Ticklish Girl
Bloody but unbowed
- Joined
- Jul 3, 2000
- Posts
- 1,161
OOC: The setting is an exclusive business club. My boyfriend Jack Howard is a member, and one night he takes me there as his guest. But what I don’t know is that the club is really a private casino, and that Jack has a serious gambling addiction.
IC: Alison Chambers, 30 years old, 5’6”, 38-24-36, dark brown hair & eyes.
The only other people at the poker table are Aldo the dealer and a tall, dark-haired man in a tuxedo. Aldo greets us and introduces the other man as Mr. Robert Stewart. Jack and Mr. Stewart shake hands, and Jack introduces me as his “good luck charm.” Mr. Stewart is charming, but as we shake hands he openly appraises my body and holds my hand just a couple of seconds longer than necessary. Ordinarily I don’t mind male attention, and tonight I am dressed for maximum effect in my short black cocktail dress, off-black stockings and 3-inch black spiked heels. But Mr. Stewart’s blue eyes bore into me, as if he can see right through my dress. Nervous, I mumble something in reply to his greeting and quickly take my seat.
With the introductions over, the men begin to play. After only an hour, Jack has lost most of his chips and is beginning to fidget in his seat. I feel increasingly anxious as he continues to lose. When I put my hand on his shoulder and gently suggest he’s had enough, he shakes me off without even looking at me. His eyes are glassy and his face is flushed and sweaty. Meanwhile, Mr. Stewart is very calm, as if he does this every day. Frowning, I sneak a glance at him – and see him looking directly at me. He smiles at me, and I blush and look away. The more agitated Jack becomes, the worse he plays, and so it’s not long before he loses the last of his chips. I let out a little moan of dismay. Jack gulps and buries his face in his hands. There is a long, awkward silence, which is finally broken by Mr. Stewart.
“Mr. Howard, I propose we play one more hand.” His voice is deep and cultured, as calm as his expression, with no trace of an accent.
I glare at him. “Can’t you see he’s lost everything? There’s nothing left for him to wager!”
Mr. Stewart gives me a long look, then smiles. “Oh, I think he has one thing of considerable value.” To Jack: “How about it, Mr. Howard? If you win the hand, you get back every penny you lost tonight.”
“And if you win?” Jack’s voice is hoarse, but there is a tiny gleam of hope in his eyes.
“If I win, I get … Miss Chambers.”
“What?” My voice rises in an outraged shriek. “This is crazy!” I turn to Jack. “C’mon, honey, let’s go!”
Jack looks at me, and the greed in his eyes gives me a cold sensation in the pit of my stomach. “Alison, I could win back everything I lost! I’m due, baby, don’t you see?” To Mr. Stewart he says, “Let’s do it.”
Mr. Stewart smiles and nods as if he knew all along that Jack would agree. As Aldo reaches for the cards, I grab his arm. “You can’t allow this! I’m a human being! He can’t wager me like a poker chip!”
Aldo stares calmly back at me. “In this club, ma’am, anything can be wagered.”
I’ve had enough – I start for the door, but he calls: “I can’t let you leave, Miss Chambers. Once a wager has been agreed upon, the hand must be played. Club rules. If you try to leave, I will have you restrained.”
I stare at him for a long moment, quivering all over with humiliation and rage, then decide that I don’t want to know if Aldo will follow through on his threat. I stalk back to the table and glare at Jack. He can’t quite meet my gaze.
“Win or lose, you and I are through,” I say. He blushes and says nothing.
Aldo gives each man five cards. Jack studies his hand for a long moment, then takes one card. Mr. Stewart takes two cards. They don’t go through the whole “see you, raise you” charade, because the stakes are as high as they’re going to get. My heart seems lodged in my throat as Jack turns over his cards to reveal a pair of kings and a pair of deuces. I feel a spasm of hope.
Then Mr. Stewart turns over his cards. Three aces.
“Three of a kind beats two pairs,” says Aldo. “Congratulations, Mr. Stewart.”
IC: Alison Chambers, 30 years old, 5’6”, 38-24-36, dark brown hair & eyes.
The only other people at the poker table are Aldo the dealer and a tall, dark-haired man in a tuxedo. Aldo greets us and introduces the other man as Mr. Robert Stewart. Jack and Mr. Stewart shake hands, and Jack introduces me as his “good luck charm.” Mr. Stewart is charming, but as we shake hands he openly appraises my body and holds my hand just a couple of seconds longer than necessary. Ordinarily I don’t mind male attention, and tonight I am dressed for maximum effect in my short black cocktail dress, off-black stockings and 3-inch black spiked heels. But Mr. Stewart’s blue eyes bore into me, as if he can see right through my dress. Nervous, I mumble something in reply to his greeting and quickly take my seat.
With the introductions over, the men begin to play. After only an hour, Jack has lost most of his chips and is beginning to fidget in his seat. I feel increasingly anxious as he continues to lose. When I put my hand on his shoulder and gently suggest he’s had enough, he shakes me off without even looking at me. His eyes are glassy and his face is flushed and sweaty. Meanwhile, Mr. Stewart is very calm, as if he does this every day. Frowning, I sneak a glance at him – and see him looking directly at me. He smiles at me, and I blush and look away. The more agitated Jack becomes, the worse he plays, and so it’s not long before he loses the last of his chips. I let out a little moan of dismay. Jack gulps and buries his face in his hands. There is a long, awkward silence, which is finally broken by Mr. Stewart.
“Mr. Howard, I propose we play one more hand.” His voice is deep and cultured, as calm as his expression, with no trace of an accent.
I glare at him. “Can’t you see he’s lost everything? There’s nothing left for him to wager!”
Mr. Stewart gives me a long look, then smiles. “Oh, I think he has one thing of considerable value.” To Jack: “How about it, Mr. Howard? If you win the hand, you get back every penny you lost tonight.”
“And if you win?” Jack’s voice is hoarse, but there is a tiny gleam of hope in his eyes.
“If I win, I get … Miss Chambers.”
“What?” My voice rises in an outraged shriek. “This is crazy!” I turn to Jack. “C’mon, honey, let’s go!”
Jack looks at me, and the greed in his eyes gives me a cold sensation in the pit of my stomach. “Alison, I could win back everything I lost! I’m due, baby, don’t you see?” To Mr. Stewart he says, “Let’s do it.”
Mr. Stewart smiles and nods as if he knew all along that Jack would agree. As Aldo reaches for the cards, I grab his arm. “You can’t allow this! I’m a human being! He can’t wager me like a poker chip!”
Aldo stares calmly back at me. “In this club, ma’am, anything can be wagered.”
I’ve had enough – I start for the door, but he calls: “I can’t let you leave, Miss Chambers. Once a wager has been agreed upon, the hand must be played. Club rules. If you try to leave, I will have you restrained.”
I stare at him for a long moment, quivering all over with humiliation and rage, then decide that I don’t want to know if Aldo will follow through on his threat. I stalk back to the table and glare at Jack. He can’t quite meet my gaze.
“Win or lose, you and I are through,” I say. He blushes and says nothing.
Aldo gives each man five cards. Jack studies his hand for a long moment, then takes one card. Mr. Stewart takes two cards. They don’t go through the whole “see you, raise you” charade, because the stakes are as high as they’re going to get. My heart seems lodged in my throat as Jack turns over his cards to reveal a pair of kings and a pair of deuces. I feel a spasm of hope.
Then Mr. Stewart turns over his cards. Three aces.
“Three of a kind beats two pairs,” says Aldo. “Congratulations, Mr. Stewart.”
