Player: Stone Cold MC Read Free

and that meant that they had to be straight and honest.
     
    I didn’t do straight and honest.
     
    I pulled the elastic out of my hair and let it fall down over my shoulders in a heavy brown mass. I unbuttoned my shirt a bit so that it showed the swells of my breasts. Harlan Gold let me let my hair down, and there was nothing as attractive as a woman who made the boys look. Or rather, there was nothing as distracting .
     
    I took a deep breath, filling my nostrils with the smell of smoke and perfume and the high of winning. People everywhere were smiling, white teeth and shimmering eyes sparkling. Maybe that was why everyone kept coming back.
     
    The casino was a gem. The carpets were a plush red, and my heels sunk into it as I walked through the slot machines with their sheep that hoped the next spin would be the Jackpot. The place was decorated tastefully in gold, deep brown, and rich red, making the whole place shimmer like the jewel it was. It wasn’t the cheesy Asian red and gold, but rather the kind that screamed class and money, even though they catered to the everyday civilians off the streets, too.
     
    But Harlan Gold had VIP rooms and high stakes games that made my fingers itch, and I was planning on landing in one of those tonight. I needed a big win to satisfy the uncomfortable urges. I needed some money passing through my fingers to remind me that I was alive.
     
    I walked toward the poker tables. I felt lucky tonight, and poker was one of my favorites. Texas Hold’em.
     
    A guy to my right cheered, no doubt winning a big hand. I turned my head and looked at him, and my eyes stayed on him for two steps. He was good looking.
     
    God, he was really good looking. He had black hair and blue eyes, the perfect combination. But he wasn’t model pretty. He was rough and rugged, a big boy that carried himself as if he knew who he was and what he was doing there. And his voice was deep and rich…as rich as the chips he was scraping toward himself.
     
    I shook my head and returned my focus to the table, sitting down. Focus. I had to focus on the game. So many of the players relied on the statistics, their probability of winning based on the cards in their hands and the cards on the table.
     
    I didn’t play that way. As much as I was a counter, I played Texas Hold’em by feel. My gut told me when to bet and when to fold, and most of the time, I won big. I had the touch, or so I liked to think.
     
    I sat down. There were three men and a woman at the table. The men’s eyes all traveled down to my unbuttoned shirt before they met my eyes and smiled. The woman, somewhere in her forties I was guessing, glared at me as if I’d stolen her limelight. Jealousy makes you nasty.
     
    I started with the small blind and put in my money. I was dealt a king and a ten. I put my cards down on the table, face down, after checking them. I wouldn’t pick them up again. There were those that miraculously forgot which two cards they had.
     
    Their timing was everything. I could read with how many times they double-checked, how much trouble they were in.
     
    With the men’s reaction, I wasn’t too worried about them. Their attention might have only wavered for a moment, but if it had worked then without me doing much, I could distract them again. Fold my arms under my breasts and lean on the table, pushing them up so there was more to see. Bat my eyelashes at someone. Flirtatious lines and smiling and laughter. Men ate that shit up and the game fell away.
     
    It was only Ms. Sourpuss over there whom I needed to watch out for, but she looked like the calculating kind. I could take her easily.
     
    The dealer laid out the first card. A jack. Nothing special, but I could use it if the right cards came up. Another round of betting. Check. Raise the bet. Call. Check. Everyone was ready for the next card.
     
    A king. I sat on a double already. If I got a nine and a queen, I was sorted for a straight, but that was getting my