Strip Poker Read online

  “Damn, Nikki, are you sure you don’t want me to cancel, I mean…”

  “No,” she said, a little too forcefully, “I…I mean…” She thought for a second, blushed again, moved her mouth to my ear. “Let him look, Jason, just the thought makes me feel…makes me tingle…let him look, I’ll show you how it makes me feel when we get back.”

  **********

  Mr. Thompson didn’t disappoint as without even hiding it, he stared Nicole up and down when he opened his cabin door, stared at her breasts, her legs, before he looked over at me. “You’ve got a beautiful bride, Jason,” he said, “a very beautiful bride.”

  “I know,” I said, perhaps a bit too proud.

  “Sorry, I…I didn’t expect to dress for dinner with other people,” Nicole blushed when Mr. Thompson turned his gaze back to her.

  “Nonsense, Nicole,” Mr. Thompson said, “you’re by far the prettiest thing that’s been in my cabin in some time, come in, come in, let’s get that open,” he took the bottle, headed towards the open kitchen, poured the wine. “Of course, I don’t know why your groom let you out of the house—I’d never let something so pretty leave my bedroom—but who am I to complain.”

  We sat in the open great room, Nicole and I on a couch, Mr. Thompson in a chair across from us. Judging from where his eyes went the second Nicole sat, I realized that despite her efforts he must have caught a glimpse of her thigh high tops when she sat. He was actually a pleasant man, led the conversation, somehow it wasn’t as awkward as I’d thought it would be. He made Nicole laugh, she visibly relaxed after her second glass of wine, as did I.

  He saw me looking at a small case on a side table.

  “Poker chips,” he said, “you ever play?

  “A little Hold’em in college,” I said, immediately going into bluffing mode, hustling mode, something I just couldn’t help.

  “My favorite,” he nodded, “the ultimate test of nerves, dashing, intelligence, and luck. You any good?”

  “Good, oh, I guess I won some and lost some; I was never that good. Okay.”

  He set down his wine glass, reached for the case. “Won this in a couple of tournaments in my day, Vegas and Reno…and some pretty nice checks, too.” He opened the case, took out a chip, tossed it to me. It was heavy clay, high quality. “Paid for this place.”

  “Nice,” I said.

  “Say, what do you say we all play a hand or two before I throw the steaks on—they’ll only take ten minutes, I’m not quite hungry yet.”

  “Not me,” Nicole waived her hand, “poker’s his thing, not mine.”

  “I…I don’t know,” I said.

  “Oh, go on, Jason,” Nicole touched my leg, “it’s okay, it’s obvious you want to play.” I wasn’t sure how to take that, all in all I’d rather play with her than play with him. Fuck, poker or poke her—the terrible pun ran through my mind—it shouldn’t have been a difficult decision, just decline, get my bride back sooner.

  “Hey, if you’re afraid to embarrass yourself in front of your beautiful bride, I understand,” Mr. Thompson said, actually winked at Nicole.

  “No, that’s not it!”

  “Seriously, it’s okay, Jason,” he started to close the case, “poker’s a man’s game, I’m being a rude host.”

  A man’s game? Now he was trying to show me up in front of my bride. “Fine,” I said, “what are the stakes.”

  “Oh, nothing too high, $5/$10 bets…you might have a shot at winning back the cabin rental.”

  Greed took over—I’d love to win the cabin rental. I reached for my wallet, I had several couple of hundred dollars, that would do, I tossed three hundred on the table. “Fine.”

  “Nicole, why don’t you be a dear and get another bottle from the wine fridge, there’s a nice white on the top shelf,” Mr. Thompson all but ordered my wife while he counted out some chips.

  Things went well for the first few hands, we went back and forth, but I held my own, got a little ahead. Nicole excused herself for the restroom, when she came back, sat on my lap instead of the chair and things went better, I was up at least $150 hoping to take a $50 pot when Mr. Thompson set his cards down.

  “You folding,” I asked, twitching to reach for the pot.

  “What, no, no, you’re bluffing,” he said, misreading me, I wasn’t, with one card to play I was holding two pairs. “You’ve got an unfair advantage, that’s all.”

  “What? This is your house, your cards, your chips, what’s unfair,” I said defensively.

  “Nicole,” he nodded at my wife, “you’ve been killing me since she’s sat down on your lap.”

  “You want her to sit at the table again,” I said, “fine, fine,” I laughed, itching for the pot.

  “Well that might negate the good luck she’s been bringing you, but I’m thinking I could use a little of that luck, at least for this pot. Why don’t you come over here for a hand or two,” he smiled at my wife as he patted his leg.

  “Hey,” I protested.

  “Just kidding, Jason, just kidding. Not that I wouldn’t be happy to have such a beautiful woman sitting on my lap, but I’ll take even luck, Nicole dear, could you?” He pointed to a chair next to him.

  Nicole smiled, switched seats. Apparently she was good luck, too, because I wasn’t bluffing, I had two pair, but what I missed was the two hearts showing, the third one that came on the last card, and the two in his hands—his flush easily beat me and he raked in the pot. And the next one and the next one until I was down to minuscule stack of chips.

  “Going to have to call it an evening soon,” he said looking at my short stack, but I won a couple of small hands before things went downhill and I heard myself call for another $200 in chips. Again, again, again, ignoring Nicole’s stare each time.

  “Jason,” Mr. Thompson said when I found myself down almost $800 asking for another $200 in chips, “you might want to call it a night.”

  I did, I knew I should, but the problem was I knew I didn’t have the cash to back my losses, started thinking about just trying to crawl my way back to even or close to it. “Another two,” I growled, looking at my cards, thinking I’d chip away at this hand, but losing that inside of five minutes.

  “You’re done, Jason” Mr. Thompson said when he broke me again. “I assume you can cover the thousand you’re down?”

  “A thousand,” Nicole gasped slightly.

  “I…” The slight hesitation gave me away.

  Mr. Thompson set his cards down, crossed his arms, stared at me, then at my wife. “First lesson of poker, Nicole, is not to wager what you can’t afford to lose.”

  “I…I’m good for it,” I heard myself say, words I’d heard spoken before but never spoken myself, knowing now I’d made a huge mistake.

  “Yea,” he turned back to me, eyes cold. “I’ve heard that before, Jason, I’m sure you have too. And I think we both have some idea how that usually plays out. You’re down a grand, kid,” he nodded at the table, “money I don’t think you can afford to lose, money you certainly don’t have with you.”

  “Mr. Thompson,” I stammered, suddenly nervous, “I…”

  “Know why he’s nervous, Nicole?” he asked my wife. “Not just cause he lost a thousand dollars you two obviously don’t have, but he knows what often happens in these situations.”

  “W…what?” Nicole asked nervously.

  “There’s usually a bit of violence,” he crossed his arms.

  “You…you wouldn’t,” Nicole was aghast. “Jason!”

  He laughed, then a wicked grin came over his face. “Tell you what, kid, it’s your honeymoon, so I’ll let you try to knock some of this off, let’s see,” he counted out some chips, $200, pushed them to the middle of the table.

  “I…” I looked at Nicole, she realized the situation, albeit too late to stop me from digging the hole.

  “I know, kid, we’ll play a few hands and see if you can chip away.”

  “I don’t,” I stammered, “I mean…I don’t have…�
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  He grinned again. “I’m not extending, Jason, not cash credit anyway, you’re in too deep for that, you know that.”

  “Yea…but…I don’t get it,” I said, confused.

  “Play the two hundred, if you win, I’ll knock you down to eight.”

  “If I win,” I said. “And what if I lose.” I was worried because I had no options here.

  He glanced over at Nicole, looked back at me. “$200…$200…okay, you lose, she loses her blouse for the evening.”

  “What!” I didn’t even look at my wife, but from the corner of my eye I saw her jaw drop.

  “Simple, Jason, if you win, I’ll knock $200 off, if you lose, she takes her blouse off.”

  “Are you fucking crazy?” I exclaimed.

  “Not at all, Jason, not at all. The way I see it is Nicole here is proud of her body, a little shy maybe, but proud just the same, happy to catch the eye of an older man. And don’t tell me you’re not proud of her, too, son, proud to sit there and watch me look at her, knowing she’s your wife, your bride. Don’t tell me you haven’t gloated inside having her sit there all dolled up and pretty like, teasing a guy.”

  “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure you do, Jason. Hell, I’d be proud, too, if I were you and she was my wife. Listen, all I’m happy to let you win back some cash, just if you lose, well, you can show off your bride a tad more. Come on, she’s got a bra on, right, it’s like wearing a swim suit, no more, no less, don’t you want to show an old man up?”

  Something was clicking inside me, I was proud of my bride, I was proud of how sexy she was, and I was proud to have such a beautiful woman as mine. “I don’t…I don’t know,” I said, “this…”

  “How…how much is he down,” Nicole asked softly, reaching for her glass of wine, taking a large gulp.

  “Thousand,” Mr. Thompson said.

  She looked at me, saw my eyes, knew we didn’t have the money, looked back at him. “Just…you just want me to take my blouse off,” she asked.

  “Nikki!”

  “$200 for just the blouse, honey,” he said, “just the blouse and just for dinner. And s if he loses.”

  “Nicole!”

  “If you have the money, Jason…”

  “I…I’m good for it,” I said, ashamed to speak the words.

  “Yea…I think it’s your pretty little bride who is going to help you out of this jam.”

  Nicole swallowed, glanced over at me, shuddered. “I…” Her face was red, flush from the attention combined with the wine. It was clear the flattery touched her, and she felt some sense of lowered inhibitions. “You really think I’m pretty, Mr. Thompson?” she asked softly.

  “Any man who said otherwise would be lying,” he said. “What do you say, Jason? Best case you win $200 back, worst case you get to throw it in my face what a beautiful bride you’ve got?”

  “I…” I looked at the chips, looked at Nicole. I was proud of her, and besides, what’s the worst that could happen, she ate dinner without a blouse and he got to see the woman I was going to fuck later tonight. And that was the worst, at best I’d win back some of our money. “Nicole?”

  She lowered her eyes. “It…it’s up to you…if you want…I…I will.”

  “It…it’s just like a bikini,” I justified what I was going to say.

  “Yea,” she swallowed. “I…it’s okay.”

  His gaze returned to me. “I know you’re down, but you seem confident in your skills, I wonder if you’re hustling me. Besides, what’s the worst…you lose and get to show off your bride? It’s not like I’m going to touch her,” he said with too easy a smile. “Aren’t you proud of her?”

  I was proud of her and truth be told, part of me wanted to show her off—she was a beautiful woman and she was mine. “Nikki, you…you sure?” She nodded. “Okay then, deal.”

  I won, pumped my fist, Nicole exhaled loudly. “Bam!”

  “Well, down eight hundred,” Mr. Thompson said, mouth tight. He reached for his chips, pushed another stack towards me. “Your deal.”

  “I won.”

  “And you’re still down $800, champ. And I assume you don’t have still…so…your deal, same stakes, your bride’s blouse for $200.”

  I didn’t win the second time, it wasn’t even close. Mr. Thompson pulled the chips back towards him, grinned widely as he looked at my bride. “I’ll be taking that blouse now, Nicole,” he said gleefully.

  “Mr. Thompson, please, I…” I started to say but he silenced me with a sharp look. You lost, kid, his eyes warned me. “The blouse Nicole,” he said softly to my bride, “and stand up,” he motioned with his fingers, “go slowly.”

  Nicole looked at me, her face was red, but not just from a blush, it was flush, the way she got when she was excited when she was almost embarrassed to feel so sexual. “It…it’s okay, Jason,” she reached over, touched my arm. “Really. I…it’s okay.” She stood, slowly, reached for the buttons on her blouse, face still flushed and red, she started to unbutton them.

  I didn’t see Mr. Thompson’s reaction, I was too busy starting at my wife’s breasts, but I heard him whistle. I might have too, if I was that kind of guy, as it was, though, I simply stared with my mouth open. The bra was new, something I’d never seen, something appropriate for a bride on her wedding night; it was white with peachy/pink satin trim on the 3-part cups and it was the cups I stared at, sure he did too. They were made from soft, very sheer tulle and pretty vintage-style lace. So sheer I…we… Mr. Thompson and I, could clearly see the outline of each areola, of her nipples—hard, erect, straining against the fabric of the bra.

  “Well, well, well,” Mr. Thompson said, “looks like someone’s cold, maybe I should turn up the heat.”

  “I…I’m not cold,” Nicole blushed, I understood it wasn’t that she was cold. Not at all. Her nipples were hard because she was excited.

  “Jesus, Nikki,” I finally blurted, felt something on my own body starting to strain.

  “I think it’s my deal,” Mr. Thompson said keeping his eyes on my wife.

  “Mr. Thompson, I…I don’t…”

  “You’re still down the same eight, champ,” he said pushing $200 in chips towards me, “we’ll play for her skirt, next, I’m dying to see the rest of what she’s wearing.”

  “Mr. Thompson, please…” I begged, ashamed.

  “Better step your game up, son,” he said, started dealing cards. “Unless you’ve got $800 in cash on you.”

  “I…I don’t know…”

  “Nicole, you game?” he asked, pouring the rest of the bottle of her wine glass, maybe a quarter full.

  She reached for it, drank it in a gulp. “It’s okay, honey,” Nicole agreed again, “I…”

  “What she’s trying to say, Jason, is like a good wife, she’s worried about your finances and wants you to win your money back, and she’s willing to push it a little farther to give you the chance. Cause that’s what married couples do…clean up each other’s messes.”

  “Nikki…are you sure.”

  “Why don’t you get another bottle, Nicole,” Mr. Thompson pointed towards the kitchen, “a drink will keep things light.” As soon as Nicole walked away, he glared at me. “Afraid?” he hissed. “You got her into this, champ, you’re going to have to get the both of you out.”

  “No, I’m not afraid,” I stared at him.

  “Well play then,” he challenged me.

  Nicole filled our wine glasses, seemed to take an extra few seconds pouring his, giving him ample time to stare at her breasts and body before he dealt.

  I won a couple of hands then lost it all again on the river when he caught a third jack to beat my two queens. Nicole, without being prompted, stood and started to undo her skirt.

  “Nicole, wait,” I protested, but he ignored me.

  “Slowly, Nicole,” he instructed her, “slowly, like you’re in Vegas dancing for a customer.”

  I was pissed, part of me anyway, pis
sed at losing again, pissed I wasn’t winning back the cash I lost, and pissed we’d gotten ourselves into this situation. I was pissed my wife, my new bride, was basically stripping for another man. And worst of all, I was pissed at my own reaction, at the swelling in my pants watching Nicole let her skirt drop to the floor. Fuck was she hot. Fuck, I mean, fuck, fuck!

  “Deeeammmm,” Mr. Thompson said looking hard at Nicole’s lingerie. Her panties matched the bra—the same sheer material left Nicole’s trim pubic hair slightly visible—but there was something else too, something that was impossible for her to hide, impossible for him not to notice. Something else dark between her legs; she was damp, wet.

  Maybe Nicole didn’t realize it, maybe she didn’t care, regardless I did, surely he did too. “Nicole,” I started to say, wanted her to see, to cover herself.

  “Nipples you might blame on the cold,” Mr. Thompson laughed, “but not that.”

  “What,” she said, followed his eyes, blushed deep. “I…” She swallowed, caught, knew he saw how wet she was, how excited.

  “Your deal, Jason,” he pushed the cards and the same $200 in chips towards me.

  “She’s got nothing left,” I protested.

  “We’ll play for the bra…no sense keeping those fine breasts covered, is there Nicole?”

  “Wait, wait,” I said, “you…we…”

  “Jason, what are you down? Is it $800 or $1,000? I don’t know and it doesn’t matter because what I know is you’re down more than you have. So it’s the bra.”

  “I…I don’t think…”

  Standing, her pussy was almost level with his eyes and he glanced over, stared. “She doesn’t look like she minds, Jason.”

  She looked at me, glanced downward, I knew what she was implying—the recognition we both knew what was happening between her legs, a question if it was happening to me, too.

  “It…it’s okay…”

  “Nikki, I…I…are you sure?” She nodded, shy, innocent.

  I barely remember the hand, it seemed preordained I was going to lose.

  “You know why she’s wet, Jason, don’t you?” he asked me collecting his chip.

  “I…please…we didn’t mean to…”