Old World Magic Ch. 16

I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but it seemed a bit more 'high tech' than I'd thought. There were five poker tables, each with five seats and space for a dedicated dealer. But what was shocking was the amount of video cameras, monitors, and computer cables running everywhere. Along one entire side of the room was a bank of computers with several excited looking men flouncing about.

The setup was explained to us. The cameras were only allowed to record our bodies and faces, and would never see our cards. In turn any data the computer crew collected was only allowed to send a single 'on / off' pulse to the 'cheater box' that our host, John DiMarco, carried. The idea was it would light up if the computer team guessed we were bluffing, or stay dark if they thought we weren't.

Five players at each table would play till only one player remained. Blinds would go up every thirty minutes. The last player at each table would take two point five million to the final table then from there it would be a 5 way game till someone had all the chips. The prize money was divided down among the winners, but everyone was shooting for the grand prize, seven point five million, and the 'golden ticket' that he kept crowing about. Hell there were people here who would have paid five hundred thousand flat out for the golden ticket. The right to enter any tournament that DiMarco's casino threw in the future was a career maker for professional poker players. I learned too that it meant that it also included a buyin seat for the next poker world series if DiMarco got it at his casino, which, he had for the last five years in a row, since two thousand and four.

I was a little bit star struck to be honest. I was going to play ultra high stakes poker in the same room as the professionals. In the room we were playing in, last year, a man from denmark anmed Isser had won over nine million dollars and become the youngest player to ever win the poker world series at age twenty two. He'd surpassed the previous winner who'd won the tournament back in nineteen eighty nine at age twenty four.

It was astounding, because while I'd actually been born in nineteen seventy and had been around for thirty nine years, my reformed identity said that I was only twenty one. I knew that this wasn't a world series event, but if it was, and I won, I'd take the new crown as the youngest winner ever.

In any regard, there were several poker pros I knew, but the majority of the twenty five players assembled today were high finance types. Business owners, fortune five hundred types. Among them not one school teacher turned mage, not one bartender at a brothel, not one person who appeared to be under the age of thirty, save me. I saw the way they looked at me, the way they whispered. The word spread quickly that I was a proxy player for a swiss investment company. I guess that it was one of the ways that Emily had bought the seat at the table, by backdooring the money in via a shell company.

There were others waiting, far more than twenty five men, and they were sadly all men. But on the sidelines I saw faces I recognized, people who had changed the tech world, famous actors, and of course, more poker pros hoping that someone with a reserved seat wouldn't show and they could buy their way in. There was one person who was a no-show, sacrificing their deposit of nearly a hundred thousand dollars. A lottery was held and some texan I'd never heard of was able to buy his way into the vacant seat.

There was one person who stuck out to me. My mage sense was totally blank to this strange man. Mages triggered my sixth sense by a sort of 'electric' or ozone type smell. Ruby, a succubus, often smelled of an exotic spice, or sometimes cinnamon. So I knew that this man was neither of those. He simply had no 'smell' to him at all, not even the normal human baseline that my sense gave me with humans. He was nothing, a void, a complete dead spot on my senses. It made me realize how I'd come to think of my mage sense as just another of my senses, and only by this man's complete lack of 'aura' did I realize how I'd come to integrate that sixth sense into my daily life. It was like being introduced to someone who made no sound, or was invisible. My gut reaction warned me to be very careful around this man, but he seemed pleasant enough. He had a definite european accent I couldn't place, it sounded like it had a touch of several different cultures, predominantly french. Also, I'm not homophobic, but I got a definite 'gay' vibe from him. However I could have been mistaken, and he could have just been very fastidious and neat. Ultimately I was pleased that he was not seeded with me at my starting table, and I hoped that he would be eliminated so I wouldn't have to face him at the final table.

Sitting down at my starting table, the blinds started very very low and gave us a chance to get the feel for the game. Honestly I spent the first two hours playing without any of my magic as I just let myself fall into the game. I lost for the most part, but since the blinds were still pretty low, I wasn't down more than fifty grand.

What was interesting was how the other four at my table kept teasing me about my age. I looked like some twenty one year old kid in a room full of people where the average age was probably double that. One of the players, the texan who'd bought his way in, started calling me 'kid' till one of the others at the table pointed out that nickname was already taken by a very famous pro. But when they found out my last name was Naughton the texan, whose name was Bill Bidel, came up with a nickname for me.

"Naughton," Bill said as he toyed with a stack of chips, "Young kid like you, you can't have no experience at poker, no serious experience at least."

I smiled at him and stared him down from across the table, knowing he was waiting to call, fold, or raise the bet I'd just kicked to him. "Does that mean that you're going to call Bill?" I asked taunting him.

"Mike Naughton," he said staring me down, "You ain't Naughton, your name should be Mike Nuttin, cause son, I think you got Nuttin in your hand right now." He shoved a large stack of chips into the center of the table. "I call your bluff an I'mma raise you another ten grand Nuttin."

I smiled at the nickname he was trying to stick on me. Nuttin was actually kind of amusing, and it wouldn't hurt. If I went to the big table with a derogatory nickname like 'nuttin' the other players might underestimate me. Plus, considering the amount of cum I could fire off when i 'busted my nut' the nickname held a secret and hilarious double meaning for me.

I looked at his chips for a moment and then set my chips down. Rubbing my chin I closed my eyes for a second, it was time to start setting up the spells that would let me see the other players hands. Of course since I was setting them up now I couldn't tell what he had without really diving into his mind. Something I wasn't really prepared to do. I set up the spell on all four other players at my table then opened my eyes again. The pot was almost ten grand, and he'd raised another ten. Now I had two pair, but they weren't especially strong, and with an ace on the flop and a king on the turn, I wasn't feeling particularly bold.

I smiled at Bill and threw my cards to the dealer face down, "You're right Bill, I had nuttin."

After that the nickname seemed to morph a little bit over the next few hours to lil' nut, and then just 'nut'. Again, I took amusement in the source of my mana coming from sexual intercourse and the double meaning of 'nut' in that regard. But I played along and eventually the table I'd started out at was down to just Bill and I, as we'd knocked out the other three players.

By this point I'd been losing a few light hands and some blinds, but I'd also taken a few really big pots, and Bill and I were pretty evenly matched in chip stack.. Bill, sitting across from me was down a little, having just over two million, and I had a few blind buy ins more than him at around two point three eight million.

"All right nut," Bill said to me with a smirk, "Looks like I'm gonna take you down in time for lunch. I'm all in." He tossed in the white button chip that said 'All In' into the center of the table on top of our blinds. The flop had just come out, and it was looking pretty good for Bill. Ace, king, nine, mixed suits. I had scanned him as he'd looked at his cards and knew he had an offsuit ace and king in his hand. He had two pair, and a decent two pair. No, I take that back, two pair aces over kings wasn't a decent pair, it was a great pair. But there were two reasons that a pocket ace king were also known as the "Anna Kournikova." The first obviously being the initials, A.K. standing for the tennis player's name as well as the hand's notation. But the second was that no matter how good she looked, she never seemed to win in the clutch.

I smiled and nodded at the dealer, "I call."

Bill flipped his over towards the dealer and his grin was big enough to take up most of his face, "Sorry little nut, but this is a game for pros."

I said nothing, but I tossed out my hand, a pair of nines. The observers went nuts as Bill's grin absolutely vanished in shock and disbelief. The dealer pulled both hands and set them on the felt near the river.

Both of us held our breath as the dealer burned and turned. "YEEE HAW YOU SUMABITCH!" Bill leapt out of his seat and pointed at the fourth card dealt, a king. He had a full house. "Fuck yes you little bastard. Fuck yes."

The dealer paused for a moment to let Bill calm down, and then he realized I was sitting motionless. I was focusing all my energy on that deck. I wasn't sure that there was another nine in there, but if there was, my spell would bring it to the top. I channelled mana into the deck and looked up at Bill and said, "The river always fucks you Bill."

The dealer burned and played the river, nine of hearts. I had quad nines.

Bill looked shocked, he was stunned, and the color drained from his face. I stood up and walked over to him and stuck out my hand, "Been an honor playing with you sir."

Bill shook my hand, it felt cold and clammy, but he looked me in the eye and said, "Yeah, but next time I'mma take your yankee ass down son. I'll be lookin for you at the world series, you'd better be there."

I smiled and clapped Bill on the back, "You know it Bill, you know it.

- - -

"Psssst" I heard someone say. Spinning around in the mens washroom, I looked around for the source of the voice. I shook the water off my hands into the sink and wondered if I'd actually heard something or if it was just my imagination.

"Psssssst!" Came again and this time I spotted the source, a cracked open mens stall door. A whispered voice came out of the tiny gap in the door, "Is there anyone else out there?"

I looked around the mens room, finding it empty. Several stalls all with the doors open, and no men at the urinals. I figured that the guy in the stall whispering must have been out of paper or something. "Uh," I answered grabbing a linen towel. The executive club bathrooms were magnificent I had to admit; actual linen towels, amenities, marble everywhere. "No, no one else out here," I answered to the mystery voice in the stall. "Do you need a hand?"

"Yeah," the voice whispered.

It seemed odd, but I went and approached the stall door. "Did you need some paper?" I asked.

The door opened and I was shocked to see a woman sitting there. Not just any woman, but a drop dead gorgeous woman. Brunette hair of mid length past her shoulders, blue grey eyes, a nose that looked very cute, but was just a touch off center, and pursed lips with garish red lipstick made up her face. But my eyes traveled lower as I realized not only was she in the mens room, but she was naked save some sneakers and socks.

Her long graceful neck led to the soft skin of her shoulders and graceful arms, beneath that, small but perky B cup breasts which were capped with tight, hard, pink nipples. A smooth abdomen, broken only by the quarter circle bar of a belly ring, and then down to a smoothly shaved pussy. It was easy to see as she was sitting on the toilet with her legs spread, one hand idly rubbing her thick labia. I felt my desire rise as I noticed that she had juicy wrinkled lips, and that they were already bright pink and moist, flushed with arousal.

"You're Mike Naughton right?" She asked as she toyed with her pussy and licked her lips. I nodded, stunned by this unexpected turn. "I was watching you play earlier, and it made me so fucking hot, I was hoping I could suck your cock?"

At this point my dick was already tenting the suit pants I was wearing. But there was something wrong here. Something told me that this was a bit off. Thankfully I was a mind mage, and I could investigate. I closed my eyes for a moment and opened the door inside my mind, letting my mind reach out to connect to hers.

The flood of information was instant, and thankfully she was thinking about her 'mission' over and over, so it was quite easy to pick out of all the other info. She was to keep me in here, suck me off, then try to get me to fuck her. While I was distracted, a hired goon was supposed to sneak into the bathroom silently, wait for me to cum, then hit me over the head with a sap. They'd take me down to the infirmary where the on staff doctor would announce that I must have slipped and hit my head, and I'd have to bow out of the rest of the tournament.

Either John DiMarco, or one of his close underlings, must have set this up. It was the only logical answer as this woman was a dancer here, and at a local strip club. Plus there was a bathroom attendant outside the door making sure no one else came in. I delved a little deeper and found out that her plan was to suck me off first, then once I had cum, coax me into fucking her. She planned on bending over the toilet, pressing her hands against the back wall, and letting me fuck her from behind. While I was distracted she'd reach down into a bag she had next to the toilet, grab a little remote, and press the button on it. That would be the signal for the goon to come in and sneak up behind me.

I opened my eyes and looked at the wall, sure enough, there it was. The bag was sitting open on the floor between the toilet and the dividing wall. There was little doubt that when presented by a beautiful, naked woman, who was rubbing her pussy and offering to suck your cock, your average man probably wouldn't even have noticed it. But I did, I saw her clothing, condoms, and sure enough, what looked like a remote car starter sitting on top of the rest. Taking my gaze from it and watching her play with herself again, I asked, "What's the catch?"

She smiled and took her fingers from her pussy and put them in her mouth, sucking on them, and answered, "No catch, poker players make me hot and you're the only young stud down there. The rest of those old men don't have a thing on you." She let her other hand stroke my cock through my suit pants, feeling the hardening shaft there. "I can tell you'd want it. What do you say?"

I smiled, now that I knew her plan I figured I couldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. "Sure, I've got time before the final table." I grinned and unzipped my pants. Then hauling my cock out of my boxer briefs, I let it flop in front of her.

She immediately went to it, grabbing the base with both hands and shoving her mouth over the head. Now normally I'm used to a little more foreplay, especially when it comes to getting head, but I have to say that this approach wasn't horrible. In only a few bobs of her head she was slobbering and bobbing up and down on my cock almost violently. I could feel the thick head of my dick slamming into the back of her throat, but it didn't slow her down one bit. In fact she was moaning and groaning as if she was enjoying it. She may have been acting, but I didn't care, it was one of the most aggressive, sloppy, wet blowjobs I'd ever had. The fact that I was standing in the doorway of a stall in a mens room only made it seem dirtier.

"What's your name beautiful?" I asked as she swallowed me deep again.

"NNNnnng nnnn." she replied with a slight shake of her head. Then pulling my cock out of her mouth she jacked my dick with both hands, her copious saliva acting as a lube while she answered, "No names baby, just this." Then she was blowing me again, her tongue licking out past her lips to reach as far down my shaft as she could get.

In this position she could only get the first few inches of my nearly nine inches into her mouth, but I wasn't complaining. Her hands were working the base of my shaft and it was an absolutely astounding blowjob. She wasn't a pro, but I didn't doubt that she enjoyed doing this, there was just too much enthusiasm.

As expected after a short while, I felt the churning in my balls that signaled my approach was near. It was time to make my counter move to this Mata Hari's oral assault. "I'm getting close." I warned, knowing that would be the queue for her next suggestion.

"Mike," she said jerking my cock, "After you cum in my mouth, I want you to stay hard and fuck me, would you like that? Would you like to fuck my hot wet pussy?"

"Yes, oh god, yes, just keep sucking!" I begged, playing up the desperation of a horny twenty one year old. As her mouth went back around my cock I summoned up the gift that Brookesbend had given me, and let mana flow into it, increasing my ejaculate several times over. "Here... I... come!" I gasped out. Then grabbing the top of her head, I let loose.

My spunk, magnified to inhuman proportions filled her mouth. Her cheeks bulged as did her eyes as the volume of semen flooding her mouth was too much for her to keep up with. She gagged and then began choking as the cum started flowing out of her lips. I held her head there as I kept coming, flooding her throat with my thick spunk. She put both hands on my thighs and pushed backwards, gasping for air and trying to swallow at the same time.

Now was my chance, I grabbed my cock and aimed it upwards, powerful blasts of my orgasming rod shot thick ropes of my cum right at her face. Three, four, five spurts and her face was covered, and her eyes were shut tight against the onslaught.

"HOLY FUCK!" she yelled, "What the fucking shit!?"

I snatched up her bag that sat on the floor between her and the dividing wall, then stepped back out of the stall to make sure that no one was coming in the door. Seeing that her yell hadn't attracted any attention, I grabbed a linen towel and wiped my cock clean. "That was great mystery girl, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did."

"What the fuck? You came in both of my eyes you fucking freak." She cried as she tried to clear the sticky spunk away from her eyelids, with not a whole lot of success. "That shit hurts you know!"

"Yes, and you were going to try to mug me, so I think we're even." Then, with that I opened my mind to her and used my magic. I pushed a simple thought, *quiet.* She immediately shut her mouth and silently tried clearing my sticky white goo from her eyes. She looked like a porn star at the end of a bukkakke video, and I managed to avoid laughing at her quiet efforts to clean up. I finished toweling off my cock, which was still leaking clear cum. But I had to admit, the blowjob had felt fantastic and despite her motivations she'd done a pretty good job. The idea of fucking her didn't actually seem too bad.

Then I got a wicked idea, going back into her bag, I found the little remote on a keychain that was designed to signal the bouncer. Flipping it over I popped open the back and pulled the button cell battery out of it. I tossed it in the trash, then closed the remote back up. I tossed it back in the bag, then began rummaging through her bag. A skirt, blouse, and some silk panties for her to put on, with some shoes on the bottom. Obviously it was what she was supposed to change into when her little plan was done.