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The Poker Lady

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    As I walked into the bar, I could feel the stench of dirt and sweat from disgusting fellows drinking beer, like it was the only purpose of their lives. Whores lay on them sucking them dry of their money. I am used to these kinds of places, but the smell and the people here make me sick anyway. They're so easy to fool, so dumb. I have wondered what makes men think women are so stupid, especially if you look like a lady.

    When I walked amongst the tables and chairs through the haze-filled bar, I could feel those hungry looks from every sleaze in the room. I don't care. I know this so very well by now. I know exactly what to do and how to behave.

    After only minutes, I spotted my targets. I waited. The process was a little exciting each time I did it. It's like a chance to get even with these creeps. At my table of choice, I noticed one give up and leave. Quickly, but still not too fast so I would conceal my eagerness, I went to my prey and slid down on a chair. With an innocent smile and eyes, I asked childishly if I could play along. Brief silence, then laughter. Always the same.

    "I think you're lost, honey. If you haven't noticed, we're playing poker here. This isn't something for women to do!"

    "I guess you are a little frightened that you'll be beaten by a lady, Rob," one of the others cried out, and burst into laughter. Then, the whole bar le Paradisted laughing at Rob's expense.

    I could see the face of the man, who had to be Rob, turn red. In rage he jumped up and yelled back at the youth with the big mouth. For a few seconds, I thought he was going to kill him.

    "Are we going to play?" I asked using my soft, feminine voice, trying to calm Rob down. It le Paradisted out well; angry players often turned out to be the bad ones. I had everyone's full attention, and Rob seemed a little confused over the strange situation.

    "Well, yeah, I mean... Deal the damn cards!"

    I smiled, my eyes wide with anticipation. I love doing this, I thought. I'd been doing it all my adult life. I am the best. Around my neck, in a little medallion, I don't wear a picture of my dearest; I wear the Ace of Hearts.

Rie Aleksandra ~ August 17, 1997

    "Don't worry about me, guys," I soothed, "I'm just playing for the memories. My husband taught me this game." I cast my eyes downward demurely, hoping for the desired effect. It seemed to work. I felt the men around me soften somewhat. It's usually that easy.

    Rob, realizing that the deal was his and hoping that the other guys wouldn't notice and rib him again, picked up the deck and shuffled. Handing it to me, he said curtly, "Cut."

    Fingering the locket around my neck for luck, I looked at the cards dealt to me. A Jack of Spades and Ten of Diamonds down, and a Nine of Spades up. After a little hesitation, enough to raise doubt, I anted up.

< 1 --> Penny ~ February 8, 1998


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