Joker's Mistress

Chapter Three-1

Chapter Three

Ava slummed forward in a sweaty heap, overcome with the excursion of her love-making. He staggered to prevent himself from tumbling forward on top of her. “Oh god! I never...” he started but she had no time for him or his inane conversation.

“Winner takes all,” she repeated. “I’m paid up in full. Now, please leave.”

The chill in her words grounded him. Then saddened him. He selfishly wanted to be liked. How stupid is that? But even so...

Ava felt the limp, snaky feel of the withdrawal and the revolting after-drool. She heard him take the hankie from his breast pocket and clean himself before tucking his p***s away. There was the sound of the final zip.

Come on, hurry up! Ava screamed inside, but was startled by the touch of his fingers, high up between her legs. “Oh for christ’s-sake. We’re finished here,” she cried out, then bit down hard at the rasping pain. The guy really needed to cut his fingernails. “Get out!” she finally managed between sucking air and absorbing the burn.

His fingers receded. He mumbled something and she heard his footfall on the carpet; the rattle of the door knob. The sounds of conversation became more distinct as the door opened. Someone hooted and there was a whistle. Hardy fellow, well met. Welcome the conquering hero. He was received back into their midst; everyone eager for the details.

Ava, overcome with humiliation, rolled to one side and pulled her knees up. There was a sharp pinch between her legs, raw and hard. The bastard had left a calling card. She slipped a finger inside; felt the hard obstruction. Then got her thumb in as well.

She got a hold of the edge and extracted it. Her heart faltered. At first she thought it was white: A buck; the ultimate insult after what she had done for him. But she looked once again. No, it was gray! Definitely, very gray! Five-thousand dollars worth of gray! Ava stared in disbelief at the gooey plastic disc laying in the palm of her hand. He had pushed a five-thousand dollar poker chip up into her v****a. She wiped the semen and ooze on the bedspread and with a grim smile she dropped the chip into her bag. Pushing herself up, she made her way into the bathroom and, reaching into the stall, she turned on the hot water. Let it run until the room was filled with steam.

When Ava stepped from the bedroom twenty minutes later, she was wearing one of the hotel’s complimentary dressing gowns and her hair was trussed up in a towel. Kathrine turned to her immediately and, placing arms around Ava’s shoulders, drew her in. “My god. I don’t know what to say,” Kathrine said, and held her friend close.

“Oh shut up. You sound like my college basketball coach. I twisted my knee making an impossible shot!”

“And you made it; the shot I mean.”

“Of course I made the shot! You think I’d twist my knee for nothing?”

The party had broken-up, the men gone, and Mitz shortly after them. Two workers from the party rental were breaking down the gaming table and casting side-ward glances at the woman embracing. By the smirk on their lips it was easy to guess what they were thinking. Kathrine turned on them and shooed them from the room; the men grunting under the weight of the solid oak table.

“Let me buy you a drink,” Kathrine offered.

“Sure,” Ava replied, slipping onto the sofa cushions and tucking her bare feet up under her thighs. Kathrine poured two generous shots of bourbon into whiskey glasses and added ice. Ava handed her drink and took a long sip.

“Here, this is for you.” Kathrine placed a stack of poker chips on the coffee table. “Nine hundred and fifty in total. Martin tipped all of us five hundred. It doesn’t seem like much, considering what you went through.”

“How about the house-take? You do okay on the game?”

It was so like Ava; being concerned for Kathrine and placing her own needs second. “After I pay for the hotel suite, the bar bill and the food, there should be a couple of grand leftover,” Kathrine replied, “but I want you to have it.”

“Oh you’re quite the entrepreneur; run around all week trying to set up the game and then give away the profits. You’ll go far!”

“But you deserve it, Ava. I feel terrible about the way things turned out. It was my fault. I’ll never be able to make it up to you but at least I’ll feel a little better if you take the money.”

“Forget it. I’ve already been taken care of.” Ava held up the gray poker chip.

Kathrine’s eyes brightened. “That’s a five-thousand dollar chip!”

“Yeah. Our Manhattan stockbroker had a terrible attack of the guilts after he was finished with me. Guess he’s supposed to be happily married or something; above the temptation of boinking card-dealers half his age in seedy hotel bedrooms. Anyway, I’ve been compensated so keep your money. Buy something nice for yourself. Was Martin okay with the game?”

“Yeah. He came out ahead and he loved you, of course. He thinks we set the whole thing up ahead of time. The poor guy. His tongue was draggin’ when he saw that Manhattan stockbroker walk you into the bedroom. Martin really regretted losing that last hand. He wanted to be the one to enjoy the extra goodies.”

“Well I’m glad it worked out. Martin’s a bit creepy. It seemed kinda sick doing that old dork but better him than Martin.”

“Look Ava, before Martin left tonight, he mentioned he might like me to set up another game.”

“Was he serious?”

“Couldn’t tell. He just said it in passing. He was pushing a purple poker chip into the front of my dress at the time.”

Lucky you, Ava thought, the burn between her legs still fresh. “So you’re saying that now he has had a taste of extracurricular poker, he’ll want more?”

“What I’m saying is that he wants another shot at winning your ass, Ava. He wants you alone in that back bedroom.”

“Geez. Why do I suddenly feel like a slab of meat, over here.”

Kathrine looked grim. “You’re my dealer, Ava. The only one I want to work with. So I guess I need to know how you feel about all this?”

Ava slumped, her back pushed against the cushions. “This is all coming at me a little fast,” she finally said. “I’m supposed to be like that Manhattan stockbroker: Happily married. I need to spend some time with this, and Martin isn’t definite. Right?”

Kathrine shook her head. “No.”

“Okay then. Let’s not waste a bunch of energy on something that might not happen.”

Ava swallowed the last of her drink. “I gotta get on home. I’m drained.”

Kathrine reached for Ava’s poker chips. “I’ll cash you out.”

After she had walked Ava to the door, Kathrine returned to the bedroom to change out of her cocktail dress. She kicked off her shoes and slumped onto the bed to pull up her jeans. The lusty fragrance of Ava’s s*x still filled the air. Kathrine breathed deeply and winced.

His travel clock chimed unobtrusively and his eyelids fluttered. Martin tried to focus. There was a shaft of pain that seemed to bisect his forehead, somewhere behind his eyes. The pain of self-inflicted over indulgence that, at his youthful thirty-four years, would soon dissipate. He tossed over on a shoulder and reached for the bedside clock. Two-thirty it informed him; in the afternoon.

He pulled himself from between the bed covers and walked naked into the bathroom. While the water in the shower heated, he pissed, then studied his features in the mirror. “Are you feeling lucky?” he taunted his image in the steamy glass. And then, striking the pose and in his best impersonation of Roy Scheider, he smirked. “It’s showtime!” He stepped back and smiled. It was the cocky smile that had endured him to millions upon millions of female fans across the United States.

He showered and carefully shaved, then splashed on the witch hazel. He combed his two hundred dollar hair cut. He did a line of coke; just enough to kick start his libido. Back in his bedroom he checked his e-mail. And there it was; a day late, but worth the wait. An e-mail from the Daniel’s Detective Agency. He copied the letter into a word document and, humming to himself, added his own comments. He hit print and the letter appeared in the tray of his laser printer. He plucked it up, folded it in quarters and tucked it into his shirt pocket.

In the Adobe Casino restaurant, he had a six ounce Delmonico steak, two fried eggs and a glass of white wine for breakfast. With his belly extended, he gave the gym a pass and walked out onto the gaming floor. The smells and sounds overtook his senses immediately; as they always did. He walked between the poker tables, thrilling to the dealers calling out the bids. And the sound of the chip runners, madly dashing from the tables to the booths where the tellers counted out poker chips. The smell of smoke, booze and the expensive women. There was the clatter of the spinning roulette wheels and the incessant clamor from the slots. His body was racked with sensations. He felt like a winner!

He caught the eye of the concierge and they exchanged smiles and drifted closer. Martin asked his question and the man in the dinner-jacket pointed toward the blackjack tables. Martin thanked him and slid a fifty-note into the man’s hand. It was excessive, but then again, so was Martin.

Blackjack. Martin thought of it as a mindless game of chance. Might as well flip a coin... heads, I win, tails, you lose. But even so, there was something stimulating about the exchange of money that quickened his heart rate. He looked about the floor and spotted Ava. She was dealing cards to three patrons who were standing at her table; they were slyly lifting the corners of their cards like they thought themselves in a fuckin’ James Bond flick.

Martin guffawed.

Ava responded with a noticeable start when their eyes locked. But she steadied herself as he stepped into place and stacked chips onto the felt. What the hell does he want?

He placed a bet and she flipped him a card. “Again,” he said when she had worked her way around the table. He checked the cards. Eighteen. “Hold,” he said. She beat him with two jacks, smiled and gathered his chips onto her side of the line.

“Gentlemen?” she called out, gathering in the cards.

“Is there anywhere around here, private? No security cameras?” Martin whispered.

Ava faltered, remembering his offer to stick poker chips on Kathrine’s n*****s. “The ladies,” Ava smirked, thinking it off limits to him. But he just smiled.

“What time is your break?” he asked, pulling a folded letter from his shirt pocket and passing it across.

“Excuse me one moment,” Ava apologized to the other players and studied the letterhead:

The Daniel’s Detective Agency

Subject: Mrs. Ava Kimberly

Occupation: card dealer, Adobe Casino

Husband: Joseph Kimberly

Occupation: owner and proprietor, Kimberly Landscape Architecture

Address: 115 Mount Hespler Avenue

Telephone #: 702-731-7110

Across the bottom of the page, there was a note from Martin: “Does your husband know that your n*****s roam around inside your dress as you deal the cards? That you share your t**s and p***y with strange men in return for gratuities?”

“What do you want?” Ava asked politely, masking her fear.

“Couple of things,” Martin replied. “What time is your break? And I want you to bend your rules.”

“My rules?”

“Yeah, the other night? You said no oral and no anal,” Martin chuckled.

“I get a break at five,” Ava said, checking her watch. “In half an hour.”

“In half an hour,” Martin confirmed, “...the lady’s john.”

At five o’clock, Ava gathered up her bag and walked single-mindedly, to the rear of the Casino. She didn’t look around for Martin, just instinctively knew he was watching; like a hunter watches his prey through the rifle scope. She went into the tiny employee’s restroom and checked to be sure she was alone. Satisfied, she placed her handbag on the counter and returned to the door. She opened it halfway and Martin slipped through. Ava didn’t say a word. There was nothing she could say. She just pointed to the upholstered bench in front of the makeup mirror. Martin got comfortable as she locked and double checked the door. Then Ava slipped to her knees and reached for the front of his slacks.

Martin sighed. He loved to win. He hadn’t had s*x in a week, not even with himself. He was c****d, loaded and ready, and when he came, he filled the poor girl. He was delighted when he heard her gag, swallowing repeatedly, trying to contain the flow. Are you feeling lucky? he thought. Oh yes!

Martin, being rather compulsive, called Kathrine on Friday morning. He was a-go for another game in a couple of weeks, he said. But then he outlined the stipulations...

“Mitz is from LA,” Kathrine said, “she will be thrilled, but I can’t guarantee Ava.”

“I don’t care about Ava anymore,” Martin sneered. Kathrine got a bad feeling in her chest; a raw tension that pained her lungs.

Kathrine re-dialed.

“Ava. Martin called me. I need to take you to lunch!”

Christ, Ava thought.

They met at La Circe. Kathrine had made a prior arrangement with the maitre d’ for a table in a private alcove along the rear wall. Kathrine arrived early and ordered a bottle of Pinot Noir. When Ava sat down Kathrine allowed her a moment to get settled and just two sips of wine before she started the interrogation: “What’s happened between you and Martin; after Tuesday’s game, I mean?” The question was blunt and to the point. Ava’s eyes registered shock which quickly dissolved to shame. Kathrine knew she was cutting deep, took a breath and eased off a little.

“Did Martin say anything?” Ava asked.

“No. But he didn’t have to. His attitude toward you just did a one-eighty, that’s all. Tuesday, it was all he could do to keep his d**k in his pants. Now he’s acting like you’re yesterday’s cold fish. So don’t snow me. I’m from up north. We make the stuff up there.”

Ava gave her a grim, tight smile. “He threatened to tell my husband about Tuesday. He had me followed by some private detective. They did some digging: They know where I live, about my husband, all about the landscaping business. Everything.”

“And Martin said he would tell your husband...”

“Threatened to; yeah. Came up to me at work and wanted a favor. But it’s no big deal, Kathrine. I’m not sixteen years old, for christ’s-sake. I’ve been around. Know how things work. I never believed the dream. You know, the one about being honest and working hard and you get everything you want. I never believed in the fairy tale; that I could be an astronaut.”

“This favor. Did he ask you for money?”

Ave turned away, humped her lips. “Oh come off it, Kathrine. Martin doesn’t need my flippin’ money. To him, I’m chump change.”

Kathrine felt her insides drain. “C’mon. Give it to me straight up.”

Ava slumped. “It was oral. That’s what he wanted... I did him in the woman’s john. At work.”

“Oh christ!”

The waiter suddenly appeared at Kathrine’s elbow and pulled out his pad with a flourish.

Kathrine’s appetite had withered but she ordered the steamed mussels in wine sauce and Ava, the pesto salad with pine nuts. The man dropped a basket of assorted breads and a plate of butter between them before hurrying off. Kathrine studied the crusty morsels for a moment but fought down the temptation. She pushed them aside. “Martin wants me to arrange another game in a couple of weeks. But not here.”

“You mean a different hotel?”

“Uh-uh. He asked me to move the game to Malibu Beach; that’s where he lives for most of the year. He wants a couple of games each month, on a permanent basis.”

Ava brightened. “That’s great news for you. I’m so pleased... Wow! Malibu Beach!” Ava was over reacting and Kathrine knew it. But Ava as aware as anyone that Kathrine’s options at the Adobe were getting pretty slim. At forty-two years of age they may find her something: wait staff or kitchen help. So working with Martin could be a life-saving opportunity.

Kathrine took a long draw on her wine glass. “Trouble is, I want my team around me. Mitz is from LA and, frankly, dying to go home. I’ll recruit her no problem. But I also want you. As my partner.”

“But Kathrine...”

“Hear me out.” Kathrine raised a hand. “You’re the best damned card flipper in the business. You bring a certain panache to the game. Your looks and the way you handle a deck... It’s showmanship. And I need that. But I also need a line on new players. High-rollers I can bring into my game. You will be my eyes and ears here at the Adobe; helping me recruit fresh blood. And the flight from here to the coast is only a bit over an hour. You can commute to the games. I’ll make it worth your while, Ava. But this thing with Martin. I thought I had everything figured, you know? But now I’m not so sure. You’re going to have to help me out, here. I still don’t know where I stand. And I need to know.”