“Those rich guys make me itch. I think I’m allergic to them.” Jessica shifted her cell phone from her right hand to her left. “Anyway, I need to prepare for my meeting with Professor Van Dyke tomorrow. I’m going to ask her to be my new advisor.”
“Look, Jessica, you’ve got to help me,” Lolita pleaded over the phone. “My dad’s laid up and I can’t host the game tonight.”
“Why can’t you just cancel?” Jessica asked, even though she knew the answer.
High-stakes poker games like Lolita’s took years to develop. She’d cultivated these guys. With her jet-black mane, alabaster skin, sage-green eyes, angular bangs accenting her high cheek bones, and topped off by her regular purring of Russian terms of endearment, and Lolita had the city’s rich and famous sitting up begging for more as she fleeced
