The Gamble

I was winning big. The fun, though, was wrung out by the two ladies ridding my skill and luck and yakking about something on the rare times I lost at Blackjack. They wanted every hand, not just the two of three I was bringing in. I should have sat on either end of the table, not the middle. Looking around, my eyes caught the strong and slender back of a dark-haired lady, intently playing Blackjack at the next table. I could not see her face, but the more the two old ladies voices' cluttered my space and fun, the more I wanted the lady at the next table to be quiet, pleasant to look at, and sexy. In that order—but it is not what I got. She stood up, wandered towards my table, glanced at the action, walked away. My table got more crowded and my fantasy grew. The two ladies had won enough, banking on me. I cashed my chips in and left and went to the next table, which was empty, intentionally sitting in the middle, risking the two ladies following suit, hoping my mysterious lady would return.

She did. My heart leapt when I saw her beauty, especially her full lips. I am an unabashed lip guy, looking there first, then the eyes, the ass, shoulders, hips, and breasts. With her, I stopped at the lips. She broke the ice, commenting that it looked I was doing pretty good at the other table, judging by the stash of chips. Here I was, two months into a work contract in Cape Town, South Africa and, well, deprived of human touch for a long time. Her intonation and sweet lilt made her Afrikaans accent almost sound erotic. Yea, I told her I was doing good, but it wasn't fun with the two ladies yakking away my fun. This brought an easy, radiant smile to her intent face. She moved next to me to protect one side from unwanted visitors, just in time as the two ladies spotted me and swarmed onto our table, piling bets on my cards, again. I lost 2 hands in a row and they left. Now she laughed at my audible sigh of relief and the situation. Zoe, she introduced herself with a nudge on my shoulder.

Not that I needed it, but the cards turned hotter, not just for me, but for Zoe too. In the space of 15 minutes we both doubled our chips. This time it was fun, talking and flirting with Zoe over the simplicity of Blackjack and intricacies of people. Like the inevitable strong wind that can ruin a perfect Cape Town beach day, the two ladies returned, hovering over both sides of me, trying to squeeze close to the table. Strong though the fantasy of Zoe's mystery, I cashed my chips and went looking for the nearest bar in the casino. I just wanted to enjoy the action, breathe in the winning moment, and let the Zoe fantasy percolate in my mind before heading to my flat, alone.

"I've come to rescue you." Jerked out of the moment and fantasy by my fantasy, Zoe slid into the booth next to me. We had shared high fives and fist bumps at the table over winning hands, good hits, and dealer busts, but her slight touch on my arm tingled. She ordered another gin and tonic for me and one herself, saying she wanted to thank me for making winning fun. She tapped my wedding band; I told her about my 6-month work contract 7 time zones and continents away from family and friends. I tapped her cell phone, which she seemed tethered to, glancing at SMSs and in-coming call, not responding to any. She told me about a guy wanting a third date but she was just not interested and wished he'd get the message with no drama. We traded stories. It wasn't just making a connection that we both clearly enjoyed; it was the sheer ease and excitement with which we opened up.

Where could this possibly go? I'm 60 to her, what, 20s; married to her single; American to her South African; California coast to her Cape Town; my temporary work visa to her citizenship. The man with no future for her. The woman whose life is just unfolding.

We had opened up for well over an hour. This time it was not a gamble as I lay my cards, face up, on the table. Not a gamble because nothing to lose. We had gotten close enough that I could lay it out there without fear of rejection. A "no" would not be rejection. I took her left hand and placed just my fingertips over hers. "I really want us to make love", corny, but that is exactly what I said. She looked in my eyes as if my desire was not a question, not surprised, but like me, knowing we needed to verbalize the atmospherics. No mixed messages here for either of us. "I'd like that very much." Now the fingertips of both our hands were just barely touching, swirling tiny circles in a dance of anticipation. One more thing, I said, I swear I know by the first kiss how the lovemaking will be. Tenderly, I put my hands on her face, drawing those full lips closer. Our lips parted every so slightly at contact, breathing slowly and easily with the first kiss that did not break contact but held in place as our heads tilted slightly to rub lips closer. Lips then parted open a fraction more and the tips of both our tongues met, just the tips, tasting, lingering, messaging the slow build up of passion of unhurried attending to each other.

"Waitron, waitron, check please!" The kiss held the answer. We gathered ourselves but giggles broke out as we shrugged shoulders over the logistics. My flat was 15 minutes away; hers was 20 in the opposite direction. The casino had a hotel but that seemed a bit tawdry and clichéd. She drove, my place.

We could tear clothes off, rut in the parking lot, explore in the car, orgasms on the highway. No. The hypothetical sexual tension and question answered, I wanted the pleasure of undressing Zoe, seeing, smelling, touching, tasting her unrushed and enjoying her to the fullest. The drive couldn't end fast enough, but went like a flash as we talked about relationships, sex, family, sex, gambling, sex, ambitions, and sex.

At my flat, low lighting, favorite iTunes mix, gazing out my windows at Cape Town harbor, lights flickering on the other side of the bay. Everything was just right, as Zoe came back from freshening up, slid behind me and put her arms under mine, clasping her hands over my chest. Enjoying the view, treasuring the closeness and bodily contact, we both wanted to freeze the moment. The memory created. I moved her hands off my chest and spun in a dance move behind Zoe. My hands on her shoulder, I pressed my mouth close and lightly kissed her shoulders, tracing across her shoulder blades, then moving up her neck, leaving trails of kisses up and down Zoe's neck to her ears, which brought shivers.

This time Zoe spun around to face me so our eyes and lips met. The kiss started the same way as at the Casino, slowly, tantalizingly, even teasing. But now there was a place for the build up to go as tongues probed deeper, swirling, tips circling. We must have kissed like this for 15 minutes because we noticed the lights of a freighter crossing from one end of the harbor to the other. I broke the kiss by taking Zoe's hand and led her to the bedroom.

Chapter Two....in a few days