The Marriage Dare

But that might be about to change.

Across the room, I see a woman in a blue dress. She’s facing away from me, but that doesn’t matter—the back of her dress plunges to her waist, giving me one hell of a view. It’s a pity that the dress doesn’t fall any lower, because even from here, I can see that she’s got a fantastic ass. One that I can imagine gripping firmly, and is completely distracting me from the movie in front of me. Dark hair falls in waves over her shoulders of the woman in blue, and she gracefully sits at one of the poker tables.

That’s when I notice something else. That dress, gorgeous as it may be, isn’t new. A dress like that—and I see many gorgeous dresses walking around my casino—is made for the wearer, and this is not. It’s too long. I see her try to sweep it around her chair so that it doesn’t get tangled. And the dress gapes a little, giving me a glimpse of the side of her breast.

So she bought it from someone. Not a crime of course, just intriguing. It’s not something that a lot of people would notice, because they’d be blinded by her beauty. And it almost worked with me. But I like a little bit of mystery. Most people who come into a Brazen Casino wouldn’t be caught dead in second hand clothes. Hell, she’s got a body good enough that I know plenty of designers would offer her clothes for free simply to see her wear them.

She’s a ways away, so it’s difficult to tell, but I think I spy a frayed edge at the hem of the gown. Definitely interesting.

I’m no stranger to hand-me-down clothes. I didn’t own a new article of clothing until well into my twenties. But this image doesn’t make sense, and figuring out the puzzle of the mysterious brunette is far more interesting than listening to a busty blonde blather about here overseas yoga retreats.

Pulling out my phone again, I activate the security system. We have cameras covering every table, as cheating is one of the worst offenses in my—or any other—casino. But in this instance I’m not looking for cheating. I’m looking for her face.

I flip through the cameras until I find the right table, waiting until she turns. And when she does, my entire body goes cold with shock. I know her. She has a face I’ll never forget and crimes against me that I’ll never forgive.

Monica Blast. The rich girl from next door who tormented me for years without reason or excuse. I’ll never forget her face. Or lose the desire to take revenge. And she here she is, not fifty feet away. Only a fool wouldn’t see this as an opportunity.

She’s on my turf, and wearing clothes that don’t suit her. Monica was never a person that had problems with money—she could afford whatever she damn well pleased. So why is she wearing a dress like that? Not that I mind watching the curves of her back. She’s been sexy since high school, and she knew it too. I can’t imagine that things have changed so much for her that she’d need to rely on hand-me-downs, but I suppose that anything can happen. But there’s a small alarm bell ringing in my head.

Another thing that I’ve learned about rich people: If they lose their money, they’ll fight like hell to get it back. Even if that means cheating or stealing. Poor little rich girl in my casino in a dress that screams of lost wealth isn’t something that I can just ignore.

It doesn’t matter that she’s sexy as hell in her second-hand dress. It doesn’t even matter why she’s here in the first place. What matters is that she took everything from me. I never thought that I would have chance to pay her back for all the kindnesses that she paid me when we were younger. Because of course, attention at all from someone of her ‘status’ was always a kindness, wasn’t it?

I have to hold myself back from laughing, the dark thoughts blooming in my mind. Monica is the woman who made me who I am today. I never stopped fighting to take back what she stole, and now I have everything I could want and more. Except one thing. Revenge.

My mind is fully awake now, revving up and formulating a plan. She deserves everything that’s coming to her. Perfect humiliation, and greater pleasure—but only if she begs me for it. I’ll fuck her mind before I fuck her body. But I can be sure that I’m going to do both.

The now-drunk blonde is still talking, this time about the absolutely extravagant trip that she took to the Maldives with her girlfriends—and a few of the boy toys they use when their husbands aren’t around. Fucking rich people. Seeing Monica reminds me how much I hate people like them, and how even though I’m approaching the stage of near limitless wealth, I’ll never, ever, be like the same. I stand quickly, knocking back what’s left of my whiskey. “Excuse me.”