Daisy - Sex Stories

Daisy

... machines in search of Pete. Maybe he was getting lucky.

***

“Table thirteen, sir. Got a pair of sharks on the grift.”

Aiden rolled the golden coin through his fingers. He observed the security monitor closely. The dealer received a tap to his shoulder. The man stepped back for the security dealer to take on the game. The new man dealt each player a card. The game was Blackjack and the card-shark on the swindle was a counter. This one technique proved to be smoother than the last. He’d cleaned three tables before he got tagged. He had a knack for balancing his winnings with his losses. Still, no man was that lucky. The problem today the casinos were taken by grifters in all shapes, sizes, and nationalities now. A week ago he had an Asian woman in her sixties. Before that it had been a black kid barely 20. And they were smarter with technology on their side; the hunt for the game versus the gamer was an exhausting merry-go-round ride.

“Take him.” Aiden’s ordered. His gaze switched away from the monitor with disinterest and landed on a beauty who strolled along a less-populated part of his game room. He caught only glimpses of her face. By the way she stopped and checked each aisle, he figured she searched for someone. She wore a faded pair of jeans that rode at the curve of her heart-shaped hips. Her red halter tied at the neck and fit nicely to her tiny waist under a perfect rack. Natural. Fresh. Those were the words that came to mind when she finally turned into ...

... the angle of the camera lens and Aiden got a better look. His vision sharpened, lingered on her face. He absorbed the details, until she moved on. So did he.

“What level threat, sir?”

Aiden pocketed his lucky coin. “Break his knees for starters. Find out if he’s working alone and who sent him. Looks like one of Jin Mei’s boys,” he ordered, then turned and walked out of the security room. Sure, his method was barbaric. But in Vegas, baby, things were never as they seemed, especially at his casinos. “I’m walking the floor,” he announced on his stroll to the elevators. His men didn’t wait for the door to close before they went into action.

***

“What you drinking?” A brunette plopped down on the bar seat next to Pete. Immediately, he was reminded of pears or peaches. A fruity, feminine smell lingered, reminiscent of the fragrant lotions Daisy loved to wear.

Pete cut his eyes to the woman at his side. “Beer,” he said gruffly.

“I’ll have an Appletini,” she announced as if Pete had offered. The bartender nodded and began to fix the drink. Pete looked from him to her, ready to object when she turned and gave him a good view of her manufactured tits. Pete guessed them to be bigger than grapefruits and just a tad smaller than watermelons. Anything over a mouthful was a waste of damn time, in his opinion.

“Beer? Yeah, you look like a beer drinker,” she giggled.

Pete’s frown deepened. She couldn’t possibly be for real. He’d heard of airheads and even banged a few, ...