, and the only time the owner and my attorney can make it is tomorrow morning. That's life when you're a businesswoman, you know." She smiles at me. "But so is all this."

She kisses me on the lips and climbs out of the limo, and when I try to follow her, she stops me. "I arranged it to take you back to Planet Hollywood. But we'll be in touch about that casino job." She hands me her business card, smiles, and kisses me again before an attendant takes her luggage.

I ask the driver to wait a minute before we leave, slipping him a $10 bill to wait as a tip - he gladly takes it, likely understanding I just want to watch Cherise walk away. She blows me a kiss on the way out, the only time I take my eyes off her amazing ass.

(Saturday night, Planet Hollywood casino floor)

I put out another $25 green chip on the blackjack table, looking somewhat bored as Chaz bets a black $100 chip two seats over. This shoe is killing me, but thankfully I cut back to quarters instead of betting big like I have been all day. I'm already up nearly twenty grand for this trip, which is mind-blowing considering I've only spend $40 of my own money.

"Fourteen," the dealer, an older man named Ron, tells me - I look at his card, a seven, and tap the table for a hit, my chin not leaving my other hand. He plops down a four for a total of eighteen, which I waive off along with Chaz's identical total.

Ron turns up his hole card, a six, and I think to myself that I have this - until he draws an eight for a total of twenty-one and takes my bet. I mindlessly stick another green $25 chip out there to bet again as Chaz bets another chip.

"It's that girl, dude," chimes in Chaz. "I know. Never let her break your heart."

"It's not that," I fire back. "I just-"

"Dude, you can't get married next week." Well, what the hell else am I going to do? "Cherise is amazing. Look at you. You came here acting like a complete asshole, then you met her, she rocked your world, she helped you win money, and more importantly, she made you happy." He tapes the table to his his total of thirteen, gets a face card, and busts, losing his $100. "Did Marilyn make you this happy?"

"Cherise is a fantasy," I counter. "She's a mirage. She's not even real." I hit my eight, getting sixteen, which I waive off against the dealer's four. "I have to be realistic here. And that's why I have to get married and work for her old man." Ron turns up a six and then a jack, taking my money.

A waitress comes by and offers drinks, and I order a beer, and as I do, my phone rings, I step away from the table and answer it - it's Marilyn. I brace for the worst.

"Hey!" she responds enthusiastically. "I'm so glad you answered. I was afraid you ran off and decided you didn't want to get married after I yelled at you earlier." I try to diffuse the situation and change the subject - fortunately I looked up the score to the baseball game I was supposed to be at, so I could talk about it without making it clear I'm in Vegas. "I wanted to tell you...I'm really sorry about that. I'm actually embarrassed. I know I've been hard on you, and you don't deserve it." No shit. "I promise I'll be better until we get married, and after that, I'll be the best wife I can be. No more incidents like with my tutor." I bite my tongue about her friend's ex - no point in letting her know I know until the time is right.

I end the call quickly as the crowd gets louder, something I chalk up to postgame traffic - she buys it. I sit back down to my beer and the blackjack game - at least I manage to win the next two hands. But I find myself with a wandering mind, going back and forth between my life with Marilyn and this fantastic experience with Cherise. I don't know what to do. I know I can't talk to Cherise about it; she's on her way to Miami. And I sure as hell can't talk to Marilyn about it.

So I color up and head back up, and Chaz stops me. "Listen," he starts, actually being genuine. "This weekend is more than just a fantasy. Don't throw it away because you're comfortable. Think about it." He walks away from the table, leading me. "If you bet on what you know, you get a shitty job, an asshole boss who can control you 24/7 through his cheating daughter, and nothing more than a great weekend and a reminder of what could have been." He stops at a roulette table, taking a stack of chips and setting it down - on black. "Or you can go with Cherise. She's sexy, she's fun, she's got money, and she can make you rich as hell and crazy happy. And if she doesn't? At least you lived."

The ball drops in the wheel - the dealer calls it. "Twenty-six black!" he calls out, paying Chaz.

"I guess what I'm trying to tell you is," he tells me, grabbing his newly fattened stack of chips, "always bet on black."

It's a lot to think about, yes. It was a great weekend. But Cherise just up and left after another great fuck. And since when do I take advice from Chaz? I don't know. I guess I just have to do what I have to do.

And I'm realizing that means I'll be at the church next Saturday, ready to get married.

(The next Saturday, Columbus, church)

It's been a mind-wracking week. I've had a lot to think about. I've thought to myself about working things out with Marilyn - she doesn't know I know she cheated again and she certainly doesn't know about Cherise; as far as I'm concerned, we're even in that regard - and I've decided it's best that I'm here.

And as I stand at the front of the church, my parents' eyes locked on me, Chaz as my best man, I know I'm making the right decision. Chaz has been very supportive, even happy for me. I guess he's figured out I have something he doesn't think he ever can. I hope, for his sake, he gets it, though.

Marilyn and I have had a few fights this week, but I held my own, and she backed down all but one time. So yes, I think we can make this work.

I watch her maid of honor walk down the aisle with a bouquet, knowing she and her father will be next. I see the smile on her face, her poor, oblivious face, obviously clueless about what Marilyn did. But I guess a good husband would keep her secret. After all, if I'm the one she hurt the worst...well, enough on that subject. The music is about to change and I'm about to get married.

She really does look beautiful. Her gown is a shimmering white, her hair is well-manicured, and she appears to have thought of everything. For once, she's smiling. She's so graceful, so at ease. I wish I could say the same for her father, who looks constipated.

The preacher, the one she grew up with, starts into his "Dearly beloved, yada yada" spiel. I hear him but I'm tuning him out, mainly because we went over it already but partially because these shoes are uncomfortable. I hope I'm not letting that on too much.

"If anyone has reason why these two should not be wed," the preacher continues, "speak now or forever hold your peace." It's nothing more than a formality, in case some schmuck decides to make a spectacle or someone knows something the rest of us don't.

It's also my cue.

I raise my hand - instantly every head in the sanctuary turns. I'm calling bullshit on my own wedding.

The preacher turns to me, and I take the microphone off his robe to speak. "Underneath every seat here, there is an envelope. I'd like everyone to take it out."

A few people follow my cue, including a couple of my cousins. "Go on, folks; take a look. Open if up. Everyone needs to see this." Marilyn's gone from happy to disgusted within a matter of seconds. Her father? Pure rage.

Inside the envelopes? Those pictures on Chaz's phone of her going into the motel room with the maid of honor's ex - and just so there's no ambiguity, there's a few pictures of them in the motel room bed together.

"What is going on here?" shouts Marilyn's father. "What did you do, ruining my daughter's wedding with this...spectacle!"

"Why don't you see for yourself?" I ask him, mockingly, at which point my parents walk over to him with a stern look and shove the pictures in his face. He takes a look at them - after shuffling through them, he immediately throws them on the floor and storms up to the altar, where I see Marilyn about ready to explode and the poor preacher looking for an exit.

"What business do you have taking these pictures?" he demands, getting right up in my face.

"Ask her," I snap. "I'm not the one who raised a whore."

At this point, he lunges for me in a fit of rage - thinking quickly, I swing my leg, landing my foot right in his crotch and giving him a perfect nut-shot. He goes down like a ton of bricks.

I lean down to him, grinning. "About that job," I taunt, "shove it up your ass. I don't want it. Find another flunkie."

Marilyn throws back her veil as I rise back up, looking up at me with a fiery look. "Stop ruining my day!" she demands. "Now stand up here and marry me!"

"I don't think so," I chuckle back. "Not after what you did. With her ex." Her poor, oblivious maid of honor. "I should explain," I continue, turning away from Marilyn and to the maid of honor, who's the other victim. "Those pictures are of Marilyn having sex with your dumbass ex-boyfriend. The time stamp on most of them is from about two weeks ago. But there's a few in there from Thursday. I hired a private detective to follow you. I guess you thought I wouldn't find out."

Marilyn's face is beet-red at this point. I think she's ready to attack me. "You're lying!" she shouts, apparently thinking of nothing else to shout. "How can you afford a private detective! Did that stupid friend of yours do this?"

"No," I laugh back. "I did. With my winnings."

"What winnings?" Oh, right. "You gambled in Cleveland? You know I hate that!"

"In Cleveland?" At this point, I'm holding back laughter. "Fuck no." This draws even more ire - she hates cursing. "I won a bunch of money in Vegas last weekend. You didn't really think I went to Cleveland, did you?"

"That's it!" she screams, almost shrill. "Stand up here and marry me. Then apologize to my father and get your job back. And then you're moving in with me and you're on my watch! You don't do anything unless I say you do! No more going out! No more gambling! And no more Chaz! Or I'll make sure no one ever hires you!"

"That's rich, Marilyn," I tease. "I don't need anyone to hire me. Because someone did while I was out there. In fact," I continue, "I have to go. I'm on my way out there now."

I turn and walk back down the aisle, leaving her and her father in the dust. I see her try to follow me - her heels slow her down, so she never catches me until we get outside.

She blocks my path. "You will not walk out on me!" I ignore her and try to sidestep her - again, she blocks me in. "I own you! Now get in there!" Her father catches up to us again, so I'm totally blocked in.

At this point, a black car pulls up and the window rolls down, and out steps a man in a suit.

"Dave?" he calls out - I raise my hand. "I'm your ride."