Dealers stood inside each table and all of them were women. They all wore a black dress and high heels with a gold belt around their waists. The uniform might be the same but it looked vastly different on every woman in there. A bunch of older ladies wore looser versions of the same outfit, every single one of them related to Joey and Paulie judging from the look of them. Not to mention the matching mustaches.
Then there was the ‘talent.’ Sexy younger ladies, many of them with shorter, tighter uniforms that were otherwise identical. I was a hundred percent sure they were retired strippers, considering the mob ran those places too. I was also sure they made better tips at this place, all without having to put on a G–string.
All these transient thoughts slipped through my drunken mind as I scanned the room, looking for the best table. I preferred to chose tables with mob guys, not sad sack gambling addicts who were here to get fleeced and run home to double down on their mortgages and raid their children’s college funds. The smell of their desperation was fucking depressing. Also, the mob guys always had more cash and better game.
But all that fell away the moment I saw her. She was impossible to miss. The lighting was dim in there, but I knew a hot prospect when I saw one. Long legs, long hair and an hourglass figure. Her posture was almost too good, making her look like she was all business, which I highly doubted was the case.
Not in a place like this, anyway.
Her table was packed, not surprisingly, with a crowd waiting to take a turn. I wondered if she put out if you won big enough. I certainly fucking hoped so.
I definitely was going to find out.
I swaggered closer, thinking my night was about to get a thousand percent better. I stopped about ten feet away, standing like a dumb fuck in the center of the room. I had been so focused on the insane curves on the girl that I’d failed to look at her face. What I saw stopped me dead in my tracks.
She’s a fucking angel.
Her face was perfect. Literally perfect, like she had been sculpted out of marble. She had high cheekbones and full, perfectly shaped lips. An adorable fucking nose that turned up just the tiniest bit at the end. A heart-shaped face and when she looked up, massive eyes of an indeterminate color. Gray I thought. Or a blue so cool it was gray.
There was no way that girl was actually standing in this room dealing cards. She belonged on a movie screen. Magazine covers. In fucking heaven with the rest of the angels.
Fuck, she belonged in my bed.
Not just for one night either. I wanted her on lockdown. For a fucking knockout like her, I could actually see the appeal of sticking with one chick. In fact, I couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else after going to pound town with her.
I shook myself mentally and took a deep pull of my vodka.
Don’t get ahead of yourself, Lucky. She’s just a girl. Knock her over like you do all the rest of them.
I didn’t stand there like the rest of the dumb fucks waiting for a seat at her table, though. I took a seat at a table nearby and watched her while I half paid attention to a lackluster game of blackjack. I had a good sense for cards and the ante was low, so I ended up breaking even after about an hour. In that time, I determined a few things.
One: she was turning down a lot of dick.
Two: she did not want to be here, though she was keeping it hidden.
Three: she was even more fucking flawless than I’d initially thought.
As my eyes adjusted to the light, I’d caught the spray of freckles across her nose. I’d never thought about freckles before, but these were so fucking cute, it added a whole other level to her beauty. Her hair was dark, but it was more auburn than I’d thought at first. And her ass was every bit as perfect as those tits.
Also, her eyes were a pale green, not pale blue.
Fuck me.
The crowd started to thin at around 2:30. I watched guys wander out, most of them with empty pockets. I shook my head. Amateurs. By the time 3:00 AM rolled around, it was only the serious gamblers left. I was nursing my bottle of vodka, and puffing on a cigar when I saw Paulie come over and whisper in the supermodel’s ear.
The guys at her table groaned when he waved them off.
“This table’s closed for now. Find another spot or take a hike.”
My eyes narrowed as he took the girl’s arm in a way that suggested she did not want to go with him. Her face was impassive, but I could read displeasure in her stance.