“Skip it,” he said firmly. “Let’s talk about playing big pairs.”
“I have lots of experience—”
“Jess, I’m your uncle,” he said frowning.
“You’re such a prude,” I teased.
“Yeah, shuffle that deck and get your mind out of the bedroom and onto the felt.”
“Hmmm,” I said shaking the table. “Too unstable…now a pool table—”
“Christ, Jess,” he said. “What’s gotten into you? This is serious!”
“Okay, calm down.” I shuffled the deck and kept my face straight and didn’t smile.
My uncle placed various stacks of chips around the table to represent a full table of players and then moved the button into different positions. He handed me a pair of kings and said, “That’s your hand for this lesson. Most of what we’ll cover will be played the same with aces, but not everything. Pay attention.”
“Yes, sir,” I said with conviction. I was there to learn, after all, and not mess around.
The problem with big pairs—not tits or balls on alpha males—but with pocket aces, kings, and queens is that they don’t hold up well in multi-player pots. You (almost always) want to isolate your play down to one opponent. Or simply take the blinds (and antes if you’re at that stage in a tourney).
If you see the flop with a lot of players, and you don’t get trips (meaning you get another similar card giving you three-of-a-kind), you’ll often lose to two-pair or better. Nothing is worse than holding aces or kings and having one of the blinds flop two-pair when they started with rags.
The other side of the lesson is that you can’t get too crazy with kings and queens.
You’re going to be up against aces once-in-awhile.
That’s poker.
I’ve seen kings go all-in only to be squashed by aces.
I’ve also seen kings go all-in after aces and then hit a set.
If you play poker long enough, you’ll see everything. You’ll get four aces someday and lose to a straight flush. Or you’ll hit quads, nobody will bet, and you'll take down a tiny pot.
That’s poker, and that’s kind of how life works, too.
Take Peter and Kirk, for instance. I enjoy them both. They are similar in many ways, but much different as well. Peter is more likely to do kinky things—as I’ve found out—and he’s got more things different about him (being a black man) as opposed to Kirk, who is culturally just like me in many ways. And then there is Brad, who has invited me out for an overnight on his boat next weekend. He’s a fucking hunk. A sportsman, a stud, an all-around alpha male, but still a decent guy.
Peter and Kirk, the doctor and the lawyer, are a different breed than Brad, who’s not unintelligent, but who lives a different kind of life.
They are all interesting, good in bed, fun to be with, and decent, compassionate human beings.
Like in poker, there always comes the point in which a decision is mandatory. You have to call, raise, or fold. You cannot sit there undecided indefinitely. In poker, the other players will call 'time,' and you’ll be auto-mucked if you let the official count you down to zero. In relationships, no alpha male will let you remain undecided forever (unless he’s just looking for a fuck-buddy).
But that’s not my goal.
I want the pocket aces, and I want them to hold up.
I’m playing to win.
LIFE AND POKER TIPS BY UNCLE HARRY
Look at the other players in the hand when the flop is dealt instead of the cards. This allows you to gauge their reaction to the cards. It also prevents you from presenting 'tells' to your opponents.
When someone is giving you a story, an excuse, or explaining something that might be total bullshit, make sure you maintain eye contact. This allows you to spot lies and deception.
Dispel the myth of waiting to look at your cards until it's your action. A fast glance at your hand, before others in front of you, will give you the knowledge of both your hand and your opponent's reaction to their cards. This allows you to prepare for the proper strategy to take in all kinds of circumstances.
Don't always wait for others to react to art, to a movie, or to give their opinion on a new restaurant. You can 'look' first and then make your own unbiased opinion.
If someone at your table has a card protector or some serious poker related gear and they aren't someone you immediately recognize, they’re probably a fish. Don't let others get the dead money if you can get it first. Attack.
If someone shows up anywhere with all new gear (especially in a dangerous sport like diving or mountain climbing) beware. Rookies do stupid shit. This also applies to cars with paper plates and student drivers.
If you have several players at your table with lots of poker gear, like Poker Star hats and card protectors, be prepared to put on your headphones. These kinds of players will babble almost exclusively in poker cliches. Worse, they'll start quoting from the movie Rounders.
If Phil Hellmuth is at your table, the use of headphones is highly recommended. As much as you'd like to, resist the urge to slap him.
It's not rude to ignore or walk away from loud-mouthed bores and crazy people. If a stranger at the airport begins to talk about angels, UFOs, or the Lost Continent of Mu, go ahead and stick earphones in your ears. Nod and smile.
CHAPTER TWENTY
From birth, man carries the weight of gravity on his shoulders. He is bolted to earth. But man has only to sink beneath the surface and he is free.
~ Jacques-Yves Cousteau
BRAD INVITED ME TO SPEND THE WEEKEND in Cabo San Lucas. I agreed. We left Los Angeles Friday morning. By Friday evening we were checked into a resort and drinking margaritas by the ocean.
“I’m impressed,” he said to me after I’d described some of the dives I've done in exotic locations. My father, as I’ve said, lives in Thailand, so I’ve dived there, as well as in Australia and Bali. I've also been to locations in the Americas, including Mexico, Costa Rica, and Belize. I’ve been able to coordinate some of my trips for the poker tour with diving excursions. It usually works out well (and I get a tax write-off on the professional part of my trips—a girl's gotta be smart about her finances).
“I think diving and your sportsman physique was one of the things that first attracted me to you,” I said.
“Oh, so you only want to take advantage of my boat and my body?” he said mockingly. “Okay,” he added smiling at me.
“I’m glad you invited me. Thank you. I have a lot going on, but this was just the medicine I needed.”
“I have to get out of LA at least every few months,” Brad said, "because it’s too much of a rat race not to take a break."
“You ever think about leaving permanently?” I asked.
“You mean expatting?”
“Sure…or even just getting out of So Cal?”
“I have…” He sipped his drink and reflected. “It’s hard with my business. Being established is kind of like a trap. But, yes, sometimes I wish I could live in a little shack by the sea.”
“And fish and fuck every day?”
“And fish and fuck and drink cervezas,” he agreed. “And eat lots of tacos.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“It does…” He winked at me and said, “You feel good about tomorrow’s plan?”
“Sure,” I said. “I’m all about the adventure.”
WE SPLIT THE COST OF CHARTERING a private dive boat, so we could determine our own day and change course if required. We also thought that if we found a little island or a private beach, we could have the captain dropped us off for a secluded lunch and maybe a little fooling around in the sand.
I knew it would be fun no matter how it worked out…
Barring shark attack, hurricanes, narco-hijacking, engine failure, tidal waves, and pirates.
I jest of course.
Well, not about the sharks.
Did you ever see the movie Open Water?
Well, if not, don’t watch it before you dec
ide to go on a dive trip…
OUR FIRST DIVE WAS INCREDIBLE. We left just after dawn and were in the water in the early morning at a secret spot the captain promised would be amazing. It was a perfect day, and the crew’s recommendations did not disappoint.
If you’ve never learned to dive—well—it’s not as exciting as sex or as exhilarating skydiving. But it’s pretty damn amazing. Seeing the fish, coral reefs, shells, octopus, and the whole otherworldly environment is thrilling and beautiful experience.
I saw sea urchins, star fish, living shells, and a myriad of fish.
Dolphins had followed the boat, too.
I watched them leap and jump and my heart raced as they got close the the boat and darted about in the bow’s wake.
Whales winter in Baja. The California gray whale (and other species) birth their calves here. Our captain said he’d seek out whales on the way back to port if we wanted.
I said, “Yes! Of course!"
Apparently secret beaches for wild exotic sex weren’t quite as easy to come by as my imagination had suggested, and besides, we were having a lot of fun, so Brad and I flirted and teased throughout the day. We built ourselves up in anticipation of the evening ahead.
We accomplished several dives without incident or danger, no sharks or pirates, and ate a fabulous lunch washed down with a beer in the Mexican sun. On the way back to Cabo, we stopped suddenly, and the captain informed us that a pod of whales were close.
The boat drifted with the engines off, and I watched as a baby gray whale came to investigate us. The whale is an amazing creature. Seeing one, so close-up, was mind-blowing. I highly recommend whale watching as a spiritual experience—even for naturalists like myself. The mother whale, ever watchful of her offspring, appeared to be bigger than our boat. I wondered if the massive beasts ever thought to themselves: You humans are lucky we are kind and peaceful because if we breached on your boat, it would sink in a giant splash.
Hopefully, whales and sharks never collaborate on making people into dinner.
AFTER A DAY THAT BELONGED IN A FAIRY TALE, we dined at a five-star gourmet restaurant. Our main course was lobster. We drank margaritas and ate wonderful food until I thought I would burst.
What decadence!
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay awake after this meal,” I said.
“I’ll keep you out of dream-land for at least a few minutes,” Brad said with a broad smile. His tanned skin barely showed any effect of the sun, but I could feel a few burns here and there on my body.
“That sounds like a perfect ending to a perfect day,” I said. “Thanks again for planning this. Wow…I was impressed with the whales.”
“They are beautiful,” he said. “And you’re very welcome. You make a perfect traveling companion. Sporting in the day, and well…”
“The real sport is at night, isn’t it?”
“I agree. It’s weird, isn’t it?”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Well, I was thinking. Diving, hiking, boating, and lots of things are fun, but they are best if done once in awhile…in my opinion… But sex…now that you can enjoy nearly every day—like a mini-vacation from reality.”
“True,” I said. “Let’s go fuck.”
“Check please!” he shouted to the waiter.
BRAD FILLED THE GIANT TUB with hot water and bubbles. He poured champagne in plastic cups. “In case we get too wild,” he said. “Nothing worse than sitting on a shard of broken champagne flute.”
“Sounds painful,” I agreed while I stripped my clothes off and stepped into the bath.
He followed me into the water after lighting candles and turning off the lights. We sat facing each other, our legs tangled together, with most of our bodies submerged. My tits floated at the surface, bubbles covering them like freshly fallen snow. We sipped champagne like movie stars, and I realized how happy and content I was with my life. If only I weren't going to have to decide at some point…
But not now I told myself.
He pulled me close and managed—somehow—to guide me onto his lap. My legs wrapped around his waist and I felt his singularly-minded cock ease into me. I softly moaned as he squeezed my body—and tits—into his warm flesh while using his hands to rock my ass. I moved in small, short movements, the gentle waves of the tub water splashed. I imagined we’d been transported to the secret beach in my fantasies.
“Oh,” I said pointedly.
“Nice?” he whispered in my ear.
“So, nice,” I said.
We rocked for an eternity, his pulse quickening as his breathing increased, and I could feel his lust rise in the desire to climax.
“Come, baby,” I said. “Come, come, come.” I chewed on his ear lobe and whispered with a raspy breath how much I loved his cock.
“Oh, God, Jess,” he said as he came. “Oh, fuck!” He exploded.
I watched his face as the climax ended. I smiled.
“Oh, man,” he said. “I think you’ve opened my soul. Are you a witch?”
“A sea-witch?”
“A vampire?”
“A sea-witch vampire,” I concurred. “On the full moon, I enter the sea and become a shark.”
“Holy shit, Jessica,” he said. “I’m beginning to see why you’re such a heartbreaker. I love everything about you.”
“I can be a bitch, too,” I said. “You know…”
“Comes with the territory, you are a woman—”
“Bastard!” I splashed him. His tired dick slipped from my pussy. “Hey!”
“I’m not a machine,” he said.
“Let’s go snuggle in bed,” he suggested. “Unless you want me to finish you off here?”
“No, bed…”
I appreciate a man who is not a selfish lover, and Brad wasn’t that, not by any means. He watched me towel dry and then picked me up and lifted me onto the bed. My legs were spread, and he entered me with his tongue. I had been worked up in the tub, but sometimes being underwater is enough to keep my pussy from fully getting to climatic fulfillment and tonight had been no exception.
That and the champagne.
But the oral work of an expert rarely fails to please…
I grabbed hold of his ears and pulled his face tightly towards me. Then I wrapped my thighs around my arms and squeezed the entire mess. My clit exploded with pleasure, and I could feel his warm mouth sucking as I reached climax.
“Awww!” I shouted unable to form words. “Oh, god, oh god…”
He surprised me with another erection, and before I knew it, he was inside me with this full manhood. His balls slapped my ass, and his hands touched my nipples driving them into mini-erections that competed for attention.
“Kiss my tits,” I asked.
He took my right nipple into his mouth and swirled his tongue.
I felt one of his hands on my ass and the other under my neck, pulling my body tighter and closer to his.
He pounded, increasing his tempo as I began my guttural pre-climax moans. I could tell he knew I was close, as he shifted his hips slightly into a deliberate rocking motion that sent a full range of pleasure through my clit and pussy as if he’d connected his body to mine.
I clawed his back—I might have drawn blood—but he never complained of the pain. He shouted, instead, for more as he increased his thrust and sent us both to the edge. I felt myself tighten. I clenched down on my pussy, squeezing the muscles around his cock, and he shifted to my previously neglected nipple.
As his mouth enveloped my breast and his tongue moved over that sensitive point, I lost it completely.
“Oh!” I shouted. I’m sure the neighboring rooms were startled by my scream. I didn’t care. I shouted again and again.
He rose with me and came in a burst of energy and passion.
As he pulled out, I moved my hand to my clit to continue my climax, and he watched me with pleasure on his face as I convulsed at the end of a long orgasm that had me moaning loud enough that I’m sure
the whales heard me.
“Oh, my,” I said.
“I love watching you come,” he said kissing me on the neck.
“I love watching you watch me come,” I said winking at him.
Then sleep.
I dreamt of whales, dolphins, and bliss.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A gentleman holds my hand.
A man pulls my hair.
A soulmate will do both.
~ Alessandra Torre
A FEW DAYS AFTER RETURNING HOME from Mexico, I had a dinner date with Peter at his home. He enjoyed cooking, and I enjoyed eating. A perfect match.
We both enjoy fucking, so it’s a win-win all around.
I’d like to make something clear; I’m not all about the orgasm.
Oh, it’s essential to a good relationship, at least for me, but there is so much more.
I have talked with Peter (Kirk and Brad as well) about politics, religion, work, play, relationships, family, and current events. I take relationships seriously, and you should too. Life is too short to settle for boring, predictable, mundane, or anything that resembles whining, bitchy, or misery acceptance as a lifestyle choice.
I discuss sex because it’s fun.
I like to hear stories about sex because it’s easy enough to hear stories about vacationing in Bali, Mexico, or Maui…
When I walked into Peter’s house, I could smell the spices and aroma of dinner.
“That smells heavenly,” I said after giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“I hope it turns out,” he said. “I’m experimenting with Korean-Southern Barbecue-Mexican fusion.”
“A Galbi rib with spicy red sauce served on a tortilla?” I asked.
Fifty-Two Pickup: Threes (Jessica Rogers Book 3) Page 13