All characters engaging in sexual activities are eighteen years or older.
THE GAMBLER
Steven needed a place to hide, preferably at least for a few days, or maybe even longer. He owed his loan shark a little too much money, and Renard had grown impatient. And when Renard grew impatient, there was going to be hell, as well as much more money, to pay.
Whispers had started to circulate around the small town that Steven owed big, and almost immediately every source of possible credit had dried up. Not only was he unable to borrow the money to pay Renard, but he was suddenly also without the means to steal it. His gambling habit had compromised his ability to perform his job, so much so that he was lucky not to have been fired. Instead, he had been demoted and told that he was on his last chance. His employer even made him sign a document to that effect.
As a consequence, Steven no longer had access to any of his accounting firm's funds. He could not embezzle them. As for robbing one of the local establishments, like a bank or a gas station, Steven instinctively knew that was simply beyond his capabilities.
Steven figured that his only out was to hit on a long shot at the local racetrack. It was admittedly a desperate last attempt. Steven preferred to bet on football and basketball games; he knew nothing about the sport of kings.
So on a lazy, overcast Tuesday afternoon, with a hint of the first chill of fall, Steven made an excuse at work, and soon found himself sidling through the cavernous front gates of the track and into its deep seedy interior. He located the betting window and irrationally compelled himself to place the last of his remaining funds on the horse with the longest odds and biggest payoff. Then, he occupied a lonely position along the front rail thirty feet from the starting gate to watch the race along with all the other bums in attendance.
His many fears lumped themselves together into a single, choking ball at the base of his throat as the starter pistol cracked and the horses thundered out of the gate. He thrilled seeing his horse get out to a quick start on the outside rail. Was his luck returning? Indeed, it did appear so, as his nag led the entire pack for the first few furlongs. He had hope for the first time in days.
As the horses approached, Steven noticed the jockey's black and blue livery, and then mud splattering up from the horse's heels. The horse was still riding wide on the outside rail and large deposits of mud showered down on Steven. There was a reason Steven was standing alone on the rail. The regulars had known better than to get that close to a wet track, and the very few toffs who had not bet the race had noticed and were chuckling at him in the stands.
As Steven wiped the mud from his face, he saw that his horse had, in the meantime, fallen irretrievably behind and was falling further behind still. This horse could never win a race that lasted more than ten seconds. He could not outrun the glue factory.
Steven felt the hope die inside him. Even though an amateur, he did not need to see any more of the race. He knew he had lost. He turned to go and looked up into the stands where the vocal bettors were cheering on their picks.
The fear that had lumped itself in his throat earlier was nothing compared to the sensation he felt now. His whole body felt a tidal wave of shock as he recognized a man dressed all in black. It was Mort, Renard's second in command and "muscle," standing tall up in the stands, staring at his winning horse through a pair of binoculars.
Mort had made it clear on more than one occasion that he harbored a visceral dislike of Steven and would like nothing more than to lay into Steven's ass really hard. The prospect of breaking Steven's head, his neck, his back, or any one of the other principal bones in Steven's body would give Mort the greatest pleasure. Steven could sense that Mort got an erection just thinking about it.
And now that Steven owed Renard too much money and with no real prospect of repayment, Mort was going to get his way. He had already probably been out looking for him around town. Steven thanked the Lord that Mort's attention was now directed momentarily elsewhere and prayed that it would remain so for the next few minutes, which would allow a terrified Steven time to slink away and escape.
Miraculously, Steven found a side exit that led directly into the parking lot. Steven got behind the wheel of his car and shot out of the parking lot, not knowing where he was going to go.
As Steven drove aimlessly for a little while, his mind raced to come up with his next move. Running out of town was impossible. Steven had very little gas in the car and even less money in his pocket. He would have to find someplace to hide. It was then that he suddenly realized that he was not too far from Denise's apartment complex. Yes, maybe his luck was returning a little bit after all. Denise would certainly help him.
A FRIEND IN NEED
Denise exploded in girlish laughter at the pathetic mud-splattered figure standing outside on her apartment doorstep. Nevertheless, the laughing girl, surprised by the uninvited guest, while wearing her usual household outfit of tight shorts and a cut-off t-shirt, invited in a grateful Steven.
"What happened to you?" she asked mirthfully.
"I had a bad day, and I need a place to clean up." Steven almost pouted in his self-pity.
"Why don't you not go back to your house?" the pretty, nineteen-year old, dark eyed girl asked.
"My wife kicked me out this morning," Steven lied.
"Oh, did she?" Denise's voice registered surprise, mock commiseration, and a small hint of delight.
Denise had attended high school with Steven's daughter, Jennifer, and the two girls had graduated just a few months prior. While Jennifer continued to live with Steven and his wife, Denise had decided to strike out on her own, promptly moving out of her parent's home, if the word 'home' could be properly applied to what she eagerly and dramatically portrayed as a hellhole of dysfunction, complete with an abusive father and a willfully blind mother acting out their parts to perfection.
Denise's descriptions of her home life had always been a little too hyperbolic and maybe even too rehearsed for Steven's tastes. Steven and his wife could not help but notice how their daughter's friend had such an active imagination and an unsettling penchant for telling little lies, not malicious ones, but lies nonetheless.
Nevertheless, Steven and his wife accepted her as their daughter's friend and as a frequent visitor to their home. Over the years, she became a regular guest at dinner, then a constant overnight guest, and finally a fully-fledged appanage to the family. Some even mistook her for a second daughter.
During those years, Steven could not help notice not only the formation of her character, but also her developing body as well. She grew up tall with high cheekbones and beautifully shaped, soft eyes. Her legs were long and her breasts were small, but high. She had noticed the changes in her body as well.
In her eighteenth year she started coquettishly flirting with Steven. Her inappropriate attention embarrassed him and made him awkwardly uncomfortable. His wife noticed their interactions. She would stare at him in anger, never at Denise, apparently because she held him accountable for not putting the young girl in her place, or maybe because by not doing so, she suspected he was actually recruiting Denise for a future adulterous liaison.
For some reason unknown to Steven, his daughter Jennifer and Denise had some sort of falling out in their senior year, and were not speaking to each other. Yet, when Steven happened to encounter Denise out and about in the small town, he felt himself above such childish concerns and loyalty, and was friendly to the young woman anyway. She quickly resumed flirting with him once again. This time he reciprocated fully. They had exchanged numbers, and were soon texting and talking to each other.
