I'm glad the last chapter was so well received. Comments and ratings appreciated as always, along with specific feedback if anyone has some to offer. Enjoy.
Spa Chip Reference
: 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
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Vicky sat in the solarium again, but this time it was the dead of night and she didn't have a busty Asian on her lap.
The Friday night game (she hadn't realized "night" and "evening" were two distinct terms until she'd started hanging out with rich people either) was clearly the "everyone in" game. She'd had to fork twenty chips over to Cyn to sit out and only the nervous boy Steve did the same. The play was fast and furious at the table; each hand had a minimum of four people in most of the time so despite the relatively low antes and the 100 bet maximum there were a lot of colors flying around on the table, including one or two black chips, the idea of which still scared Vicky.
She'd taken the opportunity to people-watch, using all of her observational insight to assess the people at the table. Reading people at the table was difficult because everyone was making the effort to control their expressions most of the time. A lot of them weren't good at it, but it still took a while for Vicky to pick up on all the nuances in some cases.
Oddly sitting out of the game was the first time she noticed the dealer, but she dismissed him just as quickly; his attitude was a mix of bewilderment, awe (usually at the women), and forced professionalism. She guessed this weekend would be the only time she ever saw him. Robin she had observed a lot so she started with her and figured out her deal quickly enough; Robin enjoyed playing just for the social aspect. She sensed Robin would have been even riskier but she always kept a wary eye on Cyn and Vincent. Her watching Cyn was obvious, Vicky hadn't figured out why her attention was on Vincent.
Syl was very hard to read at the table, but she got a sense of the type of player the girl was. She tried to focus on one target and beat them. Vicky had no idea how she was picking the targets (she suspected it had to do with poker strategy she wasn't familiar with) but it usually worked in her favor. She wasn't above folding when she couldn't put a hand together, but she was most vulnerable when someone came out of left field that she hadn't been tracking; whenever she lost big, it tended to be because of someone that had scored a lucky card late in the game.
Zach was just in it for the good time and practically held up a sign broadcasting his intentions, so Vicky didn't spend much time on him. There was an air of desperation around both Amy and Charles. Amy was clearly excited the entire time she was at the table; she was looking at all the other players like a customer at a meat market. Charles considered everyone much the same way but a dom/sub distinction was present. Amy advertised herself to anyone paying attention and was not subtle; to Vicky she might as well have stood on the table (or perhaps bent over the table) with a sign that said "first come, first served." Charles was no less desperate but he wouldn't surrender and worked desperately to be the one in control; he went after the chips of a few people, trying to get enough for a cashable favor as quickly as he could. Every win was his due, and every loss was a betrayal.
Charles' friend Ammad was tougher to read, and had clearly practiced controlling his expressions. Vicky sensed a vast well of patience in him, and she was mildly worried about what he might be waiting for. His current focus seemed to simply be testing the waters; she caught him a few times when he had a predatory gleam in his eye and leaned forward in excitement, but then he seemed to stop himself, and he usually folded his hand right after. For some reason he was holding back from playing when he knew he could rake in the pot.
The one person she'd actively avoided studying at the table suddenly sauntered into the solarium in the present, albeit quietly. He seemed to be barefoot, though he was otherwise fully dressed. For some reason Vicky thought it would have been more apropos for him to be wearing a cape.
He crossed the room and settled into an easy chair with a controlled movement that spoke of expertise in some form of martial arts, possibly more than one. Vicky checked her watch. It was 2:45am, and the Saturday night game broke up at 2:00. She briefly wondered what Vincent had been doing for the last 45 minutes, then blushed to herself that "who" he'd been doing was probably the more accurate question. It took her a moment to realize she was staring and she looked away hurriedly.
She was lost in thought, staring at the starscape visible through the skylights, when Vincent's voice shocked her.
"Do you have a question?" he asked. His voice seemed to carry across the room but wasn't loud.