Those of you who've been wondering what happened to Vicky and waiting for some actual poker action, this chapter's for you.
I'd encourage any new readers to at least start with Year Two ch. 01 even if you don't go all the way back to the original spa game series; I think it will make much more sense. Thank you to everyone who's been reading, rating, favoriting, and commenting to this point.
Key to the Chips:
Nickname
: value, favor, color
Clouds
: 1, Touching, White
Canaries
: 2, Kissing, Yellow
Lipstick
: 5, Oral, Red
Skies
: 10, Sex, Blue
Grass
: 25, Anal, Green
Doubles/Oranges
: 50, Double, Orange
Fucked
: 100, Forefit, Black
=====================
Vicky took a deep breath as she rode in the car with Robin.
She'd met Robin a few times last semester when she and Cyn had gotten closer. Cyn had admitted to Vicky the two of them were together, but apparently monogamy was not in the cards, based on the little she knew about where they were headed and what she'd picked up from Syl the previous week. She couldn't blame Cyn; Robin had model body beauty that she could appreciate, even if her attraction to her own sex was limited. Assuming Cyn was at least bisexual, Robin was a definite catch, and Cyn's lover wore a wrap-style burgundy shirt that gave the appearance there was one strip of cloth doing the job of covering and supporting both of Robin's breasts and baring a lot of skin, leaving no possibility of wearing a bra covertly. She'd paired it with tight black slacks that made the contours of her body obvious in most positions.
Syl sat in the driver's seat in front of Vicky and she had no idea what the smaller woman had on; when she'd pulled up it was in a white double breasted coat that looked almost military. She'd jokingly acted like a chauffer and nearly looked the part. The coat seemed like overkill to Vicky; the fall chill was definitely setting in when the sun went down but it wasn't unbearable. Then again, Syl was so small and thin Vicky guessed she got cold easily. Unfortunately the coat hid whatever outfit she wore, though based on the wild rumors it was possible she had nothing on underneath.
Vicky was only frustrated because she'd had no sense of what to wear herself. Apparently any details that would have clued her in couldn't be revealed until tonight. She'd opted for a tight, high-necked brown knit sweater and slacks similar to Robin's, but hers were tan and not nearly as fancy; she still considered shopping primarily at places like Saks Fifth Avenue to be decadently wasteful; she couldn't bring herself to custom order clothing from designers like so many Veretrumians apparently did. Last year for her birthday Cyn gave her a silk blouse custom fit for her. The one time she'd modeled it for Cyn it felt and fit like a luxurious second skin, then Cyn had casually mentioned it cost $3,000. After that, Vicky had carefully sealed it in a waterproof bag, packaged it, and shipped it home. As far as she knew, it was still in its package in one of her closets, and she still had no intention of taking it out.
They arrived at a large but not obnoxiously sized house after a twenty minute drive from campus to an area where civilization disappeared in a hurry. Vicky guessed it had been five minutes since she'd seen anything suggesting another house was even nearby. The house had a spacious yard fenced in with brick and iron with swinging gates that guarded entry to a true circular driveway, currently about half full of vehicles, though she couldn't see if any others sat in the detached garage on one side. The yard was only bordered by a fence on the street side; all other boundaries were marked by dense trees and by the look of it the house's plot had been carved out of a forest. It wouldn't surprise Vicky at all to have seen deer or other wildlife wandering by.
"I'm going to take you straight to Cyn when we go in; they didn't tell me the details but your situation needs special handling because you don't have a trust fund."
"Yeah, sucks to have new money I guess," Vicky said, unable to keep the bite out of her tone.
"Hey don't be like that," Robin teased, "You're here aren't you?"
"For the moment," Vicky said doubtfully.
She saw Syl and Robin exchange a look, then Robin shrugged and got out of the car. Syl escorted her into the house and led her through the foyer down some stairs to a very nicely finished and spacious basement that had all the hallmarks of a game room, though rather than multiple tables for pool, shuffleboard, and eating there was only a bar that didn't seem to have drinks and a poker table with a wide berth. Stools and a small shelf ringed the outside of the room where several small groups of people milled around chatting or checking their phones.
Vicky was briefly relieved that her choice of outfit wasn't going to make her stand out, but she tensed up again when she recognized some of the faces around the room. She didn't know anyone else other than Cyn personally, but she recognized many of them by reputation. She was looking at Veretrum's elite. Not necessarily in wealth, although she knew several people there had relatives with net worths that outstripped countries, but they were the social movers and shakers. Every student either wanted to be friends with most of the people in the room or vehemently disliked them. She only saw two people she didn't recognize at all; a nervous gangly guy who sat shrunk back in a corner, and a slightly heavier woman with a very low cut shirt and loose almost bell-bottom like pants who didn't seem to have bothered with any kind of makeup, somewhat to her detriment.
Her breath literally caught when Syl guided her over to the bar. Cyn wore a deep ruby red suit jacket with nothing or very sparse clothing underneath, meaning what wasn't red cloth was cleavage basically until you got to her neck, but while Cyn's chest was impressive, the man standing next to the bar stole the attention.
Vicky had heard and seen pictures of Vincent McCabe before but she'd never met him in person and he was intimidating in every sense. He held himself with perfect poise and posture, keeping one hand on the bar but clearly not leaning on it. He wore a high-necked almost military cut shirt and perfectly tailored pants of dark grey. The style suggested the intent was to blend in, but on him all they did was entice, hinting at the physique the clothes obscured and making it impossible to see more without obviously staring. He was clean-shaven but had a thin, pointed, aristocratic chin and expression that merely made him look like a young man waiting to be put in charge of something. His long red hair was pulled back in a ponytail and his blue eyes seemed to bore into hers.
"Miss Silva, glad you could join us," McCabe said, his subtle Irish accent adding just enough to his words to enhance his exotic allure.
"Thank you," she said. She was torn between bowing, trying to curtsey, and offering her hand, so ended up just standing motionless.
Vincent brought out a piece of paper with a lot of small, densely packed text on it. "If you want to consult a lawyer or financial advisor we'd understand but in essence this form sets up a trust that makes you and the spa as an organization the beneficiaries. I took the liberty of using some connections within my family's purview to send a note offering you a position with a work-study program, requiring a two million dollar deposit for unspecified incidentals."
"My father agreed to that?" Vicky asked, shocked.
"It's unlikely he's received the notice yet. Basically this is your out; he will undoubtedly call you to confirm your participation in this study before transferring the money. If you confirm, you continue to attend our meetings here. Otherwise, we part ways. I'll leave you in Cyn's capable hands to explain the nuances of what we do here."
McCabe strolled off, which was the only verb Vicky felt was appropriate for his walk, being both poised and casual at the same time. When she looked back Syl had disappeared but Cyn was still there, glaring briefly at Vincent's retreat before turning a warmer look at Vicky.
"How are you doing?" she asked.
"A bit nervous," Vicky admitted, "You look hot. I feel so underdressed."
"You're fine," Cyn assured her, "I go all out because I'm the banker and it's sort of become my thing. Now, let's get to the details before we're both busy."
Cyn gave her the run down of the spa's chips and economy, as well as the four games that occurred throughout the weekend.
"There's a low limit, low stakes game in about forty-five minutes that you have to play in. That one is the shortest game and it also doesn't have a lot of money flying back and forth; that's why the beginners are put in. Then there's dinner and the Friday night game. That one has slightly higher limits and decent antes; it's by far the most popular game to play in. Saturday morning has higher antes and medium limits. I call that the practice game because most of the people who play aren't as interested in favors and just want to play the game. That game lasts for a while, then there's the Saturday night game. That one is high ante and high stakes. Unless you're feeling really confident or you're up for the possibility of anal on your second night, I'd avoid that game."
Vicky felt her face blanch at Cyn's description, and thought through everything she'd just learned. "Cyn...I'm not gay."
"And?"
"Well...what if, like, Robin wins enough of my chips?"