Night Out After Poker (NOIR) VII

She shifts and sits up against you. "What?" she asks as if something is wrong.

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"Right."

You shrug and get to work on two new cigarettes.

She casts the first stone. "So, who are you?"

"Beyond the obvious?"

"You're really not very obvious."

"That's a lie. I'm quite obvious. Same as you really."

"Yeah?"

"I didn't mean it like that. Well, I just meant we're both probably spoiled brats."

She grins. "Speak for yourself."

"Says the girl wearing Erotokritos heels and Dolce jeans."

She pauses for a split second to come up with a comeback. "Says the boy who fucking recognizes what type of heels I was wearing." Ouch.

You grin, embarrassed. "Well, don't think you're getting an explanation for that."

"I wouldn't dream of it. I wouldn't want to fuck up your mystery."

"Wow. You're gaying me pretty hard here."

Her face is serious and her hands pat your shoulders. "No, I'm afraid you gayed yourself."

"Fine. I'll give you something like the truth. Well, the best I can do in thirty words or less."

"Fire away." She squints and gets ready to scrutinize.

"Finance. Friends all in similar jobs. All spoiled brats, but it's hard to finance this life without too many questions, so while we were young, poker was our source for capital. Everything else was the result of being out here too fucking much."

"That was way over thirty words."

"Pretty obvious too?" You're about finished with the next two cigarettes. You rap them against the side table to mix the coke and tobacco.

She sighs. "Yeah. Well, beggars can't be choosers."

"Wait, which of us is the beggar?"

"Obviously me. I was the one who came up to you, remember?"

"Yeah. I was busy looking cool."

"Trying to bring back the whole indoor sunglasses at night thing?"

"Succeeding."

Mischievously, "Actually, I came over to talk one of your friends."

"Yeah, I know. I saw." You childishly stick your tongue out at her.

She laughs. "Yeah, well I saw you sitting there with your shades and thought you'd be a total asshole."

"But..."

"But then I saw you rescue your hostess from the table next to you and realized you're a softie."

"Woah, let's get this straight, I ain't no softie."

She smiles devilishly. "Yeah? Let's see."

As you finish with the next round of cigarettes, she repositions herself to straddle your legs and gently sits down on top your thighs. You can slightly feel the warmth through your jeans, but maybe you're imagining it.

"This is our moment." She grins and plucks one of the cigarettes from your hands and clumsily presses it into your lips. You do the same. Split second spark as your fingers graze her lips. You feel her weight shift around on top of you.

She leans in. She tastes less of strawberries now. The coke and cigarettes really annihilate your sense of taste. Your hands are on her ribs. You feel her pronounced breaths as her body gasps for air when your mouths part. She pulls away gently.

Your mutual arousal is pretty hard to deny at this point. She's burning your thighs despite the layers of fabric. And well, yours is pretty obvious.

You decide to fuck it up. "How long are you staying?"

"Real life resumes Monday."