Mark Carver

The naked deal

CHAPTER ONE

Lane's cold eyes moved over the casino with a flat, bored expression, but his mind whirred constantly. From his perch, a quiet black throne set six feet high in the center of the gambling pit, he could see everything – the crowded green crap tables, the greedy faces, the rows of noisily clicking slot machines, the fast-moving blackjack tables, the spinning roulette wheels. His eyes darted over to the bar and narrowed. He picked up the phone beside him and pushed a button. Instantly a voice answered.

"Security, sir?"

"See that broad in blue at the end of the bar? She's hustling. Get her ass out of here, but quietly."

"Yes sir."

He put the phone down and watched. Two security guards quietly threaded their way through the crowded casino toward the stacked brunette at the end of the bar. She was talking earnestly to a well-dressed business type beside her when one of the guards interrupted. Her face – pretty but too thick and garish with makeup – became angry and she slammed her drink down. She spoke in a shrill voice, which even Lane, ten yards away, could hear, but then the guard broke in, reached for the walkie-talkie on his belt and she suddenly seemed to sag. She shrugged, picked up her purse and let herself be quietly escorted out of the casino. Lane watched her lush curves move interestingly. He calculated with long experience that she was a fifty-dollar hooker. He didn't object to hustlers working his casino, but nothing less than the hundred-dollar class would do for the Green Wheel. You let the cheap floozies in and the next thing you knew the place would be crawling with them, the plush atmosphere tainted. The guard had threatened to call the regular cops and have her busted, and that always worked since they all had records.

Lane continued his restless search, watching for anything and everything that might lead to trouble. His seat was nearly invisible in the center of the casino because of the harsh lighting over the tables while his chair was in darkness. Lane was the casino manager for the Green Wheel in Reno, and he oversaw the entire operation with the eyes of years of experience. His eyes now glanced overhead at the mirrored ceiling. Fucking guards had better not be asleep up there. Two guards roamed catwalks above, watching everything below through one-way mirrors – not just the throngs of customer but the dealers as well. It was the dealers who suffered from the temptation of handling all that unaccountable cash and chips. The dealers usually did the actual stealing, rarely the customers.

A sharp dealer could take up to five thousand a day from the house in a number of ways, but usually with an agent, an accomplice who was a customer. With deft, practiced movements a dealer could pay off double in the bat of an eyelash, or pretend to pick up a bet but gently flick it back so his – or her – accomplice could palm it and use it again. Lane's eyes now rested with a smolder of lust on one blackjack dealer. She was new – only twenty two or three, with a gorgeous pair of tits, a succulently curvey ass and long legs. And every night when she got off shift she left alone. Interesting. His phone rang softly and he picked it up.

"Hey, honey, bring us home a goodie tonight, huh?"

Shit. His wife was drunk again. "Why don't you ease upon the juice, Vera?"

"Why don't you bring me home a luscious chunk with a boiling pussy?" she giggled. "Something hot and juicy for Vera to suck on while you watch? You know you love that, Lane, you know how it turns you on, stud, hnunmm?"

Bitch. He was getting a fierce hard-on just from talking to her. He had to say one thing for his torrid young wife in spite of her drinking and craziness and screwing around – she was the sexiest piece he'd ever had, with tawny skin and hot, eager lips and plump curves that could trigger an erection just thinking about them. She had the hottest, most insatiable mouth and cunt in creation, like electrifying velvet sockets, like madly sucking animals on fire.

And when she went at it with another girl, Lane was in sheer ecstasy. Vera could tease and torment and arouse almost any woman to the point of utter madness, using her fingers and lips and tits and eternally soaked pussy with frantic lust, until they were fainting or begging for mercy. And then Lane would join the action, his thick powerful cock throbbing savagely in response to their soft hot flesh, getting it up and coming three and four times in succession. But teasing wasn't all that Vera liked to do to luscious young girls. She had a crazy streak in her that could drive her helpless partner into a nut-house.

"Come on, Lane," Vera's husky voice urged now, "Bring me home a hot one, honey. Tonight I want a pair of beautiful big tits, all fat and silky and hot, hmmm! Sprinkle sugar on 'em and lick it off – tease 'em and love 'em and suck 'em 'til they're screaming with happiness and then…"

Lane slammed his phone down. It was useless talking to her when she was this drunk. But the fact was she'd given him an immense hard-on and he was almost tempted to run home for a wild quickie – plunge it in, whip it out, return satisfied.

His phone buzzed again and he snapped it up.

"Goddamnit, Vera, I told you to sober up!"

"This is security upstairs," a voice broke in.

"Well, what is it?" Lane said irritably, glancing up at the mirrored ceiling.

"I think I got one for you, Mr. Lane," the voice said excitedly.

Suddenly Lane was alert, sitting tensely up. "Who, Goddamnit? Where?"

"The cute new dealer on table four. Well, I've been watching her for about an hour now, and I think she's got an agent – the guy in seat five with the red tie and blazer. She's double-paying him on wins and once in a while not collecting on losses."

Lane's blood was seething now, with a mixture of fury mid lingering lust from his wife's voice.

"Are you sure?"

"Just about, Mr. Lane," the voice said. "I mean, I saw her double-pay four times in the past thirty minutes, all big bets too. I've had the camera on her for almost an hour. You want me to rush the film downstairs for developing?"

"Yeah, right away, pronto. I want to be absolutely sure on this one, you understand? Which guard is this anyway?"

"Name's Johnson, sir."

"Damn good work, Johnson," Lane said, biting his lip. "If you're right about this one, I'll see that you get a hundred-buck bonus. Now move your ass on that film."

"Yes sir."

Lane put the phone back, lighting a cigarette and running his eyes over the new blackjack dealer through the swirls of smoke. Absolutely gorgeous ass and legs to boot. So the bitch was working with her boyfriend, hm? The film was always the crusher, removing all doubt. When they were confronted with slow-motion pictures, they had a variety of reactions. Some would panic and try to run. Some would break down and cry. Some would claim it was a mistake, a series of slips – that's all. The women dealers almost always broke down and cried. The casinos did not call in the regular cops in such cases. It was a private internal matter and they dealt out their own brands of justice. First offense, slap on the wrist, withhold their paychecks and fire them on the spot. You could never trust a thief in this business, never!

Second offense – that became a bit harsher. A blacklist was circulated throughout all the casinos in the state and if their description was on the blacklist it meant they'd been caught before. Second offense meant a nice thorough beating for the male dealers, a brutal slapping around for the women.

And if they'd been caught twice before?

Lane exhaled smoke through his nostrils and raked his cold eyes over the blackjack dealer's lush ass. Third offense could mean hospitalization, but if they'd been caught too many times or especially if they'd stolen too much from the house… Well, the desert was an awfully vast and desolate place. No tombstones, just bye, bye thief. You simply did not fuck with the big boys' money so lightly.

Lane glanced at his watch. She'd only been on shift about an hour or so and still had seven to go. She was so dumb and anxious to steal she didn't even wait to get into her work-shift, the greedy little bitch. He knew instinctively this would be her first offense. For one thing, she'd been spotted too easily and for another, an experienced thief would wait until later in the evening when the action got heavier, so they'd be much harder to spot.

Okay. The film would be done in about five more minutes. But there'd be no gentle slap on the wrist for this juicy little honey. Not while he had this terrific hard-on. Lane picked up the phone and told the operator to get his home. His wife's slurred voice answered.

"Listen, you ripe-titted little slut," Lane muttered, "I want you sober in exactly one hour understand? Nothing but black coffee. And get the ropes and the whip and the dildo out."

Her squeal of excitement rang in his ear.

"Ooooo! You're bringing home something nice, Lane? Something hot and juicy for Vera?"

"Bet your sweet ass," he pinned, watching the young dealer's curves sway as she flicked out cards like a machine. "A real honey, Vera. And she needs a lesson too. Now I want you sober, Goddamnit! It'll be anywhere from an hour to two hours."

"I'll be sober, I swear it!" Vera breathed, alert and urgent with excitement now. "Oh God, honey, I'm so hot! You sure she's pretty?"

"Sexier than a mink in heat, baby. Now get some coffee, take a shower and put plenty of perfume on your wild pussy. This girl is gonna eat her heart out. Move!"

He slammed down the phone. The dealer was glancing around, looking for her relief now. They get a twenty-minute break every hour, to keep alert. The girl was tapped on the shoulder by her relief dealer. She swung smoothly out of position while she was being replaced and began taking her apron off as she moved toward the velvet ropes that separated the gambling pit from the rest of the casino. Her tits strained proudly at her white blouse and her ripe ass bounced with heavy silken promise as she moved. Lane felt a drop of cream ooze out of the head of his throbbing prick. He watched her go into the coffee shop. A few seconds later her accomplice in the red tie and blazer surrendered his seat at the blackjack table and followed her. Dumb, Lane thought with contempt, really dumb, both of them. Her boyfriend would get a working over, but not too harsh, just enough to make him think profoundly before he ever tried to screw the house again.

The girl had better enjoy her brief coffee break and get as much rest as she could, because she'd sure as hell need it when his crazy wife started in on her luscious young flesh. And the girl would be willing enough, trembling with fear, but begging to please. Because she knew about the casinos' brand of justice, they all did! It was a calculated risk. No one ever took the house! Lane thought furiously. Didn't these dumb bastards ever learn? The house had eyes and ears and cameras everywhere, spies threading among them like customers, other dealers making a specialty of spotting thieves for a generous bonus.

No one ever took the house!

But even Lane should have known there was a first time for everything in this relentlessly moving world. At that precise moment more than a thousand miles away in a peaceful suburb of Omaha, Nebraska the wheels of destiny were churning into motion, sparked by some wild, tempestuous fucking and lavish promises. When the wheels finished grinding in less than two weeks time, the Green Wheel Casino would be taken for more than one hundred thousand dollars in cash in one of the most ingenious capers in history. No camera would be capable of recording the take. No hawk-eyed guard or spy or dealer-informant would have the faintest idea of what was going on.

Not even Lane's sharp, cynical eyes would be able to catch it in time.

And what would come to be known as The Great Blackjack Rip-off would quickly be followed by one of the most diabolical double crosses in history, fiddled with sex and fury and sheer icy vengeance.

CHAPTER TWO

There was a humid blanket of heat in the cheap motel room that left the naked couple on the bed in a seething, dangerous mood. It was an unusually hot summer day in Omaha, and without air-conditioning it could be pure torture.

They lay side by side watching the ceiling, lost in their own thoughts. The man was powerfully built and handsome, with sleek good looks. There was a hint of cruelty around his mouth. The woman had a hard face that had seen too much of the harsh side of life, but her body was classically beautiful, with velvety skin and high, perfectly rounded tits, and a curved ass that made eyes turn after her on the street with naked hunger.

"Just one," Sally said to her husband pleadingly. "Come on, honey, just one Goddamn quickie." She put her hand on his long limp prick and hugged it lovingly as she began to stroke it with passion.

"Lay off," Jack told her irritably. "You've gotta leave in ten minutes anyway, so get up and get your hot ass dressed."

Sally sat up, biting her lip. It was too hot to get laid anyway. She just wanted some reassurance. After all, he was her husband and he was screwing that fat-assed blonde right in their bed, and Goddamnit, in spite of the blonde's overripe tits and dumb expression, she'd be hell on wheels if she ever lost weight and got sharp with clothes and makeup.

"How is she?" Sally asked anxiously. "In the sack, I mean. She looks clumsy, like a cow."

Jack grinned up at his wife, a dazzling, charming grin any woman would be a complete idiot to trust. There were a great many complete idiots around.

"You'd be surprised," he told her softly. "That country pussy ain't nothin' to knock, believe me. Nice and tight and juicy, not as clumsy as you'd think."

"You son-of-a-bitch!" Sally hissed her beautiful naked tits heaving with anger. "I know you have to screw her but do you have to make a fucking production out of it? It's business! Just like when I…"

Her voice trailed off and she looked away, her face burning.

"Like when you were hooking when I met you," Jack finished dryly. "And still do, when we need bread." He sat up, his muscles rippling smoothly, and glanced at his watch. "Let's cut the crap out, Sally. She's due soon. We've got to be packed and ready to leave this dump by morning. Remember, we've got a tight schedule for the next two weeks."

Suddenly the brunette stood up. She watched her husband as she slipped on her clothes. There were times when she hated the handsome bastard more than she loved him, but after all, tonight would be the last night he'd romp in the sack with that corn-fed farmer's daughter. Then it was off to Reno. And then, after a few tense harrowing days of furious action, it would be off to Acapulco, Hawaii… wherever a hundred thousand in cash would take them. The plan was perfect, a masterpiece of flawless, cunning thinking, just like Jack himself. And that silly blonde cow would be left hanging, jilted at the church, just like the famous song. The thought brought a vengeful laugh to Sally's ripe mouth.

"I'd love to see the look on her face a couple of weeks from now," Sally said, zipping up her dress. "Fat, moon-faced bitch waiting desperately for the handsome bridegroom, while the truth hits her like a sledgehammer."

"Don't rub it in," he said sharply. "I don't mind being a bastard once in a while, but let's keep it pure business. There's too much money involved here for any of that jealousy crap."

"You love being a bastard," Sally whispered, leaning down to kiss him goodbye. She brought her lips quickly down to his long rod and licked it lasciviously, feeling it quiver in response. She shivered. "Save some of this good stuff for your wife tonight. Okay, honey? Remember, I'll be out picking up a few bucks for us in the meantime."

"You do your job, I'll do mine," Jack said. "Now split."

In the doorway, Sally paused to stare at him. She hated having to hook again, to sell her lush body, but they really needed the money this time, for the gambling stake. Still, she couldn't control the jealousy seething in her blood.

"Just do me one favor, will you?" she told him sharply. "Just before you split with her to the warehouse, fuck her one more time. In the ass! And shove home every hot long inch, Jack, for me."

She went out the door with a slam.

"Oh God," Carol Shaw moaned ten minutes later, trembling wildly from head to toe as she flung herself passionately on Jack's naked body. "Oh Lord, I'm so terribly aroused!" She began smothering him with kisses, the fierce tingle in her cunt spreading rapidly outward through her loins like a prairie fire. The sight of his muscled naked body and huge cock triggered a violent lust in her. "Missed you," she moaned, squirming her soaked cunt frantically to his rising cock. "Went crazy thinking about you, honey, oh, Jack when we getting married?"

Her pussy was throbbing and sucking madly now, soaking her panties as Jack slid his hands up beneath her dress and squeezed her asscheeks. And in spite of her suffocating kisses, his prick was hot and ready now, urgently pounding. The blonde was sobbing and shuddering as if she were coming already. She crushed her swollen tits feverishly into his chest and rubbed her hands deliriously over his broad shoulders.

"It's too hot and sticky this way," Jack rasped. "Let's take a shower, Carol."

"Yes! Oh Jack, give it to me in the shower!"

He couldn't repress a grin as she climbed off his naked body and unzipped her dress, her huge tit-mounds heaving, her blue eyes blazing as they honed in on his long red cock and swollen balls. She still hadn't worked up the nerve to use the word fuck, he thought dryly. And again he was amazed at the change in her when she unpinned her long blonde hair, took off her thick glasses – the lenses were practically binoculars – and stripped naked.

Carol Shaw was a farmer's daughter, with a rosy complexion, sun-bleached hair and twenty pounds of smooth baby fat still clinging to her flesh. She didn't look her twenty-nine years at all. Her massive creamy breasts thrust out in pink-tipped mounds, sloping down to a surprisingly narrow waist, plump hips and smooth silky thighs. Her curly golden nest of cunt-hairs was drenched with her hot juices, and Carol trembled fiercely as Jack got off the bed and guided her to the shower by stroking her heavily curved ass and pushing gently. She grabbed his surging rod in her warm fist as they stood outside the shower while he adjusted the spray.

"This is my first time in the shower, darling," she whispered, licking her lips. She thrilled at his immense hot prick throbbing in her fingers. "My first time!"

"We'll have plenty of 'em, baby," he said smoothly, grinning his easy smile down at her. Poor kid, he thought, if she only knew…

They stepped inside, under the cool spray and Jack picked up a bar of soap and began sudsing her heaving tits as she faced him. He gently rolled the fat nipples in his fingers until she threw her head back and shuddered and moaned. She clung to his long cock with both hands now, jerking and stroking, teasing her trembling cuntlips with delicious thrills. She screamed softly as his fingers dipped down and rubbed soap over her pussy-flesh, darting inside the juicy heat for a moment to tease her.

"Oh Jack! Jack! I could come right now, honey ooohh!"

She's so hot she's ready to explode, he thought. Christ, what a difference the last few days have made in hr appearance! She would be fabulous if she lost a few pounds and threw her ugly glasses away – a stunner in fact. His wife was right for being jealous. And Carol wasn't really dumb at all just a naive girl, a simple mind and heart – and a fantastically juicy hot cunt.

With a deep moan, Carol suddenly dropped to her knees in front of him and rammed four inches of his burning prick into her mouth. She began sucking in a frenzy of uncontrolled excitement, battering her throat with his boiling knob, jerking his rod in her fist, aching for the taste of his gushing jism. Groaning, Jack cupped her head in his hands and began fucking her in the mouth under the cool spray. She was wasting her time trying to make him come in her mouth, because his stamina was his best point. He could screw for an hour if he really wanted to, letting a woman come again and again until she was heaving deliriously and screaming her lungs out. No matter what they all said about that bullshit called love, he thought sarcastically, it all boiled down to a big stiff cock that pounded in their sucking pussies until they fainted with joy. Then after they came a dozen times in a row they got all mushy-eyed and called it love, because their cunts were tingling with so much happiness they didn't know what else to call it.

"Ahhh, that's good, Carol, hey, that's good, honey!" he gasped, clutching her head firmly as he fucked her wildly whipping lips to a steady rhythm. She was crying and jerking his cock furiously in her hunger for his cream, but all she was really accomplishing was exciting herself to a frenzied pitch. What the hell, Jack thought, let the poor kid enjoy herself while she could. After tonight, she'd have nothing but memories anyway.

Actually, she was giving him a fairly good blowjob. Nothing to compare with his own wife's expert and experienced mouth, but she got an A for sheer effort. She was learning a few tricks now too, whirling her long tongue around the head of his big dick, ripping her teeth gently along the surface of his meat, carefully squeezing his balls as she'd sucked. Jack had had so many girls and women lavish eager blowjobs on him, he was beyond being impressed. But it was his own wife, Sally, who could give him the most artistic, diabolically thrilling blowjob in creation. She was also the hottest, wildest piece he'd ever had, working her searing cunt on his long prick like blazing velvet glove – wheedling, coaxing, sucking his jism out of him faster than any woman ever had. It was really the only reason he'd married Sally. That, plus the fact that she supported him with her sexy body when times got tough – or when Jack got lazy, which was all too often.

But his plan would fix all that, once and for all. No more hustling for either of them after this caper. Easy Street was just around the corner, and the thought so cheered him he almost felt like giving the blonde on her knees before him a break and shooting off in her anxious hot mouth. Jesus, she really wanted it now! She was moaning fiercely and sucking his huge rod in a fury of lust, bobbing her head up and down, then whipping it from side to side, using her tongue like a whip of mad passion on his knob. But then the cold business part of him took over and he decided to hell with that kind of generosity. In the first place, he had to keep his wife satisfied and if she didn't get it twice a day, in either her mouth, pussy or ass, she became frantic. And in order to ensure that the blonde kept her mouth shut for the next two crucial weeks he would have to fuck her until she was raving with happiness, which meant two solid hours right there.

So he might as well get started now.

He tugged at her armpits. "Come on, Carol – stand, honey. Gonna give it to you where it really feels wild, baby. Come on – hey, come on, for Chrissake!"

She clung to his prick with her mouth as if it were the last one in the world, but he finally managed to get her to stand up. He whirled her around so she was facing the tiled shower wall. He had to remind himself in his furious impatience that even though she was twenty-nine she didn't know a Goddamn thing about screwing. In fact, he'd just gotten her cherry two days ago, which was at least half the reason she was so crazy about him now. And why she was willing to do what had to be done tonight for the caper.

"Okay, put your hands up against the wall like this," Jack showed her. He positioned her as if she were going to be frisked by the cops. Christ only knew he had been in that position often enough, and not for a good solid fuck either – at least not this kind.

"Now spread your legs apart, Carol and stick your beautiful ass out. That's right, honey. Now hang on."