I had been invited to a weekly poker game for several months by a particularly annoying colleague at the plant where we work. I had avoided going for at least seven months before deciding that I could probably swallow my dislike of the jerk enough to spend some time playing cards. I love poker.
So, I finally relented and told Tom I would go to his game. Boy, I'm sure glad I did, but I'll never be invited back again. Tom is a bombastic jackass that has to brag about everything he has. He has to compete in everything. Whatever anyone has done, Tom has done it better. If someone has something special, Tom has two, and knew about it before they did. He cannot find room in his mind for anyone else to have any attention. Pure and simple, though, the guy is a cocksucker. I envy him nothing.
I showed up at his house and suffered through the "grand tour." He wouldn't shut up about everything he had. To make my suffering worse, I noted that he displayed his wedding picture where everyone could see it. I don't know how the asshole scored her, but his wife was a stunningly beautiful blonde.
"Where's your wife...?" I asked.
"Stace?" Tom flashed too many teeth. "She's at the gym. She maintains a very tight physique..."
I stopped listening. Whatever he was saying, I was sure that it was his wife was the most, the best, the smartest, the sexiest, the greatest, etc.
With great relief, I joined Chuck, Brian, Mark, and Len at the table. Brian gave me a wry look; he agreed about Tom being a colossal prick, but he came for the game, too. At least I was otherwise surrounded by friends or friendly people from work. I could suffer through Tom's bullshit.
We played a couple hours of five card draw on a fifty dollar buy-in. I was down a little after that time, but not by much. The prick seemed to be up by about as much as I was down. Well, it was only fifty bucks. But this is where things got real interesting. In walks Tom's wife, Stace. She was wearing super tight gym trunks and a sports halter. She was gorgeous, or at least her face was. Her boobs were too round and prominent. So, she had bolt-ons. She was a regular Frankentits. I guess Tom needed to have perfect boobs in his face and would pay anything to bolt them onto his woman.
Stace hovered around the kitchen table where we were playing. I was busy checking out the fact that she wasn't wearing anything under her skin-tight gym trunks and Tom gave me knowing winks to show he noticed it.
"Stace works out every day," he said.
No shit.
"Every day," Stace slurred in agreement.
So, she also had a habit of stopping by the bar after her workout and having a few before coming home.
I smiled as best I could. "She looks pretty tough."
Tom lit up and leaned over the table.
Oh hell, what had I started? His mouth was about to launch off.
"My Stace is so buff that she can squeeze you out just by her contractions," Tom bragged.
Sheesh, not even I would talk like this about any woman I loved. But Tom the Prick had put down a few beers as well, tonight, and he wasn't holding back. I wondered how far he would argue that? "So, you're saying she could expel anyone by just squeezing?"
"Yep. Not only that..."
Uh huh. Here comes more bullshit.
"...but she can even clamp down and keep herself shut tight. She's impervious to rape if she wants to be." Tom's head wagged with arrogance.
What a cocksucker. I wasn't going to put up with it. "Bullshit. No woman can keep a man out."
Tom roared in laughter. "Pal, Stace here can keep anyone out."
Len leaned over to me and whispered, "what the hell are you doing?"
I ignored Len. "Nah, I doubt it. You're dreamin'."
Stace raised her eyebrows and placed her hands on her lithe hips.
