I open one eye. I see Brent sitting at the table munching on some toast. I throw back the blanket and make my way to the table.

“I wondered when you were going to surface,” he says.

“It was late when I got back, you were fast asleep,” I reply. “Then I couldn’t sleep, I was thinking about the game.”

He crunches on his toast. Crumbs fall onto his plate. “How was the game?” he asks.

“This isn’t one game, it’s four games, and you can’t quit unless you lose your chips,” I explain.

“Jesus, how big is the pot going to be at the end?” Brent asks, wide-eyed.

“Not just that, anyone who loses is replaced until the final table, so there is new cash coming in.”

“Mikey has thought about this, if he wants you to clean them out, he is making sure they are cleaned out,” Brent says.

I take a piece of his toast from his plate. I bite into it. “At least I am up by about a hundred and fifty,” I say.

Brent huffs. “You just have to keep it going.”

“I have a plan,” I say.

“Not another one of your plans.”

“Hear me out. It’s a different dealer on every night… if we can somehow get you onto the final night, what do you reckon?”

“And do what exactly?”

“It’s simple, I have to lose the last hand.”

“You are asking something even God couldn’t help to achieve,” Brent says.

“We have two nights to think about it,” I say, now smiling.

Brent rubs his face. “Alex, you know I can’t say no. I will ask about the dealer, but how you can lose the last hand, and walk away from this, I don’t know.”

“That will be my problem. I have to think about that one for a while,” I reply.

“So, what are you doing all day, just staying here or what?” Brent asks.

“Mikey is having me tailed, I can only go here or his ‘office,' and he did say he wanted me to go there just after lunch for something.”

“I suppose you will need some cash?” Brent asks.

“Just cab fare, I will pay you back today, I will get him to add a bit to my bill,” I reply.

Brent slips me another twenty. “I have to go to work, stay out of trouble,” he says, pointing a finger at me.

I take his last piece of toast. “Don’t forget the dealer,” I say to a door that has just closed.

How the hell can I lose the last hand? Fuck, and who would I lose it to?

That was a question that would take some serious thought. Who do I know that has half a million? Which I guess would be enough for the final night? Beau...

Until it is time to go to the office, I lay on the couch thinking of the impossible. How can you magic up a card player who is good enough to get to the last hand of the night, and win, or be lucky enough? The end result would be the same.

I stop thinking about it, otherwise it will drive me insane, it is like trying to find the start of a circle… there isn’t one.

I grab a cab and reach the warehouse. Gone are most of the cars apart from a couple of limos… does Mikey want me to slip in an extra couple of games before tonight?

I walk inside. I can see a couple of people at the table, and a couple of women sitting at the bar. Mikey nods at me to go into his office.

“What have you dragged me over here for?” I ask.

“I haven’t dragged you anywhere, a Russian’s wife made the request last night,” Mikey replies, now smiling widely.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask.

Mikey makes an okay sign with his hand and pokes his other index finger through it.

“You’re kidding me. You want me to play cards for you with no benefit to me, and now you expect me to fuck a Russian mobster’s wife?” I scream.

“Keep your fucking voice down will you, if they know you are playing for me, the whole thing will turn into a shit storm,” Mikey says.

“Don’t take offense Mikey, but you are spending too much time with Ronny,” I say.

“Why is that?” he asks.

“Because you are turning into a motherfucking cunt.”

“What can I say, I am sorry. She wants you, and I have offered you to her.”

“Oh, you have to add six hours onto my time,” I say. “And this will cost you another ten hours.”

“Six hours.”

“Eight hours,” I say.

“Deal,” Mikey says, offering me his hand.

I shake his hand. “I am gonna hold you to that, fourteen hours,” I say, pointing at him.

“I suppose I better introduce you,” Mikey says, widely grinning.

“Where is the Russian dud then?” I ask.

“His wife says he is off fucking one of the hookers.”

Mikey leads me over to the bar. A tall, leggy blonde slips from her stool.

“This must be Alex?” she asks.

“It is, and Alex, this is Ingrid,” Mikey says.

Of course it is.

“So, Alex, where shall we go?” Ingrid asks.

“That’s up to you,” I say, feeling very weird.

“We go to car, then decide,” she says.

The rear door to the limo opens as we step outside. The driver opens the door, and I help Ingrid step into the car. I slide over beside her as the driver gets into the front seat.

“My English not good,” Ingrid says.

“It’s fine, it is better than my Russian,” I reply.

“How about, we just drive,” Ingrid says.

I feel confused, but it is up to her. “Okay, we just drive.”

Ingrid leans to the driver. “Just drive anywhere, keep it steady and cool,” she says.

Ingrid leans back and pushes her finger on a button. A blackened pain of glass rises from the back of the front seat.

“A little privacy.”

“It looks like a lot of privacy,” I reply, feeling awkward.

“I tell you straight. I not fuck you.”

“Okay, what do you want me for?” I ask.

“I want suck your cock, and you lick my pussy, that all,” she replies.

“Why all this trouble just for that?”

“Husband cheating fucker. I not a cheating asshole. I just want orgasm and a bit of fun,” Ingrid explains.

I can see her logic, and I have heard it before, if there is no fucking, are you actually cheating?

The car moves, and we are finally on the way to wherever. In Ingrid’s mind, it will be heaven, and in mine it will be another eight hours added to my time. I was not sure if it was Ingrid’s way of speaking English, but she sounded demanding, and I found it a bit of a turn on.

She turns her back to me and points over her shoulder. “Zipper please.”

I oblige and slowly pull down the zipper on Ingrid’s silver-sequined dress. She pulls it from her shoulders, her black bra and panties are a total contrast to her fair skin.

Ingrid pulls at the hair pin. Her long blonde hair falls over her body. She smiles at me and reaches between her breasts. The front clasp pops open. Ingrid pushes her breasts forward and cups them as she pinches her pink nipples.

“You like?” she asks.

“Well yeah, of course,” I reply, feeling my dick harden.

She leans back into the large leather seat, she licks her lips as she lifts her ass and pulls her panties down her long legs. I sigh as Ingrid puts her feet on the seat and pushes her knees apart.

“You ever tasted Russian pussy?” she asks.

I shake my head.

“You like Russian pussy, trust me.”

“I trust you,” I reply, as I stare at Ingrid spreading her pussy lips. I feel guilty but I couldn’t say no to Mikey. He would’ve definitely got Ronny onto me.

“Now strip, I want to see big cock from the U, S of A,” she says.

I chuckle to myself. How the clichés travel around the world.

I sit myself on one of the smaller seats opposite, I lift my arms and pull off my shirt. Ingrid coos and rubs her pussy in anticipation.

I pull at my belt and pop open the button of my jeans. I slide them down and drop them to the floor of the limo. Ingrid pouts and rubs her finger over her nipples, she bites her lip as I slip my shorts over my firm buttocks.

Ingrid laughs. “You look like movie hero,” she says.

“Which one?” I ask.

“Tarzan,” she says, obviously smiling at my body.

“I might look similar, but I am not sure Tarzan would be in the back of a limo with a very hot Russian woman, and just about to eat out her pussy.

“You taste pussy first, and when you hard, I suck cock ‘till you cum.”

“Fuck. This is one of the easiest ways to pay a debt.”

“Penetration is the ultimate sin; oral sex deserves a slap on the wrist.”