The Things We Do For Lust: Book 1: To The Edge

  The Things We Do For Lust

  Book 1:To The Edge

  By

  Sean Geist

  Published by Sean Geist

  Copyright 2014 Sean Geist

  Cover Image © eskay lim / BigStock.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written consent of the author, except for brief quotes used in reviews.

  All characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to any actual persons is entirely coincidental.

  All characters in this story are over the age of 18 unless specified.

  Acknowledgement

  I would like to thank my infinitely patient and understanding wife who was willing to read my work and offer her helpful guidance. She will always be my muse. I would also like to thank my friend Laura who also offered her help in making this book a reality. She did some valuable, last-minute editing. I also want to thank D. for helping me on the first edit of this work before you. It's her eagle eye that catches mistakes I miss. Any that remain are my fault entirely. And a final thanks to you my reader. I hope you enjoy.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  "Thirty-one" the croupier called. "Pay odd and black."

  Thirty-one, goddamn thirty-one. Why did it have to be my lucky number 31? It hit and we won $1800.

  For me 31 has always been a special number. I was born on March 31st. My wife Robin was born on July 31st. I wore the number when I played basketball in high school, and I quit the soccer team my senior year when they wouldn't let me wear it. I love the number 31. I have two vanity license plates which incorporate the number - MY31A and MY31B - and it's in most of my computer passwords (I'm not giving those numbers away).

  I proposed to my wife on her 31st birthday. It was lucky for me then; she said yes, obviously, and now three years later, just three days shy of our wedding anniversary, the number came up and it paid off nicely.

  I jumped out of my seat at the end of the roulette table and grabbed my wife into a full vigorous hug. I could see the excitement in her eyes.

  "We won honey!" she said, pulling me into a full body hug. "Can you believe it, we won?!" She gave me a kiss on the lips. She then turned to Scott, who was sitting on the other side of her. "We won," she repeated. And then, shockingly, she gave him a kiss too. It was also a quick one, and on the cheek, but still.

  My lucky god damn number. Won me eighteen hundred bucks and nearly cost me everything. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's back up a bit. Maybe a couple hours or so, before we won and before Scott came into our lives.

  We were riding the escalator down to the main gaming floor at the Planet Hollywood Hotel and Casino. I took out our money roll and counted out five 20 dollar bills. I put the rest back in my pocket. We had a $500 budget for gambling and it had to last until Friday. My business was picking up the tab for our hotel and meals; anything extra was up to me.

  While I was worrying about our money, my wife was taking in her surroundings. This was her first trip to Vegas. She grew up in Jersey and had visited Atlantic City many times, but the boardwalk and salt water taffy couldn't compare to the hucksters and con men, hookers and panhandlers that crowded the four mile busy narrow sidewalks that ran up one side of Las Vegas Boulevard and down the other. Broadway and Times Square may come close, but nothing beats the shear variety of humanity on display any weekday on the Strip.

  Robin was caught up in the haze of cigarette smoke and clanging of digital slot machines as we neared the bottom of the escalator.

  "I wanna play slots," she said. "I like those Wheel of Fortune machines."

  "How about craps?" I answered. "We can win lots of money real fast."

  "And lose it just as fast. A couple bad rolls and we'll be going to bed early."

  "Nothing wrong with that," I said, giving her a quick slap on the ass.

  She turned to me and smiled. "There'll be plenty of time for that this week, I promise you," she said. "Just wait til you see what I have planned for you on Thursday." Robin had a wicked gleam in her hazel eyes. Her matching smile sent a thrilling shiver down my spine, causing my cock to stir.

  "You know your teasing gets me hard," I said.

  "Yes. Yes, I do know that."

  Trying to regain my composure, I looked around the casino floor. I pointed out a roulette wheel with a couple of open seats.

  "Okay, how about roulette?” I said. “You get your wheel of fortune and maybe we can win lots of money."

  I took the spot at the end; Robin sat next to me, around the corner. I tossed the croupier my five twenties and my players club card. "Give me singles, please," I said.

  The table had a five dollar bet minimum, but I could split that up into one dollar increments while playing the numbers. Any outside bet, like Black/Red or Even/Odd, had to be at least $5. I wasn't going to make any of those bets.

  "One hundred going out," the croupier called, as she slid a rack of chips my way. They were plain yellow with a purple PH stamped in the middle on each side. They were only good at the roulette table, so they didn't need any of the security features of the regular chips. You take these chips away from the wheel and they lose their value.

  "Good luck, sir," she said to me before adding, "Place your bets" to the other two people at the table.

  I gave 20 chips to Robin. "You bet first," I said. She put two chips down on 31, of course, one of the line between 25 and 26 and she threw two chips to the dealer. "Put those on 3 and double zero," she said, instructing her to put the bets on the appropriate spots on the far side of the table.

  The dealer did as asked, then gave the wheel another spin and, with a flick of her wrist, sent the little white ball on its way. While we sat back and watched the wheel and ball travel in opposite directions, the two other players at the table placed their wagers. A young black woman, spilling out of her tight green strapless dress put two $25 chips on red. An older white man sitting next to her in a Jimmy Buffet T-shirt and black jeans scattered about 30 single chips between 10 different numbers.

  The white ball had left the groove that ran along the inside of the wheel housing and was slowing down. After a few moments the dealer waved her hand across the betting table. "No more bets," she said.

  The Buffet fan put down three more chips on the number eight. The dealer simply picked them up and placed them back in front of the player.

  "Sorry sir, no more bets."

  The ball hit one of the bumps set at regular intervals around the wheel. This sent it caroming randomly over the wheel until it finally came to rest in one of the 38 slots. From where I was sitting, I couldn't tell which number it had landed in.

  "Twenty-two,” the croupier said, “pay even and black."

  Everyone at the table groaned, the two other bettors a little louder than Robin and myself.

  The dealer placed a fancy marker down on the empty spot marked twenty-two. With two quick swipes of her arms she cleared all the chips off the betting surface and began sorting them.

  The woman in the green dress had no more chips in front of her, so she just picked up her complimentary drink and walked away. The man playing the numbers took a last swig of his Bud Light, grabbed his chips and turned to go.

  The dealer looked up, but didn't stop sorting. "Sir, can I swap those chips out for you?"

  The man angrily tossed
them at the dealer and walked away. They landed in front of her, mixing with the other losing chips. She turned to look at the pit boss. He nodded his head. She took the three chips and added them to the stack. She then took three regular $1 chips, sharply tapped them against the side of the table and dropped them in the tip box.

  "Place your bets," she said to no one in particular.

  We continued playing. For the next half hour Robin and I took turns placing five dollar bets. We mostly lost, but the occasional hit let us stay pretty close to even. We were down to about 80 dollars before another player decided to take a seat next to my wife.

  He was tall, maybe 6'4", with wavy blond hair cut just off his collar, a closed cropped goatee and steel blue eyes. He looked Mediterranean to me, maybe northern Italy? He wore black designer jeans that were just a little too tight, not that I was looking, and a light blue paisley shirt with its long sleeves rolled up past his elbows.

  He threw down five one hundred dollar bills and a platinum player's club card. He asked the dealer for a mix of $5 and $25 chips. While the dealer counted out his chips, and the pit boss entered his player's card into the computer, he turned to Robin and offered her his hand.

  "Hi, I'm Scott," he said.

  "And I'm Robin," my wife answered as she shook his hand. I was busy placing our next round of bets and I hadn't been paying too much attention.

  "You here alone?" he asked.

  "Oh no," Robin said somewhat hesitantly. "I'm here with my husband." She motioned toward me with her hand.

  Scott stretched across the corner of the table, offering his hand to me. "I'm very sorry," he said. "Don't want you thinking I'm hitting on your wife."

  "No problem," I said as I shook his hand. He had a firm, strong grip, that I tried to return in kind.

  "You don't mind if I sit here, do you?"

  "Of course not," my wife said. "Gambling's more fun with more people.”

  The pit boss, a short, thin man in his late 50's, came back to the table. “Welcome back Mr. Salvatore,” he said as he handed back Scott's player's club card. “Good luck, and if you need anything, just ask.”

  Italian, just like I thought.

  We continued making our little five dollar bets, winning just enough to keep us at the table without running out our stake. Scott was making larger bets and was losing quite a bit. He pulled out his bank roll again and peeled off another five hundred dollars. They must love having him play here.

  "So, I never did catch your name," he said to me while the croupier was getting his chips.

  "Oh, sorry. I'm Peter."

  "So, Peter, where are you and Robin from?"

  "Phoenix," I said.

  “Well, we live there now,” my wife said, “I was born in New Jersey but moved to Arizona for school.”

  "I like Phoenix,” Scott said. “Nice city, but it's the weather I really love."

  "No argument here," I said.

  "So where are you from?" Robin asked. She normally didn't chat up complete strangers. I looked her way, but she was looking at Scott.

  "I'm from L.A., but right now I'm living in Kansas City, on the Missouri side. I own a string of health clubs in Southern California and just opened two new locations in KC. I'll be living out there for another six months or so til I can get things up and running."

  We kept playing and chatting. I talked about how much I enjoyed growing up in Arizona. Scott went on about all the trips he took, checking out various other spas and gyms getting ideas for his own locations.

  Robin didn't say much, she just seemed to hang on to every word that Scott said. I started to feel a little jealous. Since we were in Vegas for our anniversary, I felt Robin should have been paying more attention to me.

  On the other hand, I couldn't deny the fact that Scott did have a certain charisma. He sold himself and his businesses well. That kept me from getting too worked up by Robin's interest.

  After about an hour and half, Robin and I found our stake was down to 50 bucks. I was getting bored with the game and thought about trying something else.

  "Wanna cut our losses and head over to P.F. Chang's for dinner?" I asked my wife.

  Robin looked away from Scott and toward me. "Sounds like an idea," Robin said, with just a trace of hesitation. "How about one more bet?"

  Looking back on it, I should have said no. I should have said we could save the 50 dollars for tomorrow's stake. But I didn't. Instead I began to spread out another five dollars on the board.

  "Sorry to see you two go," Scott said. "but if this is your last bet, why not make it count?"

  "What?” my wife and I said in unison.

  "Go for broke. Bet it all on one number. I'll bet with you."

  I looked at the stack of chips in front of me, then at my wife. "A hundred dollars was our limit," she said, "Why not take a shot? Pick a number."

  I was completely shocked. Robin was no penny-pincher, but she was never a high roller either. In fact, she was the one to suggest our daily lose limit. I looked at Scott; he just shrugged his shoulders. My wife looked at me expectantly, waiting for my reply. Her eyes open just a little too wide. She wanted this bet. She wanted to risk 50 dollars on the instigation of a man we had just met. It was a bet we were surely going to lose.

  “Fine,” I said. I was hoping a huge losing bet would end my wife's developing crush with Scott.

  Robin's eyes lit up. She turned to our new friend and asked him, “What's your number going to be?”

  I was trying to think of number to bet on. I looked at the handy tote board all modern casinos use to track the recent winning numbers. I figured I'd choose one that was due.

  "I don't know,” Scott said. “Why don't you pick one for me, Robin.”

  "Thirty-one," she said without hesitation.

  Thirty-one, I thought. I wasn't feeling too good about my wife sharing our lucky number with a stranger.

  "Thirty-one it is," Scott said, and he placed 4 green chips down on 31, a hundred dollar bet.

  Whatever doubts I had were quickly washed away by the adrenaline released into my bloodstream. Here was a complete stranger putting up a c-note based on my wife's suggestion. I couldn't put the money down on any other number; I didn't want to look like a coward in front of Robin.

  I slid my stack of chips to the dealer and told her to put it all on 31. She deftly counted down the stacks and put two green chips on the board. The she let the little white ball loose and set in motion a series of events that would change my life forever.

  ***

  I slid five chips to the cashier, a yellow, a purple, and three black. She gave me 18 hundred dollars, more than what I made back home in a week. As the woman was counting out the bills my wife was behind me talking to Scott.

  "I can't believe we won," she said. "We've never won that much money on one bet." My wife was so excited, hopping up and down, she had to grab Scott's elbow to keep from falling over.

  “Wow, you really are excited,” he said. Scott smiled at me and shrugged again, as if to signal he didn't know what was going on, but he sure was enjoying it.

  I moved away from the window to allow our new friend to cash in his winnings. My wife stayed by his side as the cashier counted out an even larger stack of hundreds. I should have found it odd that she seemed more excited about Scott's winnings than our own, but my own rush of adrenaline clouded my thinking.

  "I guess this is where we part ways," I said, as the three of us walked away from the cashier windows. "I can truly say it's been a marvelous time." I looked at my wife and noted a slight disappointment in her eyes.

  "We don't have to call it a night just yet," Scott said. "I'm kinda hungry myself. Why don't you two have dinner with me?"

  I turned to my wife, hoping she would be as eager as I was to celebrate our win alone, just the two of us. Maybe order a bottle of champagne and some dinner from room service. But I saw a sparkle in her eyes that said she really wanted to continue the celebration with our new friend. If I forced the iss
ue I knew our evening wouldn't end up the way I wanted it to, the two of us in bed, making love like teenagers, so I gave in.

  I had to admit, even though I was getting a little jealous about all attention he was getting from my wife, Scott was charming. He had interesting stories to tell and he seemed like a great guy to watch a ball game with. As long has Robin was happy, I'd be happy.

  "Cool with me," I said. “What about you, honey?” I let the question hang, giving Robin the chance to change her mind.

  “It's too early to turn in,” she said. I wasn't surprised; a little disappointed, but not really surprised.

  "Okay, let's run our winnings up to the room.” I turned to Scott and asked, “Where did you want to meet?"

  "You mentioned P.F. Chang’s earlier, that sounds good," Scott said.

  "Okay, we'll meet you there in 10 minutes." I took hold of Robin's hand and turned to head toward the room. I was abruptly pulled back. I looked at Robin with a raised eyebrow.

  "You don't need my help to put the money in the room safe," she said. "I'll stay and keep Scott company."

  "I'll go get us a table," Scott said and turned to head toward the restaurant.

  "Don't be long," Robin said. She kissed me lightly on the cheek and turned to join him.

  And now, I was starting to get just a little bit concerned. Was Scott charming my wife away from me? I found the thought frightening, but also a little arousing.

  I quickly pushed the contradicting feelings aside and attempted to regain control of the situation.

  I pulled Robin back roughly. Maybe a little bit too roughly. She had a shocked look in her eyes, then her brows began to furrow. She opened her mouth to say something, but I stopped her with a kiss. I forced my tongue into her mouth with more vigor than I ever had before. Any hint of anger or surprise quickly vanished. She returned my kiss with an intensity that surprised me.

  "Get a room guys," Scott called back to us, his voice almost lost in the din of the casino.