Unexpected Poker Night

This story is rather long; I haven't been able to write for quite a long time, and this is what (finally) came out. I apologize for the ridiculous length, and I hope it is worth the time.

It was, initially, a very relaxed night in for Mike and Sharon. The two of them were enjoying a nice, quiet night at home, unperturbed by the idiocy of the Bush Administration, the futility of the war overseas, or even the bloviating blow-hard Bill O'reily. The whole immigration issue struck Sharon fairly hard; her grandmother had come over from Mexico years ago, fleeing an abusive husband, and her family had been here since. Mike was not particularly impressed, either. His view on immigration was a fairly typical anarcho-Marxist one: the land belonged to no one, and if anyone could actually claim ownership of the land, it would certainly be the American Indians, and not a bunch of stodgy white people. In fact, Mike was descended from a bunch of stodgy white people who had intermarried with members of various Caddo tribes in Texas on his father's side, and with Lugana-Acama tribes from New Mexico on his mother's side.

But none of that was of any consequence right now. The last two weeks had been rather busy. Mike had somehow managed to find someone willing to loan him enough money to start his mail order bondage equipment business about a year ago, and the last few months had seen him open an actual physical store. In the last two weeks, he had been busy designing and building new equipment, mostly as show pieces for the store. He had also had to hire some help. Of course, he managed to fit this around his rather busy concert attending schedule. Rob Zombie and Lacuna Coil had come to town, followed shortly by Ministry and Revolting Cocks. God Forbid was due in soon, and HIM had recently blown through.

Sharon was helping Mike test some of his new designs, and her body was beginning to tell the tale. The shows, of course, always got physical, and she had gotten trapped in the "crush" in front of the stage at the Lacuna Coil show. Mike, as always, was there for her, but there hadn't been any replays of the Tool concert, where he had to pull her out from underneath several large, clumsy idiots who didn't belong in the pit. They were both glad about that.

So tonight, the couple was simply going to relax. A little drink, a little smoke, and little else. No TV, no parties, no concerts. Just some nice drone doom metal, courtesy of Sunn0))). Very relaxed. No pressure, just a breather from their (willingly) hectic lifestyle.

Sharon stared across the table at Mike. His long hair cascaded to his waist in dark brown waves, while his oddly pointed and curled goatee truly lived up to its name, making his tanned face look something like a be-spectacled goat. The upper half of his face was mostly hidden in shadow due to the cap he had gotten at the Zombie show. His piercingly steel blue eyes were masked behind the glint of his glasses, the only thing visible under the low-pulled bill.

She knew that Mike loved her, and that he loved her body almost as much. She never could figure out why. Yes, she was dark skinned and had deep, brown eyes. He always went on and on about her thick, long, black hair. Yet she supposed he mostly like her large breasts, and her firm, well-rounded ass. It certainly wasn't anything like Jennifer Lopez's ponderous behind, but it was certainly well shaped and he swore it was just the right size. Of course, Mike always told her that he loved her mind and her soul more than her body, but he always added that her body certainly was icing on the cake. A deep, delicious girl, who looked great, too. How could it get any better?

So they sat and made small talk, just bull shitting about life in general, and how good the concerts had been. In couples that had just met, such things kept away the Awkward Silence, and many people just talked because the fear of that awful silence was so overwhelming. But with Mike and Sharon, and indeed with most other long-term couples, this congenial chatting was a very important part of their communication. Just enjoying each other's company and not forcing yourselves to be anything that you aren't, or that you don't want to be. To just be natural with one another. This was really the foundation of their love and affection--the fact that they could just talk and be together without being silly, or superfluous. They could put away all those masks that they wore everyday: he as shopkeeper and spokesperson, she as the dutiful and pragmatic librarian. Yes, these were certainly part of their personality, but only part. To parade that portion of themselves endlessly, day after day, caused the rest of themselves to atrophy and fade away. This relaxing night, with its small talk, was away of re-invigorating themselves, letting it all hang out, so to speak.

Mike was telling a joke, something he frequently did after sex despite Sharon's admonishments not to. "See, this dude walks into a bar. And he sees this horse standing behind the bar, taking drink orders. The dude just stands there and stares at the damn horse. The horse ignores him for a moment, but then turns and yells at the dude, 'Hey, what's the matter? Ain't ya ever seen a horse tending bar before?' And the guy snaps out of it and just says 'It's not that. I just didn't think the parrot would ever sell this place.'"

Sharon half laughed and half groaned into her hand and shook her head. Mike just grinned his goofy, lopsided grin at her and nodded his head.

Unexpectedly, there was a loud knock on the door. Mike jerked his head up and started to get up, while Sharon grabbed her pipe, ashtray, and tin and quickly walked across the kitchen to stash them away in a drawer. When Mike got to the door, he looked out the peephole, and saw Katie standing outside with someone he didn't recognize.

Opening the door cautiously, as was his nature, Mike got a better view of the two girls on the front porch. Katie was a fairly tall blonde girl with dark brown eyes. Her measurements were much smaller than Sharon's generous Hispanic proportions, but still fairly pleasing to the eye. Her companion was much different, however. Petite is an appropriate word, tiny mighty even suffice. She couldn't have been more than about 5'3", and her figure, though definitely feminine, was rather flattish. Mike gave the two of them a sideways glance, meant more for Katie than the other girl.

Sharon came bustling along to see what the hold up at the door was. Pulling it from Mike's loose grip, she held it wide open and immediately began speaking to Katie.

"Katie! What are you doing here? And who's your friend?" she inquired quickly and cheerfully, though Mike caught the slight hesitation in the last question, and the emphasis on "friend." He knew that his lover wasn't very happy about being intruded upon, especially by an unknown person.

The blonde girl answered. "Hi, Sharon! We didn't have much going on, so we thought we would stop by and see if you had some...time to spend with us." She ended her sentence lamely, belatedly remembering Mike's paranoia of police. She looked up at him, and caught a dark look and a hardened jaw line.

He turned after a moment, however, and addressed the small redhead. "You are...?" he asked tersely.

The little redhead glared defiantly up at him and said. "I'm Christy. Katie's friend." With that she turned to Sharon and said, more pleasantly, "Katie's told me so much about you. She said you're a good friend and that you know how to have a good time." She smiled at Sharon, ignoring the glowering look from Mike.

Sharon had always liked having people around to socialize with, while Mike found it to be anathema. He sighed in resignation as Sharon led the other two girls into the kitchen to retrieve her items. Mike closed and locked the door and skulked in behind them.

Before long, however, his mood had improved dramatically. The girls were smoking some rather good pot, and though Mike no longer smoked pot or drank, he didn't begrudge it to Sharon anymore. It had been a rather difficult transition for him, but an important one. Katie never could hold her own with Sharon, but Christy seemed determined to. Mike watched in amusement, and proceeded to tell several more bad jokes, resulting in giggles from Sharon, stunned silence from Katie, and even a few small smiles from Christy.

A deck of cards was omnipresent on the table, as was a tin of dominoes and a few dice. Sharon grabbed the cards and said "Were going to play some Bullshit!" This happened to be one of Mike's preferred games, as cheating was rewarded, and he knew that his logical mind was good at figuring out when people claimed to have cards that they didn't. He also knew the pattern that the cards followed. Sharon, for her part, was quiet adept at lying and her beguiling charm disarmed most opponents. She was a difficult one to catch, especially since Mike's straight out heavy metal appearance, complete with death metal T-shirts and massive wallet chains, somehow convinced everyone that he was the dishonest one. This was certainly true of the two girls, who added many cards to their hands by calling Bullshit on Mike a few too many times. Sharon, meanwhile, whittled her hands away, and giggled nonstop about the deception.

After several long hands, Katie began to grow bored of loosing. Christy seconded the emotion. "I want to play something where I can win!" she said enthusiastically. "And not something where the two of you are going to work together," she added pointedly, looking at Mike and Sharon in turn.

Mike simply shrugged and waited for the girls to decide what to play next. The debate was brief, and mostly centered on the different types of poker. Katie, always frisky when she smoked, loudly suggested "Strip poker!" but was quickly and irrefutably rebuked by Christy.

Sharon agreed with Christy, saying "That's juvenile. If were going to play poker, let's play real poker, for real money!" Christy perked up at this, and a slow smile spread across her face. Mike, for his part, looked rather unimpressed, but simply said "It's your money." Christy looked at him like a person would normally look at a cat that had just eaten their goldfish.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded angrily.

Mike's face assumed a comically absurd expression of disbelief. "Fuck, calm down. I'm not trying to piss you off."

"Well, you are." The heat from her voice was such that the candles on the table almost ignited. Mike ignored the vehemence in her voice and shook her head. Angry and defiant, Christy challenged him. "Well, why don't you put your money on the table, then? Unless you don't think you can hold on to it." The taunting quality to her voice brought on unexpected reaction.

Mike became very quiet and glared at her for a moment. Then, slowly, he got up and left the room. The barely controlled fury was evident in his hard face and deliberate movements. The three girls sat in that Awkward Silence for some minutes before Mike returned. He had a large case in his hand, which he sat on the table and opened. Inside were rows and rows of clay chips in various colors. He then sat back down and slowly folded his arms across his chest and looked deep into Christy's face.

Mike's voice had adopted a rough edge to it, and he spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. "I started my own business, selling things people have told me time and again that no one would buy. I've built that business up with my own two hands. I've put up with detractors and naysayers this whole damn time, and now...Now I'm on top. Not them. I can more than hold my own against you or anyone else that I come across."

That seemed to settle it. Sharon again lit her bowl, and Katie gladly accepted. But Christy refused, staring at Mike the whole time. After a few moments and much small talk from Sharon and Katie, the mood begin to lighten considerably, and the chips were divided up, and the cards dealt.

All of them, except for Katie, proved to be accomplished poker players. Sharon was a natural. Her luck was phenomenal, her bluffing unimpeachable, she really knew how to work the table. Katie, by contrast, was a complete novice, having only the rudest ideas of how poker was played. Her chips quickly disappeared, but they all simply laughed about it, Katie being the nice girl that she was. She spent the rest of the evening fetching drinks for the other players, and doing assorted goof y things for their amusement. This was her penance for losing all the chips and having no money to pay the pot with.

This, in truth, has been a tradition in Mike and Sharon's household for quite some time. Most card games are just for shits and giggles. Many of their friends had been with them since Mike was living in the hotel and doing nothing with himself, and Sharon had been living at home with her parents. Money was not important to them; having a good time was. So when card games became more serious, they were about who would go buy alcohol, who would mix drinks, and that kind of thing. Katie fell into this role easily, having been the "slave" many times before. Sex and humiliation were not part of the package. Unless, of course, it was Mike playing against Sharon. The bets then were of an entirely different nature.

Christy took an interest in this turn of events. She asked many questions about the role of the losers if no money was available to pay their debt. Katie explained.

"I lose a lot when I play here. But they know I don't have enough money to pay for all the chips. So, I become their 'slave' for the rest of the evening. I'm not really their slave, of course. I just get drinks and run errands and stuff. Sometimes, though, I have had to do stupid things to make people laugh. Like, one time, Sharon made me do a handstand on the front lawn, and I was wearing a skirt. And another time, Jake (a male friend whom Christy had apparently met before) made me order pizza, and when the pizza guy got here, I had to answer the door in my underwear. But Mike was probably the meanest to me. He made me go buy some soda from the store, and I had to use my debit card. And I was wearing some of his crazy heavy metal stuff! I don't know how he can go out in public like that!"

At that last one, Mike broke out laughing, and Sharon convulsed with giggles. Christy simply looked appalled. But after that, her demeanor towards Katie changed dramatically. She began to treat her like a servant, but not in the good-natured and nonchalant way that Mike and Sharon did. Christy demanded that a certain number of ice cubes be in her drink, and that Katie find a tray to carry the drinks on, one handed, cocktail waitress style. Katie went along with it with out complaining. In fact, as usual, she seemed to like being treated in such away. Mike and Sharon had conferred about this, and determined that Katie may very well be a sub, though she denied this to them. She simply seemed to like the attention she got. Of course, the two of them never pushed her, but thoughts of this did help fuel their fantasy life.

Mike played like a machine. He got crappy cards frequently; his luck had never been that good. But logic and precision helped make up for this. His face was usually impassive at all times in his life, never revealing emotion. Something leftover from military school, he said. But now, playing poker, his face constantly held a metallic quality, rarely moving, never smiling, except at the occasional joke or anecdote. He bet, he bluffed, he folded, and his pile of chips, though not growing very much, also never seemed to shrink.

Christy played with fire and determination, things that obviously were very much a part of her life. She made rash, but good, decisions, jumping in, both barrels blazing, obliterating everything in her way. She made bold moves that usually paid off, though there were a few missteps along the way. Her stack of chips would grow and shrink rapidly, inversely proportional to Sharon's.

Eventually, Christy began to get desperate. Her bad-ass attitude was beginning to wane, along with her collection of chips. As this occurred, her treatment of Katie similarly began to degenerate even more. If her glass had the wrong number of ice cubes, Christy would decree that Katie couldn't smoke with Sharon until the next hand. If Katie wasn't quick enough to light someone's cigarette, Christy would toss some small object into the living room and demand that Katie crawl into the next room and carry the item back in her mouth. Finally, Katie really biffed it: the tray she was carrying Christy's drink on was wet from condensation, and the glass slid and dumped itself all over Christy.

"You bitch! Now you're really going to pay! Take off your clothes and let me wear them! You can wear the ones that you just got all soaking wet!"

Katie almost seemed to cower before her raging friend, though she was significantly taller. Her bewildered face looked at Sharon and then at Mike before her hands began to move to comply.

Mike stood up. His dark presence seemed to expand to fill the kitchen. His expression was one of pure malice, and Sharon knew that he was going to lay down the law as he saw it. "That's enough." His tone was loud and forceful, but not quite a yell. Christy rounded on him.

"She's the slave," she said, the emphasis dripping with condescension from the last word. "She has to do it." The little redhead stared up defiantly at Mike.

"Maybe. She's supposed to be your friend, and you've given her nothing but abuse all night. That isn't fair." Then a smile cracked his face, but it didn't quite reach his burning eyes. "Besides, when do Sharon and I get a turn?" His smile was now genuine as her looked at Katie.

"So what do you want to do?" Christy demanded.

"Simple. We'll take turns. Whoever wins this next hand will go first, and then it will continue to the left." His face once again became impassive.

Sharon finally spoke up. "But no one can tell Katie not to smoke with me. I need a smoking buddy! And you can't undo something someone else has told her to do, or we'll just end up wasting the night." Her smile said that the matter was closed, and that everyone should see it her way. Of course, she was right. So Mike sat back down, and Christy eventually returned to her seat.

Katie stood in the kitchen, unsure of what to do. Mike inclined his head towards a towel hanging on the oven door, and Katie grabbed it and began to clean up the mess.

Sharon won that hand. She first had Katie smoke a whole bowl with her before returning to the game. Then Katie was ordered to start cooking quesadillas for everyone. By the time the hand was done, four warm quesadillas were on the table.

Next, of course, was Christy, and she seemed spiteful. Sitting in a wet seat while wearing wet clothes seemed to have only fueled her anger. She wasn't angry with Katie, she was angry at her situation. But Katie was an all too convenient target.

As soon as Katie came under her control, Christy made the same demands as earlier, but with some minor adjustments. "Take off your clothes. All of them. I'm taking them to the bathroom to change. And my clothes won't fit you, so I guess you have to do without." She smiled maliciously. "Besides, I need something to break Mike's concentration." She leered across the table at him. He stared back, unfazed.

Katie began to leave the kitchen, heading towards the bathroom. Christy stopped her. "Where are you going?" The blonde girl stared at her. "I didn't tell you to go change. I said take off your clothes. Right here. And then I'll go change in the bathroom." Katie stood stock still for a moment, her face and neck reddening. But her willpower wilted under the little redhead's unflinching gaze. Finally, Katie began to pull her blouse off, followed by her shoes, socks, and pants. When she was down to her underwear, she noticed that Mike had dealt the cards and the hand was under way. She finished stripping quickly, and handed her clothes to Christy, who placed her cards face down on the table and disappeared to change.