Page 24 of Gambler's Conceit
If it wasn’t hisfatherwho beat him… well, I know what other kinds of Daddies there are, especially in the gay scene. I guess that means he’s taken. I shouldn’t be surprised. Rich older guys with sugar babies aren’t exactly uncommon in Calamity City.
“There’s no one worth getting on my knees for instead,” Seven quips back.
I laugh and take a step closer to him. “Careful. If you flirt like that, you might end up doing something that earns you even more punishment.”
Seven’s eyes rake over me, and he says, “Something tells me you might be worth it.” He smiles sweetly at me, but then he drops the act with a groan. “Ugh. Wait. Let me guess. You work for him too, don’t you? This is some sort of test?”
“Work for him?” I ask, confused. I loosen my stance and shake my head. “If I were working for anybody, I wouldn’t be wasting all my time at a casino and hoping for big winnings.”
“If you were working for him, you’d definitely be here all the time, on account ofhimbeing the boss and all,” Seven says dryly.
“You’ve lost me.” I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “Okay, I was going to see if you wanted to have some fun together, but if not, I might as well get back to eking out some winnings.” Then I groan. “Without hitting up the blackjack tables.”
“Bad luck at the game?” Seven asks in what might be sympathy. “That sucks. But hey, I might have a proposition for you.” He pulls out a handful of casino chips from his pocket. “You teach me how these games work, and I’ll share some of my winnings with you.”
I quickly count the chips, which add up to close to $500. “You could just cash those in, if you want the money.”
“I could,” he agrees, smirking at me. “But what’s the fun in that?”
“No fun at all,” I agree, although I’d probably be cashing out at $500 just to be sure I had enough for expenses for the rest of the month. I try to be smart about my gambling, which isn’t always easy.
It’ll be harder now that I can’t play the blackjack tables, but… I eye Seven.
“You ever play blackjack?” I ask, casually leaning closer. “It’s the only game where you can have a slight advantage over the house.”
“I’m a virgin,” Seven says, tucking the chips back into his pocket. “Wanna break my cherry and show me how it’s done?”
The obvious flirtation makes me laugh. It’s fun that he has no qualms about being openly into me, when I’m more used to hushed encounters in back alleys.
“Sure.” I help him off the bar stool and slowly walk us toward the blackjack tables, stopping well out of the dealer’s sight. “Okay, the rules are simple. The dealer is going to set out cards in front of you. You have to try to get as close to 21 without going over.”
I give him a quick overview of the game, and Seven nods in understanding. After the explanation is over, Seven asks, “So how is this a game you can beat the house at?”
“There’s only so many cards in a deck. If you know how many decks are being used, you can math out what the probability is of the next card being in your favor or against.” I smile at him. “Counting cards, as it were. The house frowns on it, but it’s not technically illegal.”
“Uh-huh,” Seven says. “Let me guess: we’re standing over here out of sight with you telling me how it works because the house found out you know how to do it.”
“And you’re standing here instead of out there because you got caught, too,” I point out.
His expression briefly turns fierce, hard, as he stares at me.
“You want to earn some money or not?” I prompt him.
Seven lets out an irritated sound, then waves a hand vaguely in my direction. “Yeah, sure, why not? Let’s make some cash.”
“You want to try counting cards on your own?” I ask. “The math isn’t too hard, you just have to be quick. I can also give you signals.”
“Yeah, all that math might just be too much for me,” Seven says with a faux innocent voice. He leans in closer to me, tilting his head up and licking his lips. “But how would you signal me?”
It’s so fucking obvious, but I have to admit I’m flattered. He’s hot and very much my type, small and lithe and pretty. I smile at him. “Maybe I should pinch your ass every time you need to raise.”
“I think all the squirming would get obvious,” Seven replies, grinning back at me.
“Then you’ll just have to be very, very still, won’t you?” I counter.
He laughs. “All right, you win. But if I win, and I’m sore all over, you have to kiss it all better.”
I almost ask him about hisdaddyor partner or whatever, and decide that I don’t care. I’ll fuck him once, and if that causes problems for him, well… I doubt I’ll see him again anyway.