Mark Carver: The naked deal

Lane glanced at his watch. She'd only been on shift about an hour or so and still had seven to go. She was so dumb and anxious to steal she didn't even wait to get into her work-shift, the greedy little bitch. He knew instinctively this would be her first offense. For one thing, she'd been spotted too easily and for another, an experienced thief would wait until later in the evening when the action got heavier, so they'd be much harder to spot.

Okay. The film would be done in about five more minutes. But there'd be no gentle slap on the wrist for this juicy little honey. Not while he had this terrific hard-on. Lane picked up the phone and told the operator to get his home. His wife's slurred voice answered.

"Listen, you ripe-titted little slut," Lane muttered, "I want you sober in exactly one hour understand? Nothing but black coffee. And get the ropes and the whip and the dildo out."

Her squeal of excitement rang in his ear.

"Ooooo! You're bringing home something nice, Lane? Something hot and juicy for Vera?"

"Bet your sweet ass," he pinned, watching the young dealer's curves sway as she flicked out cards like a machine. "A real honey, Vera. And she needs a lesson too. Now I want you sober, Goddamnit! It'll be anywhere from an hour to two hours."

"I'll be sober, I swear it!" Vera breathed, alert and urgent with excitement now. "Oh God, honey, I'm so hot! You sure she's pretty?"

"Sexier than a mink in heat, baby. Now get some coffee, take a shower and put plenty of perfume on your wild pussy. This girl is gonna eat her heart out. Move!"

He slammed down the phone. The dealer was glancing around, looking for her relief now. They get a twenty-minute break every hour, to keep alert. The girl was tapped on the shoulder by her relief dealer. She swung smoothly out of position while she was being replaced and began taking her apron off as she moved toward the velvet ropes that separated the gambling pit from the rest of the casino. Her tits strained proudly at her white blouse and her ripe ass bounced with heavy silken promise as she moved. Lane felt a drop of cream ooze out of the head of his throbbing prick. He watched her go into the coffee shop. A few seconds later her accomplice in the red tie and blazer surrendered his seat at the blackjack table and followed her. Dumb, Lane thought with contempt, really dumb, both of them. Her boyfriend would get a working over, but not too harsh, just enough to make him think profoundly before he ever tried to screw the house again.

The girl had better enjoy her brief coffee break and get as much rest as she could, because she'd sure as hell need it when his crazy wife started in on her luscious young flesh. And the girl would be willing enough, trembling with fear, but begging to please. Because she knew about the casinos' brand of justice, they all did! It was a calculated risk. No one ever took the house! Lane thought furiously. Didn't these dumb bastards ever learn? The house had eyes and ears and cameras everywhere, spies threading among them like customers, other dealers making a specialty of spotting thieves for a generous bonus.

No one ever took the house!

But even Lane should have known there was a first time for everything in this relentlessly moving world. At that precise moment more than a thousand miles away in a peaceful suburb of Omaha, Nebraska the wheels of destiny were churning into motion, sparked by some wild, tempestuous fucking and lavish promises. When the wheels finished grinding in less than two weeks time, the Green Wheel Casino would be taken for more than one hundred thousand dollars in cash in one of the most ingenious capers in history. No camera would be capable of recording the take. No hawk-eyed guard or spy or dealer-informant would have the faintest idea of what was going on.

Not even Lane's sharp, cynical eyes would be able to catch it in time.

And what would come to be known as The Great Blackjack Rip-off would quickly be followed by one of the most diabolical double crosses in history, fiddled with sex and fury and sheer icy vengeance.

There was a humid blanket of heat in the cheap motel room that left the naked couple on the bed in a seething, dangerous mood. It was an unusually hot summer day in Omaha, and without air-conditioning it could be pure torture.

They lay side by side watching the ceiling, lost in their own thoughts. The man was powerfully built and handsome, with sleek good looks. There was a hint of cruelty around his mouth. The woman had a hard face that had seen too much of the harsh side of life, but her body was classically beautiful, with velvety skin and high, perfectly rounded tits, and a curved ass that made eyes turn after her on the street with naked hunger.

"Just one," Sally said to her husband pleadingly. "Come on, honey, just one Goddamn quickie." She put her hand on his long limp prick and hugged it lovingly as she began to stroke it with passion.

"Lay off," Jack told her irritably. "You've gotta leave in ten minutes anyway, so get up and get your hot ass dressed."

Sally sat up, biting her lip. It was too hot to get laid anyway. She just wanted some reassurance. After all, he was her husband and he was screwing that fat-assed blonde right in their bed, and Goddamnit, in spite of the blonde's overripe tits and dumb expression, she'd be hell on wheels if she ever lost weight and got sharp with clothes and makeup.

"How is she?" Sally asked anxiously. "In the sack, I mean. She looks clumsy, like a cow."

Jack grinned up at his wife, a dazzling, charming grin any woman would be a complete idiot to trust. There were a great many complete idiots around.

"You'd be surprised," he told her softly. "That country pussy ain't nothin' to knock, believe me. Nice and tight and juicy, not as clumsy as you'd think."

"You son-of-a-bitch!" Sally hissed her beautiful naked tits heaving with anger. "I know you have to screw her but do you have to make a fucking production out of it? It's business! Just like when I…"

Her voice trailed off and she looked away, her face burning.

"Like when you were hooking when I met you," Jack finished dryly. "And still do, when we need bread." He sat up, his muscles rippling smoothly, and glanced at his watch. "Let's cut the crap out, Sally. She's due soon. We've got to be packed and ready to leave this dump by morning. Remember, we've got a tight schedule for the next two weeks."

Suddenly the brunette stood up. She watched her husband as she slipped on her clothes. There were times when she hated the handsome bastard more than she loved him, but after all, tonight would be the last night he'd romp in the sack with that corn-fed farmer's daughter. Then it was off to Reno. And then, after a few tense harrowing days of furious action, it would be off to Acapulco, Hawaii… wherever a hundred thousand in cash would take them. The plan was perfect, a masterpiece of flawless, cunning thinking, just like Jack himself. And that silly blonde cow would be left hanging, jilted at the church, just like the famous song. The thought brought a vengeful laugh to Sally's ripe mouth.

"I'd love to see the look on her face a couple of weeks from now," Sally said, zipping up her dress. "Fat, moon-faced bitch waiting desperately for the handsome bridegroom, while the truth hits her like a sledgehammer."

"Don't rub it in," he said sharply. "I don't mind being a bastard once in a while, but let's keep it pure business. There's too much money involved here for any of that jealousy crap."

"You love being a bastard," Sally whispered, leaning down to kiss him goodbye. She brought her lips quickly down to his long rod and licked it lasciviously, feeling it quiver in response. She shivered. "Save some of this good stuff for your wife tonight. Okay, honey? Remember, I'll be out picking up a few bucks for us in the meantime."