Split the Aces

by Jove Belle

  “My glass is empty,” Julie said.

  Cori sucked on her straw and confirmed that her drink was gone, too. “Don’t you just hate that?” She pushed herself out of her lounger. It was Julie’s turn to make the trip to the bar but she looked too comfortable to move. “I’ll go.”

  “Mmm.”

  Cori took that as a thanks. She was almost to the bar when a sporty dyke with dangerous blue eyes intercepted her, a drink in each hand.

  “Looks like you need a refill,” the stranger said.

  Cori smiled, slightly disconcerted. “You must be a mind reader.”

  She mumbled an inward curse over her lame reply. If that was the best she could do when an attractive woman spoke to her, she should go back home now. She reached for the glasses, but the woman retreated slightly.

  “I’ve got them.” She offered up a cocky smile, full of practiced charm and self-assurance, and motioned toward Cori’s vacant lounger. “I’ll follow you.”

  It wasn’t the first time a woman had bought her a drink, but it was broad daylight and they were outside, surrounded by a sea of presumably straight people. Being blatantly cruised under these circumstances caught Cori off guard.

  “Thanks,” she choked out as she tripped back to her chair.

  The cocky stranger handed Julie her drink with a friendly, unassuming smile, and waited for Cori to be seated. Then she lowered herself onto the edge of Cori’s lounger, close enough for the exposed thigh below the hem of her shorts to touch Cori’s bare leg.

  “I’m Rae.” She held out her hand.

  Cori’s mouth went dry and she forgot how to talk. When Rae’s smile broadened and she flicked her eyes down to the outstretched hand, Cori regained her basic motor functions. “Um, sorry. I’m Cori.”

  Rae’s grip was firm and confident, that of a woman used to being in control. Her body had a gym-cultivated tightness to it. The last few women Cori had dated had that naturally strong build associated with outdoor sports. The Northwest, for all the rain, hosted a disproportionately high population of bikers, hikers, and kayakers. Rae, she suspected, was strong and lean because she wanted it that way, not because her physique was the by-product of a hobby. Her muscles spoke of hard work and determined focus. Cori wondered how much massage oil it would take to coax the tension out of them.

  “Cori?” Rae flipped her blond-streaked bangs out of her eyes and released Cori from the prolonged handshake. “Nice name.”

  Cori snapped to attention when Rae’s palm touched her thigh. Eyes, deep and blue like the ocean, focused on Cori’s face as Rae traced casual circles over her skin.

  “How long are you going to be in Vegas, Cori?”

  It was a simple question. One that Cori wanted to answer. First, she needed to remember what day it was. Then she’d be able to figure out how many days she had left. The task proved impossible. Finally, she went with a vague but honest response. “A few days.”

  “Well,” Rae gave her leg a final pat and stood, “I look forward to seeing you again.”

  Before Cori could engage her brain and offer a suitable reply, Rae walked back the way she came and disappeared into the dark casino.

  “Hot damn,” Julie whispered.

  “Indeed.”

  Cori sucked on her drink, more to keep herself from chasing Rae across the patio and pinning her against the wall, than out of actual thirst. Her first chance to get a little wild in Vegas, and possibly a little horizontal, and she’d blown it. She decided that if she saw Rae again, she wouldn’t hold herself back.

  *

  The No Smoking placard in the break room taunted Rae, tempting her to pull a cigarette out of her half-empty pack and set a flame to it. She forced herself to concentrate on the textbook laid open on the table. Advanced organizational behavior, a topic that generally captured her attention, failed to enrapture her as she fought her desire for nicotine. She had fifteen precious minutes to study before she needed to change and clock in for work. Damn it all to hell if a little thing like a craving would come between her and the successful completion of her classes this quarter, the crucial final quarter between her and a BA in business management. The minutes wound down, ending at the same point as her willpower, and she stuffed her books in her locker, shrugged on her uniform, and headed toward the gaming floor with a Camel dangling from her mouth.

  As soon as her feet hit the red carpet, indicating it was safe to light up, she did so and power-smoked her way to the pit boss. She spotted the sexy-if-tongue-tied Latina from the pool playing blackjack, and paused to watch. A face card landed and the dealer paused, but the woman didn’t increase her bet. Rae dropped her cigarette in the nearest ashtray and laid one hand on the woman’s lower back. It was a light touch, intended to signal that she was there and reference their earlier encounter.

  She tapped the stack of chips and leaned in close enough to be discreet. “You should double down.”

  The woman—was her name Cori?—gave a short laugh filled with nervous energy. “I have no idea what that means.”

  “You have the queen of hearts.” Rae smiled and drew a heart on Cori’s back with her index finger. “That’s always a lucky card. And the dealer has a seven. Odds are in your favor on this hand and the rules allow you to double your bet.”

  The explanation about when to double down and, more importantly, when not to, was far more complex, but Rae didn’t have time for a drawn-out lesson. She needed to get to work. Besides, the jackpot she was looking for was more than just a few chips on a low-stakes table.

  “But if I double my bet, I double the amount I can lose, right?”

  “Sure.” Rae flattened her palm against Cori’s back, wanting to burn her impression through the thin fabric of the shirt into the skin beneath. “But it also doubles the amount you can win. And this is Vegas. There’s no payoff without a little risk.” She held up a two-dollar chip and cocked her head. “What do you say, are you in?”

  Cori didn’t answer for several seconds, her eyes focused on Rae’s lips. Finally, she blinked and said, “I’m definitely in.”

  “Good.” Rae set the chip down in front of Cori’s card and nodded to the dealer. She slipped away with a slight wink, not bothering to wait and see how the next card fell.

  “What the hell was that?” Greg, the pit boss on duty, growled at her a moment later when she joined the rest of the swing-shift crew.

  “A lesson on how to double down.” Rae stood at easy attention, her hands clasped together behind her back, feet slightly apart. “Strictly casino business, boss.”

  Her friend Marco nudged her with his shoulder. “The one time I tried to give a lesson like that, the lady slapped me so hard it took a week for the handprint to fade.”

  “Must have been a bitch to explain to your wife.”

  “Are you kidding?” Marco joked. “It was my wife.”

  Rae nudged him back. Marco had a good life. A wife who loved him, two kids with another on the way, and the confidence of knowing he would do right by them. Rae envied him.

  Greg cleared his throat and she dutifully shut up as he launched into their table assignments for the evening. Normally Rae worked tables with at least a twenty-dollar buy-in, more often fifty. Tonight Greg assigned her to table thirteen, her punishment for being disruptive and getting hotter dates than he could.

  “Thirteen, are you kidding me?”

  She’d protested because it was expected, but her heart wasn’t in it. Greg was just doing his job, using the tools available to keep the dealers in line. Table thirteen was double cursed, first with the unlucky number most gamblers avoided, and it had a two-dollar buy-in. The only people who ended up betting there were generally too drunk to notice the table number or too broke to go for something bigger, or both. Most of the time, the pit boss left it closed, a testament to the profound power of superstition in the world of gamblers.

  “Greg,” Marco’s voice held serious intent, “that seems a little harsh. She was only a few seconds behind the re
st of us.”

  Rae appreciated his defense but stepped in before Greg ended up moving Marco to that table instead. He had a family to support and his tips made the difference between survival and financial ruin.

  “It’s fine, Greg,” she said and headed to the table before either of them could say anything further.

  It was a slow night, as she’d expected. Most gave her a wide birth, eyeing the table number with suspicion, then shuffling on. Rather than being the punishment Greg intended, the work assignment proved to be a welcome break. She was able to spend a good portion of her shift watching the good-looking Latina.

  Cori moved with the fluid, natural grace of a woman aware of her body, her muscles. Yet when she noticed Rae’s attention, the sensuality leaked out of her and her body stiffened with awkward tension. Rae desperately wanted to ease her anxiety, to help her relax until her clothes came off. She normally favored tall and blond, and this woman was neither. She was around five-three and her hair flowed down her back like black satin. Rather than the sporty, muscled body she craved, both in herself and others, Cori’s was all curves. Big breasts, full hips, and just the right amount of hourglass at the waist. Rae imagined her hands settled on the swell of Cori’s hips, pulling her close as her lips closed around a straining nipple.

  “Hi, Rae.” Cori slid into the tall seat opposite her. She smiled almost shyly, with a hint of I-dare-you in her eyes.

  “Ready for another lesson?” Rae asked.

  Cori’s lips parted slightly. “I’m ready…for whatever lesson you’re ready to give.” She placed a chip carefully on the table and regarded Rae like she knew something Rae didn’t. “My name is Cori, by the way.”

  “I remember.” Rae’s heart skipped. She hadn’t expected to remember the name. Apparently Cori had made the same assumption, since she’d felt the need to remind her.

  She shuffled her cards slowly, letting her desire feather out on their glossy surfaces. She normally let the machine do this part of the job, but tonight, for Cori, she wanted to drag out the experience. Also, the succinct precision of the shuffler was too cold, too impersonal for the heat flowing between them. She flipped a card in front of Cori, then another for herself, this one face down. She didn’t look at it, focusing her attention on Cori.

  “Six of diamonds is a tough card. The best you can hope for is soft seventeen.” Rae kept her voice low and intimate.

  “Soft?” Cori leaned in closer, her eyes focused on Rae’s lips.

  “If your second card is an ace, you’ll have seven or seventeen, depending on how you play it.”

  “What if I get a ten?”

  “That would be a hard sixteen.” Rae pushed the word “hard” out with a little extra force, imagining a future demonstration of the exact differences between soft and hard. She dealt them each another card, both face up this time. “Dealer draws an ace.”

  Cori’s second card was an eight. She scooped them up neatly and flipped them over. “At least I know when to fold.”

  “I hope you’re not ready to call it a night yet.”

  “Not even close. Tell me why you’re dealing both of my cards up.”

  “I can’t show you what to do if I can’t see what you have.” Rae swept her eyes over Cori’s body, pausing to watch the rise and fall of her chest. Then she returned her gaze to Cori’s face. “Can I?”

  Cori held Rae’s probing stare. “No, no you can’t.”

  Rae wanted to pull her through the nearest door and drop to her knees. Hell, if she wasn’t careful, she’d forget the need for privacy and spread her out like a banquet on lucky table thirteen. But Greg was watching her too closely tonight, and Cori was the kind of woman who deserved a little more work.

  “I’m off in a couple of hours.” Rae strangled the voice of caution warning her not to make a real date with a tourist. “Want to go to the club with me?”

  Chapter Three

  Music pulsed through Rae’s chest and settled in her bones. She tightened her grip on Cori’s hand and guided her deeper into the dark club. The DJ waved from his booth and raised his brow, his head inclined toward Cori. The implied question had already followed her through the room, reflected in the eyes of every employee they’d encountered. Rae always entered a scene alone and left with a playmate, not the other way around. Starting the evening with Cori at her side was unexpected to say the least.

  She merely smiled at the DJ as she led Cori toward a door near the stage. “Want to meet the band before they go on?”

  “Really?” Cori’s face opened up, excited and eager.

  “Absolutely.” Rae stuck her head in the backstage door and called out. She didn’t want to catch anyone in a potentially embarrassing situation so she waited for a response before saying, “Come on.”

  Backstage was nothing more than an oversized dressing room filled with costumes and smoke. The lead singer, Nikki, sat in front of a mirror, carefully applying makeup. The bass player straddled an unknown woman on the couch, grinding her hips in slow, tight circles. The drummer, Kel, invited Rae over to the corner where she sat tapping out a rhythm on a five-gallon bucket. The staccato beat was unpolished and brash, blending perfectly with the music spilling out of the club speakers.

  The lead guitar player emerged from the bathroom, tugging the rhythm guitar player along after her. They both wore dazed, freshly fucked smiles. Rae had limited her contact with the two of them after an ill-fated pickup attempt on the shaggy blond lead guitarist ended with her longtime lover in Rae’s face with violent intentions. Determined to ignore the couple, she sank down in a stuffed armchair, settled Cori on her lap, and made the necessary introductions.

  Kel’s lips curved into a predatory smile. “Nice to meet you, Cori.”

  Cori squirmed under the scrutiny and didn’t offer a handshake. Rae bristled. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised by Kel’s reaction. Cori was smoking hot and obviously not Rae’s type. The logical conclusion was that Rae had brought her backstage to share. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

  “She’s with me.” Rae tried to keep the growl out of her voice but the words sounded overly protective to her ears. She didn’t know who was more surprised, she or Kel.

  Cori relaxed, her body pressing intimately close in the dark. “It’s nice to meet you, Kel.”

  Kel nodded, dim surprise in her eyes. Her demeanor instantly changed from woman-on-the-prowl to friendly.

  “So, what’s up?” Rae asked her.

  “The usual. What are you two doing after the show?”

  What indeed? Rae shrugged.

  “Come back to my place. We’re having a going-away party for Nikki.”

  Rae pressed her lips to Cori’s ear and kept her voice low. “Nikki’s the lead singer, the one in front of the mirror. She’s moving to L.A.” To Kel she said, “When’s her last show?”

  “Friday.”

  “Gonna miss you, Nik,” Rae called to the singer.

  “Aw, thanks, sweetie. I’m going to miss you, too.”

  Strains of “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails halted all conversation. Kel stood and tapped the bucket with her sticks one last time. “They’re playing our song.”

  Rae urged Cori off her lap. “Time to go.”

  They headed back to the dance floor as the band members prepared to take the stage.

  Rae leaned in close to be heard over the drowning bass thump. “Ready for a drink?”

  She could feel Cori’s breath. The sensation tingled all the way to her toes. Rae got lost in the feeling, welcoming it, holding it close. Normally, she didn’t respond physically until the moment right before climax, and she was used to being the one who caused reactions. Her body was muted to the charms of strange women in the dark, but Cori’s effect left her off balance and wanting more.

  Cori’s laughter sounded uneasy. “I’m not sure I should drink around you.”

  Rae met her gaze and held it. “Then dance with me?”

  Cori nodded and they fought their way to the middle
of the throng of surging, sweaty bodies. Rae turned Cori so they were back to front, her hands low on Cori’s hips. Guiding her in a seductive rhythm, she snuggled Cori tight against her. The club wasn’t Saturday-night crowded but it was still packed, barely leaving room to breathe. Cori pressed back, her ass tight and suggestive against Rae.

  She angled her head, bringing her cheek flush with Rae’s. “You’re the right kind of dangerous.”

  The words were barely a whisper, lost against Rae’s skin, and she wasn’t even sure if she’d heard or imagined them. She trailed her lips along Cori’s neck, moaning at the sweet, citrus scent mingled with the sharp taste of sweat-salty skin. She nipped at Cori’s ear, catching the lobe between her teeth and biting gently.

  “I’m not dangerous at all. Not to you.”

  Rae didn’t understand why she was willing to give Cori more than a few stolen moments, but she was. Hell, she knew nothing about her other than that she was new to blackjack and didn’t live in Vegas. Just looking at her made Rae’s heart pound like a damn kettledrum, and her knees turned to Jell-O with her touch.

  Cori turned in her arms until they were face-to-face, their lips kissing-close. Rae ran her tongue over her bottom lip, completely transfixed by the dark invitation in Cori’s eyes. She dipped her head and kissed Cori lightly, just a brush to ask permission. Cori moaned against her and the silky-smooth press of her lips gave way to an insistent need, a bold touch.

  Rae parted her lips to invite Cori in. Her head swam with the power in Cori’s tongue. Stroking against her. Invading her mouth. Owning her. She retreated, dizzy with want.

  Cori’s breath was hot against her ear, her voice low and sexy. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Rae collected herself, caging the storming need inside her, and led her out of the club.

  *

  For a long, blinding moment, Cori couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as Rae pushed her against the wall, muscles coiled tight, pinning her in place. She could only react, her skin aching from the contact. She marveled at the change in Rae. In the elevator, walking down the long corridor to Cori’s room, Rae had been sweet, almost shy. The endearing hesitation disappeared when the electronic lock on the door beeped and granted them entrance.