“THE COME BET”

By

B. J. Frazier

Copyright 2020. All rights reserved

Published by B.J. Frazier at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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This book is a work of fiction

Adult Reading Material

Table of Contents

Author’s Note

The Come Bet

Caught in Chastity - Title

Author’s Note

Caught in Chastity

I Blame Quentin Tarantino - Title

Author’s Note

I Blame Quentin Tarantino

About B.J. Frazier

Books by B.J. Frazier

Connect with B.J. Frazier

Author’s Note

This book contains erotic fiction with graphic sex and is intended for mature readers only.

My sincere and devoted thanks go to Thomas Antonson for his editing acumen and his uncanny ability to understand which word I really meant to use.

Please visit my website: bjfrazier.com

I know there are a lot of books for sale, and I thank you for choosing mine.

Happy reading,

~B.J.

Severe Content Warning: B.J. Frazier books contain *plots* and *well-developed characters*

Enjoy!

“The Come Bet”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

It was a question Denise was frequently asked, followed by that same stupid and arrogant grin the man displayed.

“From the waitress who brings complimentary alcohol in order to keep gamblers’ heads fuzzy, thereby generating a larger revenue stream for the casino?”

The sweetness of her smile collided with the venom of her words, rendering him confused.

He half-chuckled while his buddies laughed at his rejection.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Already got one, thanks,” she raised her drink in emphasis.

His buddies laughed some more, which prodded him to continue.

“You’re almost out. Offer still stands.” He flashed his sure-fire, home-run smile as he raised his glass in a mock peace offering.

“But I’m not quite out yet. Rest assured, hubby, that when I am in need of quenching a future thirst, I’ll take care of it on my own.”

“Ooooh,” his buddies sang.

The man hastily moved his left hand under the table, as if doing so could make her un-see his wedding ring. Redness crashed into his face, and he downed the rest of his drink.

“Another scotch and soda for me, darlin’,” he said to the waitress, slamming his empty glass on her tray.

In an attempt to save face with his buddies, he turned to Denise and asked, “So, you one of them feminist bitches, then?”

Denise wasn’t offended: The man was predictable. Plus, she knew she wouldn’t be required to respond.

Almost immediately, his buddies let out a collective “whoa” and tried to calm him down with pats on his back and murmurings of, “Settle down, Roger.”

At the same time, the pit boss drowned out their whispers. “Hey! I don’t tolerate that kinda talk at my table, y’hear?”

“Thanks, Randy, but I’m okay. Denise smiled at the pit boss, who nodded while continuing to glare at the guy. “Besides, he’s entitled to his pencil-dicked opinions since he got his poor wittle feewings hurt.”

The guy’s friends tried to hide their snickering.

“Where are the dice, Randy? I’m here to play some craps!” Denise redirected the action.

“Get the dice out,” Randy told his stickman.

* * * *

Denise Tracewell loved to vacation in Vegas but was there for a business conference. Her game of choice was craps, and her choice of casinos was Harrah’s.

She’d known Randy since he first began as a dealer, when she noticed his payouts weren’t correct as a stickman. Instead of ratting him out to the pit boss, she approached him as he went on break.

Knowing the policy against fraternizing with guests, Denise told Randy to meet her in the Margaritaville Casino, which people used as a pass-through to the larger casinos.

“When you’re on stick, you’re forgetting to subtract the original bet from your payout,” she explained. “I mean, it’s good for me but you’re new, and your films will be watched. You’ve got a nice way about you, and I like you, so I don’t want to see you get fired.”

Randy considered her assertion. “No, that’s not right because you bet a dollar on the hardways, and a hard ten came up. The odds are eight to one, and I flipped you a ten and asked for two back.”

“That’s a very good memory, Randy. Accurate, too; as far as the memory goes. But what’d you do with my original bet?”

Randy’s eyes widened as his eyebrows raised. “I left it on the table.”

“As you’re supposed to do--”

“But it’s also why I’m supposed to subtract the bet from the payout! It makes sense now.”

“They’ll let it slide ‘cause you’re new.”

“Thanks, Ms.?”

“Denise.”

“Thanks, Denise. I won’t forget this.”

From then on, she always sought his table. They managed to keep their friendship from management. Even when Randy was promoted to pit boss.

Any female with a knowledge of craps was a novelty. Add in long, dark hair with a face and body that men wanted to fuck, and the explosion was a colorful burst of fireworks! Randy always protected her from drunken advances, though she could handle her own.

While Denise never spoke of her conquests, he knew she was a player. Even though he couldn’t quite figure out her game plan, the side show was always entertaining.

* * * *

The snickering of his buddies incensed Roger. He turned his head slightly to the left while he leered at Denise to his right. “You think tha’s funny?! With her potty mouth and insults? She’s the one askin’ for guys like me to buy her drinks, dressed like that!”

He took a step toward her, and Randy bristled. Denise held up her hand, though, to let him know she’d handle it.

“Yess, when I got dressed before coming here, I thought, hmm, which outfit will best attract a come-on by an out-of-shape, middle-aged, married douchebag who thinks ‘What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas’ gives him carte blanche to cheat on his wife with any little nugget he fancies?”

Randy chuckled to himself and made eye contact assurance with his crew. This wasn’t Denise’s first rodeo, and it would be a quick demise for the poor bull.

The guy took another step toward Denise, who was at the end of the table. The gaggle of buddies moved with him in an attempt to prevent him but only served to fuel his fire.

One guy, however, stepped in between them with his back to Denise and his arms up to Roger. “Hey, Roger, take it easy. Just walk away from this one, okay?”

“You heard what she just said--”

“Doesn’t matter--”

“--she’s askin’ t’be put in her place, Blake.”

“No, she’s not.”

“Then wha’s she askin’, huh?”

“To be left alone, Roger.”

“Y’want me t’walk away when that whore displaced my name ‘n th’other stuff? Nah. I know women, Blake. And I know y’ain’t had one in a while, but I got this bitch. Step outta my way.”

The man tried to push Blake.

“You’ve had a few too many.” Blake grabbed his arm and held it.

“Tha’s got nothin’ t’do with it.”

“It does.”

“Gimme one good reason why I shud listen t’you.”

“I’ll give you three: Mary, your son and your daughter.”

The two men had a staring contest until Roger nodded and took a step back, and Blake released his arm.

“I doubt you will, but you should apologize to the lady, Roger.”

“The fuck I shud! And tha’s no lady!”

The gaggle suggested another casino.

“I ain’t goin’ t’nother casino. We’re stayin’ here. She dossn’t like it, she can leave!”

Roger did, however, move to the opposite side of the gaggle, away from Denise.

Blake remained in place as a bookend closest to Denise, at whom he shrugged. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your apology to provide,” she replied.

“I know, but it’s all you’re gonna get, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll accept your sentiment but I won’t allow you to speak for him.”

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