Joker's Mistress

Chapter Four-1

Chapter Four

Ava pondered Kathrine’s face for moment, flitting from one stoney eye to the other. “Look Kathrine, this thing with Martin? I can handle that. I gave him his jollies and I’m sure he is done with me. The guy can have any damned woman he wants, after all. That’s kind of sad when you think of it. He’s never known the thrill of romancing a girl. Where’s the sense of mystery when you know, at the end of the evening, your date will just fall back and open her legs?

“Anyway the bigger concern is my marriage. My husband and I have a life out here in the desert. Our home is here, and our business. Give me another couple of years at the Adobe and I’m out. I’ll be the new office manager at Kimberly’s Landscape Architecture and planning a couple of little gardeners of my own... a boy and a girl.”

Kathrine smiled sadly. Ava’s dream seemed so perfect.

“But I’m willing to commit to the first few games,” Ava continued. “Not as a partner but as a friend; someone who wants to see you get ahead. So yes, count me in. At least until we can get you established out there. This time next year Martin may have given up poker for skydiving; or some other damned thing. You need to be ready for that; build up a reserve of players. I can help you there. And I can work with Mitz on the dealing. She’s already passable. She can handle the cards if I’m not available. Finding someone to work the bar shouldn’t be hard.”

“Okay. That can work for me.”

“Good. Talk with Mitz and set things up. Two weeks isn’t much time.”

Kathrine was about to stand, throw her arms around Ava and open the tear ducts, but just then the waiter appeared with his tray. “Ladies...” he announced and proceeded to set out the china bowls.

Kathrine smiled, all weepy-eyed. Ava shoveled basil and pine nuts between her lips, sighed contentedly, then sipped wine. Kathrine forked open a mussel and pried out the tender morsel of flesh. “How’d you get to be so good anyway?”

“How do you mean?” Ava looked across, still sipping.

Kathrine twirled the noodles that she fished from the broth at the bottom of her bowl. “With the cards, I mean. No one deals like you do. You shoot cards off like those Chinese firecrackers on the Fourth of July. It’s like, crap I don’t know... like magic, I guess.”

“That’s because it is,” Ava smiled. “It is magic.”

“Magic...?”

“Look, when I arrived out here, I knew I wanted to be a dealer. One of the girls at the Casino gave me some tips and I practiced for hours, but like you said earlier; it’s all about showmanship. And I didn’t have it.”

“Okay, but you have it now.” Kathrine reneged and picked up a chunk of crusty bread and dipped it in the wine broth. “What changed?”

“Like I said... magic! A friend of my father’s is a magician. A professorial magician. And his specialty is sleight of hand. I trained with him for eight months; strictly with the cards. By the time I was nineteen and back here at the Casino, I could shuffle a deck with one hand, cut the cards, and pull out the four aces, one right after the other.

“Dealing became second nature. But I still practiced eight hours, every day. I would set up five water glasses and aim to hit each one as I dealt cards around the table. And then I replaced the glasses with squares of cardboard and worked at it until I could shoot a card across the tablecloth and have it tuck under the edge of the cardboard. I worked on speed and precision. I got to the point I could almost do it with my eyes closed.

“When I went for my interview at the Adobe, the guy asked me if I knew anything about dealing cards. And didn’t my t**s get in the way? I told him to stand at the far end of the table and to hold out his hand.

“I rifled five cards straight into his up-turned palm; so fast he couldn’t see them coming. All five cards landed face down, right there in his hand. The look on his face was hilarious.”

“And you got the job!”

“Yeah. That was six years ago. Hard to believe.”

Later, after sorbet, Ava sipped coffee. “So has Martin taken a serious run at you yet?” she asked. “Besides the infamous sticky n****e caper?”

“Naw.”

“He will though. You’ve got a reputation around the Casino as a bit of an Ice Queen. And I’ve heard you referred to as the Iron Maiden around the gaming tables. That will seem like a challenge to Martin. You’re a target. Something worth achieving. He’ll be scheming a way to melt the facade.”

“Facade? You make it sound like something I’ve manufactured; a character I’ve invented.”

“Sorry. But it’s not that so much.”

“What then?” Kathrine wanted to know.

“Well there’s been speculation, from time to time. Some of the younger girls think you’re a frustrated lesbian. That you’ve been trying to corral Mitz.”

What had started as a heart to heart conversation had quickly turned deeply personal.

Kathrine’s lips thinned. “Mitz?”

“Well sure. The way she dresses, no one is quite sure on which side of the fence she climbs down.”

“I think I like Ice Queen better.”

“Some of them think you’re still a virgin.”

Kathrine regarded Ava calmly for a moment, then smiled sadly. “I guess, in the true sense of the word, I am a virgin.”

Ava’s fork stalled half way to her mouth. “But you’re forty-two!”

“And a half,” Kathrine added.

“So you’re telling me it is your s****l orientation? That you are gay? You prefer the company of women?”

“No, not at all. I’m telling you I don’t prefer the company of men.” Kathrine sat back, took a moment to reassess... “Look Ava, we are good friends so I’ll be blunt. There’s no need to clarify my personal preferences for the girls at the Casino.”

“I wouldn’t,” Ava said, a little hurt that Kathrine might not trust her. But then thought better of it; if the truth was that important... that painful...

“I had my first experience as a teenager,” Kathrine started, not meeting Ava’s gaze. “I was at this shopping mall, with some friends, when this guy culled me out. He was older, my father’s age, I guess. He convinced me that he was some sort of talent scout; working in the film industry. And he took me back to his apartment.

“Nothing happened, but he undressed me. He had a whole collection of woman’s underwear; the really erotic stuff: stockings and garters, crotch-less underpants, half-bras that didn’t cover the n*****s. He dressed me the way he liked and posed me for photographs. I was so scared he would want more that I didn’t object; didn’t even make a fuss. I knew it was wrong, but he was so much older. So I touched myself where he wanted while he took his silly pictures.”

“And that was nothing?” Ava blurted out.

“After he had finished with me, he called me a ‘dirty little girl’ and forced me across the arm of his sofa. He spanked me with a paddle. He threw my clothes into my face and told me to get the hell out.”

“And he... I mean... he never tried to get inside you?”

“No. I don’t think that was possible for him somehow. And I’ve thought about it a lot. He never exposed himself or even got a hard-on for me; not that I could see, anyway. And that’s why I was punished. I couldn’t help him complete the act so I was spanked and then thrown out of his apartment. I had to suffer the humiliation of getting dressed in the hallway; hoping to hell no one would come along and find me half-naked.”

“You seem so resigned to the fact that you were molested; so accepting. I’d be after the guy with a fuckin’ gun in my hand.”

“No percentage in it, I’m afraid. s**t happens. You adjust your expectations; get on with your life.

“And you never told anyone?”

“Nope, never. Not until right now, that is...”

“So you don’t trust men.”

“I don’t think I’m capable.”

“So you are gay.”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Kathrine’s smile was tight. “Broken is more like it. That’s how I think of myself: broken...

“Later, in high school, I had an English teacher who must have recognized the symptoms. She would ask me to stay after class and she would spend an hour, just brushing my hair. Her touch was so soft and gentle. When she first held me, about the breasts, it was the most totally natural feeling; having her hand roaming beneath my blouse. There was no urgency, no pressure to perform. Only the wonderful tingling sensations. And as things progressed, she would take me on walks in the countryside.

“We had our special spot. There was a clearing among the pine trees and we went there often. It was very private but the sun shone down through the limbs, there was the hypnotic scent of the forest, and the grass was soft. That’s where she introduced me to what she needed, explained what was necessary. And I wanted that. She was my guardian, my friend, and I felt safe in her arms. She taught me where to touch, how to use my fingers and tongue. It was a very loving relationship, but neither one of us was in love.

“And then I found out she was married. To a man. And worse, they were moving away. He had found a new job and suddenly I was fighting lonesomeness all over again.”

“But that was over twenty years ago. You’re telling me you haven’t been in a relationship in all that time?”

“Crazy. Isn’t it?” Kathrine smiled and spooned broth between her lips. It had cooled. “That’s about the size of it.”

Ava ran her eyes along Kathrine’s smooth complexion, looking for a hidden agenda. That caused Kathrine to spasm with laughter. “Oh relax. I’m not going to jump you. I told you; I’m not a lesbian.”

Ava didn’t look totally convinced.

“But then, how do you handle the... urges?”

“You mean the s****l urges?” Kathrine looked boldly across the table. “Probably the same way you do, my dear.”

Ava’s cheeks turned crimson. How did Kathrine know… know about the appliance that was carefully hidden beneath a stack of underwear in her drawer?

Ava changed the subject. “But the point here is Martin...” She pushed the remainder of her salad aside and finished her wine in a rather hasty swallow. “Look. I’ll deal your next four games, out on the Coast,” Ave said. “That’s all I can promise for now. But we’ll talk some more. Agreed?”

Kathrine smiled and nodded in approval.

“And watch your tail. Martin wants to topple an Ice Queen ...add you to his growing list of accomplishments. And he’s insatiable. I know, I’ve had a taste of it.”

With nothing better to do, Ava elected to stay behind and mellow out with a second cup of coffee. Kathrine, contemplating her move to the Coast, hurried off with a shopping list in one hand and her car keys in the other. Ava watched her go, side-stepping between the tables then disappearing out through the glass doors.

Ava ordered the coffee and a small glass of Remy Martin to sit along side. She sampled her drink and slipped off her heels. That’s better. The afternoon sun had moved around and was now shinning through the windows. The heat felt good and Ava shamelessly lifted her legs and stretched out along the bolster. The waitress didn’t seem to mind. Professional courtesy, maybe.

Kathrine’s disclosure regarding her virginity and her total lack of s****l preferences had been surprising, even a little unsettling, but on the other hand it had explained a lot. And Ava wasn’t about to criticize. Her own s****l awakening hadn’t exactly been ostentatious. She was the product of a sodden mother who slept most nights slumped across the kitchen table, and a father, who as soon as Ava was old enough to do him some good, appeared in her bedroom each evening to kiss her goodnight; a prolonged procedure that ultimately ended up with him crawling beneath the covers.

By the time she was eighteen, a boyfriend had become a prerequisite. Anyone who could offer alternative living accommodations would do. Her mad scramble for a lover had left her open and vulnerable, but incredibly, she had lucked out: Biff was as big and affable as his name suggested. Plus he had an apartment. That was enough for young Ava. In her mind, he was in; and so was she, exactly one week after they met.

Ava arrived on his door step with one suitcase and her high school yearbook tucked under her arm.

Love had never been an issue for young Ava, but after several weeks of enjoying the freedom his apartment afforded her, she had acquired a certain fondness for the big dolt. He had an IQ of sixty and no money, but he loved Ava. He played center for his college football team; until he got sidelined for being too nice. Biff wouldn’t kill a bug, unless it was in self-defense. The poor guy was allergic to bees. But that didn’t stop him from killing her father.

Biff had never had good s*x; at least not the kind of kinky fun that Ava was capable of dishing out. Every night was an adventure. Ava prided herself on being a s****l trickster. She kept him constantly entertained: New positions, new locations, new acrobatics, new techniques. But one evening after several rum and cokes, she had made the cruel mistake of confessing to Biff: She told him who had taught her all the fun moves.

Biff had never been one to get angry, or lose control even, and the night she had confessed to him was no different. Biff had swallowed hard, turned a funny shade of purple, tucked his p***s away and gone to bed. Ava didn’t think much more about it. Not until the police called.

Apparently Biff had dropped by her parent’s house the next afternoon. It had been a Saturday and her father was busy slugging back beers in the yard. Biff had plucked a brick outta the back of her dad’s pickup. Ava’s dad had been carefully hoarding those bricks. He stole one every day from the job site where he was employed as a laborer. When he had enough bricks, he planned to build a charcoal grill out in the back; one of those fancy jobs with a chimney. But he never got to enjoy that first sirloin steak. Biff had seen to that.

Biff took the brick from the back of the truck and had caved the front of her dad’s skull in. Just above his left eye.