Glancing down to secure the clasp on my black garter belt, I shifted it around me to rest on my pale hips. Feeling the soft cushion of the satin bedspread smooth on my bare bottom, I pulled up first one sheer black thigh-high hose; then the other. Standing and bending down, I stretched the garter straps and slipped the hose top into each clasp. I pulled the tight black satin panties up over the straps and my mature hips. And, why would I wear my panties in such a fashion (outside my garter and hose)? Simple, its casino night and easy access means everything.
Tucking my oversized melons into a D-cupped, 36-inch matching strapless lace bra, I sighed in knowing acceptance. "If this keeps his mind more on me than that dam roulette table, then it's worth it," my reflection shrugged in the mirror. My little black spaghetti-strapped dress and 3-inch tall satin pumps slid on like old familiar friends. I took one final scan of the voluptuous mirrored image and grabbed my purse. At 50-something, I still cleaned up pretty darn good. My shoulder-length ash blonde hair slightly ratted up, painted lips, eye shadow and long silver earrings were all the accents needed to complete the sexy, perhaps slutty package that was me.
"You 'bout ready?" Shouted my antsy husband from the bottom of the stairs.
The tight dress shifted and clung to my every little bulge, as I descended the staircase like some dark harlot. Expecting a favorable response, I quietly smiled and brushed up against him, with no reaction. I had desensitized him.
"So, you look ready to me. Let's go," he pressed and whisked past me to the garage.
"What a dick! No doubt he's trying to piss me off so I'll stay home. Well, no such luck buddy," I thought, getting in the car.
Our monthly visits to the local casino proved that Donny wasn't so much a compulsive gambler, as he was a binge player. He knows his weakness for over riding streaks. He's also aware that I know all his secrets, which never seem to payoff in any long-term gain. I've always been up to the challenge of casino night. If I catch him in time and do the sexy blonde routine with the promise of hot sex; that's enough to divert his attention and get him out of there, before any major damage is done. Don't get me wrong, I'm not against gambling and have been known to get a bit carried away myself on a rare occasion. But, I don't ever get to the point of 'selling the farm' to ride a so-called hot streak.
The closer we got to the casino, the more Donny relaxed and took notice of me.
"You're looking sexy tonight, Barb. Got a hot date?" He joked.
"Just might; you never know..." I answered and purposely crossed my leg to reveal some thigh.
"Man you should bottle and sell that shit Baby," he said, staring at my exposed leg.
"Yeah right, at my age!"
"I'm serious Barb. You could make gobs of money!" He added.
"And you would like that?" I teased.
"I'm just saying, what you've got is what most men want," he observed.
"You're nuts," I concluded and watched the bright casino light up the night sky.
Donny was always stingy with compliments, so I inwardly smiled and took it as such.
"Guess I know where you'll be?" I asked, knowing he was headed directly to the roulette table.
He nodded and soon maneuvered through the crowded casino and out of sight. Realizing the routine, I traded $30 in for dollar tokens and picked out a friendly looking slot machine. I got the normal glances and stares from a few male patrons and quickly downed two rum and cokes. My one-armed bandit turned out to be less than friendly. Within an hour I'd switched from one machine, then another and was down to my last $10. As was my practice, I secretly watched Donny at the roulette table. Amazingly enough, he actually seemed to be winning.
I approached him and asked how he was doing. Laying down another bet, he proudly announced that he was up about three grand. The drinks flowed with regularity, as I watched him hit three more winning numbers. He was elated and I was happy for him. After bumming another $30 from him, I went off to try some other slots. I initially had better luck with the new ones, until after another hour Lady Luck ran out. Now down to $5, I returned to the roulette wheel.
The dwindling stack of chips in front of him, told me Donny was in make-up mode. He quickly informed me that he was only down $2,000 and was in the middle of a comeback. This was an all too familiar scene. I only hoped I wasn't too drunk to lure him away from the table. Something went wrong. My sexy advances and consolations had no effect on him. He was bound and determined more than ever to make the money back; ignoring my pleas to get out. Another half an hour later, I gave up trying.
"Well, I can't sit and watch you lose everything, I'm going to the car, with or without you Donny," I said in my bitchy, pissed off voice.
"Yeah, you go on ahead Baby. This shouldn't take too long," He lied and smiled, as I turned to leave.
The warm summer night air filled my dizzy head, as I weaved my way through the huge parking lot. Climbing into the warm car, I cracked all four windows just enough for ventilation and reclined my rider's side seat back to take a nap. I dozed off with visions of my husband losing all our vacation money, or worse, on that dam wheel. The liquor had its toll and soon I fell asleep.
I couldn't have been out more than twenty minutes, when I felt something light touch my cheek. I brushed it away and soon felt another. More awake, I took hold of the paper and opened my eyes. The parking lot lamps shining on me must be playing games with my eyes. The paper felt like money. Another bill glanced by my face, as I tried to catch it. Now I knew it was for real, as three more dollar bills floated down. I turned my attention to the source. Like a whacked out ATM machine, bills cascaded down from where I had cracked open the window.
My first thought was that Donny was playing games, until I saw the stranger's hand doing the deed. It was black. I immediately raised my seat up and reached over to start the ignition and raise the windows. In the process, I trapped one of the bills.
"God, how long has he been standing there watching me?" I wondered.
The tall black man on my side wouldn't lean down, but simply tapped his finger nail against the glass. Somehow he could see me and my expression, as I watched his finger point to the trapped bill. Seeing the bill was a five, I also clearly saw he had a large wad of bills rolled up in his other hand. His free hand turned to show his palm, like he was making me an offer. Then he made the sign for "OK" and presented his palm again.
I looked around the car-filled lot frantically for some sign of help; there was nobody. His hand kept making the same non-threatening gestures. My husband's earlier reference to my appearance flashed through my brain, "You should bottle and sell that shit."
"What do you want? I can't take your money!" I blurted out, loud enough to penetrate the window glass.
The dark stranger said nothing. Sticking the wad of bills in his pocket, he pressed his palms together, as if begging me to take the money.
"What do you WANT?" I repeated.
His fore finger pointed directly at my chest and slowly rotated. I shuddered.
"You're crazy - no way!" I insisted and nervously scanned the parking lot again.
