Lost Bet Lost Wife
(MM/F, ir, size, blackmail)

by Kysa Braswell
kysa online

The lights in the cabaret lounge brightened again and the spots centered on the casual figure on the stage. As Jerry Stansfield finished another number the applause was spontaneous and enthusiastic.

The lounge was almost completely filled, though more with middle-aged women than others and the young singer had a way of capturing the audience completely. His delivery was ultra-casual and the smooth richness of his voice was a portent of the great star many figured him soon to become. As the orchestration behind him launched into a Bossa Nova medley, the man singing in the center of the stage had the total attention of the women in the audience, but many of the men had settled on a different attraction.

To these men the stunningly beautiful girl seated alone at a small table held more fascination for them than any male singer could ever have. Even in the dimness of the showroom it was evident that the leggy brunette was extraordinarily lovely. Her glossy brunette hair was very long and draped casually over one shoulder, so black and glistening that it seemed to be a deep royal purple. The darkness of her hair was strikingly contrasted with the china white of her skin and the light grey-blue eyes. Despite her petite 5'1 frame, she sported massive DD-cup breasts, which greatly accentuated her figure. She sat oblivious to the stares of the men in the audience, intent only on the singer, and as he finished his song her applause was even more enthusiastic than any other.

Jerry, if he hadn't been blinded by the spotlights and could have seen the distraction the girl was causing, might have been filled with a combination of annoyance and pride. He wouldn't have liked the influence she had on his audience, he wanted them to see and hear no one but him, but the girl was Jeannie, his wife. And there were times when he wanted to stand and shout, "Look, you unfortunate people! Look at what's mine, all mine!"

At the small table the same desire was passing through the girl's proud admiring thoughts. He's so wonderful, she thought silently, so talented and handsome. Oh, Jerry, they all love you so much, but no one can ever love you the way I do! No one can ever want you the way I do, from the moment I first saw you! She was jolted suddenly from her silent reverie by the scrape of a chair that was moved out from her table. She looked up into the oily slickness of the man's face who was joining her without invitation and felt a chill of revulsion pass quickly through her.

Victor Vitelli! Jerry's boss, and the man who controlled the hiring of all the talent that was booked into the cabaret shows in the three major clubs in downtown Reno.

Anyone seated nearby would immediately have noticed the distaste on her face, but it went unseen by the swarthy man as he joined her. He wasn't unhandsome in a Latin sort of way, but the small sharply trimmed mustache and his slick oiled appearance caused an unpleasant reaction in almost anyone who met him.

Perhaps he had sensed this so many times in his fifty two years that his subconscious had built in an automatic screening device and he no longer even noticed the adverse reactions.

Jeannie slid her chair to the side slightly to make more room for him only to have him move closer still, until their thighs were touching.

He's so repulsive, she thought. So Goddamned sneaky! But, for Jerry's sake I can't offend him.

She nodded at him, trying to affect a warm smile, and returned her attention to her husband as he began another number. Victor Vitelli glanced at her half-filled drink and snapped his fingers at a passing waitress.

As he gave the girl the order, Jeannie watched him fondle the woman's leg.

That Pig! He'd never get away with it if he didn't have so much control in this casino. And he thinks the girls let him touch them because he's so attractive!

"Jeannie, Baby... that chick's got nice wheels, but they ain't nowhere as gorgeous as your legs." He leered at her in what she thought he figured was a seductive glance. "Yes sir, Jerry's got himself a nice little thing going hasn't he?"

He leaned over to pat her hand as he spoke, and she had to fight the desire to jerk it away from him. She reached for a cigarette, using it as an excuse to remove her hand, and tried to change the direction the conversation was definitely heading.

"Victor. What do you think of Jerry? Isn't he great! He sure has this crowd wrapped around his little finger, doesn't he?"

"What, oh yeah. 'Course they're just a bunch of frustrated ol bags hungerin' for a young guy." He chewed on his cigar as he gazed contemptuously around the people filled room. "Hey, don't get me wrong. Your boy's all right. Someday he might just get somewhere. Yeah, someday, if he's got the right influence behind him." He nudged her painfully. Yeah, I might just decide to give the kid the right push... if I had a little cooperation. Know what I mean?"

Good God! she thought. He's finally come right out with it. She tried frantically to think of something to say that would avoid acknowledging his question.

"Come on, Victor," she laughed hesitantly. "You know we'd both appreciate anything you could do. Jerry thinks you're the greatest manager in the world." She paused. "Hey, listen, Victor... he's going to do that song everyone likes so much."

But the man just leaned closer, ignoring her. "Jerry? No, Baby, I'm thinking of a way you and I can help his career... you and me."

Just as she started to pull away from him they were interrupted by the waitress with their drinks. In the moments that it took him to find his pen and sign the drink tab Jerry finished the last number in the set and the house lights came on. She watched her husband finish the song on his knees like Al Jolson, bowing his head to the standing applause of the audience. He's so terrific, she thought. I can't hurt his career with Vitelli. Please, God, get him over here before Victor gets a chance to continue! The man at her side turned disappointedly from the waitress to watch Jerry Stansfield thread his way through the milling crowd toward the table.

"Hi, honey... Hey, Victor, how'd you like the show! Boy, these people are great. Man, what a great set! Hey, how did you."

Jeannie watched her husband's excited gesticulations, heard him rattling happily to his manager. Her relief at having him break up the conversation that Vitelli had started was spoiled by the realization that Jerry was loaded again. Whenever he finished a set with a good audience he was always wound up, but again tonight she recognized the glassiness in his eyes, the soft slurring in his voice when he spoke, and knew that he'd been drinking heavily again. It was strange. He could get up on the stage completely smashed and it never showed in his singing but as soon as he got away from the lights and the music it became very obvious to anyone that knew him.

Even Vitelli saw it. "Jerry, baby... you're on the sauce again. Man, you gotta cool it." There was a cold harshness in his voice, enough to make itself known to the singer.

"Hey, no Victor, I just had a couple," he said soberly. "My throat was kinda' sore."

Then he grabbed his manager by the arm. "Come on," he said cheerfully. "Let's hit the tables, tonight I feel lucky."

Jeannie reached out for him and he saw the movement, the apprehension in her eyes. "Don't worry, Honey. Have a quick drink at the bar and I'll be right back." She started to protest, but before she could answer him, he shouted to the bartender at the lounge bar. "Hey, Harry, fix this lovely young lady up with another daiquiri and keep an eye on her for me, will ya?"

"Sure thing, Mister Stansfield. Great show!"

As she was led to the bar Jeannie got a little consolation out of the bartender's remark. She knew everyone was impressed with Jerry and perhaps she was being a little unfair to him. Every entertainer had to unwind a little after three hours of constant work. Besides, if Jerry really was lucky tonight it would make up for some of the money he'd lost during the past few weeks.

The men at the bar parted to give her a seat with undisguised admiration in their eyes as she perched herself on the stool and tugged her short skirt back down to cover the shapely softness of her thighs.

Jerry kissed her lightly on the cheek and then he and Vitelli wove their way through the throngs of little old ladies at the slot machines with their paper cups of nickels, fighting their way to the center crap table.

Harry, true to his word, moved up to her end of the bar and mixed his drinks from that side. He stood there and talked to her, protecting her from the more confident men who had edged up with the hope that they might be lucky enough to pick her up.

"Jeannie," said Harry, "that man of yours sure is talented. I hear an awful lot here at the bar and, just like me, everyone thinks he's going to be a great star. But," he added thoughtfully, "he's got to watch the booze."

She turned to the kindly old man behind the bar, thankful for his company and the advice she knew only too well to be true. Besides, he was talking about the only thing that really mattered to her anymore. Jerry. Jerry and his success.

"Thank you, Harry. You know how much it means to him. It's all he's ever wanted. And." she continued with a sigh, "the drinking's just temporary." The men standing nearby had heard the bartender's remark and each of them, if for no other reason than an excuse to talk to the beautiful girl, moved close enough to say that they agreed.

She sat there for a little over an hour, acknowledging the talk whenever she had to, and watching her husband at the dice table. She could tell from his animated expressions and joyous laughter that he was winning, and also from the trips that the cocktail waitress was making to the table that he was drinking very heavily. Vitelli was still there along with about fifteen other people, but they were all standing back watching her husband make one winning pass after another with the dice. As Harry poured another daiquiri for her she thought inwardly that she really couldn't criticize Jerry's drinking. Sitting there, she had already had five or six of the rum-flavored cocktails and she could feel the dizzying warmth spreading through her. She glanced around wondering what time it was but there were no clocks on the casino walls. "The City Without Clocks." In Reno, as in any of the other gambling centers in the country, the casinos were open 24 hours a day and none of them displayed any clocks on the walls. Inside the clubs it was impossible to tell night from day and the casinos had no desire to remind anyone how long they had been drinking or gambling.

Jeannie turned to one of the hovering men for the time and was amazed to find that it was almost three in the morning. She was due back in the casino at noon in her job as a cocktail waitress. Turning to watch Jerry again, she realized there was no way to get him peacefully out of there in his present exuberant condition, particularly while he was ahead.

She called Harry over to say goodnight and rose a little unsteadily from her stool.

A few moments later, during a lull when the dice were being passed to another player she pulled Jerry to the side to tell him she was leaving.

When he felt her hand on his arm he jerked away angrily and started to say something, but she interrupted him...

"No, Darling, I'm not asking you to go. I have to, because I'm due back early in the morning." He mumbled something unintelligible and turned back to the game, patting her clumsily on the asscheeks. He's so different so cold, when he's drinking. He never drank so much before, she thought. It's only been since he started working here. And the gambling! If only he was working somewhere besides a casino! It was so much better before.

She and Jerry had only been married a little over three months and working in the casino just three weeks. His last job had been in Denver and until they'd reached the gambling areas in Nevada she had never known he had such an insatiable desire to gamble. Now, it was only her money as a waitress that kept them going. And that wasn't enough. Although he was being paid very well to perform in the cabaret, in the past weeks he'd lost every cent on the tables. She'd pleaded with him to stop, they couldn't even pay their rent, but it had only led to violent arguments. Finally, she had reconciled herself to the fact that there was no way to stop him, and she only hoped that he'd be through here soon. His next engagement was supposed to be in either San Francisco or Hollywood and the temptation of gambling wouldn't exist. Maybe then they'd be able to get along a little better. She might not even have to work. She made her way through the crowded club and out onto the brightly lit street. Even in the middle of the night the streets were full of people crossing from one casino to another, the winners smiling and the losers scowling. Jeannie walked through the tunnels of flashing neon lights until she came to a darkened street several blocks away. She turned there, passing through a part of Reno the tourists never see. Winos and derelicts sprawled in blackened comers and row after row of sleazy buildings offering rooms for the night for those fortunate enough to scrape up fifty cents or a dollar.

The street always made her uneasy and though the night was warm she shivered as she pulled her coat a little tighter. She paused under a street light and stared at the ramshackle box-like hotel on the other corner. She was looking for a light in the manager's room. Old Mr. Rogers, the manager, always seemed to be wandering around at any hour of the day or night, and he was the last person in the world she wanted to see.

He had been hounding Jerry and her each time they came in for the overdue rent, and more than that, every time Jeannie turned around he seemed to be watching her. He was like all the others and she knew exactly what he wanted from her. There was no mistaking that evil glint in his eyes.

She stepped back out of the light and waited until she was satisfied the dirty old man wasn't awake to see her come in and then dashed across the street to the hotel's front door. Jeannie opened the door as quietly as she could and slipped inside. The single bulb hanging from the long cord in the hallway cast eerie shadows up the narrow flight of stairs to her and Jerry's rooms. She walked quickly up to the apartment and locked the door and then rested on the edge of the bed to let the pounding in her heart slow down a little. Even before she removed her coat, she went into the bathroom to run the water in the tub and then mixed herself a strong drink in the closet- sized kitchen, happy she had missed their lecherous old landlord and his obscene looks he always gave her.

Moments later she sat on the creaky bed in her slip and sipped her drink. The bourbon and the soft music from the radio wasn't enough to dispel the gloom that had settled over her as she recalled the way Jerry had been acting lately. Feeling the tears beginning to well up in her eyes she quickly finished her drink and went back into the kitchen to make another before going back into the bathroom.

The El Diablo Hotel had once been the private home of a wealthy Spanish family and remnants of its past glory could still be seen in some of the fine woodwork that still remained or in the old photographs in the lobby that depicted it with the great verandah and fluted columns.

But the last of the Spanish owners had died more than twenty years ago and since that time the house had had many proprietors. It slowly changed from a fine home into a second-rate hotel, and finally became the property of Mr. Eloysius Rogers.

This was the man that made Jeannie so uncomfortable. A short fat, unkempt man about 55 years old. She had complained several times to Jerry that he always seemed to be watching her but her husband had just laughed and replied that so was everyone else, that she ought to feel proud.

Perhaps Jerry Stansfield wouldn't have considered the matter so lightly if he had been fully aware of the old manager's movements whenever Jeannie was in the apartment.

Mr. Rogers sat completely concealed in the darkness except for the rounded mask of light on his face. He has turned off all the lights in his room and the only illumination came from the next room, through the hole he had drilled in the wall.

He had lain awake for hours in the blackness of his room, waiting for Jeannie Stansfield to come home. He felt very pleased with his patience. Most of the time the young girl came home with her husband and though it was still exciting to watch her undress, to watch her husband fucking her, he liked it best when she was alone. Then, in the darkness he could pretend that she was undressing for him, that he was the man waiting in the bed for her...

He sat nervously in the quietness and took long pulls at the bottle of cheap wine beside him. Why was she taking so long in that goddamned bathroom?

The slim, statuesque brunette wiped the last traces of cold cream from her face and dried herself with a small towel. The reflection staring back at her in the mirror made her feel better. She rarely wore much makeup, and now without it her face was extraordinarily beautiful. Even in the harshness of the bathroom light her skin was flawless and her eyes still that strange shade of very light blue. The bourbon had made her knees a little weak and she steadied herself with one hand as she carefully brushed her coal-black hair into blue-lighted glossiness.

She was wearing only a sheer silk nightie over her bra and panties and she stepped back from the mirror, opening it and trying to see the fullness of her figure in the small mirror. It was no use, the mirror was too high for her to see more than the tops of her shoulders.

She picked up her empty glass and moved back into the softly lighted bedroom, closing the bathroom behind her. It took only a moment in the kitchen to get some ice and make herself another drink and then she came back to stand before the full-length mirror in the bedroom.

Jeannie felt the soothing heat of the liquor spreading through her, numbing the sadness of a life that was going wrong, a husband that drank and gambled continually.

She often wondered if there was something she was doing wrong. She wondered if somehow her looks were fading. But, now as she stood before the mirror she knew nothing had happened to her appearance. If anything, now at twenty-two she was even more attractive than as a teenager.

If I have gained any weight, she thought, it doesn't seem to show anywhere. Of course I can't really tell with this lace thing on.

The man in the shadows on the darkened other side of the wall watched the girl undo the ribboned bow at her neck and tried to stifle a sudden gasp as the silken negligee slid from her shoulders and fell to the floor.

Jeannie stepped out of the swirled silk at her feet and returned her gaze to the reflection in the mirror. She stood at first with both hands on her hips, her legs slightly spread, and studied the image that faced her. She went through a checkpoint system that she always followed whenever she examined her body to make sure that she wasn't sagging or gaining weight in any area. First, my feet and ankles, she said to herself, then laughed. There really isn't much a woman can do to make a foot pretty except cover it. At least they're small. And my ankles still look too slim to support me.

Her eyes moved a little higher, resting for a moment on her calves and then upward to her thighs. Her legs were perfect, with just enough weight to shape their flawless curves but still firm and slender. I'm awfully lucky, Jeannie thought as she ran her hands over her thighs and across the firm flatness of her belly. She slid them past the elastic ridges of her black silk bikini panties and upward to her huge breasts. The peeping man sat entranced, leaning forward on the hard chair as he watched each sensuous move Jeannie Stansfield made. He knew that as long as he made no noise there was no possibility that she might catch him. The hole that he had cut in the wall between the two rooms was disguised on each side by a phony ventilating grill.

When she had come home earlier and he had seen her remove her dress he had felt the familiar erection beginning beneath his pants, but it had disappeared during the long time she had been in the bathroom. Now, as she stood almost nude in the other room, he could again feel his penis straining painfully against the confines of his clothing. He stared intently through the small hole, gulping sloppily at his wine and trying to anticipate each further move the beautiful girl might make.

Jeannie cupped her heavy breasts in both hands and raised them. Even without the support of the bra she would have been able to raise the huge curved globes only slightly. Her breasts were so firm that they sagged very little, if at all.

My God!, if only Jerry were here, she moaned aloud as she felt her nipples respond to the caresses of her hands. My breasts feel so sensitive, so eager to be touched. I want to feel his hands on me. I want him here to put his hands on me!

She stood there with her eyes half closed, not consciously realizing what she was doing, and reached behind her to unsnap the small hooks that held her straining bra. As it fell to the floor and the cool air washed across her reddened, erectile nipples she shivered in quick delight. Christ! Why isn't he here! It feels so wonderful when he kisses me there, when I can feel his tongue on my breasts... when he bites me so tenderly.

She had moved back slightly from the mirror while holding herself and now she felt the edge of the bed against the backs of her calves. The combination of the liquor and the sudden desire that had been racing through her made her feel a little weak and she threw the covers back and lay down on the bed.

The coldness of the sheets was doing nothing to counteract the raging heat in her body and her legs strained as she stretched spread-eagled on the cool linen... I've got to stop this, she thought, I'm driving myself crazy. It's these goddamn panties, they're so hot! I'm going to take them off and try to relax.

The old man's breath echoed back at him, coming in huge explosive gasps, as he watched her slowly inching the last remaining strip of sheer black silk from her raised hips.

She kicked the panties from her feet. Oh God! Where's Jerry! I want him here! I want to feel his hands here... between my legs... holding me... inside me! Jeannie's hands were between her thighs, lightly probing their way up and down and finally coming to rest on the raised mound of softly curled pubic hair.

Mr. Rogers felt his blood boiling into a great pounding pressure in his brain. He couldn't believe it! Right before his eyes she was holding herself like that! Then he heard those strange moaning sounds coming from her lips. He tried to get closer, to hear was she was saying. Slowly he tried to calm the roaring noises in his head until he was able to make out her words.

"Jerry, where are you... Ohhhhhhhhhhhh... Jerry, please hurry I want you... I need somebody... anybody! I need somebody now! Ahhhhhhhhhhhh... Jerry, SOMEBODY... please, please help me!"

She was begging! The old man heard her. She's begging!, that little bitch! I'll help her. I'll help her right now!

The man moved back so quickly he knocked over the chair but neither he nor the girl in the other room heard it as it fell to the floor. Or the door slam as he hurried from his room.

Jeannie writhed violently on her bed, straining in unfulfilled desire. Her eyes were closed tightly as she drove her fingers faster and faster in and out of her eager, heated pussy... she didn't hear her door open... and the click of the light being turned off meant nothing to her crazed, lust-filled mind.

It wasn't until moments later when she felt the weight of someone on the bed, felt the mattress sag, that she realized someone was here with her.

"Jerry! Oh, Jerry! Darling... you came... Oh, I want you so much, I need you now!"

"AHhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she felt the fiery shock spread through her as his body touched hers.

"Oh yes! please, put it in me! please, I want you to make love to me now... I WANT YOU TO FUCK ME!"

The words burst from her lips in broken sentences, and her hands clawed at the man's back, pulling him with all her strength against her eager, reaching hips. She moaned from deep in her throat as she felt the hot, blood-filled head of his unusually swollen cock slowly part the slit of her cunt and slip wetly inside.

"OHhhhhhhhhhhhh... YES! inside me... more... More... MORE! Oh my God! hurry, Darling... HURRY!"

She felt a great, roaring heat filling her, swelling and expanding inside the hot, stretched walls of her pussy... going deeper than usual, and saturating her entire being with a flowing wall of fire and hardened flesh. God he seemed to have grown, she told herself. Her mind spun in huge, whirling circles - spinning colors blinding her to everything but the raging torrent of desire in her loins. Throwing her legs out wide into the air, her hands dug into his asscheeks and aided his pounding rhythm.

An explosion was building in her she couldn't control. With each massive plunge of his throbbing 7-inch cock she felt a new wave of ecstasy crash thunderously deep within her grinding hips.

"Aaaarrrggghhhhh! Yes, yes... harder... that's it!" she screamed in his ear. "Oh my God! Oh, yes, Jerry."

It was more than the old man could take. After watching her for almost an hour from the other room, the excitement was becoming too much for him and he couldn't wait much longer. He strained against her, driving himself as deeply as he could and trying desperately to hold back a little longer.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh... faster, deeper... FASTER!" Her fingernails raked his back as she strove to move him more quickly. "Yes! that's it, soon, Darling, soon."

She hung onto him, arching her back higher and higher, trying to hold back the impending explosion growing and swelling deep in her belly.

She moaned and churned beneath him with each hard, driving lunge, her face contorted into a strained mask of undisguised passion. Then she screamed.

"NOW!" her guttural cry shattered the softer noises in the darkened room. "Now! Ohooooooooh, yes! I'm cumming! I'm cummming!

Just as she felt him jerk against her, felt him filling her with powerful spurts of flowing, hot burning sperm, she felt herself erupting inside like a giant explosion rolling across the earth.

She strained against him, hanging on with all her strength as she throbbed out her own passion thick rivulets of white, liquid semen bubbled out from her cunt-lips around the tight, flesh-clasped prick and rolled down the quivering crevice of her asscheeks to the sheets below.

It ended for them both in the same wild, instantaneous moment, leaving only an aftermath of two tightly clinging bodies panting out the last dying pleasures of their orgasm.

She fell back against the bed with her head lolling to one side and soft mewling sounds escaped breathlessly from her parted lips.

The man collapsed on top of her, spittle dripping from his lips as he dropped his head against her cheek.

"Oh God, it was wonderful... Jerry." She stopped. He didn't feel right. It wasn't Jerry's head! He didn't feel like...

"Who... WHO ARE YOU!" she screamed, kicking at him with her legs and trying to get out from beneath him. She rolled violently to the side, half falling to the floor.

"No, NO! who are you!"

Jeannie ran stumbling to the light switch by the door and scratched frantically for it before her hands found the panel. The room was suddenly filled with a blinding brightness. Then, as her eyes adjusted, the form of the man who had just fucked her began to take shape.

Great, wracking sobs shook her as she recognized the triumphantly smiling face. "You... it's you, you beast, you miserable beast!" How could it have BEEN? How was he here in her room!

The screaming girl groped drunkenly for her robe and tried to clear the shattered cobwebs of her mind. She stumbled against the dressing table and her fingers closed around a heavy glass ashtray. She grabbed it hysterically and threw it at the man trying to pull on his pants. The glancing blow left a blood-streaked gash on his forehead, almost knocking him to his knees.

Jeannie ran at him and her hands became claws that slashed at the short, fat man. But the impact of the ashtray, rather than stunning him, had angered him.

He grabbed her flailing arms and threw her violently back against the bed knocking the breath out of her.

He stood over her with his hands on his hips, a smile flickered across his face before it was replaced with a sneer.

"One, Mrs. Stansfield, there was no rape! You called out for me to come in." Before the sobbing girl could interrupt, he continued, "and furthermore, before you entertain any thoughts of going to the authorities you might consider how it would sound if I testified that it was you who enticed me in here and offered your body to me in exchange for the back rent."

He paused, very proud of the authoritative tone of his voice, and then continued threateningly, "I'm known and respected around her and I seriously doubt anyone would take your word over mine."

Jeannie was so shaken she could barely understand what was happening. She only knew that something terrible had occurred to her and that the man in front of her, the fat little manager that had caused it, was threatening her with something else. She tried to clear the cobwebs from her befuddled mind and listen to what he was saying.

"I would suggest that you remain silent about this. Tell no one and, just to avoid any trouble in the hotel, I'll consider your back rent paid in full."

He stopped to make sure she understood everything she was saying. He saw the wide-eyed fright, her silence, and realized he had made it. He'd have no trouble from her he was sure.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Stansfield. Think over what I've said and I'm sure everything will work out perfectly."

He'd finished buttoning his shirt and he picked up his shoes and smiling back at her helpless form, walked out of the room, closing the door silently behind him.


It was almost six in the morning when the door opened and Jerry stood framed in the hall light behind him. He came into the bedroom with the exaggerated care of a man who had had too much to drink. He tried to undress in the darkness, hopping clumsily from one foot to the other as he removed his pants, until Jeannie spoke, her voice filled with shame and humiliation.

"Turn on the light, Darling, it's all right. I'm awake."

She had been awake since the exit of Mr. Rogers, and had cried until there were no more tears to come. She had just lain there helplessly and struggled with her confused thoughts trying to decide what to tell her husband. During those tortured hours she'd been unable to make any decision and now that Jerry faced her she knew there was no way to tell him what had actually happened.

"Jeannie, what are you doing awake? You have to work this morning, don't you?" His voice was fuzzy and slurred from liquor.

"I was just waiting up for you, Darling. I don't know, I just couldn't sleep." She held out her arms to him and he burrowed up against her like a small child.

When he spoke his voice was muffled by her shoulder and she strained to hear him.

"Oh Jeannie, honey, all of a sudden everything went bad. I couldn't win. I just couldn't win! I was so far ahead, and then I kept losing."

He seemed so hurt and helpless that her own troubles seemed to disappear and she held him as tightly as she could and tried to soothe him.

"Jerry, Jerry, don't worry about anything. Come on, get into bed with me and we'll talk about it in the morning. You'll see, everything's going to be fine."

Her husband finished undressing and crawled in bed beside her. At first she thought he was relieved that she hadn't wanted to tank to him about the gambling losses, but all night long she could feel him tossing in his sleep. His breathing was very erratic and once she was startled to find a cold film of perspiration covering his forehead.

He awoke about ten and called to her in the kitchen while she was making coffee.

She came in with an extra cup for him and sat on the edge of the bed. As he slid up to rest against a pushed-up pillow, he took her hand.

"Jeannie, I have to talk to you." The words seemed choked with emotion and she could sense the seriousness and tension in his voice.

"Honey, I have to tell you about last night... I'm so ashamed of myself. I don't know what happened to me, whether it was the booze or just all the excitement."

He was trying to be calm but his hand was gripping her so tightly that it was painful. She started to say something to calm him but she could tell he had to get it out of his system, and that there was nothing she could say that could help.

"All right, Jerry, I'm listening. And don't worry."

"Remember when you left... I was at the crap table. Well, everything I did seemed to be right. I kept winning and winning. I'd won almost three thousand dollars, and then the dice, everything, seemed to change. . ." He paused, as if he was trying to relive the whole night, to bring everything back into focus.

"I started to lose... on every toss I lost. I tried anything - changing my bets, I moved to different tables. Nothing worked. Everybody kept patting me on the back, telling me my luck had to change, and Victor kept handing me more chips to play."

His voice trailed off and he was silent for several seconds. He wasn't even looking at her, just staring off into the distance, and Jeannie could see the pain etched into his face.

"It kept going on and on. I couldn't win! I couldn't win!"

She began to get frightened. She'd seen him when he started to gamble and she knew there was no stopping him until his money ran out. It was his remark about Victor Vitelli that worried her.

"Jerry, what do you mean Victor kept giving you money. Whose money was it? Wasn't it yours, wasn't it the money you'd won earlier?"

"No!" he shouted bitterly. "I'd already lost that, I told you! It was his money. Victor's!"

"Oh no, Jerry. Why? How could you have borrowed money from him. You know we don't have any money to pay him back. How much was it? For God's sake, how much was it!"

The worry in her voice hit him and he grabbed her, burying his head against her breasts. He mumbled something but she couldn't hear him.

"what, Jerry? Jerry, I can't hear you. How much of Vitelli's money did you lose? Please, Jerry, talk to me."

He raised his head and she could see the wetness lining his eyes.

"Over ten thousand dollars. Over ten goddamned thousand dollars!"

"Oh my God, Jerry! How could you? Where are we ever going to get that much money. We can't even buy groceries!"

She could feel him trembling against her and shaking his head from side to side, but her mind kept reeling with the thought of all that money. How? Where were they going to get the money? She tried frantically to think of someone who would lend them that much. Jerry had no family and they couldn't go to hers because they had been against the marriage in the first place. Their daughter, a society debutante from one of the oldest families on Cape Cod, marrying an entertainer. A singer that no one had ever even heard of!

"Honey..." his voice interrupted her thoughts, "we were celebrating, me and Victor. He had a brand new contract for me. A big one! At the Fairmount Hotel in San Francisco! I was so happy, so goddamned happy. It was what we'd been waiting for, you and me. We'd made it. Big Time! and I blew it, shot it all to hell."

His voice trailed off and she sat up trying to understand what he'd said.

"Jerry, what do you mean, you blew it? That's it! It's wonderful, that's the way we can pay him back. If the new contract means more money we can."

"Jeannie," he interrupted, "Jeannie, it's no good. I know Victor and he'll never let me have that much time to pay him back. When I left him he got kinda nasty and asked me if I was going to bring the money to him today."

He looked up at her, the hurt and confusion showing plainly in his eyes. "Jeannie, I didn't know what to say... I told him sure I'd give it to him today. I couldn't tell him anything else, he had Black Sajack with him - Mr. Mornay's bodyguard."

Jerry Stansfield held his head in his hands. There was no sound except the convulsive shaking of his shoulders. "Honey, he'll ruin us if I don't pay. He'll blackball me in every club on the West Coast."

"Jerry, I don't understand. Surely he knows you can't pay him back right away. Why did he give you the money?"

"I don't know... I don't know, he just kept handing me more chips. It was almost as if he wanted me to lose."

They sat quietly for several moments, the room darkened except for the brilliant shaft of sunlight that had broken through a half-opened window.

Jeannie's mind spun in a tortured turmoil. First it had been the old man the night before and now it was this. She didn't know what to do!

Jerry put his hand on her shoulder and turned her to him. "We've got to get out of here. It's our only chance. We'll go back East, New York or someplace. . . I'll just start over." His hand gripped her tighter. 'Hell, I can still sing; he can't take that away from me."

Their eyes met, as if they'd both remembered a story they'd heard in the same instant. Just after they'd arrived fox Jerry's engagement at the casino a story had been going around about a saxophone player who had crossed Victor Vitelli. He had been found several days later in a ditch outside of town with his lip cut horribly and all of his fingers broken. Naturally, there had been no witnesses and the musician had been too frightened to speak, but the old timers in the club had mentioned Victor Vitelli's name more than once, and some of them even had similar stories of incidents in the past.

Whether the story of the sax player or any of the others was actually true, it frightened the two of them. Jeannie tried to stop the tears that were building up in her, but it was no use and she broke into great heaving sobs as Jerry held her tightly in his arms.

"My God, Jerry... what are we going to do." There was no answer. No answer until...

"Jeannie, baby, there's only one way out." He paused and she could hear the falseness in his emotion.

"Jeannie, if you talked to Vitelli, maybe if you went to see him you might be able to convince him." As he stuttered out the words she knew by the way he spoke they were rehearsed. Jerry was a tremendous talent as a singer, but he was no actor and she could almost see the words forming themselves in the air before he uttered them. She waited, not because she didn't know what was coming, but only to see how he was going to phrase it. She wondered if he was going to be able to squeeze out an actual tear or if he'd have to fake it.

"Honey, you wouldn't have to do anything with him, I promise. If it ever came to that I'd kill myself." His voice came haltingly, steeped with emotion.

"Jeannie, you could just talk to him; he likes you - you know that. If you could just get him to wait for the money, to give me that contract - we could make it."

She watched him carefully. She saw the tears forming in his eyes. He really is crying ,she thought. He must know that Victor Vitelli would never be satisfied with just a spoken plea from me. He'll want more, much more. Oh, Jerry, don't you know what you're doing to us?

Her husband seemed to sense that he hadn't succeeded with his guise of naive innocence. His voice changed and he tried a different approach. Jeannie, I know what you're thinking, about Vitelli I mean. We both know he'll want more from you. But, if you can just stall him until he gives me the contract to sign, until I get a copy of it, then it won't matter what he wants."

Jeannie looked at him. His voice was stronger and she was sure he was being honest with her.

"Don't you see, honey? We'll have the contract, and if he tries to break it in San Francisco I'll make such a stink about it, about him wanting you, that the publicity alone will take us where we want to go."

It seemed to make sense. Victor Vitelli wasn't that big, and if Jerry had a contract to headline at the biggest hotel in San Francisco and Vitelli tried to break it, her husband would easily be able to find another agent or manager to handle him.

She was fairly sure of herself. She thought she'd be able to hold Vitelli off long enough to get that signed contract. I ought to be able to, she thought, as much as that pig slobbers over me all the time. It might even be fun to turn him on and off like water faucet.

She took her husband's hand. "Don't worry, Darling, I'll get that contract for you." She leaned over and kissed him.

"I've got to get to work. I'll see you when I get home." It was Jerry's one night off at the cabaret.

She grabbed her coat and as she closed the door behind her she was already thinking of ways to ensnare the gambler who held the key to their future.


It was almost five in the afternoon before she saw Vitelli. She'd been going over and over different plans since she'd come to work and had finally decided to play it fairly straight, hoping that the man's desire for her was great enough to keep him satisfied with promises of the future.

It was the slowest time of the day in the casino; the night players hadn't come in yet and even most of the die-hards from the night before had gone back to their motels.

Vitelli had looked her way only once and she had been able to sense the curiosity in him, but there had been no chance to talk to him privately.

Now, as she stood in a far corner of the almost deserted cocktail lounge she saw him coming toward her.

He smiled in his inimitable way and called out to her. "Hi Baby, whattya doin' hidden way back here?"

"Hi Victor. It's so slow that I thought I'd take a short breather." She tried to keep her voice as steady as possible.

"I understand you and Jerry had quite a time last night."

"Yeah, quite a time. Jerry was a little unlucky - one of those nights." He stared at her. "Did he tell you about it?"

"Yes, he told me."

"Yeah, but did he tell you everything, baby?"

"Oh, you mean all the money he lost?"

"That too. Did he tell you about borrowing any money?"

He took the stool next to her and as always somehow managed to get his leg pressed too tightly against hers. But this time she didn't pull away from him. She just let his thigh rest where it was.

"He said he'd gotten quite a bit of money from you, Victor."

"It all depends how you look at it, kid. To me ten grand ain't nothing to Jerry, who knows." He lit a cigarette and tried to make it look natural as he dropped his hand to her thigh.

"Yeah, to Jerry ten G's might be a lot of money."

"It is an awful lot of money, Victor."

"Has he got it for me today, baby?" he interrupted. But Victor Vitelli had been in the money racket long enough to know the singer had been bluffing the night before when he'd said he'd have it today, and when the kid's wife hadn't jerked her leg away from his hand like she always did, he had a pretty good idea how Jerry Stansfield planned to pay it back.

Jeannie started to give him some story about her family sending the money in a few days but, looking at Vitelli, she knew he'd never fall for it.

"No, he doesn't." She dropped her hand to his, lowering her eyelashes. "Victor, isn't there some way you can give Jerry a little more time until the contract comes through!"

"The contract? So, your boy told you about that too, huh?"

He ran his hand beneath her short skirt, toying with the edge of her stocking. "Yeah, that sure is a sweet contract. Big Time for your boy. Yeah, real big time." He lightly traced his fingers down the inside of her thigh. Already, the nattily dressed gambler had her confused. She knew he was going too far and too fast, but she didn't know what to do.

"I told you, baby, I'd take good care of ol' Jerry if you were nice to me." He accentuated his words with a sudden pinch right at the edge of her panties.

"Owww! Victor, you're hurting me." She tried to move away a little. It really had hurt. But his hand closed over her thigh right against the rise of her pubic mound and held her still.

"Sorry, Jeannie, I'd never want to hurt you. You know that, baby. I'd like to make you feel real good all over. Real good!"

He looked at her shrewdly and decided that maybe he was going a little too fast. He was completely confident that she'd be his to play with before long, but he didn't want to scare her. He moved his hand farther down her leg and cupped her knee in his palm.

"You know, baby, that's one hell of a contract I got for Jerry. If he handles it right it'll make him real big overnight."

"Oh Victor, that's wonderful. I don't know how I'll ever be able..." she stopped. She didn't want to say that.

"I think I know, baby. And I also know a way you can get that contract for your boy. Why don't you just meet me up in Mr. Mornay's suite at eight when you get off. Then we'll talk over a few ways you can make things a little easier for Jerry Stansfield."

He ran his hand quickly back up between her legs to touch the soft silk crotch band of her panties before he got up and walked jauntily away.

Jeannie sat there for several minutes more trying to erase the stain of Victor Vitelli from her mind, then she was called away to deliver some drinks to some blackjack players.

For the next couple of hours she was too busy to have any time to think of what novas awaiting her in the casino owner's suite on the top floor. It wasn't until the girl who relieved her tapped her on the shoulder and told her she was off that she had a chance to contemplate some course of action.

She knew Victor Vitelli wasn't the type to waste any time but she couldn't bear the thought of going completely through with what he had in mind.

She was still trying to think of some way to stall him when she felt a huge hand on her shoulder.

It was Black Sajack. No one knew his last name, or even if he had one. The giant Negro was Mr. Mornay's bodyguard and the biggest man Jeannie had ever seen.

He was at least seven feet tall, always dressed in shining black mohair suits with a white tie, and he never seemed to say a word. It was rumored that he couldn't even speak because no one had ever heard him. He just nodded deferentially to Vitelli's or Mornay's commands and lumbered off to obey.

Jeannie had been in the lobby once when a drunk and irate customer had taken a swing at the casino owner. Black Sajack had appeared out of seemingly nowhere, grabbed the man's fist in mid-air and crushed it with his own hand until the man screamed and fainted. Then the huge black man had picked him up like a toy and carried him outside to stuff him upside down in the sports car the valet had brought around.

She turned to look up at him and then followed as he silently led her to the elevator.

He pushed a button on a side wall separated from the buttons that indicated the various floors of the casino and the elevator was completely quiet as it rose to the penthouse.

There was only one set of great double doors and the Negro waited patiently for Victor Vitelli to answer the buzzer. It didn't take him long.

"Hello, baby. I'm glad you decided to come up," the gambler said as he motioned her into the spacious living room.

"How about a little drink, kid, before we get down to business?"

Without waiting for her to answer, he motioned to Black Sajack who immediately went to a concealed bar that opened with the flick of a small switch.

In seconds that seemed like a silent eternity, the man returned with two tall drinks and handed one to Vitelli before he bowed and offered the other to Jeannie.

My God, she thought, it's like a James Bond movie. The raucous noises of the casino below had disappeared with the closing door and the penthouse seemed to be suspended high above the earth. The curtains across the glassed front wall of the living room were wide open and all that could be seen were the tops of the snow-capped mountains that glowed eerily in the twilight.

There was no sound in the room except the clinking of ice cubes and the soft music of a hidden sound system.

Black Sajack had retired to the opened bar where he stood at semi- attention.

"Jeannie baby, don't be nervous," Vitelli said as he patted her salaciously on the knee. "Drink your drink and relax, we're just going to have a nice little chat."

Vitelli stood up and removed the deep purple dinner jacket he was wearing. He looked down from his jewel-studded shirtfront.

"I'm goin' to go freshen up, baby. I'll be right back."

She felt a little better with him out of the room and drank thirstily from the tall frosted glass - and she had no objections when Black Sajack appeared to make her another. The drink had calmed her a little and she settled back into the velvet softness of the curved couch. She felt considerably more confident and didn't notice the care the huge man took in making her drink. She didn't see the exactness with which he poured the clear liquid from a special bottle in the far corner of the bar.

Black Sajack handed it to Victor Vitelli who had just come back into the room and the sleek looking gambler brought it over to her with a smile.

As he settled onto the couch next to her she was almost sickened by the heavy, sweet smell of the cologne he'd just sprayed himself with.

My God, he must have taken a bath with it. He smells like a French whorehouse. The last thought sobered her momentarily. Whorehouse... I've got to be careful. But the rich warmth that was gradually spreading through her washed away her tension and she felt very sure of herself.

He can't do anything I don't want him to. I may let him touch me a little with his greasy hands, but only enough to get what I want from him. Jerry's contract! The words kept tumbling through her mind to remind her she had to maintain a friendliness toward him in spite of her revulsion.

"Jerry's contract." The words startled her. "Baby, let's talk about Jerry's contract... and the money he owes me."

She looked at the gambler's olive-skinned face through the pearling gray cigar smoke. She was a little surprised to see that everything looked a little hazy to her.

"Baby, that contract's worth an awful lot of money to you and the kid; but the ten grand he owes me ain't nothin' to sneeze at."

Her lips seemed a little numb and it was getting difficult to focus her eyes clearly. She tried to concentrate on his words but her mind kept wanting to wander away.

She fastened her eyes on one of the sapphire shirt studs on the pleated front before her and waited til her eyes cleared and she was able to see it distinctly. Then his words became a little easier to understand.

"Yeah, Jeannie baby, that's a lotta money. More'n your boy Jerry's got. So if I ain't going to get it from him, where's it gonna come from?"

She looked up at him, the fright showing clearly in her smoky eyes. "Jerry... I mean Victor, I... I don't."

"Take it easy, Jeannie baby, I know you ain't got it. But I got a little proposition for you."

"A proposition?"

"What am I." He leaned forward. "What does everybody call Victor Vitelli?"

Oh wow, she thought, the many ways I could answer that! What did he want her to say.

"I don't know. A gambler, I guess," she replied, shrugging her shoulders.

"That's right, Jeannie baby, the last of the high rollers." He chuckled softly. "And I'm gonna show you just how much of a high roller I am."

"I don't understand what you mean," Jeannie questioned, sensing a foreboding tone in his laugh. "W - What are we going to do?"

"Black Sajack, make the little lady another drink." He stood and took her hand, pulling her to her feet. "Come with me and I'll show you."

She followed, a little frightened, and he took her into the next room. It was a large and beautifully decorated room. One wall was glass like the living room, but in a semi-circle around a huge bed were several odd-shaped forms with velvet covers over them. The bed was tremendous and completely round and above it were suspended several TV sets, a stereo system, and a row of telephones.

The bodyguard came in with her drink and after handing it to her, began to pull the velvet covers from what turned out to be crap and blackjack tables and a giant ivory-inlaid roulette wheel.

"This is Mr. Mornay's private little casino for his very close friends." He seemed to put extra emphasis on the "very" and Jeannie had a sudden obscene vision of lovely girls sitting nude at the tables while Mr. Mornay directed the play at their expense.

"I-It's a lovely place," she sad hesitantly, "but what does this have to do with me?"

"Simple, Jeannie baby. I said we were going to gamble. Take your pick. Blackjack, dice or roulette?"

"I-I don't understand. What are we going to gamble for?"

"Money, baby. The money Jerry Stansfield owes me." He looked at her through his heavy-lidded eyes. "For the money and for his new contract!"

He chuckled again. "You win, and they're yours... I erase his debt and you get his contract. I couldn't get any fairer than that, could I?"

She stood there in amazement at his words and his offer. The whole idea was fantastic! She could erase all their problems with just one bet! But, the sudden shock hit her, what does he want in return!

"B-But what do I have to gamble with? What am I betting with? What do you get if I lose?" She had trouble getting the words out. The drinks had her feeling strange and slightly dizzy and yet somehow, through the haze, she knew what his horrible price was going to be.

The gambler walked over to her and cupped her chin in his hand. He looked down hypnotically at her, the light reflecting from the black pinpricks of his eyes.

"You, Jeannie baby, you. You're betting with the only thing you have... that soft little pussy down between your legs."

She tried to back away from him, the shock of his blunt answer frightening her, but he held her tightly. She almost fainted in that heavy cloud of sweet cologne, feeling a sudden tremor of sensation run through her as he slid a manicured fingernail down the side of her neck.

His touch seemed to send a vibration of high voltage electricity dancing through her body. God! What was happening to her?

"I can't... I... I don't even know how to gamble." she managed to stammer, fighting the strange sensation in her that seemed to be gnawing deep down in her belly.

Her words trailed away as she tried to think of some other way, some excuse to get out of this. She felt so strange, so hot, and everything seemed so far away - as if it were happening to someone else.

"Baby, you know how I've always wanted you...

"Yes, but, Victor, I just can't. I just can't do it with anyone else but Jerry," she said pleadingly, not wanting to anger him before she had gotten what she wanted.

"Listen to me, baby. There isn't any other way. It's so simple like this and you get just as good a chance at winning as I have. You can't ask any better than a 50-50 split on ten grand." He still held her, looking straight down into her eyes as she cowered before him, the immensity of what he was saying sinking slowly into her alcohol confused brain. "And." he continued, not releasing his grip on her shoulders, "even if you lose, we might still knock a little off that ten grand."

Jeannie swayed in the strength of his hands holding her. She knew it was she and Jerry's only chance to ever get even again and the whole of their future lay in her decision. She tried to think, to clear the confusion from her mind but she couldn't. The pressure was too great and she could only stand there with a glazed expression in her eyes, not moving or showing any emotion whatsoever.

"Well, come on, baby. You do love Jerry, don'cha?" He chided her at her weakest point. "You wouldn't be the cause of him losin' his big chance, now would you?"

Jeannie closed her eyes momentarily as she felt the big man's hands slip down from her shoulders and fondle her full, protruding breasts with a familiarity that repulsed her. She winced, her lips contorting slightly from the combination of the drink and another man's hands touching her as only Jerry, her husband, should be allowed to do. God, she had been shamed and humiliated enough last night by that horrible landlord of theirs and she didn't think she would be able to go through it again, no matter what. But... at the same time... she knew she had absolutely no choice and her delaying tactics were only to postpone the final moment as long as possible.

"Look, baby, we'll make it easy. One turn of the roulette wheel and you get to choose the color. If the little ball lands in your color, you win. If it lands in mine, then ole Victor gets to play a little 'hide the pecker' with you."

She suddenly jerked back from him, her eyes narrowing. "You don't have to be so crude about it. It's horrible enough as it is."

"That's my girl," he smiled slyly, sensing by the tone of her voice that she had already resigned herself to accept his proposition. "After all, you got a 50-50 chance and that's better than you've got downstairs when you're throwing money into it."

Jeannie's mind whirled. In spite of her dislike for the fat, insipid little man, these were the best odds they would ever have. Certainly better than Jerry had had last night when he had been playing against the house. And... she could put them even again in just a matter of minutes. But... Oh God, if she lost! Her eyes flickered involuntarily over the short, fat man's body in front of her and she shivered in revulsion at the thought of his touching her naked, defenseless flesh. But... NO... NO... she couldn't think about that now. It was her and Jerry's whole life she would be betting against just a few short minutes with this pig of a man. She couldn't let Jerry down now... when it really mattered. She just couldn't! And besides, she might even win! The chances were good and the right was on her side and that should count for something!

"Just one spin of the wheel, Jeannie, and it's all yours. The contract, the ten thousand, and you and Jerry home free." He goaded her on, aware of the emotional battle that was raging in her mind.

"A-And if you win," she ventured falteringly. "you s-said you would forget some of the debt."

"You drive a hard bargain, kid." He grinned and stroked her chin. "Yeah, we'll forget the whole thing. You'd be worth ten grand in the rack any day. So that means all we're spinning for is whether or not you're gonna put out to old Victor here. That's pretty fair."

Jeannie's hopes rose slightly when she heard this and as Black Sajack pressed another drink in her hand and she took a long, hard swallow, a feeling of almost invincible confidence suddenly arose within her. She knew she was going to win! She just had to! After all, she was doing it for Jerry and his love and that made it so right! So right that it just couldn't go wrong!

She looked up at him, squarely in the eyes for the first time that evening and then brushed her long silken hair out of her eyes. It all seemed so easy now - perhaps reckless, but easy. In a matter of minutes all her and Jerry's problems would be over and she could fly home to him and tell him all about it.

"All right, Victor. I'll play." And in spite of her exuberant confidence there was a slight quiver in her voice. She knew there was no turning back now and she knew she was in this thing right up to her... to her... well, to her pussy, as Victor persisted in calling it, and she almost laughed from the grim thought, but it became all too serious a moment later as Victor grinned triumphantly and turned her toward the waiting table.

He had been waiting to get at that sniveling singer's young, voluptuous wife for a long time and now it had finally arrived. He smiled inwardly also at the secret thought that by the time they had finished the game she would be ready for anything he wanted to do to her. Black Sajack had been doctoring her drinks carefully with tiny, tiny doses of Spanish fly and the affects were beginning to tell slightly already. He had detected it first when he had slipped his hand down to her breasts a few moments ago and had set off a small, but highly perceptible, tremor racing through her body. She had hidden it quickly by moving away from him but he knew it had been there and it wouldn't be much longer now until she got the full force of it. He had instructed Black Sajack to save the knockout doses until last and she was sipping away on it now. He licked his lips in anticipation as, walking behind her, he watched the sensuous swaying of her full, rounded hips and asscheeks. Man, it was going to be really something to cup those white, fleshy mounds in his hands as he rammed his cock up deep inside her. He could hardly wait and felt like grabbing her right now and throwing her over on the bed and shoving it to her with all her clothes on. But he smiled patiently to himself and thought, might as well make it all nice and legal like. It'll be more fun when she knows she's gotta do it whether she wants to or not.

Jeannie sat down on one of the stools at the wheel, thankful for its support. She felt awfully weak, but at the same time, for some strange reason, she'd never felt so good - so warm and alive - in her life.

Victor Vitelli brought her a heavily doctored drink and tried to affect a little nervousness in his voice as he spoke.

Well, to the victor, the spoils. What'll it be, red or black?"

Black Sajack stood in the corner, just as intent on the tall brunette's answer as the man at the table. He was behind the bar and, after noiselessly sliding a small panel aside, stood with his hand poised above two buttons, waiting for her answer. The buttons controlled the multi- colored wheel where the man and woman sat. If the weight of the ball depressed the wrong color in one of the grooves, the metal rib that separated the red from black would lower just long enough to allow the ball to move over one color. With the wheel still spinning, it was virtually impossible to detect.

It wouldn't have worked downstairs in the casino, but up here for Mr. Mornay's special customers it had never been detected.

Jeannie toyed with her drink for a moment before she answered.

"Red." She smiled nervously at Vitelli. "I'll take red."

Black Sajack pushed the button with the small 'B' in the center and moved from behind the bar.

"Okay, Jeannie baby, I've got black. Why don't we have Black Sajack spin the wheel so there's no chance that either of us could cheat."

He moved around next to her and dropped his hand to her thigh. As he moved it all the way up until it was nestled firmly between the juncture of her legs Jeannie felt a violent, trembling sensation race through her.

My God! What's the matter with me? He touches me and I start to quiver. I can't stand the sight of him, and yet his hands feel so good.

Victor felt the hot moistness of her skin, felt her move beneath his hand and knew that the drinks were having their effect. It wouldn't be long now. Just this silly game and he'd have young Mrs. Stansfield exactly where he wanted her.

Jeannie tried to tear her mind away from his electrifying touch and concentrate as the huge black man nodded to them both and casually spun the wheel.

At first it was nothing but an indistinguishable blur, then as it slowed she could hear the whirring of the ball turn into clicking as it ticked against the metal grooves.

The gleaming silver ball went slower and slower until it started rolling toward the center of the spinning table.

Finally, it stopped.

Victor Vitelli had turned his head away, crossing his fingers theatrically, and the beautiful girl had closed her eyes in silent prayer when she saw the ball slow down.

They were both surprised when Black Sajack shouted.

"GREEN!"

The ball had settled into one of the two green grooves in the wheel that meant nothing in this strange seductive game.

Victor Vitelli almost choked on his drink because he'd been so sure of hearing his color called, but he cleared his throat and set the game into motion again.

"Goddamn it, Black Sajack, don't do that! I almost had a heart attack. Spin that damn thing again."

He looked over at Jeannie and saw the glassy-eyed express on her face. Gaining confidence that the "fly" was beginning to work, he burrowed his hand deeper between the girl's thighs as the wheel spun once more. Her eyes were focused intently on the wheel but her body involuntarily, as though it were not part of her at all, responded to the touch of his hand and her thighs clenched weakly for a moment, then spread slightly open until he could touch the soft silken band of her panties running down between her legs.

She squirmed sensuously beneath his touch, savoring the delicious sensations that spread lewdly through her body.

Ooooooohhh, his hand is so hot and gentle! I can't think, I can't think! What's happening? What's happening? Her head was thrown back, her lips moist and parted; his touch drove everything else out of her mind.

She never even heard Black Sajack, not until the man tapped her shoulder and said again, "Black, Miss... the color is black."

She'd lost!

The wheel slowly stopped turning and there it was. The silver ball lay nestled in the long triangle of black lacquer.

Somehow, it didn't seem to matter any more. The hand pressed so hotly and obscenely between her legs had aroused a volcano of small fires exploding throughout her quivering body.

She only felt a tremendous loss as the hand went away - she wasn't even conscious of being picked up like a rag doll by the giant black man as he carried her to the bed.

Then she felt a thousand hands touching her at once, felt the clothes being pulled from her body.

Victor Vitelli knelt at the edge of the circular bed, putting her stockings from her long silken legs, running his fingertips caressingly down the velvet undersides of her thighs, slowly and so softly as he pulled the sheer nylons from her trembling legs.

Black Sajack had removed her blouse and was now raising her as he unhooked the small fasteners of her DD-cup bra. As he pulled it away and tossed it to the floor there was a muffled gasp from both men at the unbelievable perfection of her massive, rose-tipped breasts. They moved to each side of her to pull down the clinging skirt and then, with a conspiratorial smile between them, they hooked their fingers into the tight elastic waistband of her small, flimsy panties. They eased them slowly and teasingly down her thighs over the full swell of her hips and wetly away from the tousled mound of soft ebony hair nestled between her thighs. She arched her back, unconsciously trying to help them as much as she could. They pulled the small wisp of sink from her ankles and tossed it behind them. Then, almost in unison, they began to run their hands over the majestic glistening curves of her body. From each side of the bed they reached for her, sliding their fingertips across the softness of her shoulders, one hand down each arm and the others lightly across her breasts.

"Ooooooooooohhhhhh!" Eager, desperate moans escaped her parted lips, her tongue darting back and forth to moisten the dryness that parched her mouth. Her whole body trembled as she felt a pair of hungry, heated lips attach themselves to her reluctantly erect nipples... pulling... nibbling at her.

She felt hundreds and hundreds of hands dancing across her heaving belly... scraping across the screaming sensitivity of her goose-pimpled skin.

"Ahhhhhhhaaaa... yes, oh no... Oh my God! don't stop! Please don't stop!"

Victor watched the shining ebony blackness of his accomplice's skin as it contrasted the arching ivory body of the girl between them. He moved away from the bed to undress and standing back, watched the great black and white tableau before him. An almost unbelievable excitement arose in him as he watched the giant Negro caress and kiss the sensuously squirming girl.

When he dropped his shorts to the floor and saw his straining, throbbing erection - larger than it had ever been before he knew he had never experienced anything like adventure he knew was coming. He moved to his knees again, motioning to Black Sajack to undress and forcing her legs wide apart with his hands, he busied his head in the downy softness of the tightly curled triangle of shadowed hair between her open thighs.

Jeannie was raving now, making strange guttural noises as she tried to reach the man's head with her hands and hold him there. It couldn't be like this! Nothing could be like this! She felt his tongue probing and delving into the almost hidden opening, parting the glistening, moistened lips of her cunt. She could feel him take the passion-hardened protrusion of her clitoris between his teeth... feel him nibbling at it tenderly... running his tongue over and across it... the hot furnace of his breath scorching up into her belly as it bellowed into her eager, pleading pussy.

The huge Negro came back to the bed, and as though in a wild erotic dream, she felt him take her ankles and bring her legs high into the air, spreading them wider apart so Victor Vitelli could burrow his head and his tongue even deeper into her open, moist cunt.

Jeannie's mind and all her senses reeled in a whirling of ecstasy and lustful passion. The flames kept rising between her thighs, searing her whole body as his tongue fanned them into a raging volcano. It wasn't just the burning feeling of his tongue as it probed deeper and deeper into the throbbing heat of her pussy, there was the sound of it. The urgent liquid sounds that raced into the center of her mind, so much like the sounds of a cock actually fucking into her. Her alms flailed at the bed at her sides and her hips squirmed violently as she tried to move her legs but couldn't. Her ankles were trapped in the powerful grip of the giant Negro and she could only lie there under the torturing caresses of Victor Vitelli.

"Ahhhhhhhhhaaaaaaahh! O my God! You're driving me out of my mind!" The soft, husky moans filled the room as the shorter man continued to delve further and further into the wet heat of the straining girl's moist, contracting pussy.

"Ohhhh, please... please, I can't stand it! Dear God, I can't stand it!" she cried out as he grasped the erectile firmness of her clitoris between his teeth and tongue and rolled it salaciously around and around in his mouth.

Then she felt the cool rush of air as he pulled away, and the movement of the bed as he began to turn himself around.

Black Sajack still held her ankles high in the air and the soft squeaking of the bedsprings combined with her heavy breathing was the only sound as the other man turned until he straddled her face and bent once more to bury his face between her thighs.

The petite girl felt something brush across her face and opened her eyes to find his huge, swollen prick only inches from her lips. She gasped at the incredibly long, thick size of it, almost crying out in fear, when she once again felt his tongue plunge hotly down inside her.

Greedily, almost insanely, she curled her hands around in between his legs and reached for it. She raised her head, her ovalled mouth wide, and encircled it with the heat of her lips - trying to capture its entire length in her anxious mouth.

In her ecstatic haste she sucked it so deeply in the warm, saliva filled cavern of her mouth that it almost choked her and in order to regain her breath she began to feverishly run her tongue up and down the soft underside, feeling it throb and pulse against her touch.

Tiny fires kept exploding with blinding ferocity in her brain as he moved it in and out in rhythm to the probing of his tongue below.

"ARGHhhhhhhhhhhh!" the animal-like groans burst from her lips as she tried to open her mouth wider and breathe in more air. She tried to think, to reason what was happening to her, but her mind refused to accept anything except the rolling waves of lust and passion that were erupting inside her like a constant undulating earthquake.

Her lips and tongue stopped their gentle caressing and, as she felt her climax raging towards a fiery threshold, she began to nurse and suck the hot thickness of his prick with all her strength! Her cheeks hollowed and swelled and her belly rose and fell frantically as she pulled at him. Her lips were clasped tightly around its throbbing blood-filled head like an elastic rubber band, sucking it desperately, to make it cum.

And at the same time, she could feel the violent explosion beginning deep inside her and her fingers scratched crazily at the base of his swinging testicles as she reached feverishly to hurry her climax.

Then it came! - The hot waves of boiling, creamy liquid pouring in spasm after spasm into her mouth - and it was joined by the arching trembling of her hips as her orgasm erupted... exploded in blinding flashes of searing light and darkness...

Almost an eternity later she felt the man's weight lifting away from her. She lay there barely conscious and tried to still the uncontrollable quivering in her legs, the bed seemed to come up and wrap around her, enveloping her in a soft cocoon of darkness and warmth - calming her and allowing her to drift off into a state of unknowing peace.

A seeming eternity later, she could hear a man's voice in the interminable distance.

"Okay, man, she's all yours and I want you to give it to her good so she'll remember this as long as she lives."

Then, again, she felt the gentle dancing of fingers across her thighs and up to her massive breasts. They felt so soothing and tender and she lay with her eyes closed, luxuriating in the erotic sensations that were once more spreading through her sweat-glistening body.

Victor Vitelli stood at one side, watching for a moment before he went into the bathroom. That little bitch is the wildest thing I've had in years, he thought triumphantly. If I'da known she was going to turn on like that I never woulda waited this long. He smiled softly to himself, knowing that now he had young Mrs. Stansfield exactly where he wanted her and by the time the Negro got through with her and she regained consciousness, she would be so shamed and humiliated at what she had done that she would never resist him or any demands he might make on her again. And... that sniveling little husband of hers would never have the courage of object with all the money he owed him.

Christ! I'd better hurry with that shower, he suddenly thought, I don't wanna miss any of this. He spent a few more seconds watching the huge black man and the girl on the bed and moved reluctantly into the bathroom.

Jeannie's back arched and she squirmed as she felt the pressure of the hands on her body slowly increasing. She could feel them kneading the softness of her flesh like dough, first her thighs and then the tight curves of her petite hips, moving over her like a sensuous Oriental massage as she lay weakly on her back.

Her nipples hardened again as the fingers moved to her breasts and she felt their ivory fullness being cupped in two huge palms, felt the heat as her breasts were completely enveloped by the massiveness of the hands that held her... Her eyelids seemed so heavy and she strained to open them, to see the gentleness of the man that touched her - to add the pleasure of sight to the delicious senses of touch that filled her. It took a moment for her eyes to focus and then she saw him over the swelling curves of her breasts - saw the hands, the huge shoulders, and the glistening ebony skin. As she stared at his contrasting blackness it took a moment for her to realize who he was. A scream started to build in her throat, but it was cut off by another wave of ecstasy as his hands moved down her body again to cup the raised triangular mound between her legs... he sat at her side and his hands caressed and molded the sparse, hair-covered mound between her legs as if to change its shape. She stared at the broadness of his back, divided by the deep furrow, and she saw that his skin was flawless and shining - and rippled with great bands of muscles. Then his hands began to move tenderly down the soft inner skin of her thighs, and she threw her head back moaning and closed her eyes again - reveling in the delicious sensations that raced through her eager body.

"SHhhhhhhh, Honey, Black Sajack ain't gonna hurt you."

She heard the deep rumbling voice and realized that it was the huge Negro that had spoken. Spoken to her! And then she felt an insane desire to laugh. The giant black man could talk. Wouldn't it be something if she went downstairs to tell of her discovery - and then explained how she had found out! She started to answer him, to tell him that she weren't afraid. That all she wanted was for him never to stop teasing her with those huge, gentle hands, but no words came out because his caresses started another wave of trembling desire rushing though her. She vaguely heard the low thunder of his voice as he moved up to lie beside her and whispered soft sounds and words into her ear. Then, she ran her hands enticingly and tentatively down his chest, feeling his massive power and size. She moved her hand further down until it touched the wiry curls of black pubic hair... then just slightly further until her fingers enclosed the great throbbing shaft that rose from the center of his loins. My God! she thought in her drug induced delirium, I'll never be able to take him. It's so big! Then, with passion driven courage, she almost cautiously, ran her hand up the entire length of his unbelievably large penis, trying to encircle it with her fingers - but they would only reach halfway around it. She stacked her hands along the long column of penis meat, taking a mental measure of his horse-sized prick.

"Just over eleven inches if you're wondering, little lady," he offered.

A slow whispered gasp of 'ohmygod' escaped from her lips as she dare not take her eyes off the amazing piece of manhood she held in her hands. But his thickness, my god, he had to be at least as thick as a beer can - he would kill her! But she would die trying to stay true to her word.

His hands, the touch of such a huge man next to her, began to arouse her almost beyond belief. Her legs began to tremble and quiver and she arched for him to come to her - to shove it into her pleading body.

As she scratched her fingernails across the pulsing fullness of his penis it seemed to grow even more, not steadily, but in a series of slightly jerking pulsations.

"Ohhhh, please... do it to me." she pleaded softly through lust contorted lips, I want you inside me! You're so big... so strong... Oh God, do it to meee!"

At her words he began to slide over on top of the girl beneath him and positioning himself between her open thighs.

When she felt him kneeling on all fours above her she spread her legs out wide as far as she could, drawing her knees up until they touched her white, flaccid breasts trying to open herself far enough to accept the huge organ that he was gleefully lowering toward her arching pussy...

She reached down with her hands surrounding his hardened cock with her fingers to guide his mixture of fear and desire penetrating her entire being.

"It's so big... God, I'm afraid... I can't, do it, I can't take it!"

The words gushed forth deliriously as she tried to stop him, but it was too late. The giant Negro was not going to let her go now.

"Don't you worry, little honey, I ain't gonna hurt you," he grinned down at her helplessness through ivory white teeth. "I'm gonna go real easy."

And he lowered himself with the aid of her hesitant hands until the smooth rubbery head of his cock touched the hot, moist opening of her pussy. She felt the great, black shaft begin to part the soft, fleshy slit and insinuate its way lasciviously between the smooth, hair-lined lips of her cunt, lubricated already by the flowing juices of her aroused body.

Her whole inside seemed to be stretching, expanding to receive him. There wasn't much pain at first, just a straining belt of tightness spreading through her loins, then it began to hurt her.

"OHhhhhhhh... Ohhhhh! No! . . I can't stand it, it's too much . . Ohhh no." she screamed. Over and over again, twisting and writhing beneath him as though he were impaling her with the hard, blunt end of a barbaric spear.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the pain slowly subsided and was replaced with a growing flood of lustful desire. He ventured deeper into her, but so gradually that the increase was almost imperceptible and the pain that would otherwise have been unbearable was erased by the hot slippery fluids flowing from the walls of her wide-stretched pussy.

But, the huge Negro was still too monstrous for her and was unable to completely bury his lust-swollen prick all the way down into the straining wall of her tiny, tight pussy. When he found that he had probed as far as he could go, there still remained almost two inches of his massive prick outside her.

She held her knees spread apart as far as possible and raised her hips even higher, desperately trying to absorb more of him, but it was no use.

The man remained motionless for several seconds, allowing her body to become accustomed to his great size, but she clawed at his back and tried to get slim to move within her.

"Please... please! I want you to fuck me now! I've never felt anything so big... so long... please... don't hurt me too badly!" Her words echoed against his ears and he couldn't hold himself any longer.

The girl felt the muscles in his asscheeks flexing as with a deep- throated grunt he began to drive himself into her with great, powerful stokes. She strained and squirmed up against the huge, hot shaft that pounded relentlessly deeper and deeper into her arching body...

"Oh my God... My God! you're splitting me open... you're so big... so HOT! OHGOD... IT HURTS... JEEZ... MMMMNNRRNNGGG... YOU'RE HUGE... OWWWW... NNNNgggghhhnnn!!" Her cries filled the room as the great glistening black body, dripping with sweat, thrust again and again, harder and faster into the burning heat of her cunt.

Victor Vitelli stood there, still wet from the shower, in a silk robe and - listening and watching as Black Sajack, throaty, animal noises coming from his mouth, mercilessly drove his huge, throbbing cock mercilessly down into the ivory-white body beneath him. He tore into the helpless little white wife underneath him, slamming the full length of his huge prick in and out, in and out, over and over and over into her, banging her cervix, making her cry out in joyous pain, showing her what pleasures are held deep, deep inside her belly where no man had dared or much less been able to plumb for her. She cried tears of painful pleasure as the Negro pummeled her petite body for almost an hour, stretching her thighs as wide as they would go to accommodate his incredible penis, a penis built for the dual purpose of punishment... and pleasure.

She took his thrusts and received everything he could throw at her, not caring whether he injured her or not, she just wanted to be taken by a real man for a change, a man who could take her to the brink of insane pleasure... and to the depths of sheer depravity by doing this under such circumstances.

Though now only a voyeur, the gambler felt his passion rising as he stared vicariously at the erotic scene before him. He watched until he could stand it no longer and then began to stroke himself beneath the folds of his robe. The cries and moans from the bed drove him into a near frenzy and as the pressure mounted in his body his eyes closed in lustful passion until they were opened by a loud erotic scream from the young, flailing girl.

"Ooooooh, Ooooooh God, I'm cumming, I'm cummmming!" she cried, grinding her churning asscheeks tight up into the loins of the Negro fucking her.

He came then, simultaneously with the girl as she jerked violently on the bed and her screams echoed throughout the room. He watched the giant man above her as he too shook convulsively, spurting his hot, liquid sperm far up into her quivering belly, and finally collapsed upon the trembling body of the twice-fucked girl beneath him.

The room quieted as her moans subsided gradually into silence and there was only the wet, sucking sound of the Negro withdrawing from between her legs and rising from the bed. In the stillness Vitelli realized the girl had fainted dead away, her arms and legs spread obscenely out on the mattress as though she were a mannequin devoid of all human mobility.

Now she's mine, all mine, he cackled victoriously to himself, and I'm gonna make sure it stays that way.

She didn't know how much later it was as she awoke with her head throbbing and myriads of confused memories tumbling in her mind. She shook her head and tried to wipe away the hazy mist from her eyes.

There was only one dim light in the bedroom and it was several moments before she realized where she was, and remembered what had happened earlier. The young girl stumbled from the bed, feeling a violent wave of revulsion shake through her as she saw the streaked stains of semen covering her loins and thighs and the bedcovers strewn all over the floor. The Negro must have cum inside her more than twice, as his seed continued to pour out of her forever-stretched slit.

Fifteen minutes later she came out of the bathroom feeling a little better. The shower had washed away some of the degradation she had felt, though her body still tingled slightly especially around her thighs and she had at least one thought that eased her self-disgust somewhat. She examined her stretched-out pussy and knew that she'd never be the same again for her husband, that she could never love him the way she did before, and that he could never again give her pleasure like a well-hung stud could now. Her entire body ached from being ravished and ravaged by the Negro's immense prick, but she vowed to herself, as God was her witness, she would never deny herself such sublime pleasure again... ever!



_________________
The End
© Kysa Braswell
Best free sex stories at www.best-free-sex-stories.com has the best free sex stories a to z with Video Hub The best are at Kysa Online and for Large Breast withSpindly Pussy And Fucking