From alt.sex.stories.tg Sun May 5 00:48:53 1996 Path: mordred.cc.jyu.fi!news.csc.fi!news.eunet.fi!EU.net!uunet!in1.uu.net!news.i-link.net!usenet Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg Organization: I-Link Lines: 448 Message-ID: xeigxY5fa9fN090yn@i-link.net Reply-To: LabRat@i-link.net (Karen Mitchell) NNTP-Posting-Host: austin-2-8.i-link.net Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
I did not write this and you must be 18 or over to read it as it may contain a great deal of adult explicit sexuality. If this is offensive do not read - delete file. For those of us who enjoy .... enjoy! Please do not ask for files by e-mail - I can barely keep up with what I have now.
HOT HANDS IN VEGAS >by Valerie T
It was six o'clock in the evening when I heard his key in the lock. One look at his face and I knew my feelings of apprehension had been well founded. "Hi!" was all I said, knowing more would follow.
"Hi."
Unable to resist my impulse I asked, "Was it that bad?"
"Exceedingly so."
"How much did you lose?"
"Enough."
"Oh well, easy come, easy go." I bit my lit; this was NOT a good time for flippancy.
"Our dinner reservation is for seven. I'll shower and dress. If we're early, it won't matter."
"OKay. All I have to do is finish dressing and put on my face. I'll be ready." I wasn't ready for THIS. Some years before I'd discovered that, even in heels, one could walk on air and I had been doing just that ever since; especially since my marriage to this handsome young giant now so glumly preparing to step into the shower. We had been married almost a year and I loved him beyond my powers of description and, devoutly, I thanked God for him every night. This was the final evening of our three day splurge in 'Vegas. As I prepared my face for dinner I wondered further about my feelings of apprehension during the day. Strange, they had followed his excellent run at craps the night before; or, perhaps the feelings had been the cause? There was no further conversation until we reached Le Petite Cafe, a jewel of a gourmet dining room just off the main casino in the Sagebrush Hotel. Not a word; just silence - appalling and oppressive. I though I'd scream. I HAD to know how much he'd lost, yet dared not pursue it. Perhaps he would talk over cocktails. I would wait. My husband order our cocktails and after they were served the waiter offered me a menu. I declined the menu saying "Thank you, no. The gentleman will order for me."
Ted accepted the proffered menu, placed it to one side and said "Not now. We'll order later." Not now will he order nor will he talk to me and right now perhaps I shall scream. Refusing to look at me, he stared sullenly into his drink, sipping from it occasionally. This simply could not be my ebullient, interesting, young man-on-the-way-up husband! We were starting our second cocktail when I decided the dreadful silence must end; I would bring it out into the open and get it over with. "Darling, I know you had a bad afternoon. Let's clear the air and talk about it. How much DID you lose?"
"I don't know."
"Don't know. What do you mean, you don't know? That's ridiculous."
"I mean precisely that."
"But, you won over ten thousand last night. Did you lose that too?"
"Yes."
"Oh honey, that's stupid." Leaning toward me, he roared, "Damn it, I made it first didn't I?"
"Don't ever talk that way to me. Not now. Not ever."
"Oh? Now it's the 'I'm-a-lady' routine is it?"
"It's not routine. I AM a lady."
"Like hell you are. You're not even a REAL woman." I think my heart stopped. Somewhere inside me someone pulled the pin of a hand grenade. I had revealed the truth about myself before our marriage and I knew now that I would regret it the rest of my life. When I could speak I withheld the obvious inflammatory rejoinder saying, softly, "That was incredibly cruel."
"Honey, I apologize. I really am beat and your getting on me, well I just flared up."
Although I had his apology I would never lose the scar. I selected a cigarette from my pack and Ted lighted it for me. After inhaling deeply, I swallowed long from my cocktail and began an extended exhale which came out in syllabled puffs as I answered sweetly, "Without aggravating what has devolved into a moment of tension, may I ask how much money you still possess?"
"Not a nickle. After I ran out of bills the slots took all my change."
"Beautiful." Gambling rule number one: never chase losses. Never. My wonderful father's teaching. Thank heaven Ted hadn't opened a casino credit line. I finished my drink.
"Barbie, how much money do you have?"
"Oh no!"
"Come one, tell me."
"I'll tell you, my darling." I replied sweetly, "But it's off limits to you. I have a hundred in my purse up in the room and that's grocery money. Here, in my evening purse, I have a thousand. Which I won and intend to keep. Period. End of conversation."
"Great. Let me have five hundred."
"You've got to be kidding. I can't believe this."
"Look, -- I feel hot. I know I'll win."
"No. We're not throwing good money after bad. You've lost all you won and more. No more gambling."
"Just lend it to me. I'll return it with interest."
"No. We're through gambling. I'll join you in not gambling. We'll watch the lounge show instead."
"Damn it Barbara, you're being insufferable. Give me five hundred."
"You're the one who's being insufferable. I've never seen you like this. Now, why don't we order?"
Again, Ted leaned toward me. "I said give me the money. Now!"
"No! I will not!"
He slammed his napkin to the table and as he slid out of the booth he said "You've got the money. Order your own damned dinner. And pay for the drinks while you're at it."
In shocked disbelief I watched him walk away from the table, past the maitre d' and out of the casino. For as long as I'd known him I had never seen anything that would indicate he could behave as he had in the last few hours. I crushed out my cigarette and the waiter hurried to light the one I extracted from the pack. I was getting to be a real chain smoker, but then I always seemed to do that when I'm agitated. And I was certainly that. As I sat smoking and sipping my drink I wondered what to do. There was a house phone on the corner of my table and, on the slim chance he'd gone to our room I decided to wait a few minutes and then call. I still wouldn't give him the money, but if he were more reasonable we might arrive at a peaceful solution to the problem. I finished my cigarette and drink, removed the headset of the phone from its cradle and called our room. No answer. Fighting tears I asked the operator to page him. I waited until I was sure there had been no response from my page. For a moment I sat at the table mortified, I reached for the handkerchief in my tiny purse to catch the tears spilling down my cheeks. With proper diffidence the waiter approached asking "Pardon me madam, but will the gentleman be returning?"
"I think not. May I have the check please?"
He smiled engagingly, "Perhaps Madame would consider a light dinner. It might be wise."
"Thank you, no. Just the check please."
What I really needed was something for the pain in my tummy. As I strolled through the casino looking for Ted I was aware of the number of men staring at me. And why not? I am an astonishing beautiful blonde. Tall, slender, elegant with the form and grace of a fashion model. I was wearing and Oscar De la Renta mid-summer night's magic in black velvet glossed with white satin. Ordinarily, I accepted such attention with feigned indifference but, after Ted's scathing denunciation I needed the attention. Unable to find my husband I withdrew to the seclusion of our room where I flung myself onto the bed and allowed the tears to flow. "You're not even a real woman." he had said. Dear God in Heaven, why had I been born that way? Would I have it thrown in my face all my life? Never again would I be truthful -- about that -- with anyone. Ted's losing over ten thousand dollars was bad enough, but stabbing me in the soul and walking out on me was incisively unforgivable! After a while I stopped crying. The waiter had been right -- I should have had something to eat. I call room service ordering a double Chivas on the rocks, a large dish of vanilla ice cream, a pot of coffee and a chicken sandwich. The scotch eased the pain in my tummy, the sandwich appeased the gnawing hunger, the ice cream went down easily and while drinking coffee described circles in futility. None of which eased the pain in my heart. For long moments I stood at the large window, gazing out over the Strip, but not seeing the lights. I had been born a genetic male; for all purposes - legal, social, whatever - I had been considered a boy. Early in my childhood it became apparent that my actions and inclinations were feminine. Everyone, including my pediatrician, believed it to be a passing phase. As I grew older the "phase" became a way of life and I was taken to several psychiatrists, all of whom were unanimous in their insistence that I would never make it as a male. My family was wonderful. My father, of course, was disappointed, yet he put no pressure on me to change my obvious inclinations. Mother and Father decided that what was best for me was what really counted and they locked-in a love I would have for them all their lives. I have always simply adored my father. As soon as I was old enough I started the transsexual program. It was my good fortune to have a father who could easily afford the expense of such a program. I went through the whole procedure, or rather series of procedures -- hormones, electrolysis, charm school, vocal training, dancing and learning well the duties and chores of the female of the species. Prior to surgery I lived the requisite two years as a female in order to prove to myself, and others, that I could succeed as a female. I absolutely LOVED it! In time, the surgery, recuperation and all legal processes were behind me and I was an acknowledged female. A female without, however, a woman's reproductive capacity. I know that I would never totally be a woman. Never quite real. Never complete. Never more than a beautiful shell, hence my frustration; my guilt; my vulnerability. I do want children and hope, passionately, to be allowed to adopt two.
Ted knows all this. I had been honest with him. We met long after the completion of my transformation, and I had fallen instantly and hopelessly in love with him. His interest in me had been obvious. His pursuit immediate. As soon as I realized we were on the threshold of a serious relationship I revealed the truth. While assuring me I was the prettiest, most feminine girl he'd ever known his reaction was disbelief, shock and disappearance. Weeks passed without a word during which I cried a lot and leaned on my sister, as I had much of my life. At the end of a month he telephoned, in substance apologizing for the long silence telling me I was more than enough woman for him; that he had been miserable without me and suggesting we get on with the romance. We married a year and a day after that wonderful phone call. Ted knows my happiness as a woman was separated by no more than tissue thinness from insecurity and vulnerability. Knowing this, even impelled by irritation, how could he have said such a thing? A sobering thought. Damn! MY father's girl would NOT stay in her room feeling sorry for herself. And, I AM my father's girl. I had a thousand dollars; why not go to the casino and blow every lovely penny? Why not have fun? Hanging in my closet was a mood-brightening gown. Why not change into it? Why not grace the temple of chance with a splash of glamor? Why not, indeed? With exquisite care I redid my makeup, mindful of the bright casino lights, yet understating it just a pinch. I brushed and patted my hair into a soft facial frame. I removed my bra, staring at my reflection, noting each separate and pleasing detail. Blowing myself a kiss and thinking "How dare he!" I brushed away the memory of his dreadful words. I stepped into my gown, an opulent pink taffeta topped with lush ruffles worn off-the-shoulder; slid my feet into golden sandals and added my favorite fragrance. Save for the rings on my third finger, left hand, and my diamond watch I wore no jewelry. Before leaving the room I stared, for a few seconds, into the full length mirror and felt, once again, the sublimity of this ineffable life so nearly denied me. A thousand dollars can disappear quickly in Vegas. My intention was to try, for the fun of it, a little of everything to keep my mind on something other than myself. Although slots are stupid and time consuming I started there. After purchasing three rolls of quarters I moved to the first available machine and discovered it was a five-way play. By inserting five coins at a time one had five different lines on which to win - or loose. Way to go! I began feeding the hungry machine, pushing quarters in as fast as I could, winning an occasional three or five back as my pile grew smaller. While playing I felt my anger rising to the surface and after inserting the coins I pulled the handle harder than necessary and watched exaltantly as the wheels spun. And repeat! Pulling the handle harder and still harder, feeling some of my anger going through my arm into the machine. Again! Again! And again, until suddenly the hotel insignia appeared across the top line. A loud buzzer sounded, lights all over the machine flashed frantically but no quarters fell. I stood looking perplexedly at the machine until an attendant appeared at my side. I looked at her in amazement saying "I think I won something, but nothing dropped out."
"You just won five hundred dollars, sweetie. Just stand here and don't touch anything 'til I get back." In moments she returned, handed me five crisp one hundred dollar bills, suggesting I play off the win. I thanked her, dropped in five more quarters, pulled the handle and noting I still had about a third of my original investment of quarters handed them to young woman at a nearby machine whose expression implied she was not doing well.
"Try these," I said. "They're lucky quarters."
I sauntered into the keno room with my gorgeous derriere swinging saucily. I played twenty dollars on the first game and won two thousand. I walked out of the room so stunned with disbelief that I was almost almost, but not quite, unaware of the soft whistles and murmured comments as I passed a group of young men. Finding an empty stool at one of the roulette tables I wriggled my fanny in position, handed the dealer a thousand asking for quarters in return. The dealer called the pit-boss, showed him the money, put it through the table slot and slid a stack of forty across to me. The pit-boss smiled at me and returned it with my most charming smile thinking "In your hat, jerk." Being a lady never precludes thinking. I played crazy combinations; twenty three, my age; nineteen, my birth date; fives and eights because I believe them to be lucky. Twice I hit, which kept me going and killing time. While this was going on I ordered a double Chivas from a passing waitress. I dropped a chip on her tray. In time, however, my luck ran out and was down to my last five chips. I placed them on a number I had purposely avoided throughout the game; twenty-seven - Ted's age. The wheel spin, the little white ball zipped in its groove then clacked and rattled as it bounced on the wheel, finally dropping in twenty-seven. I won forty three hundred and seventy-five dollars. Absolutely infuriating! I gave three seventy-five to the dealer and cashed in the remainder of the chips at the cashier's window. After adding a thousand to the loot already in my purse I clutched three thousand on my hand and headed for the crap tables looking for an open spot. Most of the tables were filled so there wasn't room, not even for a stunning blonde holding three grand in her hand. Away over at the edge of the craps section I found a table half filled with losers and selected a place at one end. Handing the money to the dealer I smiled sweetly asking for quarters. Until the dice came to me I played one chip on the line for each shooter and waited. I was right. This was a table of losers. Finally the stickman pushed the dice to me saying "It's up to you, little lady."
"Oh dear!" I said placing a hundred on the line and threw the dice hard, though with a delicate grace and watched as they bounced off the opposite wall of the table, coming up ten. I placed my odds, put a hundred in the come area and began to throw numbers. I don't know how long I held the dice, but the numbers, the passes and chips accumulated generating an electricity and evoking shouts of pleasure and encouragement and sent the current dancing through the casino bringing a roaring crowd to the table. I played as Father had taught me: progressive betting, playing the pass line and come areas only, betting every roll and taking full house odds - always. Throughout, I remained expressionless, aloof, ignoring the crowd and holding tight to the security of my ladylike demeanor. Although still angry, I didn't allow it to show. I was angry with Ted for his despicable behavior. Angry with the people who cheered me as I gratified their greed and who, had they known I was born a genetic male, would consider me a psycho-sexual freak unworthy of little more then their scorn. And yes, I was angry with the defects of my birth and the traumas thus engendered. In my anger I rejoiced. In my exaltation I flung my beauty, my sexual allure, my elegance, my surpassing expertise in throwing dice in their faces. And, finally, in my anger I threw a losing seven. I handed fifteen hundred in chips to the dealer saying "For the crew. Please cash me in." I smiled, he had been efficient and sweet. Tired and mildly exhilarated with my incredible luck I returned to our room with over twenty-three thousand dollars in my purse. Although Ted hadn't returned I locked and bolted the door. When he did return he would have to wait until I let him in. In transferring the money to the large purse I'd carry on the plane I discovered my wallet was empty. Damn him! For a lousy hundred he had robbed me. I undressed slowly, removed my make-up and rubbed night cream into my skin; slipped into my nightgown; took my book to bed and wriggled into propped pillows. My anger, I discovered, was replaced by worry. Suppose Ted, in his anger, had taken the rental car and done something careless, or aggressive or stupid and was lying in a hospital bed somewhere? No, they would have found his hotel key and had me paged. Wouldn't they? I lifted the receiver of the bedside phone and rang the desk. No messages I was told. I tried to read but found concentration impossible. As if the worry about Ted wasn't enough what was I to do with the twenty-three thousand? I couldn't give it to Ted, whom I no longer fully trusted. What a positively revolting realization. Well, I'd give it to Father, tell him the whole story and let him invest it for me. My father! Good heavens, Ted had known he was wealthy. He knows about the trust fund Father established for me. My suspicions were horrible and sickening. Again I began to cry. "You're not even a real woman." he'd said. Had he married me for my money? Father's money and position? I felt ill, alone, nervous and insecure; I felt I didn't know who the hell I was and worst of all I knew not whether I had a man or not. At the sound of a key in the lock I moved quickly to my dressing table and applied lipstick. The doorknob rattled as I blotted my lips with a tissue. The rattling was followed by a light tapping on the door. At the door I asked "Who's there?"
"Barbie, it's me. Ted." I opened the door, turning instantly away and returning to the bed. After closing and locking the door Ted came to the bed and sat on a corner at my feet. Although he'd been drinking he wasn't drunk.
"Sweetie, I'm sorry. I really am. I wasn't very nice this evening." I glanced at my watch, seeing it was after two. Without replying I regarded him with steady eyes, my anger and hurt clearly visible. "You're angry and I don't blame you. None-the-less I have something for you." He removed a roll of hundreds from his pocket, counted out ten and placed them in my lap. Struggling to keep from laughing I asked "Where did you get that? I thought you were broke."
"I borrowed the hundred from you told me you had up here. I knew I was hot. I drove to the Sahara and ran it up to five thousand before I cooled. Only THIS time I quit while I was ahead."
"Keep it." I said.
"Okay, you're angry and I'm in the doghouse. I'll put your's in your purse. Maybe you'll feel better about it in the morning."
"No!" I snatched the money. "I'll put it under my pillow and let the Tooth Fairy decide what I should do with it."
"What can I do to make you un-mad at me?"
"I don't know. Give me time for one thing. Come to bed and get some sleep, we've got a plane to catch later this morning."
"Okay." I put in a call for ten, snapped off my light, pushed Ted's pillow to his side and settled myself under the sheet facing away from him. After showering Ted eased into his side of the bed. I was still staring into the semi-darkness, thinking, wondering, feeling not quite the same happy, beloved young woman who had boarded the plane three days earlier in San Francisco. Nor, in my eyes, was Ted the same man.
"Good night honey." He said kissing my shoulder.
"Good night." I mumbled. His hand caressed my hip and slid its way down the slope to my waist. His fingers stroked my tummy.
"No!" I said.
"How can you say 'No' you lovely female?"
Damn him! he knew so well how to control me. He knew my needs, my weaknesses and responses. He stroked my breasts gently and moving closer kissed my neck, my ear lobe and moved his hand to my thigh, down my leg and under the silken folds of my gown and then upward until, gently, he was caressing the site of my womanhood.
With eyes moist with tears I turned, circled his neck with my slender arms saying, "Oh darling. I was so lost and helpless without you."
He softly kissed my tears away. Kissed my mouth hard. His probing tongue spun me into dizziness. He spread my legs and slowly, as he penetrated me, I encircled his waist with my legs, drawing him closer to me and deeper into me. I pulsed with ecstacy responding to his maleness, his strength. My ultimate response was, however, to his reaffirmation of my femaleness. My femininity. In an incandescent flash words exploded in my mind; I AM a woman. His woman. His? Well, for the moment at least.