JASMINE FIDGETED NERVOUSLY WHILE she waited in the living area of the large suite. She glanced around the place. Yes, everything was in order.
It was a lovely suite, with modern furnishings and a clean, chic look, well worth every penny she had spent to have it for the night. The money didn’t matter anyway. She was a successful woman with a good-paying career in pharmaceutical sales. No, money wasn’t an issue. It was more important that everything be right.
And it was; she’d spent several hours that day making certain of it. She looked over at the round table she had set up with all the paraphernalia the men would need to enact her fantasy. Everything was in place, she knew, as was everything in the kitchenette.
Jasmine smoothed back her hair, an unnecessary act since it was already in place, slick and shiny, pulled into a small, sleek brunette bun at the base of her head. She adjusted the neckline of her low-cut blouse, ensuring once more that the appropriate amount of cleavage was on display. There was no bra under the tight shirt.
She tugged at her shockingly short skirt. Yep, still short.
She checked the clock on the wall. Almost eight o’clock. Almost time. Her heart pounded and she felt shaky in her stilettos. Was that a noise she heard at the door?
Then the handle was turning and the door swung open. And the men walked into the suite.
The play had begun.
Jasmine smiled graciously at them and nodded her head in greeting. Geoff was looking extremely attractive in a dark suit with an open-collared shirt. She noted the twinkle in his eyes and the appreciative way he perused her figure.
Two other men were dressed in suits similar to Geoff, one man in his forties and one close in age to Geoff, both of them nice-looking and clean cut.
The other two men were younger. Jasmine guessed they were in their twenties. They wore faded denim and t-shirts and reminded her of young Internet entrepreneurs. Perhaps that was what they were going for. They were handsome and a little scruffy in an attractive way.
Her stomach tightened as she looked them over and they looked her over in turn. So many eyes, and already she sensed the welling of desire in the room, an almost tangible weight in the air that flowed between her and them.
One of the young men shut the door as Geoff waved a hand in her direction.
“This is Jasmine,” Geoff said. “She’ll be serving us tonight. Say hello to Jasmine, guys.”
The four men said hi, their voices a rumble that sent shivers up her back.
“Hi. I’m here for whatever you need,” she said, her voice breaking at first then steadying. “Drinks, snacks. Whatever you want. Just ask. I’ll deliver. The table is all set up if you want to have a seat. I’ll take your drink orders when you’re ready.” She finished in a rush, perhaps having over-rehearsed her little speech in the hours leading up to the big moment.
She stood back and the men filed past her to the felt-covered table. They found chairs and settled in, Geoff turning to Jasmine and asking for a scotch, neat. The other four men quickly added their orders and Jasmine swayed over to the bar, doing her best to remember everything.
While she worked, Geoff told the men the rules of the game.
“This is No Limit Texas Hold ‘Em,” Geoff said. “$100,000 buy-in. $300 and $600 blinds with $100 ante, as we’ve discussed. You lose it all, you can buy in for more of course. I, for one, am more than happy to take all the cash you want to drop here.”
Some good-natured ribbing followed.
Geoff opened a fresh pack of cards and began shuffling. “Since the dealer is a no-show, we’ll have to rotate the deal. Agreed?”
They agreed.
Jasmine heard the sounds of plastic poker chips being tossed onto the table. They were beginning the game. She finished their drinks by the time the first round of bets were placed.
She stood silently behind the bar for a moment, savoring the anticipation of the certain realization of one of her oldest fantasies.
When she was in college, she sometimes picked up extra cash on the weekends waitressing at a Native American casino outside of town. The best gigs were attending to the players in the private, poker cash-games. Tips from exultant, winning players could top hundreds of dollars an hour, if you were lucky enough to be chosen to work the rooms.
She stayed focused whenever she had the opportunity to serve the high stakes games, concentrating on avoiding mistakes since excellence would earn her more gigs in the private rooms. She didn’t stand around daydreaming about what might have gone down behind those secured, closed doors. Not back then, anyway.
Since she’d been reading erotic fantasies in The Ladies Naughty Book Club, she’d recalled those private poker games. And the next thing she knew, she was writing a whole new script for what might have happened to a lone waitress and a group of high-stakes gamblers, mostly wealthy businessmen and the occasional professional player. Oh, plenty. That’s what might have gone on. Plenty.
She’d certainly given herself plenty of pleasure over the months, enacting her fantasy in her mind, living and reliving the details. Oh yes, she’d had pleasure.
And now, here she was, ready to take that to a whole other level. She breathed deeply to steady her nerves, then she picked up her tray and headed over to the men.
Jasmine delivered the drinks, self-conscious of the men eyeing her as she slipped in next to them, one after another. When she set Geoff’s drink on the table, he absently said thanks and patted her on her ass as she turned away.
One of the younger men, whose name she soon learned was Kyle, smiled at Jasmine. “You’d better watch that guy, Jasmine. He’s a sexual harassment suit waiting to happen.”
She returned his smile then sent a saucy look over her shoulder at Geoff. “Undoubtedly. But only if I complain about it. And I’m not the complaining type.”
“Is that so?” Geoff asked with raised eyebrows.
“That’s definitely so.”
“Well, fellows, this game just got more interesting.”
The men grinned at Jasmine. She told them she’d get their snacks then sashayed off to the kitchenette, assuming they were watching the swing of her hips as she went. If the silence in the room was any indication, then yes, they were watching.
She returned to the main room in a matter of minutes, toting several plates of hors d’oeuvres and a stack of small plates and napkins on a tray. The men called out bets and played out their hands while she served them, taking care to bend over them deeply and deliberately.
She brushed her hand up the forty-something man’s arm after she laid his plate beside him. “I hope you enjoy the treats.”
His gaze didn’t waver from her bountiful cleavage. “Oh, I already am, Miss.”
“Call me Jasmine, Sir.”
“Fine, Jasmine. And you can keep calling me Sir.”
A warm flush spread up her neck. Mmm. Yes, he was most assuredly a Sir. He had an appealing smattering of gray hair at his temples. She flashed on an image of him tying her hands to a bedpost. She hadn’t been reading all those BDSM stories for nothing. “As you wish, Sir.”
He reached out and trailed his fingertips up the outside of her bare thigh and traced the skin at the hem of her skirt. “Do you always wear such short skirts, Jasmine?”
“Not always, Sir.”
“Pity. They suit you.” His gentle strokes sent shivery sensations down her legs.
“Hey, Sir,” said Kyle. “It’s your bet.”
Sir didn’t bother reviewing his hand. “I fold,” he said, tossing his cards into the center of the table.
A couple of men snorted, and the play moved on. As did Sir’s fingers. His fingertips glided along the hem of her skirt, around to the back of her thigh. She held her breath as his hand slid under the fabric, sought the edges of her panties.
Now, he traced that silky edge. His gaze rose to meet her own. “You say you’re not the complaining type.”
“That’s right.”
“What if I were to ask you to remove your panties for me? I think we’d all enjoy you serving us while we picture how naked you are under that little skirt. It would please us all very much, and it’s harmless, don’t you think?”
She pretended to ponder his request. Then she nodded. “I’m here to make you happy. I don’t see any problem with you using your imagination.”
“Splendid!”
Jasmine stepped back. Sir and the rest of the men watched as she demurely lifted the sides of her skirt and hooked her panties under her thumbs. Keeping her pertinent parts hidden, she slowly lowered her panties to the ground. Once she picked them up, she dangled them on a finger in front of her attentive audience.
“Is it everything you hoped it would be, Sir?”
Sir gave her a slow, sexy smile. “It is, Jasmine. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She tossed her panties onto a nearby table. “Does anyone need anything?”
Geoff raised his chin and gestured beside his chair. “I dropped my napkin. If you wouldn’t mind ...”
She strolled over and saw the napkin on the floor. She kneeled down in a dainty movement, keeping her rear down and legs together, in short, not giving him what he wanted. With an innocent expression, she held the napkin up to him. “Here you are.”
“Thanks so much.” The corner of his mouth twitched. He took the napkin, touching her hand in a lingering way. Then he returned to the game.
From the conversation that rose during the play, she learned that the other man in a suit, the one close in age to Geoff, was named Michael. He was blonde, tall, and lean, and sent her hungry looks whenever he thought she wasn’t looking at him. She enjoyed the obvious desire in those beautiful blue eyes.
She walked over to Michael and leaned down next to him. Her voice was quiet so as not to interrupt the other men who were bantering over their play. “I thought you might need something. What can I do for you?”
He glanced at her face, then down at her cleavage displayed so near to him. “I’m finding part of your uniform unappealing.”
She frowned. “Oh, I’m sorry about that. Can it be fixed?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.” He held out his hands. “Do you mind if I make an adjustment or two?”
“Oh no. Go right ahead.”
He reached out and headed straight for the buttons on her blouse. In a few quick motions, he unbuttoned her shirt half-way down her torso. The tight shirt gaped open and displayed most of her breasts, including a full third of each areola.
He eyed the result but wasn’t satisfied with it, and he rapidly undid the remaining buttons. He tied the shirt ends together under her breasts, revealing her toned midriff, then he adjusted the fabric so that her breasts were almost fully in view. In fact, a slight tug on the loosened fabric would have been all it took to completely reveal her breasts.
He looked over his handiwork, a finger traveling along the curves of her revealed chest.
She swallowed hard, didn’t have to look around to know all eyes were on her.
“I think,” Michael said, “I can live with this ... for now anyway.”
She nodded. She suddenly felt a hand sliding up her thigh and smoothing over her bare ass cheek. She turned her head. It was Kyle, grinning widely.
Jasmine stood up straight and allowed Kyle to touch her at will. She trembled as his fingers approached her slit, but never actually touched her there. He was a tease and she loved it.
She also loved the way the other men were quieter now, how they didn’t know whether to look at her nearly bare chest or to try to x-ray vision under her skirt to reveal what Kyle was doing.
Geoff was obviously struggling to keep the men focused on the game, to give Jasmine the full fantasy she requested. He had to remind them repeatedly when it was their turn to make a bet, or tell them they hadn’t put in their ante.
And it wasn’t like Geoff wasn’t having difficulties of his own. Jasmine noticed him repeatedly shifting in his chair, obviously trying to relieve the pressure growing between his legs.
She had her own pressure growing down below. Her mouth was slightly open and her breath came in increasingly shallow bursts. Kyle squeezed her ass and stroked over her hip, ran down her thigh and up again. He teased the edge of her skirt, lifting it slightly, toying with uncovering more and more flesh.
This was heating up, and fast. Maybe too fast.
Geoff cleared his throat loudly. “I can appreciate your fascination with our lovely server, gentlemen, but we have a game going here and I, for one, intend to play it.”
The other men jerked their gazes away from Jasmine and turned to Geoff, several of them looking irritated.
Geoff shuffled the cards. “So, if Jasmine’s up for it, I have an idea how to handle this tricky situation.”
Kyle dropped his hand from Jasmine’s ass. Pity, she thought. However, she was more interested in what Geoff was about to propose.
“I think we need to bring some order to this thing,” Geoff said. “Easy enough. I suggest that whoever wins a hand, is given the option of passing some time with Jasmine, here at the table, lasting the length of the next hand. Then the winner of that hand can entertain the lovely lady. And so on. Make sense?”
The men nodded, looked over at Jasmine with no small amount of expectation in their eyes.
“Jasmine?” Geoff asked.
Her palms had gone damp. This was all Geoff’s idea. They hadn’t discussed this when she talked to him about her fantasy. Well, his idea sounded like it had serious promise.
“I’m willing,” she said.
The men seemed to sit up a bit straighter after her answer.
The man in his twenties who was dressed similarly to Kyle (his name, she learned, was Sean), leaned forward in his chair. “When you say ‘pass some time’ with Jasmine, what exactly does that mean?”
Geoff sighed. “It means you can work it out with her, if you ever get the chance. The way you’re playing, you never will.”
“I was distracted,” Sean said. “Now there’s a reason to pay attention. Deal the cards.”
Geoff riffled through the deck one more time. “Here we go then.”
Jasmine stepped back and perched on a bar stool, avidly watching the men play. She privately admitted some disappointment when Geoff folded early in the hand. By the turn bet, Sir and Kyle had folded also. It came to a showdown between Michael and Sean at the river.
Jasmine recognized the aggression in Sean’s play. She’d seen it before in young men who learned to play the game on the Internet. Sean wanted to push Michael off the pot. Minutes ticked by as they debated their moves. Michael eventually surprised Sean and called his bet.
Michael was the victor with a flush. He raked his winnings into a sloppy pile in front of him then looked straight at Jasmine. “I believe the spoils belong to me, no?”
Her stomach tightened and a thrill fluttered in her chest. She walked up next to Michael, who wasted no time in reaching out and untying the bottom of her shirt.
“I’m so glad I won,” he said. “This style didn’t suit you at all.” He slowly peeled back the shirt and revealed the entirety of her pretty breasts, her nipples already straining, perky.
She shrugged out of the shirt and let it fall to the floor. Michael pushed his chair away from the table a short way and patted his lap. Jasmine sat down sideways. He put an arm around her waist, and his free hand cupped her breast.
The poker game continued around them, the men silent and intent, only speaking when it was time to bet. The intensity in the room had raised a hundred fold since Geoff had enacted this new aspect of the game. The very temperature in the room seemed to have climbed.
Michael’s hard bulge pressed against her ass. He thumbed her nipple and inhaled sharply.
“You have beautiful tits,” he said, pinching a nipple between thumb and forefinger, pulling outward, distending her breast.
Jasmine gasped. “Thank you.”
Michael picked up his glass, the sides wet with condensation from the melting ice. He rubbed the cold tumbler over her breasts, stiffening her nipples even more than they already were. Jasmine leaned into him and shivered, enjoyed the goosebumps the chilly liquid raised over her flesh.
Michael leaned down and sucked a nipple into his mouth, capturing it in his warmth. She moaned and dug her fingers into his shoulders. Using both hands now, he squeezed her big breasts together, alternately sucking on one nipple then another.
She wasn’t thinking about the game anymore, who might win, who might not. She only thought about how it felt having this man sucking her breasts in front of all these other men, the newness of it, the ferocity, the incredible turn on it was to have an audience for Michael man-handling her.
What else might they do? Everything, she hoped. Everything.
She threw her head back, closed her eyes and sighed. She flinched when his teeth nibbled at her sensitive flesh. Mmm, yes.
Then he stopped of a sudden. Why? She opened her eyes and looked around. Everyone was looking, of course. Sean was eyeing her particularly hard. He waved her over.
Oh, she realized with a start. The next poker hand was already finished. And Sean had won. Well then.
She promptly stood up and took the few steps over to Sean’s chair. She stopped beside him and waited to see what he would do. She noted the rapid shuffling of the cards in the background and Michael’s continued harsh breathing, left wanting, hot and bothered from her abrupt departure.
“Spread your legs,” Sean said.
She blinked at his abruptness, and admitted to herself that she liked the way he commanded her. She spread her legs.
He smiled, something of a leer. “Hands behind your back. Stick out those tits.”
She obeyed, felt a twist down low between her legs. Wet. She had to be wet. Truth was, she’d been damp all day, saturated with anticipation and expectation. And now, she was wet from the reality of it, with how superior it was to simple fancy.
Without so much as a by-your-leave, Sean’s hand shot out and headed straight under her skirt, between her legs. His fingers dove between her folds, slipping in the moisture they found there. He made a sound low in his throat and Jasmine sucked air. He toyed around the opening to her pussy, pressing against her there, but not entering.
Then he made a fluttery motion, a sort of flurry of touches, rapid almosts but not-quites. All the while, he watched her face, and then the sharp rise and fall of her chest, the gentle motion of her breasts.
He slipped and slid through the folds of her pussy. She moaned and pushed her hips forward.
“How bad do you want it?” he asked.
“Bad,” she had no qualms answering. It wasn’t embarrassing, wanting this from him, telling him so. Her body would admit the truth even if she didn’t.
He drove two fingers inside her pussy, hard and fast. She made an “unhh” grunt at the fierceness of his invasion. He pulled his fingers all the way out, then drove inside her again. Unhh.
Again.
Unhh.
Then he pulled her toward him and turned her around, forcing her to bend over at the waist, to grab her knees for stability as he flipped up her skirt and took in the sight of her bare ass and pussy, exposed and open in front of him.
He wasted no time forcing his fingers back inside her wet pussy. She groaned and arched her back. God, it was good. Michael was staring at her bare ass, as was Kyle. Apparently, only Geoff and Sir were involved in the current hand.
Sean finger-fucked her with power and speed while his other hand rubbed her ass cheeks. “That’s right,” he said. “You like that, don’t you? You like my fingers fucking your pussy.”
“Yes,” she said, her word little more than a gasped exhale of breath.
“You want it harder? You want more?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck, that’s a gorgeous, tight pussy you’ve got. Right now it’s my fingers, but soon it’s gonna be my big cock. You want that?”
“Oh ... God ... yes.”
“Then take this.” He landed a stinging swat on her butt.
She gave a small cry. Then everything changed. Again.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
Sean’s fingers suddenly weren’t inside her anymore. He told her to stand up, which she did, then he gave her a little push away from him, toward someone else.
Oh, toward Sir. She stumbled over to him.
The hand was complete and Sir had won. No more of Sean’s happy fingers.
She stood in front of Sir, her knees trembly and weak.
He smiled a half-smile, regarded her slowly. “I think it’s time,” he said, “for you to get rid of that skirt, don’t you?”
She nodded.
He gave her a steady look. “So you should take it off, yes?”
“Oh right.” She reached behind herself with trembling fingers. Somehow she managed to unzip the thing. She let it fall to the floor, unheeded.
Sir took a long visual stroll over her nude person and she reveled in the lust she saw in his eyes. She stood there brazenly naked, wearing only her high heels and the desire that flushed unmistakably across her features.
He held out his empty glass. “I need a fresh drink, Jasmine. Quickly, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it.”
She grabbed up the glass and hurried over to the bar, knowing he watched her. Knowing they all watched her all the time. It was beyond heady, being the center of these men’s attention. They wanted her, but were being forced to wait their turns, forced to wait for a chance at a turn.
A recognition of their likely frustration entered her thoughts, an acknowledgement that turned her on even more — if it were possible to turn her on more than she already was.
She quickly dumped some whiskey into a fresh glass, dropped in few ice cubes, then headed back to the waiting Sir.
He took the drink from her and set it aside. He scooted back from the table. “Come, have a seat. Straddle me.”
She did as he told her, conscious of her spread pussy and the hard press of his erection against his pants, aware of how naked she was, and how clothed he was.
He asked her to lean back with her elbows on the table, a position that forced her breasts upward and opened her pussy even further as she tilted backward. He stroked the outside of her thighs, up and down, down and up, his eyes lingering between her legs.
“Grind your hips,” he said. “Grind down on me. I want to see you move. Work for it, Jasmine. That’s it.”
She rotated her hips slowly, pushing down against his lap. His hands closed around her hips and helped set the pace and motion.
“Mmm, yes, like that,” he said. His fingers bit into her flesh.
She stifled a groan. His rock hard dick pushed against her bottom, taunting her with its willing form. She wanted, no, needed something inside her. Needed it now. She wanted to be taken, hard and swift, over and over. But Sir wasn’t ready for that yet, she presumed. No. She guessed not. So she gave him the lap dance he requested.
He lifted up one of her legs and raised it until he propped her ankle on his shoulder. Then he did the same with her other leg. She gripped the sides of the table and fought for purchase, the edge of the table pressing into her back. His hands slid under her ass and squeezed her hard, lifting her slightly and settling her more fully over his erection before lowering her again.
Then his hands closed over the fronts of her thighs and he pulled, hard, fast, forcing her ass against his crotch. The scratchy fabric of his pants was rough against her tender parts, as was the cold touch of his metal belt buckle.
She struggled to maintain balance while he yanked her against himself over and over again. Little grunting noises escaped her throat. Her pussy pulsed, on fire, needing it, needing him inside her. She panted and watched him watch her breasts, bouncing up and down with the impact of his forced lap dance.
God. Please.
And then, as had happened before, he stopped without warning. Another hand of poker was over. Another man had won the pleasure of her company. Who? She craned her neck to look around the table.
Geoff was kicked back in his chair, his eyes half-lidded and sexy as hell. He raised an eyebrow and pointed at the floor beside him.
Sir helped Jasmine get back on her feet. She tottered over to the relaxed Geoff and stood where he pointed. She vaguely noticed the next hand beginning, the familiar sound of a shuffled deck of cards, the tinkling of the ice in Sir’s drink, the plastic clicking of poker chips.
Geoff motioned for her to lean down to him. He held her by the sides of her head and whispered in her ear, “Do you have any idea how fucking hot you are?”
A hard thump sounded in her chest. She shook her head.
He chuckled lightly. “Yes you do. That body of yours would drive any man wild ... hell, it IS driving us wild. I want to fuck you senseless.”
“Yes,” she said. “Now.” Her need had reduced her to monosyllables.
“Oh, but not yet, Jasmine. We have so much time, and I’m planning on making the most of every minute. I want you on your knees between my legs. Now.”
He released her and adjusted his chair so she could kneel. As soon as she was in position, he reached out and undid the bun at the back of her head, releasing her thick hair from its confinement.
“Beautiful,” he told her. Then he tangled her hair in his hands and pulled her head down against his rock hard cock, still trapped underneath the fabric of his pants.
He rubbed her around against himself and she sighed under his command. He ground her against himself for only a minute or so until he released her, then in quick motions, he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and pulled out his swollen, huge cock.
He held her by her hair with one hand, and his cock in the other. “Do you want it?” he asked.
“Oh, yes I want it,” she said in a breathy whisper. He had a spectacular member, long and thick with a fat head. She thought of how it would stretch her pussy and shuddered all over.
“If you want it, then taste it,” he told her.
She eagerly opened her mouth and he pushed the bulbous, smooth tip past her lips. He tasted clean and of manly musk. He filled her mouth and spread her jaws tight with his wide girth. Soon, he pressed against the back of her throat and when she gagged, he backed off a bit.
And it went like that for a while, her sucking and him fucking, and sometimes he went too far and sometimes he didn’t, and it was good either way. Either way, she wanted it. And in those moments as her tongue worked over his shaft and her hand sought out his tight balls, she wondered if he’d shove his cock all the way down her throat. She wondered if it would hurt. She wondered if she’d mind.
She didn’t think she’d mind much of anything at the moment, so great was her arousal, her desire for the forbidden and new. She had changed, somehow, become a woman of passion and need, who didn’t care about anything other than release.
She reached between her legs and touched her clit. Oh yes, that was good. And while Geoff fucked her mouth, she worked her distended clit around and around. She tightened and released, tightened and released. Around and around and the pressure built.
The men, watching her, their eyes on her naked form, feeling how much they wanted her. Seeing her lips wrapped around Geoff’s huge cock, struggling to take him deeper and deeper. Seeing him make her gag, seeing her accept it. More. Higher and higher.
And then she was trembling all over, coming, and she didn’t care who saw, or what they did, she only knew the heights of her self-pleasure. She gasped loudly around Geoff’s cock, raised her head off of him and cried out, arching backward.
She looked into Geoff’s dark eyes.
“You’re a greedy little thing, Jasmine,” he said. “Keep on coming. Just like that. Yes. Like that.”
And she did. And he rapidly stroked his cock. They were both panting now and the tingles still spread from her core into every part of her body.
“Open your mouth wider,” Geoff said, his voice a harsh grunt.
She did. He grunted again. Shook all over.
Then, as the last of her orgasm trilled up her spine, he came. He shot into her mouth, filling her with the warm fluid. She swallowed, gulping it down, an experience she’d never allowed before, but did now, because this was different, this was something new, more powerful, feral and real in a way nothing else had ever been.
She swallowed it all down.
Because the look in his dark eyes told her he wanted her to.
Yes.
Please.
She swallowed.