Gifted Grifter Ch. 11

The guy was getting embarrassed now, as we were both looking at him and so everyone who could hear—which was all of the sportsbook and some people beyond—knew who we were talking about. He started to get up to leave, so I let go of Julie and took two steps towards him to temporarily block his way.

"Hey buddy," I hissed, as now I didn't want everyone to hear, "the second word of 'call girl' is girl—as in a living, breathing human, with thoughts and feelings. Maybe if you weren't such an insecure needle-dick, you might treat one like a human once in a while. You know what can happen?" I reached my arm towards Julie to indicate she should come over to me, which she did. "You might find out that what a girl does for living does not define who she is as a person. And who she is might just turn out to be the best fucking girl on the whole fucking planet. You missed out bigtime, loser." I turned to kiss her again.

He was too dumbfounded to move.

"Oh, honey," she cooed in a quiet voice, "it's almost lunchtime. Can we please go upstairs and have sex again?"

"Soon, my dear, soon," I replied. "let's see if we win in the 5th race first."

"Oh please," she said, laying it on thick, "and can you...you know." She made a little twitch with her butt. "You know how much I love that." The intent, of course, was to make this guy feel in his nuts the action he was missing out on. She let her hand graze my crotch, then quickly pulled it away as if she suddenly remembered she was in public.

"Ah, fuck it," I said in a normal tone, "we'll find out who won later. Let's go upstairs." We kissed again, then put our arms around each other and headed for the exit.

Once we got outdoors and around the corner, I dropped the act and my arm and spun around to look at Julie. "Are you OK?" I asked with great, genuine concern.

To my surprise, she put her hands around me for real this time, and kissed me with feeling. She felt soft like warm butter in my arms, like she was completely mine, like she was more than happy to give me anything I might want from her right then and there.

She paused the kissing to look me in the eye. Here eyes were soft and full of love, as if I was the only person in the whole world. "Darling, you were wonderful. That asshole is going to be tearing his hair out imagining the kind of sex you'll be getting tonight while he's pulling his pud to DirectTV."

"You think we took care of him?" I asked, "I mean, are you satisfied with the way we took care of that."

"More than satisfied," she replied, kissing me for emphasis. "That was my big fear; what would happen when I ran into a former customer. Now I know: it's not a secret to you what I used to do, and I don't give a damn about what anyone else thinks, so they don't have any power over me. When I was working, I always had to keep everything secret because I needed new customers, and of course I didn't want to get busted. Now I have no more secrets to hide. So what if I run into someone who hired me once—I'm no longer available, because now I belong to you."

Another kiss. I LIKED the way she felt like warm butter in my arms.

"And," she added, "you came through for me in spades, yet again. I also know that I can trust that you'll have my back if I need you." Her eyes were beginning to tear now. "I've never had anyone have my back like that before."

I kissed her, said, "Julie, I really, really love you," and kissed her again.

If I'd taken her back to Excalibur right then, I'm sure I'd have gotten a mind-blowing fuck. But my psychology background told me that for her sake, it might be good to not have sex just because it might inadvertently raise associations with her previous career.

"Julie—you're too good for that wimpy room we have," I said instead. "What do you say we look into getting a suite instead?"

She looked up at me and smiled, then rested her head on my shoulders and hugged me. Without my glasses turned on I didn't know what she was thinking, but she was clearly working through some significant issues reconciling with her past.

"C'mon...let's see the concierge," I said. For some reason I was never hot on Mandalay Bay, so instead I got us a mini-suite at the Luxor. Fortunately, they are all owned by the same company, so I was able to transfer hotels without paying a fee and could send a bellhop to fetch our things from Excalibur (for a $20 tip) and bring them over. Even though it was afternoon and we would be playing poker that night, I still bought her a couple of drinks. Maybe I missed out on a great fuck, but I derived just as much enjoyment out of just being with Julie, who now was attached to me even stronger than before. With Julie I was in the fortunate position of knowing that I would always be able to have sex with her later; it's not like I was missing out on a one-in-a-blue-moon opportunity.

Once our bags were transferred, we went upstairs to change for dinner and a night of poker. Julie put on a long black skirt with black mules and a light pink, long-sleeved blouse with a plunging neckline; by adjusting the angle at which she sat, she could allow or deny others at the table from viewing her cleavage. That's my Julie, always thinking. After a nice leisurely dinner we signed up for spots at the Mandalay Bay poker room. Julie still preferred to play at a mid-level table, while I signed up for the highest stakes table open. Between horses, sports and the previous night, we were up about 10 grand between us.

There weren't seats right away, so Julie and I sat in the viewing area and watched for a while. I noticed that the seats far to the left served as the trophy wives' row here; there were six, gorgeous, young women dressed to impress sitting and watching the action in the pit. I pointed it out to Julie.

"I call that trophy wives' row," I said. "Guys with lots of money attract gorgeous wives and girlfriends who dress to impress. They send them out shopping during the day, and when they finish the come down here and wait for their husbands to be done playing and then they go off and do whatever. You'll usually see a lot of them right before showtime."

Julie glanced over. "Things may not be all that they appear," she commented, "I know one of those girls. Unless things have changed for her too, one of those trophy wives is a rental."

That surprised me. "No way, really?" I said, glancing over again but was unable to discern which of them was a sex worker rather than a wife. "You know, the first time I came to Vegas to play, I was jealous of the guys at the table that had one of those babes waiting for them. If I hadn't been so jealous, I would never have gone looking for a companion for myself that night. And if I hadn't gone looking for a companion, I'd have never run into you and that stupid cop that almost busted you."

She looked at me with eyebrows raised in surprise. "Really?" She had no way to know that, of course. "You mean I owe the good fortune of finding you to the trophy wives' row?"

"Yeah, I guess you could look at it that way." I replied. Just then her turn was called and she took her seat at a table. Fifteen minutes later, so did I.

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

We did well that night. During dealing breaks, I watched Julie and the action at her table nearby. She was holding court, keeping at least five of the guys at the table acutely distracted, not by laying on the sex appeal but just by being a talkative, beautiful woman. She and one other guy who was ignoring her charms were winning most of the money; the eighth player was another woman, who my glasses told me was seething inside at Julie's extraversion but also knew that it was a big reason why she was breaking even.

At my table, pots were growing large with frequency, so while I wasn't getting great cards, my mindreader and the knowledge of when I had a winning hand and when I didn't allowed me to make some nice scratch.

Right about midnight, Julie cashed out. I was a little surprised that she had cashed out so soon. She came over to me during a deal on her way out.

"So how did it go?" I asked.

She flashed me a nice stack of pumpkins (orange, $1000 chips) and said "all right." Then she said "I'm going to go and cash these in go upstairs for a minute, then I'll come back down, OK? I'll be back, so don't leave—I'll come to look for you here."

I was getting cards, so at the time nothing seemed unusual about her instructions, which I might have noticed had I been paying strict attention to her.

"Okay, I'll be here when you get back," I replied, having gotten the gist that she was leaving and would be back.

I lost that hand with two pair to three of a kind; having my glasses saved me a bunch of money I would otherwise have bet. The hand after that, I had an A-9 hearts under and two hearts on the board with just the river to go. One guy with four to a straight was betting too much for his hand, and the best hand at the table as it stood was a pair of kings. Figuring a heart or an ace would win the hand, I stayed in.

I was looking at the table and the players at it, I wasn't noticing anything beyond. Then I became aware of a number of players suddenly gasping and staring outwards in the direction of the spectator's area. Something out there was attracting a lot of attention.

I turned slightly to look out towards the crowd. A new girl was walking—sashaying, really—towards the trophy wives area. All of the girls there were hot and showing it to varying degrees, but this one was sex on a stick. She was wearing a skirt that was maybe 16 inches from top to bottom, and further it was wide and loose rather than tight at the bottom; if she needed to bend over for any reason, the whole world would be looking up her ass. There seemed to be a mile of shapely, tanned legs between the skirt and her ultra high-heel, black strappy sandals. Her black silky halter top gathered together by a narrow band of fabric about two inches below the bustline, revealing all of her supple belly below and a good chunk of cleavage from her lovely breasts above. Her long blonde hair framed her face with seductive curls. Her lips and fingernails were dark red, and a dangling piece of silver jewelry hung from her pierced navel, contrasting with the tan of her skin.

It was, of course, Julie.

Holy fucking shit, I thought. Then it dawned on me—I had told her about trophy wives row, and the fact that if I hadn't been jealous of them I'd have never walked into her life. So, obviously, one way she could make me happy was to be the best, hottest girl in trophy wives' row. And goddamn did she succeed.

I wanted to get up and fuck her right there, but I had a lot of cash in the pot and didn't want to walk away—especially when the river turned up seven of hearts, and the guy who just drew a straight insisted on throwing his perfectly good money into my pocket since I had a nut flush. I simply re-raised every time he did—I wasn't watching the table at all now. I was watching trophy wives row with my glasses. He thought I was distracted by the scenery and was taking my money. Sucker.

I have seldom seen as many hateful thoughts as the girls in trophy wives row emitted when Julie sauntered over to them. Their livelihood depended on their keeping the interest of their rich partners, so they did not take kindly to someone hotter coming along and showing them up. Naturally, they converted that thought into labeling her a slut and a whore—yeah, like she was any different than they were. The only reason any one of them had access to the money they she spent today was because she was a good fuck for her husband or boyfriend, whereas Julie had gone out and earned her own scratch today—that made the other girls actually more like whores than she.

I now could see which of the girls there was a sex worker, and she was thinking "Heather—what the fuck are you doing? Are you trying to get arrested?" Julie sat down close to her, whose street name was Jolene but whose real name was Ashley, and nonchalantly sat and watched the game. I waved a waitress over and gave her a green chip, asking her to deliver a cosmopolitan to the blonde in the black halter top sitting in the spectator area pronto. I'm sure she thought I was a hapless romeo about to be shot down.

Jolene slid over and talked to Julie; I could read the conversation in my glasses.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Jolene asked.

"I'm waiting for my boyfriend," Julie answered.

"Boyfriend?" Jolene asked, trying to determine if she was using the term to mean a real boyfriend or as a euphemism for a john.

"Yes, a real live boyfriend," Julie answered, "I left Vegas a year ago. Now, I'm with him," and she pointed towards me. I gave a little wave.

Finally Mr. Straight was all-in, so the hand ended and I raked in the pot. Then I said, "I'm sorry, gentlemen, but I really must go. You see, that lovely blonde in the black halter top that all of you have been staring at since she walked in—well, she's waiting for me. And as you can plainly see, she is not a girl to be kept waiting."

Some of the guys at the table literally turned green. If they weren't pissed at me already for having just raked in huge pot, they certainly were pissed at the fact that I was obviously about to go off and fuck the hottest number on the strip. I waved cordially after coloring up and strolled out to meet her, trying not to belie the advanced state of my erection by the speed at which I walked.

She stood up as I neared her, and I walked up to her, put my hands on her bare waist, and stuck my tongue down her throat. She threw her arms around my neck and reached up to return my kiss. If anyone at the table had doubted my claim on her, they were believers now.

When we finally stopped kissing I hugged her so that I could whisper in her ear.

"Julie, love, you are simply incredible," I whispered.

"Do you see something you like?" she whispered back coyly.

"Thank you." I said. "I guess I'll never have to feel jealous about the trophy wives' row again—obviously, I've got the biggest, best trophy of all right here in my arms."

She pulled back to look at me with obvious satisfaction on her face. "I just want to make you happy," she said.

"I am very, very happy," I replied, and we intertwined tongues again.

The walk from Mandalay Bay to Luxor never felt so long in my life. I couldn't wait to get into our suite and pounce on my lovely little sex kitten.

We entered she suite and we embraced and kissed; again she felt like warm butter in my arms. The different from this afternoon was that with her skimpy outfit, everywhere my hands went I felt bare flesh. Julie paused the unbutton and remove my shirt. She then reached behind her, released some hidden closure, and her halter was loose. She pulled her it over her head and giving her hair a sexy flip, embraced and kissed me again—except now I could feel her soft, bare breasts against my chest. I kept holding her with one hand while feeling for her nipples the other; they were erect and waiting for me when I got there.

Julie abruptly walked away, towards the bedroom, glancing back at me as if to say "so, are you going to follow?" I followed. She stopped at the foot of the bed, which I thought meant she wanted to embrace me again, but as I reached for her she slipped free and used my momentum to toss me onto the bed. She then took off my all of the rest of my clothes. I lay flat on my back, except for my penis which was sticking straight up in the air. She then gave her hair a flip and with an exaggerated wiggle of her hips, walked towards the bedroom door to close it—completely unnecessary, of course, since we were the only ones there, but she wanted me to watch her walk. Door closed, she put the sole of her right heel on the dresser. This caused her legs to open, providing a view she enhanced by hiking her skirt up above her hips. She was wearing some kind of thong, but she took the fabric covering her genitals and pulled it aside; like a pornstar's underwear, it stayed obediently out of the way of her showing me her stuff. She bent her knees slightly and curled her hips forward, trying to maximize my view of her shaved pussy. She then started to masturbate. At first she rubbed herself, then used both hands to part the lips of her sex, lingering with them open so that I could view them. I grabbed myself and started to masturbate as well. Then she started to put finger into herself, darting them in and out while rubbing her clitoris with her other hand. I watched with lust and jerked away.

She brought her foot down and took a step towards me; I was hoping she was coming for me, but not yet as it turned out. Instead, she slowly did a deep-knee bend with her legs far apart, as a stripper might before she loses the undies but in this case with the undies off to the side and parting her pussy lips for me to see.

I was now so hard it was actually getting uncomfortable. "Please," I begged, desperate to get inside my sweetie's honey pot. She responded by biting her lip in a sexy fashion and all too slowly rising up from her crouch. I lay there jerking furiously as she slowly sauntered toward me, again with exaggerated hip sway. But rather than get on the bed, she went around to the side of it until she even with my head. I turned to look at her. Next thing I knew a heel whipping over my head and my face was two inches away from her pussy—but she was purposefully keeping it out of the range of my tongue.

Again she split her sex open, looking at herself, then looking up at me and breathing in a husky voice "do you like it?" I nodded yes like I was having a seizure.

"Would you like to taste it?" she asked, and again I nodded like I was being hit by 10,000 volts.

She gracefully and with balance I could never duplicate stood back up and brought her leg back to the floor, then lifted the other and lay on top of me in a dual mouth-to-genital 69. My aching dick finally got to feel some warm, wet flesh when she took it into her mouth; I licked her cunt with gusto I didn't know I had—energized, I'm sure, but the teasing she had just put me through.

I really wanted to make her cum. I parted her lips with my fingers, although I couldn't really see her lovely butterfly because it was too close to my face. But splitting her sex made it easier to focus on her clitoris. I stroked her love button as hard and fast as I could.

Down below, Julie was working equally intently on my erection. She swallowed it as far as she could, holding it deep into her throat. She used her tongue to stimulate it as she let it slip out and then took it in again. All the while, she gently stoked my scrotum, as if encouraging it to unleash its load.

Often, I concentrate so hard on pleasuring her that not ever her world-class blowjobs bring me off. But this time, I was so close to coming already from the show my lovely Julie had put on put on that I did cum in my sweetie's gentle mouth. I paused licking while the orgasm washed over me. As always, she swallowed every drop and then carefully licked my penis clean. I, however, latched my arms around her hips so couldn't get up; she wasn't going anywhere until I licked her to orgasm, too. It didn't take too long to clean my penis, and it was now shrinking into dormancy—but on the other end, my licking was continuing firmly and insistently. With nothing to do but receive, she crossed her arms on one of my thighs, lay her head down on her arms, and just enjoyed it as my cunnilingus made her increasingly excited. Her breathing became more noticeable, and she started to rock her hips back and forth over my tongue. She picked her torso up, supported by her arms, and arched her back to achieve the most pleasurable angle. Then, accompanied by the sweetest little squeaky grunts, I felt the spasming of the deep muscle tissues announcing that she had reached orgasm. Only when the spasms ended did I let go of her hips, which allowed her to flip around, embrace, and kiss me.