Alan Ch. 11

"You just won hundreds of thousands of dollars tonight. Do you

have a system?"

"Well, in a way I do. Come, let's go to the bar and I'll explain it all to you."

She could barely contain her excitement; if he was counting cards or using some sort of device she would soon know, and perhaps get another raise if she exposed him. She took his arm and they walked back out into the main room. Alan asked the pit boss the way to the bar. Anne-Marie said nothing, not wanting him to know she knew her way around the hotel and casino like the back of her hand. Just as the reached the lobby he paused. "You know," he began, "I might not be too comfortable spilling my secrets in an open bar. Let's go up to my room and have drink up there." She agreed. Alan went to the front desk and checked in to his room. They had set him up in a suite on one of the upper floors of the towering hotel. When he pulled out his credit card the clerk told him it wasn't required, and Alan asked him to have his car brought up and his overnight bag delivered to the room.

* * *

Alan and Anne-Marie rode up in the elevator in silence, his eyes fixed on the floor indicator, hers on him, studying him closely. She was excited; it was the thrill of the hunt. He would, she was sure, willingly tell him how he managed to cheat the casino--her casino--out of more than half a million. She was anticipating the scene; after he had spilled the beans she would press the red button on her pager to alert the security office that he had confessed, then she would pull her badge and detain him until the backup arrived. She didn't know two important details: one, the money Alan won was already safe in Switzerland because he had used his power of influence to override the manager's better judgment and had it immediately transferred; once money is wired to a Swiss bank almost no force on earth could dislodge it, and anyway, the instructions on Alan's account caused the money to be almost immediately transferred to another bank, this one in the Bahamas. Usually in cases of suspected cheating no monies left the casino until the investigation was closed, and Anne-Marie was under the impression that this one was still open. That was her second misconception: Alan had used his powers again to evaporate the suspicion of the manager. Even if she pressed her panic button on the pager clipped to her waist no one would come; in any event, he wouldn't let her get that far.

Alan poured her a drink, bourbon on ice, and one for himself and sat down next to her on the couch. Her legs were curled under her, and her skirt had ridden up just above the knee.

"Well, Carl, We're alone at last," she said jokingly.

"Yes we are, Lisa," he agreed. "What was that you wanted to talk about? Oh yes, I remember now. My secret method."

She pricked up her ears. Her left hand moved unconsciously to her waistband, coming near to her pager. "Please," she grinned at him, a look of triumph glowing on her eyes, "Do tell."

"It's rather simple really." He paused. Anne-Marie's mouth was dry with anxiety and anticipation. "I simply go to a casino, and win gobs of money at the blackjack table. At some point in the evening I will be invariably joined by a pretty woman such as yourself, and then I invite her up to my room so she can ask me how I do so well at the tables. Then I take her to bed."

"What the hell are you talking about? I just want to know how you won all that money. I have no interest in sleeping with you! Just tell me how you did it."

He reached over and put his hand on her thigh before answering her. "You have a lot of questions."

"Yes Goddamnit, I do. Come on tell me!"

"Why do you want to know? I mean, we spent almost this whole evening together and you barely gambled, so it couldn't be tips you're looking for, could it be? Perhaps you have some other motive."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she huffed. His hand on her thigh was bothering her, but for some reason she neither recoiled from his touch, nor asked him to remove it.

"May I ask you a question, Lisa?"

"What?" she replied somewhat petulantly.

"How long have you worked in casino security?"

She tried not to flinch, but was unsuccessful. "How," she whispered to him. "How did you know?" Her eyes widened with a bit of terror. Nothing in her training had prepared her for this.

"It doesn't matter, does it, Anne-Marie?"

"Who told you that name? M-my name is Lisa."

"Yes, yes, yes, your name is Lisa from Cincinnati, and you are the personal assistant to your father the real estate king of the Ohio Valley. You name is Lisa, not Anne-Marie Nicoletti from Pleasantville, New Jersey."

"What the fuck is going on here?" she replied archly. "This is it for me. I'm out of here RIGHT NOW." But she made no move to get up, and no effort to remove his hand from her thigh.

"I don't think you're going anywhere," he told her as his hand began moving up and down her thigh. He pulled her pager off the waistband of her skirt and placed it on the side table next to the couch.

"I'm, I'm warning you. I'm armed."

He leaned over to her, his mouth scant inches from her ear, "No, Anne-Marie, you're not." His hand slipped under her skirt and made its way to her stocking tops.

"Please stop this. I don't want this. Please."

"You're free to go. Just get up and leave." She couldn't move. Suddenly his hands began having an effect on her. She felt her nipples harden underneath her bra, and the skin-to-skin contact between her thigh and his hand started stirring delicious feelings inside her.

"Oh," she gasped, "That feels so nice. But I don't want to do this. Mmmmm, please stop that."

"Are you sure?" he asked her, punctuating the question by licking her ear.

She groaned briefly, but then got her wits about her. "Yes. Stop, please. Take your hands off of me."

He stopped, his hand leaving her bare flesh, and she instantly she regretted it. All of the pleasant sensations ceased, leaving her feeling numb and empty inside. On the plus side she found herself able to stand up from the couch. He walked her to the door; feelings of desire flooding her with every step.

* * *

Back in the elevator she was somewhat relieved to be out of there. It was very unprofessional of her to be in such a situation with a suspected cheat.

Peter was still in his office when she got downstairs. "Nothing," she told him, "He revealed nothing. I still don't know how he did it, and it's driving me crazy."

"What are you talking about?"

"The guy. You know, Carl? He wouldn't let on how he did it."

"Carl? Carl Sutherland? Oh, don't keep worrying about him. I checked him out on the computer. He's not in the banned players database, and his credit report says he's very rich, so we doubt he's a con man."

"Well Jesus Fucking Christ, Pete! Why couldn't you tell me that before I went up to his room? He had his damn hands, I mean, he, uh, tried to get his hands under my skirt."

"Why in the hell did you go up to his room? Don't start making risky plays to get yourself more attention and promotions. Please, we already think you're great, with a big future in the company. And if you're going to go up to a mark's room at least let somebody down here know about it so we can have backup ready."

"But I did tell you, damnit! Don't you remember? We discussed it right here in this office not an hour ago. Please, Pete, please don't tell me that I was up there all alone." He didn't answer, just nodded his head, and Anne-Marie suddenly realized that the thought of being alone in a room with the handsome Carl Sutherland, without backup waiting right outside was not an unappealing one.

Her shift over, Anne-Marie went to her car in the employee's lot, but try as she might she couldn't bring herself to start it up. There was something magnetic about Carl. Sure, he came on a bit strong, but she remembered the way she felt when he was touching her, and she was torn between wanting that feeling again, and her desire to be as

far away from him as possible.

She was back in the lobby waiting for an elevator, and was startled when she heard the chime go off and saw the doors come open before her. She had no memory of getting out of her car and returning to the hotel. Her mind had instead been busy spinning rationalizations: since Carl was no longer a target of investigation she could go back to his room without jeopardizing her position.

* * *

"Well, I'm surprised to see you again after what happened just now," he said to her in the doorway, leaning casually against the jamb.

"Uh," she was embarrassed, "Can I come in?"

"Is this business or personal, Anne-Marie?" he asked with a smirk.

"Personal," she answered meekly. He stepped aside and let her back in. He had taken off his jacket and loosened his tie, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbow. The television in the sitting room was on, tuned to CNN, and she could see the bottle of whiskey on the table, both glasses still next to it.

"Why did you come back?" he asked her as he poured two more drinks, then sat next to her.

Taking it, she gulped half of it down. Dutch courage, she thought to herself. "I wanted to come back to apologize."

"Why the fuck did I say that?" she thought bitterly. "I was just doing my job."

"Apologize? Why? You were just doing your job. I understand completely." That relaxed her. She really wanted to ask him how he knew she was who she was, but she figured that by doing it she would appear to be weak.

"I lied to you."

"Yes, I know that. You told me your name was Lisa."

"Well, yes, that was a lie, too.

"'Too'?"

"You know, when you asked me that question before?"

"Which question?"

Her voice dropped to a whisper and she was sure she was never more red-faced in her life as she went on. "'Are you sure?' When you asked me 'Are you sure?' and I told you to take you hand off my leg. I lied to you. I wasn't sure." She took his hand and placed it on her thigh again, and the feelings returned. "No that's not right either. I was sure--sure that I wanted you to touch me more." She began to purr as he got under her skirt, and yelped when his fingertip reached her bare pussy.

"That's strange," she thought through her arousal. "When did I take off my panties?" But she chose not to dwell on it because the sensations coming from her moistening slit were much more pleasant to concentrate on instead. He fingered her, his thumb resting on her clit, massaging it.

"The feels so nice, Carl. Ugh, don't stop, please." He had removed his hand from her pussy and had started on her blouse. His mouth was on her breasts, and she felt as if she was being fed an electrical current. "Oh!" she gasped when he gently bit down on her left nipple. Her hands frantically shot to his chest, mad with desire, and she soon had his shirt off. His chest was magnificent, and she pushed him off of her so she could grope it properly, first running her hands over it, and then her tongue; when he moaned back in response she felt extremely proud of herself.

He took her by the hand and led her to the bedroom. As she followed him she reached behind her with her free hand and unzipped her skirt, and when it fell to her feet she stepped out of it, never losing pace with him. Closing the door behind them he turned to face her, and they kissed, their tongues wrestling furiously. She dropped to her knees and opened his pants, then pulled down his shorts. Instantly her mouth was around his erection. He groaned again, and she was again flooded with prideful glee. Vigorously she blew him, ecstatic when he came in her mouth.

He pulled her up to him so she was standing, and then he backed her up to the bed and laid her down on it before burying his face in her snatch. His tongue was amazing, penetrating her, then licking her clit, then licking around her labia, before starting the cycle again by penetrating her. She realized she had never been sucked this well

before as she trashed wildly on the bed, her moans filling the room. "Oh Sweet JESUS, that's so fu-fu-fucking good!" she screamed, her pussy shoved into his face, her hands clutching his head against her sex. Before she had even begun to recover from her immense climax he had placed the head of his cock against her slit. He looked in her eyes, and she nodded back, staring with unbelieving eyes at the amount of pussy juice--her juices--smeared on his face. He thrust in her and she gasped loudly, "Yesssss! Ohmigod, YES!" He built up speed, intending to do so slowly but she convinced him otherwise.

"Faster. Faster! Fuck. Yes. Harder. Please, FUCK ME HARDER!" Her body was bouncing up and down off the mattress, her pale skin deeply flushed, and her light brown hair flying every which way.

"I'm glad you decided to come back," he said to her evenly, a malevolent smile on his face, but she didn't see it because her eyelids were clamped down in pleasure.

"OH! MY! GOD! I'm going to COOOOOME!" she hollered, her body convulsing in orgasm, her arms and legs moving about without control. She was amazed and certainly delighted when he did not come inside her clamping pussy but continued to fuck her with the same hard strokes, and mere minutes after her first, she came violently once again. This time she could not speak, just grunt in passion. After that he slowed down some, and she loved it just as much that way.

"Your cock feels so good," she groaned. "I've never felt anything like this. Fuck me, yes, fuck my pussy. It's so wet. Never been this wet. Can you hear it? Can you hear the squishing sounds you cock is making in my pussy? I LOVE IT," she screamed as her pussy clamped down around his erection yet again. "A machine, you're a fucking machine. A fucking fucking machine. Get it?" she giggled despite her intense feelings arousal.

"Good one," he said through a laugh.

"Not as good as you. You're so fucking good that I'm gonna come again if you keep that up. Ugh ugh Yeah!" As her pussy walls tightened around his dick again he shot off his load and she howled in delight.

They fucked two more times before the sun rose, sleeping between encounters, and then he took her to the café in the hotel for breakfast. She suggested it, telling him that if they stayed in the room they would only fuck more, not eat, and they were, she argued, both hungry from the evening's exertions. After breakfast they went back to the room and fucked again.

He told her he would call her, and promised to come back to the casino soon, and for some reason, despite her past experience, she believed him. He gave her his business card (another creation of Dr. Massimo's man in Manhattan. The number on it was to that office in New York, automatically programmed to either bounce to Alan's cell phone or take a message, the outgoing announcement informing the caller, "You have reached the offices of Sutherland Consulting..."), but told her he spent a great deal of time traveling, mostly in Europe and the Pacific Rim, so it might take some time for him to get back to her. He chuckled when she slipped the card into her bra.

It was still fairly early on Saturday morning when Alan drove out of the casino driveway. He had to get the car back to the agency in New York, and then drive back in his car to Westchester. He was returning home $500,000 richer than when he had left. Life was good.

Next Chapter: Graduation (Summertime, and the Livin' is Easy)