Daisy - Sex Stories

Daisy

... shifted over to the right at the sound of dropping coins clinking against the metal tray. This proved to be a greater irritant than the losing spin. There sat a silver-haired woman with more colorful jewelry than Liberace. She had lids caked with blue eye shadow and long pink acrylic nails. The woman repeatedly tapped the spin button with the tip of her nail.

Ding-dong-ding—silver-dollar shaped coins dropped. The witch won again.

“How the hell does she keep wining?” Daisy mumbled under her breath. Win or lose, the troll inhabiting a fifty-plus-year-old woman’s body kept playing. And that was clearly the key. Daisy needed more money to really get the machine hot. A dollar here and there did nothing. She glared. She could win; she really could. She had that feeling—it was more like an itch. Daisy felt compelled to scratch. Her losing streak hadn’t been her fault. The old woman apparently knew something Daisy didn’t.

Lights flashed red and yellow over the top of the machine. More coins than Daisy had ever seen a single person win dropped into the tray. To Daisy’s horror, the woman dismissed her winning to play more. How is that fair? The machine was evidently hot. This woman got her payday. The time had come for someone else to take a turn, namely her. Daisy looked around to see if anyone else noticed. She wondered if she should get the casino manager. Wasn’t this breaking some house rule? It wasn’t fair! Why would she hoard the machine if it weren’t the lucky ...

... machine?

“Excuse me, ma’am.” Daisy forced a smile.

The woman kept playing.

“EXCUSE ME.”

The woman blinked as if she were wakened from a trance. She greeted Daisy with a warm smile. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“How much longer you gon’ be? You been playing that thing since I got over here.”

“Well I-I—”

“Oh, fuck it!” Daisy grabbed her bucket and shot to her feet. She threw it in an empty chair as she passed anther slot machine. Her mother would drop in a dead faint at the disrespect. Soon her anger shifted to embarrassment. Daisy stopped. She looked back. She should apologize. The casino was at fault. The place was making her crazy. Losing was making her crazy. Her eyes lifted to the sign at the entrance of the casino: Shamrock, Where Dreams Come True.

“Yeah, right,” Daisy chuckled.

Daisy glanced back. Another person had taken the seat she left. The woman she insulted kept playing. Everybody had luck but them.

“Can I get you a drink?” The bubble of jealousy popped. Before her stood a cocktail girl and a serving tray.

“Yeah, thanks but no thanks.” She stalked off. The dark brown layers of her hair shadowed her face and swayed over her shoulders. Daisy tucked the long tresses behind her ear in frustration. She checked each aisle she passed. “Where is he?” she mumbled, nipping at the gloss on her bottom lip.

“I WON!!!” a lady screamed two aisles over.

Daisy rolled her eyes. “Of course you did.”

With a heavy sigh, Daisy headed through the maze of slot ...