Vegas Ch 04

This is my first attempt at writing, having been inspired by a small band of authors whose work I immensely admire, and I have attempted to occasionally incorporate a flavour of their imagination in this story in tribute to them.

Having completed the novel, I have learnt so much more than I knew at the outset. Two areas of feedback are welcomed:

1. Comments of encouragement that will inspire me to write more... and constructive criticism that will help me improve.

2. Voting that will help me assess the enjoyment factor.... or otherwise.

CHAPTER FOUR: SUCCESS FOR THE SISTERS

The following morning Daniel was woken by a shaft of light drifting across the bed through a small crack between the curtains. Any fears he had of facing Grace last night had been misplaced as she had been asleep in bed when he returned to the hotel. He had taken a quick shower and then quietly slipped in beside her, but it took him some time to rid himself of the thoughts of Katherine and what he had just experienced, that were running through his head.

This morning he felt calmer and he turned to glance at the time on clock on the small telephone panel. As he did, he felt Grace fling a warm hand across his chest, her fingers gently searching for and then stroking his right nipple. He felt her sharp fingernail dig into his flesh before her sleepy hand slithered its way down his body, briefly pausing at his stomach before continuing its downward journey. He realised that he was in danger of being severely delayed.

Glancing at her face, Daniel realised that despite the movements of her hand, Grace was only half awake. He leant over to place a soft kiss on her forehead, sweeping a lock of her silky brown hair to one side in the process. Her touch had brought him to instant erection, although he felt sure that the fact his mind was also thinking of Katherine was another contributory factor to his feelings of arousal.

He nibbled her warm ear, eliciting a soft moan, briefly thinking that a morning fuck was just what he needed. But instead, he whispered that he was running late if he was to get down to Binion's Horsehoe casino in time. The fact he needed to pay his $2,000 entry fee for the Omaha High-Low Split event was uppermost in his thoughts, even ahead of his need for sex. If only just.

With some reluctance he extracted himself from the white sheets and softly hurried to the bathroom to shower. He felt guilty that it was not only the time element that was a factor in his refuting Grace's sleepy advances. It was also an indication of the mixed feelings careering around his head. His mind remained conscious of his time with Katherine the night before and, with this being the only time he had ever been unfaithful, he felt a weird mixture of guilt, arousal and confusion.

As he showered, he reflected that he needed some space and time to think things through, though he was aware that as he was playing in a World Series of Poker tournament that morning, he was unlikely to get that opportunity. He found that Grace was fully awake as he left the steamy bathroom and returned to the room.

His attempts to dress quickly were momentarily disturbed as she sat up in the large, comfortable bed and threw her hands into the air with a loud yawn. When she saw she had his attention, she explained she was going to spend a little time with Lauren that morning before travelling to Samuel Smith's for her rehearsal.

Daniel was only too happy with that, he wanted time to himself to focus on his poker. But he also knew it would be more difficult to rationalise the night before if Grace travelled with him to watch the poker tournament. Throwing on a thin, dark jacket over his red checked shirt, he explained that he would return to the hotel if, as expected, he was an early casualty.

In response to Grace's raised eyebrow, he simply shrugged and said, "Its Omaha," as if that made the same sense to her as it did to him.

"Should I wait here?" she teasingly asked, indicating with her spread arms that she was referring to the bed. Her movement resulted in the white sheet she held around her neck dropping away, exposing her full, supple breasts to his gaze.

For a brief moment he felt an immediate stirring in his boxers again. God, he loved those breasts. He thought that this was as good a time as any to get his session with Katherine out of his system and wondered for a moment if he could delay his arrival at Binnion's. But he knew that was well nigh impossible if he was to play in this tournament and therefore instead, he blew Grace a kiss across the room from his position beside the bedroom door.

"Very tempting," he offered, with a nervous smile. "But I've really got to go."

"Hmmm," she replied, slowly running her slim hands down her neck, across the top of her tanned chest and then down onto her magnificent breasts, teasing her dark nipples until they were fully erect. Her bright, shining eyes never left his as she played out her seduction scene.

"Are you quite sure?" she softly purred.

Daniel could feel his throat constrict with dryness. At first he was unable to tear his eyes away from her breasts, but then they flicked to the time displayed on the bedside table beside her. Despite the rising bulge in his jeans, he somehow found a resolve he had not known that he had. He reached for the door lock.

"I've really got to go, Grace or I'll miss registration. Although I may see you sooner than you think if things go badly. But if somehow I do okay, at worst I'll meet you and Lauren at the club later tonight."

As he hurried out of the door Grace slumped back on her pillow in disgust, her perky breasts bouncing as she did so. She pondered for a moment, thinking that either she was losing her touch, or that Daniel was more committed to this poker tournament than even she realised.

*

The length of time between registration and the tournament commencing came as a shock to Daniel. He had thought he would be in action pretty quickly, but in fact it was several refills of coffee later before he noticed players begin to filter over towards the tables. He had whiled away part of the time by wandering out onto Fremont Street, just taking everything in.

He watched the people passing by and played a game with himself, attempting to separate the tourists from the poker players. By keeping a careful eye on the characters walking into Binion's, he pretty soon had come to the conclusion that the better dressed were tourists and the others, who generally ranged from passable to downright scruffy, were the players. Or perhaps their families or friends who were present as their cheering section.

Eventually growing tired of people watching, he had made his way to the coffee shop and stayed there awhile, before he had been sufficiently encouraged to make his way back to the casino and head to his own table.

When he had registered, he had felt a burning tinge along the back of his neck as he had pulled $2,000 in crisp folded-over one hundred dollar bills from his black leather wallet and handed them over at the check-in desk. The feeling he was experiencing was a combination of relief that he no longer had to walk around with such a large amount of money secured in his pocket, plus a nervous kind of excitement that now, at long last, his dream of playing in a World Series of Poker event was about to come true.

For the moment, the Main Event was at the back of his mind, a thought for tomorrow. His focus right now, was the $2,000 worth of chips he'd been handed to use for the Omaha buy-in. With the innocence of poker youth, he guarded them closely and held them against his chest as he followed directions to another part of the room. Once there, he presented himself at the registration desk.

This all felt so strange, so new, but then Daniel was fully aware that this was the reason he was there. He needed to soak up as much experience as he possibly could before competing in the Cadillac of poker, the Main Event, in a couple of days.

He soon found that he was positioned at table fifteen, seat five and quickly found his way there, side-stepping between the increasing numbers of players. There was one other player there, an old, thin guy wearing a button up shirt, blue jeans and a white Stetson. He looked every bit as if he fitted into the environment as Daniel did not. Daniel introduced himself and the old-timer asked if was his first such event.

When Daniel briefly paused, the old-timer grinned and added, "It shows. But then we all got to start somewhere".

He put one hand on Daniel's shoulder as he shook his hand, congratulating him. Daniel saw the twinkle in the old-timer's eye as he voluntarily explained the drill. They would play in one-hour rounds, or levels, he said. With a ten-minute break after every two rounds. They would also get a one-hour dinner break after level six, he said.

"Make sure you stock up on food and fluid," he instructed rather than suggested. "Not too much, but enough. It'll keep you alert."

Daniel thanked him, warmly shaking his wrinkled hand, appreciating the time he had taken to explain the ropes. He felt sure his eager eyes were looking at the old-timer with all the naivety of a poker virgin, but by way of conversation he volunteered a little of his background. The old-timer looked interested and Daniel leant a little closer, noticing the strong lines that lit up the older face.

He quietly explained that he was using this tourney so as to obtain experience of the World Series before he sat down at the Main Event. The old-timer just nodded. His Stetson was sitting comfortably as if it had been made for this very man and his eyes underneath were as alert as they no doubt had been for many years.

Daniel confided that he had particularly chosen to play Omaha for his first tournament so that he could experience Binion's, and that the different game would keep him fresh for the 'big one'. The old-timer just kept on smiling at Daniel in that reassuring way of his, before pushing his Stetson back on his head.

"Interestin'," he replied. "If I was getting in some practice for the Main Event, I wouldn't be playing a different game."

The common sense hit Daniel like a tidal wave and he felt his face redden, the blush spreading to his neck. He found his embarrassment spared as two clean cut players walked past the table. They clearly knew the old-timer and greeted him warmly. As they started in conversation, the old man half-swung back to Daniel.

"Good luck, young 'un," he said.

Daniel shook the slim, gentle hand yet again. Perhaps too enthusiastically, he thought, but this man had been an oasis of calm and that had been a great help. Before he turned back to his new conversation, Daniel asked his name.

"Slim. Just call me, Slim," he said.

Daniel crossed his arms behind him as he sat down. He watched more and more people greet Slim and suddenly, like a light bulb being switched on, he immediately realised who he had been talking to. It was the legend that was Amarillo 'Slim' Preston. Running his hand through his hair, Daniel let out a long sigh. How could he have been that stupid? This was Amarillo 'Slim' for heaven's sake!

*

The excitement of Lauren's audition had remained with the two sisters. After Daniel had refused Grace's advances in bed, she had called Lauren and the two of them decided an early celebration was in order, even though that may have been tempting fate. They walked the short distance across the Strip to The Venetian, for brunch and as they sat in the splendour of the Pinot Brasserie, sipping an early glass of chilled white wine, they recapped on the events at the studio.

They explored everything that had happened at the audition, weighing up the meaning of every action and word. They speculated on whether Lauren would be offered the job and if so, what other possibilities it might lead to. Although Lauren herself was beginning to have some doubts, Grace dismissed them and told her sister that all the signs were that she would be offered this fantastic opportunity.

It was not that Lauren thought the audition had gone badly, the contrary was the case. But she just found it difficult to believe that such an opening could come her way. It seemed that both Dan and Kay were convinced that this time, they had found the model that would please the publishers, and Kay could not have been friendlier.

She recalled the subtle looks, the gentle yet sensual touches, and the aroma of her perfume as she had sat so close to Lauren. Her soft stroking fingers and what appeared to be innocent contact had given Lauren goose bumps. She was not a lesbian by any means, or even bi, but Lauren had to confess to herself that she had been aroused by every aspect of this woman, and the situation she had been in.

It might prove interesting if the woman was attracted to her, she briefly thought. Then she shook her head, attempting to rid herself of such thoughts.

Noticing her younger sister losing herself in her own thoughts, Grace placed a soft hand on her bare arm.

"Lauren, are you okay," she gently asked.

"Oh yes," Lauren beamed. "I'm more than okay. Providing Kay rings later with the right news!"

Laughing, they stood up to leave. Their couple of glasses of wine and light salad had been a calming interlude, they told each other, as they set off on the short return journey to their hotel. Grace checked her watch, she had been told that she should report to Samuel Smith's some time mid afternoon. Although she desperately needed Lauren there for support, she knew her sister had to stay at their hotel awaiting Kay's call.

As they stepped out onto the overhead walkway that connected both sides of the Strip, the heat hit them unexpectedly. Lauren took Grace's arm and held her back. As Grace looked back at her sister, thinking she was simply adjusting to the warm temperature, she saw her younger sibling's dark brown eyes widen into a grin. Rummaging in her Louis Vuitton bag, she secretively pulled out a joint.

Stepping to one side away from the passing tourists crossing the walkway, she lit it with a flick of her silver lighter. Grace looked at her, aghast.

"Lauren," she gasped. "How did you get that over here? You didn't....."

"Don't ask," Lauren casually responded, taking a drag and handing it to her sister. "We can share this on the way back. It will calm both our nerves."

Lauren wondered how Grace would react if she told her about the white powder that Kay had so sensuously rubbed into her gums, but as the two women linked arms and slowly walked back to the hotel, she decided to keep that piece of information to herself. And she had been right, the joint was just sufficient to take the edge off both sets of nervousness and replace it with a dreamy feeling that something good was about to happen to them.

After all, each had achieved a kind of success simply by being here. Daniel with his poker, Lauren with her modelling, and Grace with her singing opportunity. And as with her sister, Grace was going to do anything she could to make an impression.

*

Daniel counted his chips, and then showed the dealer his receipt. For a time, he sat in silence, ensconced in his own little world. This was unreal, he thought, slipping his jacket off and over the back of a wooden chair that had clearly seen much better days. In fact, every part of the room had a well-worn feeling, but that made no difference to Daniel's mood. This was history. Goodness knows which players had sat in that chair before him?

He looked around and saw a room full of unfamiliar and unfriendly faces, but after a while, he was able to spot some that he had previously only been able to admire from afar. Annie Duke was only two tables away with her legs already tucked under her. And Johnny Chan...

the

Johnny Chan... was walking to a table across to the left, wearing his trademark garish shirt.

As the tables filled up, he recognised an immaculately dressed Matt Savage across the far side. His dark suit was a huge contrast to the favoured dress in the room, where faded blue denim seemed to dominate. The tournament director he had seen so many times on television was introducing himself over the microphone, his head looking around the large room as he pointed out that the first prize was just under $150,000 with twenty-seven to cash in.

Daniel smiled inwardly at such a huge amount, and ruminated on his comparatively modest ambition of simply lasting as long as possible. And familiarising himself with every facet of what was going on whilst he did so, of course. That was his key objective and if it meant sitting there folding hand after hand whilst he soaked in the atmosphere, then so be it. When the Main Event took place, he wanted to be able to concentrate on the poker and not what was going on around him.

He recalled the saying that poker was one hundred per cent skill and one hundred per cent luck. That was one way of putting it, he thought. Connoisseurs of the game had suggested that at its highest-level poker really came down to eighty per cent skill and twenty per cent luck. But, Daniel thought, at the level where he resided, that came as far down as fifty-fifty. And whilst he had no appreciation of the standard he was about to face, he knew for sure that it would be several levels higher than anything else he had ever experienced. That was for sure.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted as Matt Savage, in time-honoured fashion, uttered the words that kick starts every tournament: "Shuffle up and deal."

As he prepared to play, Daniel pondered that his only strategy was based on the knowledge that it was necessary to play Omaha a little tighter than with Texas Hold 'em. His aim therefore, was only to get involved in hands that gave him an opportunity to scoop the whole pot, though he quickly came to realise that regularly reduced him to a spectator as for quite some time the hands did not come.

He was sure the fact he was continually folding was not lost on any of the others either. His table image was suffering at the same time that his chip stack was, ever so slowly, going south. But at least the constant folding allowed him to keenly observe the other players and attempt to pick up on the styles and possible tells.

After playing for an hour or so, he observed that the guy on his right was playing the very opposite of his appearance. He was quite a bland looking bespectacled character, dressed conservatively in black trousers and a black polo neck. But belying his appearance, he was pretty loose and very aggressive. And when Mr Loose and Aggressive raised yet again in early position, Daniel's was on the button.

He double-checked the cards the dealer had flipped to him. Ace–Two-Five–Eight. Two were diamonds and two hearts. His interest was immediately aroused.

He had a strong hi-lo hand and therefore re-raised, partly for value but also to eliminate other players and possibly win the pot there and then. After all, the table knew he was tight. Surely they would pay that image some respect?

They did not. The small blind called and then, true to his approach so far, Mr Loose and Aggressive re-raised. Like it or not, Daniel was now involved in his first real pot. He simply called, as did the small blind.

The board came Four–Six–Seven of hearts.

Daniel's heart leapt but he tried to sit impassively, whilst being sure that every nerve ending in his body was displaying his excitement.

With the Five-Eight of hearts in his hand, he had miraculously flopped a straight flush. Not only that, but his low hand was six-high. This just did not happen. It flashed through his mind that even if he went out of the tournament in the following hand, he would not forget this moment. But it immediately got better.