Always Bet On Black Ch. 02

I look at my last card, somewhat nervously. I almost can't look - I don't recognize it right away, and rightfully so - it's the joker. Michael tells me that the joker can be used to fill in a straight, a flush, or a straight flush - in this case, I just hit the damn royal.

I set my hand - the royal in one hand and the tens in another. Eat my dust, players, I think as the dealer turns up his cards - he's got shit. I go next - the whole table oohs and aahs at my royal with a pair. I get paid for the hand as well as a fat stack on the side bet - I count $3,750 from the Fortune alone.

Naturally, I win big from the other players - one of them has jacks in the small hand and pushes with me, but I make about $1,600 from the other players. It takes me a second to figure out I'm sitting on almost six grand in winnings, so I wisely color up, taking a dozen purple chips and several smaller chips with me. Now it's off to the craps table - and my girl.

Cherise doesn't see me coming and probably has no idea I've been here. She has no idea Marilyn called - a big win washed the taste of that call out of my mouth, so now I'm ready for fun.

And I decide to have a little fun - as I walk up behind the oblivious Cherise and grab her ass. She squeals, turning around with ninja-like reflexes and a furious look on her face - until she sees it's me. "You son of a bitch, what the fuck was that?" she calls out, almost prompting the supervisor to call security - and then she laughs, drawing a confused look.

"It's OK, everyone," she calls out. "This handsome guy can touch my ass any time he wants." I kiss her on her luscious lips and squeeze into the spot next to her; she's standing at the far end of the table, and I slide in at the spot in the hook next to her.

"How's the table?" I ask as someone throws the dice - and I soon get my answer.

"Seven out, line away, pay the don'ts," calls out the stickman, a tall white guy with thinning hair.

"Damn," calls out Cherise, who loses over $500 on the roll. "It's been rough. I'm down over two grand."

The stickman points to Cherise's direction and asks her if she wants to shoot - she does. I put a black chip on the pass line and Cherise does the same - she tosses out a green chip. "Horn high yo," she calls, betting on a combo bet of two, three, 11, and 12, with extra money on the 11, or "yo."

She tosses the dice - seven. The stickman calls a winner, pays me and Cherise, and then Cherise takes back her horn high yo bet. Again, another throw of the dice - this time an eleven, to raucous cheers of those who also make money on the roll.

Cherise takes down her bet, making a quick $130, which she puts in the field. Quickly, she throws the dice again - ten, paying her field bet and requiring her to throw another ten before the seven appears.

I have $100 on the line and throw down $300 behind it for "odds," standing to make a total of $700 off the roll. Cherise calls out, "Six and eight," throwing in $600 total. We both toss out money for a "hard ten" - a bet that the dice will appear as two fives before a six-four or a seven out. I throw in $500 on the bet - and the dealers for $50.

Cherise hits a couple of numbers quickly before she throws one that hits off a player's tall stack - on the Don't Pass, betting that Cherise will throw a loser - and the die that hits the chips turns from a two to a five. Matching the other die for a hard ten - and a winner. Damn I'm good.

"Let it ride," I call out, stacking $4,000 on the hard ten, which I split between the other three hardway bets for $1,000 apiece. Cherise throws a nine, and I put $400 behind it.

Feeling frisky, I reach in her back pocket, squeezing her ass as she throws the dice. She tosses them a bit errantly, but it seems to work - two fours, or a hard eight. Fuck yes.

"Ten thousand and down," I call, pocketing ten $1,000 orange chips. I grab Cherise's ass again for the next roll - a nine, for another winner.

Cherise manages four more points before she sevens out - leaving over $5,000 on the table between us, but it doesn't matter because we both walk away with a lot more.

I kiss her gorgeous lips and ask her what her plans are - naturally, they include a nice steakhouse and meeting Monet and Michelle. We arrive at the steakhouse after cashing out, carrying insane amounts of cash with us, and Cherise gets us the most amazing private table.

"So, lovebirds," chimes in Monet on the way, "how did you do?" I talk about my Pai Gow experience - Michelle calls me a lucky bastard.

We order a bottle of the most ridiculously overpriced wine as well as a ridiculously delicious-sounding appetizer. "It's on you, you stud," Michelle tells me. "Just like I'd like to be." I give her a hard look - aiming for "dream on" but probably appearing closer to "try harder."

"So Dave," Cherise starts, "have you given any thought to anyone you want to add to your department?" I have at least one person in mind - a man I owe a favor to. "Things are about to start getting crazy around here. We open in less than a year, and I am not delaying this opening. So I hope that whatever people you have in mind are up for it."

"Relax, Cherise; I know right where to begin." Hopefully this calms her down a bit; I need that fire for later. "I have a guy who knows people better than anyone. Besides, I owe him anyway."

"You better not be talking about that playboy buddy of yours," she fires back - well, this just got ugly.

"Look, Chaz is a genius," I shoot back. "He'll bring in the best people; I promise."

"He'll turn the office into a fucking party house, Dave," she exasperates, "and we both know it."

"I promise they'll be hard workers while they're on the clock." I know I am. "I don't give a damn what they do afterwards. If they want to hang out at some club, so be it. The job will get done. Besides, it's not as if we're all business 24/7 either."

"I'm all about business," she counters.

"Yeah, after you're done on the craps table and the steakhouse," I snap back. "And taking me back to your place and getting-"

"Dave!" she scolds.

"What?" I answer, chuckling. "Both our guests know we're fucking."

"And both of us wish we were fucking you," Monet interjects. "And by 'you,' I mean both of you."

"Not happening, Monet," I reply, shutting her down.

"Will you live a little?" she answers - I put up my hand and shut her down again.

I wrap things up with Monet and Michelle, who seem to be oddly close lately, and I grab Cherise's hand on the way out.

(North Las Vegas Strip, construction site, Wednesday evening)

It's almost seven o'clock, quitting time. I've started coming in earlier to get more stuff done, since it's getting a little overwhelming and Cherise still insists on stopping the work at seven. I don't blame her, nor do I disagree with her rule; we usually spend the next hour in the break trailer before I head back to my apartment.

Fortunately, my problems are over soon - at least temporarily. I arranged for Chaz to come out to Vegas for an interview on Friday, and I have a few other people who look like good candidates interviewing next week. Who knew getting a good team together would be so much work?

So I check my email one last time before the clock strikes seven, and it's nothing special - a couple of invoices, interview confirmations, and then - damnit. How did my mother get my work email address? Maybe it's on the website or something.

I inhale, thinking about how much I dread talking to her - Dad's fine, since he gets why I left for Vegas and don't want to be with Marilyn anymore, but Mom, not so much. She still can't stand that I humiliated Marilyn and her father at the wedding and immediately took off for Vegas, never mind that they both deserved it.

So I click on the message, expecting the worst - and pretty much getting it. The key point: "I have enclosed an electronic one-way ticket back to Columbus for tomorrow morning. I expect you on the flight. I've had enough of you and your little temper tantrum and running away to avoid all your problems. You have to make this right with Marilyn. You know you love each other, and I expect you to come home, give her the wedding of her dreams, and start making me a grandma immediately.

You arrive home Thursday, you have an interview Friday, and the wedding is Saturday. It's not an accounting job - I guess you should have thought of that before you assaulted Marilyn's father. Maybe you can get to work paying off his medical bills and apologizing for your childish outburst when you get home, and if you're lucky, he'll hire you back. In the meantime, the job is in west Columbus taking tech support calls. I'll see you tomorrow."

I know the place she means - I spent a summer working there at Marilyn's suggestion. A week after I proposed to Marilyn, I started work there. A week out of training, I found or she wax cheating on me the first time. But like a dope, I stuck it out, and we stayed together - I think they call it the sunk cost fallacy. I already spent all my savings on the ring, and she told me she was keeping it if I broke up with her, so I stayed. Over a piece of jewelry. She can have the damn ring at this point - not doing that again.

I put my head in my hands for a few minutes - and then, in walks Cherise. I take a look up at her, dressed in a sharp-looking black top, ass-hugging jeans, and a flashy bracelet on each wrist to go with her diamond earrings, and I grin a little.

"Everything OK, baby?" she asks - I show her the email. "You're not actually thinking about doing this, are you?"

"Fuck no," I fire back. "I'm happier here than I've ever been. It's just that she makes my blood boil. She can't live with my choices."

"I know what you mean," she soothes. "An ex of mine had a bitch of a mother, too. The bitch won, though, and we broke up."

"Don't worry about that. She won't win." I show her the ticket attachment. "I just feel bad for Dad that she spends his hard-earned money on bullshit like this. He's the coolest guy ever, except for maybe Chaz, and she just does this shit. And then she defends my ex. That bitch deserved what she got, and I have to hear how wrong she is-"

"Did you ever think your mom defends your bitch ex because she's a cheating bitch herself?" Not really, but I guess it fits. "I value loyalty. I've never cheated on a guy, never stabbed a business partner in the back, and when someone does it to me, they're dead to me. You can think about it, plan it, consider it, whatever, just pull yourself back from the ledge and don't fucking do it." Now I have the image of Mom cheating on Dad, and even though I have no proof, it still pisses me off. "You look really stressed, Dave. You need to relax."

Just like that, she swipes her arm across my desk, knocking everything on the floor. Without skipping a beat, she climbs over, arching her back, leans down, and kisses me. Damn, we're doing this here?

I'm wearing slacks, so it doesn't take much to betray that she very much has my attention. She reaches down and grabs my cock through my slacks - and of course I'm already hard. "Am I good or what?" she asks as she climbs in my lap, riding my erect cock through her jeans as she slides her tongue along mine.

Pinned back in my chair, her breasts almost near my throat, I hold on for dear life. At this point, the only things on my mind are the gorgeous woman in my lap - and not falling over.

She solves that second problem by climbing on the desk - and taking me with her. She unbuttons my shirt, leaving me bare-chested as quickly as I fling her top off. The bra is a delicious shade of purple - and doesn't last long.

She pins me down on her desk, flat on my back, and takes my pants off before I can even react. I don't even have to do anything - she's naked quickly as well, tossing her matching g-string into the chair beside us.

She straddles my waiting cock without missing a beat - she's as wet as I am hard, so as usual, I go into her tight snatch easily. I hear her moan softly as I penetrate her and feel her pin me down, loving the restraint she's putting on me. Damn, she can do anything she wants - and I know she will.

Cherise doesn't mess around either - working my cock as quickly and deeply as possible and pinning my shoulders down. She slides her tongue in my mouth as she rides me, too, muffling both our moans. I can't so much as move at this point, but she's doing all the work and I don't need to. Fuck, this woman's a goddess - not that I can think at this point.

She slides her tongue out and pins me down with just one arm as she rides me, looking me deep in the eyes as she fucks me hard and fast. "This time you're my bitch," she commands, and I agree without a thought. "And I like it fast and rough."

She reaches behind me, pulling my legs in the air and exposing the bottom of my ass. Without even a command to do so, I leave my legs up, knowing what she wants - and she gives it to me.

The first slap across my ass stings hard. The second sends a rush of adrenaline through my body, the likes of which I've never experienced. And she doesn't let up - every slap across my ass makes it more intense. The constant sensation of pain and pleasure at once - now I know what she got to feel when I spanked her hot, voluptuous ass.

"Make me cum," I stammer as I feel myself on the edge of another orgasm at the hands of my lover and sex goddess. At this point, Cherise isn't letting up - the spanking has stopped but now she's back to pinning me down and riding my cock as hard as she can.

"Oh damn!" she shouts. "I'm cumming, you bitch!" I'm ready to do the same, and I'm totally at her mercy. "FUCK! Don't stop, bitch! Fuck my black pussy hard!" I can't stop her even if I try and I wouldn't dream of it. I love being Cherise's bitch. "You like being my white boy bitch?" I moan a soft yes. "Tell me you like it, bitch!"

"I'm your bitch!" I shout as I fill her pussy. "I'm your fucking white boy bitch! I'm all yours, baby. I love your tight black pussy and your big black ass. I love them. I'm all yours, baby."

"That's right, bitch," she shouts as she calms down a bit. "You're all mine." She kisses my waiting mouth and falls exhausted on my body. I feel like I'm all hers, like we're one in that moment. I couldn't be happier.

A few minutes pass, and she starts getting dressed again as I clean myself off. "You feel better now, honey?" I've totally forgotten why I was ever upset at that point. "Hey, I know things got a little crazy, and you know I don't think like that-"

"Are you kidding?" I ask. "I loved it. It made it hotter. You know that." She opens her mouth to speak. "When you're fucking me, you can say anything you want to me. And I'll do the same." Well, almost.

"You're sure as hell not the spaz I met," she replies. "You're a pretty cool guy now."

"You were always cool," I say as I kiss her - she's still half-naked, her bra and g-string on but nothing else. I'm almost fully dressed, enjoying this advantage over her and knowing she doesn't mind a bit.

"I do have one thing I need to do before we head out," I tell her - she knows I need to reply to my bitch of a mother. "Why don't you just log in from my computer and I'll rub your back while you type?" Well damn, no way I'm saying no to this - I take my spot in her chair, a nice leather office chair, as she stands behind me with her talented hands on my shoulders. She's still half-naked, too, in just her bra and g-string as she works out the building tension in my shoulders and neck.

So as Cherise works her magic, I type. "Dear Mom, You need to understand that you're my mother and I love you. However, I need my space. It isn't just the marriage I'm escaping by heading out here. It's you.

"I have no desire to return home. I will not marry Marilyn and may never marry anyone. I'm sorry to waste a perfectly good airline ticket, but I'm more sorry that you spent money I know Dad worked hard for in order to pay for it." Cherise seems a little taken aback by that comment - by no means do I want to disparage the work my mother put in helping to raise me, but let's be honest, Dad did most of the parenting despite being the only one working - so clearly, my mom is nothing like Cherise's beloved mom

"So please stop trying to pressure me to come home and try coming out here to visit me. You'll love Las Vegas, and you and Dad need a vacation. I'll even pay for the hotel and a car if you want. And in hopes you'll visit, I've cc'd Dad on this email so you both know I want to see you. Love, Dave." I hit send and turn back around to the lovely Cherise.

"I hope your dad's more supportive than she is," the first words off her lips - he is. "I don't know where I'd be if my dad hadn't been good to me." Cherise doesn't talk much about herself other than for business or sex, so I'm all ears. "He's the reason I became a venture capitalist.

"I grew up helping him in his auto shops. I loved going there - he had a lot of classic cars in his shop, and I loved hearing all the business going on behind closed doors. People thought he was really important - and he was. By the time I was 16, he owned six shops and he got me a vintage Ford Mustang for my birthday.

"But I couldn't keep it," she continues, with her eyes starting to tear up. "A week after I got the car, I just got out of it to go visit Dad, and he had a heart attack - right in front of me. I took him to the hospital in my Mustang, but he didn't make it. He died in my passenger seat. The last thing he said to me was that he was proud of me." By this time, she's wiping her tears on my shirt sleeve. I'm trying my best to hold it together. Needless to say, she sold the Mustang - for a substantial profit, of course; this is Cherise we're talking about.

"Mom didn't want anything to do with running Dad's shops, so she let me do it. That was my after-school job. Most kids work the drive-thru or sell pants at the Gap. I was in charge of a chain of auto shops. And you know what? I was damn good at it. People even thought I'd be better than Dad. But other people...you know, they looked at me like I didn't belong.

"I had people ask me if they thought Dad wished he had a son instead. Then I get the comments for being black when I started buying other shops. I mean, these people didn't know what it was like to be a young black woman in this world."

I sit stunned. "Well," I stammer, "I do know what it's like to be young in this world." She knows about the restaurant - she says I'll make a "smart investor." She's also put herself back together a little bit and retouched her makeup - she never wants to not look good. Hell, to me she's still gorgeous even without makeup.

"By the way," I ask, "Chaz is calling in pizza and we're having a poker night. You in?" She smiles devilishly and licks her lips.

"I'll see your poker night," she interjects, "and raise you something more fun. You're dressed," she grins, "but I'm not." she gets out her phone and starts texting - turns out the recipients are Monet, Michelle, and a woman I'm not familiar with. I don't see the contents of the message. It doesn't matter - she's got something incredible in mind.

(North Las Vegas Strip, 4:30 pm, Friday, ten months later)

Well, this is it - all the hard work is about to pay off. All the purchase forms have turned into slot machines, blackjack tables, a hell of a high limit room, and the coolest sports bar I've ever seen. It's not open yet - that comes Monday at noon. But the final walkthrough is complete, the fees are paid, the lights are hooked up, and we have the hotel booked out for the next two months with most of it booked beyond. And this is our last thing to do before we open - a big all-staff meeting. Dealers, bartenders, cleaning staff, and even front-line supervisors - all listening to people like me.