The Strip Ch. 09

"I'm at the airport," Kay Kristen responded, the noise from the overhead tannoy threatening to drown out her words. "It didn't go as well as I'd hoped," she said, unsuccessfully attempting to find somewhere quieter to speak.

Rachal's caressing foot pulled away from its target as she sat up from the couch. "Really?" she half gasped. She'd thought they'd set the blonde up perfectly. And her fee for taking part in the movies was being swelled by the bonus in place for helping seduce Lauren into the scheme. "But—"

Jimmy's hand grasped her ankle as she attempted to sit up, pulling her foot back to its original target. His soft fingers traced across the tattoo of the dragon and then pulled out his half erect cock. When his girlfriend ran the tips of her toes along his length, he settled back again. Her foot could stroke him while she was speaking on the phone—she'd done it before…

"No buts," the Agency Head was telling Rachal. "It's down to you, darling. You have some work to do. You're seeing her tonight?"

"Yeah. We're going to see her sister perform and then I'm staying the night at her suite." She let out a loud chuckle and lifted a second foot to join the first. It gave her better purchase on his growing cock. "Time for some fun."

"Forget Grace," Kay snapped. "I want that girl to be given the night of her life. Understand?"

"Yes," Rachal smiled, watching Jimmy close his eyes as her toes masturbated him. Tonight would be a pleasure. "I understand."

"Good. I've told her about tomorrow night's party. Just remind her and make sure she invites her sister."

The exotic model laughed. "Should be fun—"

Kay's cold tone stopped her. "This isn't a game, darling. I want her for those movies. You and Jimmy convince her tonight. Understand?"

"Jimmy?"

"That's right, darling. Change her mind. Think you can do that?"

The exotic model slid to the floor as she closed the call. Reaching for Jimmy's cock, she spit along the length and rubbed the saliva into his hardness. When he gave a low growl, she smiled. "I have some good news about tonight, baby," she told him as she lowered her mouth.

***

Was it coincidence that had taken them back to the same Starbuck's that Rosie and Carly had enjoyed their first meaningful conversation? The redhead reflected on how much had changed since that meeting.

A couple of days ago, she'd complained to her new friend about what had happened with Charlie, and the money she owed Big Eddie. Now, she'd got herself out of that seedy job, the club owner hadn't yet come after her for what she owed and even better, she'd met her knight in shining armour.

"It all sounds like life's on an upswing," the spiky haired woman smiled, leaning across to plant a soft kiss on the redhead's cheek. Watching Rosie's face lighten up with a wide beam of happiness, she decided there and then she not only ingratiate herself with Big Eddie by returning Rosie to the fold, she'd take her to bed, too.

She'd find a way, she always did…

"Couldn't be happier," Rosie laughed, pulling her hair out of the ponytail and shaking it free across her bare shoulders. "Cheers," she added with a laugh, clinking cups with her friend.

"Cheers," Carly repeated, her dark eyes taking in every expression on Rosie's face. Her eyes dropped to the cleavage peeking over the thin, white top. "Freckles are a real turn on, you know," she said, her soft tone making the words sound even more seductive.

The redhead felt her nipples rise. "That's what Daniel says," she said, laughing to cover her embarrassment. The spiky haired woman certainly had a way of sending hot flushes right down to her sex. That first encounter on the dance floor was never far from her mind.

"Yeah… this Daniel," Carly murmured with that mischievous smile of hers. "Want to know something funny?"

"What?"

"I've got some photos!"

Rosie felt like she'd been punched. Surely her friend wasn't going to prick a hole in her newfound happiness. "Photos? Of Daniel?"

"Nah," the spiky haired woman laughed. "Of his ex-girlfriend. The new singing sensation. Got them from a friend who took them in a nightclub." Her eyes rolled upwards. "Very compromising! I got them at home, want to see them?"

Rosie shook her PRETTY head. "No, I'm not interested, not in his ex-girlfriend."

"But you are in Daniel?" Carly quietly smiled, conspiratorially pulling her chair closer, "he's the reason for your good mood?"

Rosie's grin split her face. "It's that obvious?" she asked, the strong aroma of the brunette's heavy scent adding to the warm feeling inside her. "What perfume is that, by the way?" she asked.

"Great, isn't it?" Carly beamed. "It's Alicia Stiles Swelter. Here, smell it properly," she said, offering the redhead her cheek. When Rosie leant across her, she swung her head around to kiss the full, red lips.

"Carly!" Rosie gasped, somehow stopping herself from responding when she felt the hot woman's tongue flick across her lips. Her nipples must be clearly on show now! God, how embarrassing!

"Gotcha," Carly laughed, knowing that soon, she would. "This Daniel, tell me about him. He plays poker doesn't he?"

The redhead nodded, instantly feeling like she needed to offer some sort of explanation. "Yes, but he's not your typical poker player. Most of them are deadbeats, but he's different."

"That right?" Carly asked with a warm smile. "In what way?"

"He's playing in the Main Event," Rosie enthused, and then started to explain. "That's—"

"I know what it is!" Carly laughed, reaching for the sugar and pouring half a sachet into her half drunk coffee. "All of Vegas know about the Main Event, honey. It's what increases our earnings, after all!"

Rosie threw her eyebrows to the ceiling. "Doh!" she said with an embarrassed grin. "I told you he dropped everything to rescue me from that apartment?" she said, referring to their earlier conversation. "Well… we've been together ever since."

"Ever since?" Carly asked. "He's playing poker every day, isn't he?"

"Yes… well, yes… but we're together every night!"

The spiky haired woman threw her head back and laughed. "You mean you fuck him every night? Probably every morning, too, from the look on your face—"

The redhead's facial expressions changed from smile to frown to confusion in a nano second. Surely Carly wasn't trying to pour cold water on her new relationship? "It's more than—"

"I know, honey," the brunette reassured her. "I was just wondering how much you know about him?

"Quite a lot," Rosie quickly said. "We've talked for hours. He knows everything about me, and I know all about him."

"Hmmm," Carly wistfully said, sending her friend a quizzical look. "Let's test that out. He knows where you work, and what you do?"

Rosie's expression switched to serious for the first time in their conversation. "Where I worked," she corrected. "And what I did! That's behind me, Carly. And of course he knows."

The spiky haired woman nodded. "Yes, where you worked," she mimicked, with a cheeky smile. "I forgot you retired. So… does Daniel know how much you owe Big Eddie? I presume that's one of the things you've told him?"

The strained look that suddenly appeared on Rosie's face gave her answer even before her words confirmed it. "Well… not exactly…"

"Mmm-hmm," the brunette murmured, shooting her friend a knowing smile. "Well, just know one thing, girl, at some stage you'll have to repay that debt. I can get you back in Big Eddie's good books when you need to go back. He's mad now, but Carly will take care of you. Okay, honey?"

"Carly!" Rosie exclaimed, her voice rising to emphasise the point. "I appreciate that, but I'm not going back to the club. I'm finished with it for ever!!"

"I understand exactly how you feel," the brunette smiled. Enough said, no need to push things. She'd sown the seeds. Now for the extra push. "What's the story between Daniel and the blonde, then?"

"What story?" Rosie asked, a puzzled smile creasing her face. "Holly's his friend. They only met once he got to Vegas."

"So did the two of you," Carly pushed. "Has he told you he's fucked her?"

"Fucked her?" Rosie's voice was shrill… disbelieving… shocked.

The brunette pulled out the newspaper article. "Well, I don't know," she told the redhead, shrugging her shoulders. "But from everything I've read in the press, it sure looks like there's something going on! I hate to suggest it Rosie, but he could be another Charlie!"

Another Charlie? No, that wasn't possible! Her shocked eyes stared at the spiky haired woman and then she picked up The Lovers from England. She needed to read this…

***

Matusow hadn't let up much. Not with the trash talk. As usual with 'The Mouth,' some of it was good-natured, some more barbed. Because of Holly's early dominance over him, he seemed to take delight in finding put-downs just for her.

It made no difference to the blonde. Words meant nothing to her. And she knew what a dangerous player he was. Take her time, she told herself.

The couple of occasions he buffed her off hands, he turned over his cards and told her—yet again—she was in the big time and needed to be careful not to 'fuck around' with him.

"Fuck around with you, Mike?" she repeated after yet another warning from the unshaved poker professional. "I don't go with fat guys…"

Each burst of laughter further infuriated the short-tempered man. That made no difference to the blonde, either. Focus on your game! Take advantage of his mood if the cards allowed. Soon, she had the chance.

Pocket Kings.

"Re-raise," she calmly announced. A pot-sized bet seemed appropriate.

The Brit, two seats to her left, thought for a long time. His flat call was unexpected. Surely it was raise or fold?

Matusow showed no such timidity, pushing all-in for the second successive hand. He looked down at the green baize after his move, resting his head on his hands. Holly shivered. The last time he'd done that, he had pocket rockets.

Her call was automatic.

The Brit to her left sadly shook his head as he mucked his cards. "Can't go up against the big guns," he smiled, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back in his seat.

"Good fold," Matusow told him. As the words escaped his mouth, Holly's heart sank. He didn't need to flip over his Aces for her to know with an instinctive certainty that her suspicion was accurate.

"Told you, girly," he gloated, standing up and leaning over the table. "I told you I'd be getting my chips back, with interest." He wagged a finger at Holly, the other hand pushing his glasses further up his nose. "You mess with Mikey, you're dead. You stick those tits out and think they'll do the business for you? Believe me baby, you can't beat me. I'm twice the player you are. You're tits are nothing to me. And you're nothing to me."

"That's okay, Mike," Holly responded, raising her sunglasses so he could see her eyes. She needed him to see she wasn't intimidated. "Win or lose, that's fine with me. But either way, I'll do it with some class."

"Class?" Matusow sneered. "I don't give a shit about class. Class is for losers. All I care about is winning, baby."

The dealer tapped on the baize and made Holly's day. Two Kings and a Jack.

The blonde stared disbelievingly at the cards. Matusow sank to his knees. The buzz at the table was electric and the Brit was out of his seat too. "I folded Jacks. Jacks!" he cried, swinging around to his supporters at the rail. "I would've flopped a full house, but she hit quads. Quads!"

Matusow was almost inconsolable as he climbed to his feet. Nearly in tears, he sloped away from the table to the part of the rail where his brother and his mother, Gloria, were standing. They wearily shook their heads in incredulity as he reached them.

"Aces. Aces! And the bitch hits quads. Why me?" he asked them. "Why always me? Every time. Every fucking time!"

Holly couldn't resist. "Take care of those balls, Mike," she softly called.

***

The rap on the door sent a final flutter through Lauren's stomach. She'd hated turning Kay's offer down, but the thought of spending the evening with Rachal was some compensation at least. Everything Grace had told the blonde about her sex with Lisa Welles had been festering away in her mind. She wanted that experience. Tonight, she'd have it.

A glance at her watch told her that the model was late getting there. How many times had she checked the time in the last hour? They'd be pushed to catch all of Grace's performance…

She picked up her Indian jacket on the way to the door, nodding her approval as she checked herself in the mirror for the umpteenth time in the last fifteen minutes. She'd tied the short black wrap-dress so that the deep cleavage formed by her red push-up bra was on full display. Sexy, even if she said so herself.

"My, you're keen!" Rachal giggled as she pushed past Lauren into the suite. "No rush is there—I thought you'd show me around? Why don't we have a quick drink first? You've got some good wine in the fridge?"

***

"Hi, my name's Grace," the Vegas singing sensation said, giving her customary welcome as she pulled the microphone down to her full lips. "And I'm here to sing for you."

It wasn't just the rapturous applause that sent her excitement spiralling off scale. Nor was it the knowledge that in a few short days, she'd established herself so comprehensively on the Vegas scene. It was the fact that Lisa Welles was standing unnoticed in the audience, ready to soak in Grace's performance before joining her on stage.

It'll give me the chance to see your moves, the international megastar had told her, so that I'm ready for our duo. We're gonna rock this place…

That duet was an hour away. Grace spent every second of that time playing the crowd, bringing them in to her performance, warming them for the extravaganza that would soon be heading their way. She also wanted Lisa to see her at her best. A kind of throwing down the gauntlet. After all, she was Grace Lane—

After her first Vegas performance, she'd returned to the stage outfit that was so familiar in England. The way she dressed was her instrument, almost every bit as her voice. Within a few minutes, the waistcoat was unbuttoned, a couple of songs later it was removed, revealing the green camisole top underneath. This was her—Grace—and she felt at home.

Turning around and swinging her ass from side to side, the now familiar sight of the garment narrowing into a thong that disappeared into the top of her low-rise jeans brought cheers from the crowd. It was expected from her now. What they were waiting for! The audience were really up for it, the place rocking to the stamping of their feet and the cheers after each song.

In deference to Lisa, Grace left off the oversized aviators until it was time for the singer to join her. And that time came soon enough…

When Lisa made her way onto the stage, it wasn't just the audience whose excitement threatened to spill over. Grace felt her breath catch in her throat as she saw the way Lisa was dressed—a mirror image of herself. The camisole was exactly the same Grace's, just a different colour. It looked so sexy disappearing into Lisa's tight, black jeans. Even the high heels the blonde megastar had especially worn for the performance, matched Grace's.

"It's yours," the blonde giggled into Grace's ear before the English singer could ask about the camisole. Then they were kissing—to the audience, a kiss of two stars meeting on stage. To the women, a kiss of two hungry lovers.

Within seconds, the singers had the crowd swaying and dancing, clapping their hands above their heads and swaying their bare waists and hips to the beat of the music. They each owned half the stage, danced towards then past one another as they built up the pace.

The songs they'd agreed beforehand consisted of a few of Lisa's hits and some of Grace's music. The surprise was their final song, one that neither had sung before, but was certain to bring the house down.

The crowd swung, danced, whistled, cheered and swooned throughout the performance. The band behind them was on fire, too—each member from the base guitarist through to the keyboard player given the opportunity to show off their individual talents. In front of them, two hot female vocalists smiled at one another at every new roar from their fans.

Lisa had cottoned on to every one of Grace's moves while she'd watched the singer earlier. She put her new findings to good use. The sight of the two of them, backs to the crowd, legs spread wide, arms stretched high above their heads, hips grinding sexily from side to side, almost took the roof off.

Then it was the finale. Where had the time gone?

"Okay," Lisa shouted into the mic, "Raise those hands and clap!"

The crowded club mimicked her, hands raised above their heads, as Grace went into the final number:

Where's all mah soul sistas

Lemme hear ya'll flow sistas

Hey sista, go sista, soul sista, flow sista

Hey sista, go sista, soul sista, go sista

Grace turned her back to the crowd, teasing with her trademark moves, as Lisa took over the next lines. The blonde swung her hips to each heavy beat.

He met Marmalade down IN old Moulin Rouge

Struttin' her stuff on the street

She said, "Hello, hey Jo, you wanna give it a go?" Oh! uh huh

As they hit the chorus, the two women went into overdrive, strutting and flaunting their dancing bodies as the audience screamed their approval.

Giuchie, Giuchie, ya ya dada—Hey hey hey

Giuchie, Giuchie, ya ya here—here

Mocha Chocalata ya ya—oh yea

Creole lady Marmalade

Their voices complimented each other and with each shorter chorus, they both held their mic's out to the clubgoers, allowing them to sing the words…

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi—ce soir

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

As the audience sang, the two women gave an impromptu dancing performance. Bumping and grinding their bodies at each other, lost in a tide of excitement and arousal that just couldn't be denied.

***

Lauren had missed the greatest performance of her sister's life, but three bottles of wine later, it didn't seem so important. What did, was the coke she was snorting with the most beautiful model she'd ever seen, and the interested way Rach had listened to her life story and aspirations.

"Don't worry," the black haired beauty had told her. "You and I are gonna appear in a porno together—more than one. Talk to Grace again, honey. Then you and I are gonna be ready to go."

It felt like great advice. The thrill of her time at the porno shoot was lodged in her body forever. It'd never be assuaged until she'd met her dream. Rachal had just told her that, and she knew it was true. But she knew she couldn't.

"Rach, Grace is worried it'll damage her future. I just can't…"

The exotic beauty stilled her protest, her hand snaking around the blonde's neck, pulling Lauren's face to hers. That wonderful mouth was open before it reached her, and then Rach was biting down on her lower lip, tugging on it playfully before sliding her tongue inside the blonde's mouth. Wetness flooded her thong.

She lay still, hazy-eyed, when the exotic model pushed her back on the comfortable couch. Gracefully easing herself to her feet, Rach kept her sparkling eyes on Lauren's lustful gaze as she unzipped her little red dress. With a toss of her dark hair, she allowed it to drop to her feet.