Gifted Grifter Ch. 11

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Julie's Revenge.
9.4k words
4.75
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Part 11 of the 15 part series

Updated 10/30/2022
Created 07/05/2007
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DrSqueaky
DrSqueaky
537 Followers

Gifted Grifter #11: Julie's Revenge

We arrived in Vegas late after a long day of driving. It was prime poker time, but we were too tired from fifteen hours behind the wheel to do anything but drag our bags upstairs, make love and go to sleep.

I was up first the next morning and lay in bed anxiously waiting to see how Julie would be. I was very concerned about her emotionally, since the last time she woke up in a hotel room in Vegas she living there as a self-employed sex worker. A lot had changed in a year, not the least of which was having a new boyfriend—namely me. And when I say new, I mean new—it was just days ago that that Julie and I went from being occasional sex partners to being full-time significant others. Our relationship was still fresh and fragile, and I was concerned about how being back in Vegas would affect my sweetheart's self-concept. That was the main reason we were waking up in the brown-tinted, vaguely medieval surroundings of a standard room at Excalibur. I had asked Julie if there was anyplace she had never been on the Vegas strip; she replied that she had never spent any time in the low-end properties on the strip—at $3000 a night and up, only big-money players at big-money properties could afford her services. I chose the castle because I had stayed there several times in the days before the discovery of the mindreader changed my life, so I was pretty familiar with the place. Julie's customers also almost always stayed in suites rather than standard rooms, so although I could easily have booked us in a better room, I opted not to.

Julie started stirring. I gently kissed her bare shoulder (we were both naked from having sex the night before) to help nudge her awake—and to remind her that she wasn't alone in her half-awake state. She rolled her shoulder around in its socket to acknowledge that she felt and appreciated my kisses, then rolled towards me so she was flat on her back.

"Good morning, sweetheart," I said, kissing her good morning. "I love you."

She smiled slightly, and touched my cheek. "I love you too." Then she stretched, looked around, and said "So this is what Vegas looks like to normal people."

"How are you?" I asked, cutting right to the choice.

"All right," she said. "We haven't done anything yet." Then she opened her arms, inviting me to hold her close. "I'm still not used to waking up next to you every morning...but I sure do like it." We kissed.

My penis responded to my kissing beautiful Julie and being pressed up close to her body. She felt my erection rubbing against her thigh. She reached between her legs, masturbating briefly and slipping a finger into her pussy to ensure that the passage was clear. Then she reached for my penis and guided it into her.

She spread her legs to accommodate me, but held me close by wrapping both arms around my neck. We kissed each other while I raised and lowered by buttocks to penetrate the sanctuary of her femininity. I continued to fuck her at a leisurely pace, kissing her the whole time.

Without warning, she gently pushed me off of her. I was worried that having sex in a hotel in Vegas was like giving her flashbacks or something. Instead, she rolled over on her side, and indicated that I should lay next to her. When I did, she adjusted so that my dick was level with her butt. Then bending her top leg up and out of the way, she reached down and guided my penis back into her pussy.

I picked up my rhythm where I had left off. I couldn't move fully in and out while lying on my side, but that was offset by the ease with which I could fondle her breasts while fucking. I stopped fondling momentarily while I reached up and brushed her lovely blonde hair behind her ear. Then I resumed teasing her nipples, still fucking, and now I could kiss and nibble on her ear at the same time. She curled up slightly when I nibbled on her ear; it tickled.

She turned her head towards me; I shift over so that I could kiss her. This bent he leg somewhat awkwardly, however, so I go up off my side and got on my knees. One of her legs was still beneath me, the other I lifted up and over my shoulder. Julie could do the splits, so this position wasn't even a stretch for her. My dick was now rotated 90 degrees from its usual angle of penetration, but now I had full range of motion back and I kicked it up a notch. Julie took my hand, closed her eyes, and began to suck my thumb like it was a dick. I responded by kicking it up another notch. Then she grabbed the ankle of the upraised leg with her arm, further spreading herself open to me. That put me over the top; seconds later I was emptying my nuts between her thighs.


Eventually we got up, showered (together), and got dressed. I offered to take her to Paris for breakfast—something I had done the first time I had met her here—but she said she wasn't that hungry so we opted for something simpler and quicker.

"Now what?" she asked after breakfast.

"Now we start making money," I said. "The poker rooms won't be worth playing until later, so we start at the sportsbook." I was starting to learn more subtle things about Julie; rather than assuming she didn't know anything about betting sports and horses, I asked what she knew—she had mentioned before that you could learn a lot from johns if you just listen. Sure enough, she understood many of the bets in the sports book and knew horse race betting options I didn't know. But while she knew how to bet them, she knew even less than I what bets were good.

"Glasses time," I said, turning on my glasses. Julie turned on her Bluetooth mindreader and tagged along.

I waited until a race ended, then commented to one of the guys standing around the betting counter. "Hey that was a good finish. Someone had given me a tip on that race, and I wasn't smart enough to trust it!" I emphasized the word TIP, because the whole point of that utterance was to get the listener to think about what tips they had about that day's races. This guy had one that seemed promising, so later I unobtrusively bet on the horse the word tip had registered in that guy's mind.

Julie only needed to see it once to understand exactly how it worked. "Okay, I can do that. And, I have certain advantages," she said, pretending to stretch her back but really calling attention to her breasts, whose curves were easily visible in her tight tank top. "Let's separate for a bit and see how we do." Then she looked at me with a very earnest look, saying "but please don't leave the sportsbook in case I need you."

"You didn't need to say that—whether you wanted me to or not, I'm not letting my precious little girl out of my sight," I said, hugging her. "Don't forget, you have a panic button on your Bluetooth too."

"I remember...I really appreciate it being there now," she replied.

Julie went to the bathroom for a bit, then reappeared having pulled a trick I had seen her do before; she had tied a knot in the back of her already tight tank top so that her midriff and belly button were exposed above the top of the rolled-over elastic of her short-shorts. She then sat down by a group of guys and played dumb blonde. They were more than happy to teach her how to bet the horses.

It was difficult for me to watch her work these guys. I knew she loved me, I had more than just her words to prove it: I had read it in her mind. But it was my own insecurity at what I had to offer, juxtaposed with the obvious and currently flaunted assets of my dear Julie that made me fear that somehow, someone would steal her away from me. As a result, I more watching of her and less fishing of my own that I should have. I did hit a couple of good tips, but after a time I just sat at the back of the room, pretending to watch games but mostly watching Julie. I knew she knew I was watching her a lot, but I couldn't help it.

After working the room for about two hours, Julie came towards me. I stood up as she came near. She came by me, untying the knot that had been holding her shirt up short. "Well, one lesson learned," she said.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Don't show too much skin when fishing for betting tips, because if you're too sexy all the guy you're talking to will be able to think about is to fantasize about having sex with you," she said.

I laughed out loud in spite of myself. That was one occupational hazard I didn't have to worry about. "I warned you about that in Austin," I pointed out.

"Do you have any idea how creepy it is to watch some guy daydream about fucking YOU?" she shuddered.

I gave her a big hug and kissed her. "In great detail?" I kidded. I felt her relax a little.

She rolled her eyes "Is that really the way you guys think?" she asked, looking at me accusingly.

"You saw it for yourself," I shrugged sheepishly, "minds don't lie, only mouths do. Truth is, I bet that what you saw was just scratching the surface."

"No wonder you guys can be steered so easily by the rudder," she replied, unobtrusively grabbing my crotch when she said "rudder" to indicate that was the rudder she was referring to.

I held her close again. "Can I daydream about fucking you now?" I whispered.

"YOU," she said, "can do one better." We went upstairs and she let me have the real thing.

----------------------

After a nice early dinner at my favorite international taste buffet (I highly recommend the shrimp tempura) we headed back to Excalibur so Julie could get her first taste of poker. She understood the basic idea of the game, and we had watched some Hold'em on TV, but was still working on memorizing what beat what. She had noticed that the female poker players on TV dressed like they were going to a show or fancy party, and she did likewise.

"If I dress sexy enough, will I throw the other players off their game?" she asked.

"Only the amateurs who you can beat anyway. The good ones won't notice—and it could be very distracting to YOU to watch as the guys fantasize about you," I answered.

"Yeah," she said, "its only fun to play with guys' tendency to follow the little head instead of the big one if you can't actually see what they're imagining." So she chose a shiny silver top with a halter neck but that only allowed her midriff to peek through when she bent or stretched in certain ways; wide, three-quarter length black pants that looked like a skirt when she was standing; and of course black strappy heels. But whereas she probably would have put her hair up for a party, she wanted to wear it down to help hide the Bluetooth earpiece—just in case some pit bosses might object to her having it on.

We had eaten early so we could get to the poker room at dinner time, when many would be leaving, in the hopes of getting two seats at the same table, which we did. I sat next to her, in part because having to look at her constantly would be distracting to me even if she was encased in concrete. I took care to avoid interacting with her in a way that would bely our existing relationship.

Julie was quiet at first, but as she grew confident she started to work the guys at the table. She pretended her winnings were dumb luck, then made dumb plays on purpose and pretended to be grateful when one of the guys near her explained why. As I read the minds of the guys at the table I understood her motive—she was harvesting good will. There was still the occasional sexual fantasy, but as a man I knew that the queen of spades might trigger a sexual fantasy if it stared at me just right. The guys were liking her, which meant that they didn't mind losing to her as much as they would mind losing to another guy. She pretended to be all excited whenever she won; the guys were too entertained by her excitement to notice that she was taking stacks of chips from them regularly. And she was smart enough to hide her big chips so it wasn't obvious how much cash she had in front of her. I could tell that this was yet another thing where she was going to be more successful than I.

We cashed in for the night after about six hours, having done much better than I would have thought for a first try. As we left the cage and headed up to the room, I heard a soprano voice call out "Heather."

We turned in the direction of the sound and Julie suddenly said "Jenny!"

A tall, thin brunette with long, curly hair came up and was giving my Julie a hug. I had a pretty good guess how Julie knew her, because she was dressed to appear like a certain famous football team's cheerleaders; she had a blue shirt, unbuttoned but tied in a knot just below her bust, with a short white vest over, white hot pants, and white knee boots.

"Jenny? Is it safe to call you Julie?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm Heather anymore," she said. Turning towards me, she said, "Jenny, I want you to meet my boyfriend."

"Nice to meet you, Jenny," I said. Wanting to be sure I had read Jenny right, I turned on my glasses—making sure that Julie saw me do it, since I didn't want to spy on her thoughts without her knowing.

"Shh...better call me Kayla. Don't want any potential customers to get confused" she said. Turning to Julie, she said, "so you're out of the business now, huh?"

"Yup, almost a year now, actually," she replied. Glasses now on, I learned that Jenny was as close to a friend as Julie had in Vegas. They also used to work together; when clients wanted two-girl action, Julie and Kayla would recommend each other, so you might say they were intimately familiar with each other."

"Well, no wonder I hadn't seen you in so long," she said. "I was worried that something might have happened to you." Not worried enough to actually do anything about it, I thought, but then again, I would imagine a prostitute living outside the law has pretty limited resources for that sort of thing—going to the police is the last thing you would want to do.

Julie caught my eye, which I took to mean I should point my mindreader at her. She was thinking "Jenny is sweet, but not the sharpest knife in the drawer." I was already getting that impression. "Unlike 90% of the girls working the strip, she actually likes working in the sex industry. You might say it's making use of the strongest of her talents."

They chatted briefly, then Jenny/Kayla excused herself, as she had a set appointment she had to make, but told Julie to call her. When she walked away, Julie whispered to me.

"As you probably already know, Jenny and I used to three-ways together. You know," she continued, "I could arrange a three way for you if you want."

"No thanks," I said without a moment's hesitation.

"No? C'mon, what man doesn't dream of doing two girls at once?" she prodded.

I held her close and said, "When you have filet mignon on your plate, do you go and mix it with hamburger just so you get more meat? No...the hamburger just detracts from the filet. As far as I'm concerned, any attention paid to a woman that isn't you is settling for an inferior cut of beef."

She brightened at my response, but tried one more time. "You're just trying to sweet-talk me. Deep down, you really want to do a three-way."

"Julie, I have one dick," I said. "If I had two dicks, well, maybe that would be different. As it is, I have three times as many places to put it as I have dicks—I have no need for additional orifices."

I must have given the right answer, because that night I got to use all three of hers.

---------------------

The first day went very well, so for the second day we decided to hit a higher-end property, deciding on Mandalay Bay. Unlike Excalibur, Julie had worked this property back in the day, but she was taking to her new role like a fish to water and the thought of going back there didn't seem to bother her.

For her second day at the track betting, Julie dressed appropriately sporty in shorts and a tight cotton camisole. I dawdled around the tables for five minute so Julie would get there ahead of me and it wasn't so obvious we were together. She was already working the guys when I got there.

"So when you get all three top horses right, it's a tribeca?" she asked.

I had to work hard not to laugh; she was betting wheels yesterday, but today she's got these guys convinced that she didn't know what a trifecta was. They were tripping over themselves to be nice to her and help her—she told me that half of them would tell her their best tips outright, she didn't even need the mindreader—but they were all observing proper decorum and keeping their hands off of her. The fact that it was just noon and they weren't drunk yet helped.

I went about my business getting what tips I could, glancing her way every now and again to see if she was all right. She had a little circle of guys around her, and she had them wrapped around her finger. She was doing fine, and she had scolded me for being too much of a mother hen watching over her the day before, so I got immersed in my work and didn't keep close tabs on her.

Watching the 4th race at Santa Anita, my Blackberry started to play the opening bars of INXS' "Need you tonight." I immediately stopped what I was doing; that ringtone was specifically assigned to Julie's distress signal on her Bluetooth mindreader. I quickly spotted her at the far corner of the sportsbook; her previous crowd had left, and now there was a middle-aged man sitting next to her, leaning in towards her and talking to her. Julie obviously did not like what he had to say.

I turned on my mindreading sunglasses and looked at Julie to find out what was going on; we had to be careful to take turns using our mindreaders, because pointing two of them at each other would produce headache-inducing mental feedback.

"This guy is a former customer," she was thinking, "and saw us together yesterday. He asked me if I was free and I told him I wasn't, at which time he guessed you were my boyfriend. Now he's trying to blackmail into sleeping with him or else he'll tell me I used to be a hooker."

I turned off my glasses so she could read my mind. "I guess he must think I don't already know," I thought. "We'll have to set him straight."

She touched her headset, my cue to turn my mindreader back on. "I hate this asshole—he's one of these pricks who thinks it makes him tough to be rough with women. He's got a tiny dick and it makes him feel big to make you gag on it. And he likes to slap a girl while in bed—I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. And so does every other working girl in Vegas."

I turned off my glasses, her cue to turn hers on. "Then let's put on a little show for the man, shall we? When I get there, kiss me like a prom date. I'll ask how you are, you say loudly that he's trying to blackmail you by revealing your secret. From there, just follow my lead and play along. I think I know how we can get rid of guys like this."

She nodded slightly and turned off her mindreader, and I sauntered over in their general direction.

"Honey!" she yelped loudly as I got close. She jumped out of her seat and ran to me, sending her race book flying, wrapped her arms around me and French kissed me. I put my arms on her hips, purposefully sliding them under her shirt and up so they were out of view.

"How's it going, sweetie?" I asked in an overly loud tone.

"Not so good," she said in a too-loud voice, half turning so she was facing in the general direction of the asshole john. "This gentleman"—she was decidedly sarcastic in her intonation of gentleman—"is trying to make me to have sex with him or else he'll tell you about my secret past!"

"Secret past?" I said too loudly. "You didn't tell me your past was supposed to be a secret!"

"It's not," she said, "but apparently he's under the impression that you wouldn't be my boyfriend if you knew what I used to do for a living."

"Well, then he's not very smart," I said, tongue kissing her again, sliding my one hand that was still in her shirt even further up, dragging the rest of the shirt up with it. As intended, we were attracting a growing audience from the surrounding bystanders. "To try to BLACKMAIL a sweet young thing like yourself with information that isn't even secret."

DrSqueaky
DrSqueaky
537 Followers