‘Like it?’ he asks.
‘Are you trying to tell me something Fifty Shades-ish?’
He laughs. ‘No fucking way. I don’t need to beat a woman to get my kicks. I just thought you’d enjoy this more than the Venetian. It’s all Liberace style opulence, chocolate-covered strawberries and beluga caviar served by butlers with white gloves over there.’
‘And you don’t have to pay for any of this?’
He grins, at once boyish and delicious. ‘Nope.’
‘How come they treat you so good?’
He shrugs. ‘My claim to fame is that I once lost a whole million at their baccarat table and they’re hoping I’ll repeat that lack of judgment,’ he says dryly.
My eyes widen. ‘One million? Dollars?’
‘Yup. I used to be what they call a whale.’
‘What’s a whale?’
‘At the lower end a high roller is someone who bets between a thousand to five thousand dollars a hand. A serious high roller would play upwards of five grand to about twenty, twenty-five thousand. A big high roller would spend between twenty-five and fifty thousand.’ He stops and smiles. ‘And then you have the whales. Whales start at seventy-five thousand dollars a hand.’
‘And you were one of them?’
‘I was. But now I only come two, maybe three times a year.’
‘God!’ It’s hard for me to even think of anyone blowing that kind of money on the roll of a die.
‘But I still get the eight o’clock reservation, the cabana, tickets for the best concerts in town, and… I get to be imaginative with my requests. So far the management has always said yes to everything I’ve asked for.’
‘Wow! What kind of things are available?’
‘Lunch on a yacht, a helicopter ride somewhere, a game of golf with Tiger Woods…’
‘What have you asked for this time?’
He smiles slow and full of meaning. ‘Lingerie. I have asked for the most expensive, most beautiful lingerie they can find.’
I can’t help it, I flush hard. I can feel my cheeks flaming. ‘You didn’t.’
‘I did. Go and have a look.’
For a few seconds I don’t move. We just stare at each other. Then I turn around and go to the bedroom. At the door I stop and look around. He is watching me, his eyes unfathomable.
By the bedside I see the white box with a black design on it. I open it and it is full of whispers of baby blue lace: a half-cup bra, a thong, suspenders with white bows, and nude stockings. There is a card with a message to open the cupboard. I open the cupboard and gasp. A real cheongsam. Not the cheap thing that looks more like a Hong Kong waitress’s uniform and with a dirty slit that runs all the way up to the crotch like I wore at the club, but the softest, most beautiful, pure white Chinese silk brocade. I run my fingers over the pretty little blue flowers. My grandmother would love this. I turn around and Jake is standing in the doorway.
‘It is so very, very beautiful,’ I whisper. I am so touched my voice shakes.
‘Good. You can wear them all tonight.’
‘Thank you.’
His eyes darken. ‘Thank me later.’
‘You look beautiful,’ he tells me that night.
‘So do you,’ I say.
And he does. He looks good enough to eat. He is wearing a perfectly fitted black suit that totally showcases his great physique, an oyster gray silk shirt that is almost translucent, and polished black shoes. I have never seen him so subdued in his color scheme.
We go for an early dinner at Shanghai Lily. The food is exquisite. The last time I ate lobster that good I was in Singapore with my grandparents. There is even gold leaf on the food to gladden the hearts of the Asian high rollers since gold is considered a good luck charm.
We end up at the Shadow for drinks. I gaze in amazement at the giant backlit screens with the enlarged shadow of a woman dancing behind each one. It looks different from anything I have seen.
I drink a green cocktail and watch the bartenders, who are actually performers who throw bottles up into the air and catch those their colleagues have thrown. The atmosphere is young, fun and totally hip, and I turn my head, smiling, and catch Jake looking at me. The smile dies on my lips. His eyes are smoldering.
‘What is it?’ I ask.
His hand slides into the slit in my dress and up my thighs, parting them. ‘I’ve always wanted to finger fuck you under a table in a public place.’ One finger rubs suggestively against the string of my thong. He drops his voice to a whisper. ‘Maybe because you won’t be able to scream when you come, because everyone is watching.’
The green cocktail sings longingly in my veins as wetness seeps between my legs. My clit swells, begging for his touch. I put my drink down, suddenly daring and uninhibited. ‘Knock yourself out,’ I choke.
With a sensual growl he inserts one long finger into me.
I gasp.
His teeth flash in the dimness. ‘Look at you. Always so wet and hot,’ he says moving his finger in and out of me. ‘Open your legs wider,’ he invites, sliding the thumb of his other hand into my mouth. I catch it between my teeth and suck it. His thumb strokes in circles around my clit while his fingers curl inside me.
‘We could get thrown out for this,’ he whispers.
I release his thumb, my eyes glancing around furtively. It’s dark and no one is looking. ‘They wouldn’t throw a whale out,’ I choke.
‘No, I guess not.’
‘It will be a stern warning, though,’ I mutter, wriggling and rubbing myself against his hand, loving the feel of his fingers inside me, his thumb working my clit.
‘Damn, I love how filthy and greedy you are. How you’d let me do anything with you.’
He plunges his fingers deeper in and my muscles start clenching around them. ‘I can’t wait to get back to our room and see my big cock disappear between your sweet lips until I am balls deep in your mouth. And then I’d like to slide that saliva soaked cock, every fucking inch of it, into your poor little pussy. I am going to stretch her and fuck her until cum shoots out of her. And then I’m gonna suck her as she drips.’
‘Oh Fuck! I’m coming,’ I warn in a strangled gasp.
‘Turn and look at me.’
I turn and look at him, my eyes wide, my face struggling to remain normal. Then the climax rips through me and I clench my teeth and shudder against his hand in an effort not to scream.
Afterwards, he puts his fingers into my mouth and makes me suck them.
NINETEEN
It is eleven o’clock on Saturday night, the lights are flashy, the rock ephemera is hip, and the gamblers are rocking, when we make our way through the casino toward the high limit gaming area called the Peacock Lounge, where once Jimi Hendrix’s peacock vest was hung.
The high limit gaming area is a circular elevated platform off the main floor. It has its own cage and bar. It has obviously been arranged beforehand, so a roulette table has been wheeled in especially for Jake.
I look at Jake. ‘Albert Einstein once said, “No one can win at roulette unless he steals money from the table while no one is looking.”’
‘If you look at roulette through the language of physics, then it is the universe in miniature, a whirling, glittering mix of forces all playing out their elegant tiny dances.’
‘Very poetic.’
The croupier is an Asian girl. She smiles and nods. A man in a suit brings a tray of really cool psychedelic-colored chips and leaves them on the table in front of Jake.
Jake looks at them and smiles his thanks. He pushes five chips toward me. The chips have purple orange, yellow and green in them. Each one says five grand on it.
‘I can’t gamble this much money. I’ll be devastated if I lose,’ I say pushing the money back toward him.
He laughs and pushes it back to me. ‘Keep it for now. Give it back to me later if you don’t use it.’
He places a chip on Red and a chip on Even. The croupier starts rolling the wheel. The ivory ball spins on the outer ring. It leaves the outer track. No more bets.
‘Thirty-three black,’ she calls.
She places a marker on the 33 Black square and sweeps away his money. I swallow. Wow! That was ten thousand dollars gone in just seconds. When I look at him, his face is impassive.
This time he puts two chips on Red and two on Odd. The ball stops on 23 Red. I take a deep breath. He has won twenty thousand. People have begun to gather behind us to watch.
Jake repeats the same sequence and wins again.
A large suited man walks toward our table and stands unobtrusively at the side of it. His eyes are alert and watchful. Now more people come to watch. This time Jake puts five chips on Black and five on Even. A man puts his two chips next to Jake’s.
The wheel turns—8 Black.
He has won a hundred thousand. I place my hand on his. I know how casinos work. The smart player never stays. The longer you stay, the more unlikely you will walk away with anything. ‘Shouldn’t you stop now? You’ve won so much.’
He looks at me, a strange expression on his face. ‘Remember what I told you, Lil? I’m lucky. I’m always lucky.’
He puts the entire winnings, a hundred thousand dollars, on 34 Red. The crowd behind us gasps. It’s straight up betting. Pays thirty-five to one but the chances of winning are so small.
I touch his sleeve, my eyes confused. I can’t understand what he is up to. Why abandon his earlier winning and more careful strategy? ‘Why?’