head back in the game Carmen.
An elderly Japanese man to my left keeps tapping the table. He really should stay, but I’m not telling him that. Yup twenty four, saw that one coming.
“ Cara mia .”
This was crooned in an Italian accent from a few feet away. Hell, he’d started calling me that after the first time I was a dealer for him. He always said it in a rolling, accented growl. It literally had my panties soaking every time. No joke.
“Mr. Savoy, welcome back to The Platinum,” I responded, sucking up every bit of professionalism I had so he wouldn’t suspect the damp panty situation happening.
“Tsk, tsk, how many times do I have to tell you, my dove, call me Marco,” he said with a wry smile and a waggle of his long perfectly manicured finger.
I offered a smile back and a polite head dip. I’d never called him a Marco, not only was it against hotel policy, but I was one hundred percent sure If I ever uttered his name it would come out so dripping with longing I’d scare the man away. Not just from the hotel, but probably from the whole state of Nevada.
He was my dream man, every night I dug into my bedside goodie drawer for my boyfriend. My battery operated boyfriend that is. I’d imagine him stripping the table of cards and chips, flinging me down on it and ravishing my body.
Admittedly, I might be reading too many books. But this was my fantasy and I wouldn’t apologize.
“Ante up,” I called, setting up for the next hand.
Chapter 2
“When are you going to run away and live with me, cara mia ?”
“When, I don’t have student loans to pay off and rent due, Mr. Savoy,” I replied with a laugh. He usually asked me this question in some form each time I saw him. It was harmless flirtation; I didn’t take it any more seriously than that.
“Ah, my sweet, I’ve told you, I would take care of you. Show you the world, lavish you in jewels and feed you sweets in a bath full of champagne,” he said his eyes scanning my body. Up and down, then zeroing in on my generous hips and ass.
“Mr. Savoy, you’d need a large tub and a lot of champagne to make that happen,” I said trying to joke off the image of me naked along with him naked in a tub.
“I have both, my beauty,” he crooned, his eyes burrowing into mine.
I was staring back. Something was different. This wasn’t the normal cute banter we normally engaged in. He seemed intense, serious and there was a sexual tension radiating off him. I wanted to fan myself as I stood there, but people were watching.
I dragged my eyes from his and scanned the table. Flipping cards for those who tapped. Of course Mr. Savoy nodded at me even though he was sitting on sixteen. I tossed his next card, twenty-one.
I called it and he didn’t even flinch, he hadn’t looked away from me. He was studying me, it felt like he was gauging my every move. I was starting to get a nervous feeling. Not scared, but definitely off kilter.
Hmm, this was new.
I tried keeping my mind on the game. Dealing high rollers was a coveted job. The chance of having to deal with drunk partiers was seriously limited and the tips couldn’t be beat. Mr. Savoy always tossed me a thousand dollar chip when he was finished playing. This had gone a long way in helping me keep myself with a roof over my head and Pop-Tarts in the cupboard.
I should have used it for a gym membership, but the Pop-Tarts won out every time.
Continuing to deal, most of the players tapped out and had left. It was Mr. Savoy and an older gentleman at the end of the table that hadn’t uttered a word since he sat. I figured he didn’t speak English. Gambling was the universal language in Vegas.
I could see the wheels turning behind those beautiful eyes burning into me. I was building up my defenses against the charm assault I knew was coming. Gawd, why did he have to be so handsome? And rich? And sweet?
“One of these days you will give me what I want, cara mia ,” he said low and quiet breaking
An elderly Japanese man to my left keeps tapping the table. He really should stay, but I’m not telling him that. Yup twenty four, saw that one coming.
“ Cara mia .”
This was crooned in an Italian accent from a few feet away. Hell, he’d started calling me that after the first time I was a dealer for him. He always said it in a rolling, accented growl. It literally had my panties soaking every time. No joke.
“Mr. Savoy, welcome back to The Platinum,” I responded, sucking up every bit of professionalism I had so he wouldn’t suspect the damp panty situation happening.
“Tsk, tsk, how many times do I have to tell you, my dove, call me Marco,” he said with a wry smile and a waggle of his long perfectly manicured finger.
I offered a smile back and a polite head dip. I’d never called him a Marco, not only was it against hotel policy, but I was one hundred percent sure If I ever uttered his name it would come out so dripping with longing I’d scare the man away. Not just from the hotel, but probably from the whole state of Nevada.
He was my dream man, every night I dug into my bedside goodie drawer for my boyfriend. My battery operated boyfriend that is. I’d imagine him stripping the table of cards and chips, flinging me down on it and ravishing my body.
Admittedly, I might be reading too many books. But this was my fantasy and I wouldn’t apologize.
“Ante up,” I called, setting up for the next hand.
Chapter 2
“When are you going to run away and live with me, cara mia ?”
“When, I don’t have student loans to pay off and rent due, Mr. Savoy,” I replied with a laugh. He usually asked me this question in some form each time I saw him. It was harmless flirtation; I didn’t take it any more seriously than that.
“Ah, my sweet, I’ve told you, I would take care of you. Show you the world, lavish you in jewels and feed you sweets in a bath full of champagne,” he said his eyes scanning my body. Up and down, then zeroing in on my generous hips and ass.
“Mr. Savoy, you’d need a large tub and a lot of champagne to make that happen,” I said trying to joke off the image of me naked along with him naked in a tub.
“I have both, my beauty,” he crooned, his eyes burrowing into mine.
I was staring back. Something was different. This wasn’t the normal cute banter we normally engaged in. He seemed intense, serious and there was a sexual tension radiating off him. I wanted to fan myself as I stood there, but people were watching.
I dragged my eyes from his and scanned the table. Flipping cards for those who tapped. Of course Mr. Savoy nodded at me even though he was sitting on sixteen. I tossed his next card, twenty-one.
I called it and he didn’t even flinch, he hadn’t looked away from me. He was studying me, it felt like he was gauging my every move. I was starting to get a nervous feeling. Not scared, but definitely off kilter.
Hmm, this was new.
I tried keeping my mind on the game. Dealing high rollers was a coveted job. The chance of having to deal with drunk partiers was seriously limited and the tips couldn’t be beat. Mr. Savoy always tossed me a thousand dollar chip when he was finished playing. This had gone a long way in helping me keep myself with a roof over my head and Pop-Tarts in the cupboard.
I should have used it for a gym membership, but the Pop-Tarts won out every time.
Continuing to deal, most of the players tapped out and had left. It was Mr. Savoy and an older gentleman at the end of the table that hadn’t uttered a word since he sat. I figured he didn’t speak English. Gambling was the universal language in Vegas.
I could see the wheels turning behind those beautiful eyes burning into me. I was building up my defenses against the charm assault I knew was coming. Gawd, why did he have to be so handsome? And rich? And sweet?
“One of these days you will give me what I want, cara mia ,” he said low and quiet breaking
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