Race leans back and whistles, sneaking peeks at Sally's face while he pretends to study his cards. It's blank. It's always blank. She is the closest thing to a perfect partner that he has ever had. It's too bad that he has to pay her to play.
He glances down at his cards and grins.
Not because he has a good hand, it's alright but could be much better, but because that's his style. Always pretend you're ahead. Gives the other guy something to worry about. He fingers a penny and waits to see what she will do. She pushes two out onto the scrap of red fabric that serves for their table.
Race blithely copies her.
She brushes her hair off of her neck and picks up another penny. She runs it along the neckline of her dress and Race feels something deep inside of him tighten. She licks her lips and draws the penny down her stomach before placing it on the cloth.
"This is the last game for tonight," she says in the voice he fanaticizes about when he's alone in his bunk at night.
"Are you sure?" he asks with an air of indifference. "You haven't won your money back yet."
"The hand isn't over," she answers, her face a smooth mask.
"And you'll be even deeper in the hole when it is," he replies, as he slides another penny onto the cloth.
She rubs her eyebrow and sighs. "Enough talk, Race. Let's see what you got."
"Ladies first, my dear," he says, blowing out a ring of smoke.
"Don't get ash in my bed or you'll be paying to have it cleaned."
"Stop delaying," he answers, carefully flicking the ash onto the floor.
She leans forward, pressing her breasts together as she lays down her hand.
"Three aces, very nice," Race says with a smile. "Too bad I've got a flush." He puts the cards down one at a time, gloating a little at the frown on her face.
"Take your winnings," she says, standing up. And he very gladly does. He stands, because he can't reach into his pocket without doing so, and pulls out his money bag, carefully adding the coins to it. Forty cents. Minus the twenty five he is going to have to pay at the end of the night. Not bad. Not bad at all. He tucks the bag back into his pocket and catches sight of Sally in the copper mirror. She is oddly distorted, lines wavering where none ought to, but she is also naked, so he doesn't mind.
He smiles as he turns to face her. "As beautiful as you are smart," he says, stepping close.
She reaches up, her arms coming around her neck, and kisses him. Her tongue runs along his lips and she licks and nips at his mouth. He kisses her back the way he always does: mouth firmly closed. He knows it bothers her that he never kisses her properly, but she has rotten teeth and that is just too much for him.
Besides, she's a whore and it's not his concern what she feels.
The teeth in and of themselves would have been enough for him not to pick her. There are few things that make him lose interest faster then a mouth full of yellowed teeth and bleeding gums. But she had those little calluses on her thumb and forefinger, a testament to long practice dealing cards, and some things are just more important then others.
So Race spends his nights with a whore he won't kiss who plays the best hand of poker this side of Brooklyn.
Makes perfect sense, if you think about it.
She moves down to his neck, sucking hard enough that he knows there will be a mark, and pushes at the collar of his shirt. He steps away from her and pulls it over his head in one quick movement. She glances at his britches and he unbuttons them, letting them pool on the floor, wincing at the heavy clank of the coin bag.
He fingers the string of his smalls but she brushes his hand away, undoing the knot with her own clever fingers. She pushes them down over his hips and he steps out of the pile of clothes. She runs a soft fingertip down the length of him, then bends and picks up the untidy heap. She swiftly folds them, placing his belongings on the bottom shelf of the washstand, then comes to stand before him, hand on her wide hips.
"I've a special treat for you," she says and he watches as she pops something into her mouth before sinking to her knees.
He is sitting on the bed, his leg spread wide and she moves deftly between them. Her mouth closes in on him and a pleasant tingling accompanies the more familiar sensations. He moans in appreciation, his hands fisting in her long hair. She rolls her eyes up at him and he can see satisfaction in them.
On the spot he decides to give her an extra penny.
Her mouth works its magic and soon he is close to the brink. He moves against her, hips thrusting in spite of himself. He thinks for a moment that this is it, that he will finish without once touching the flesh between her legs, but she pulls back. She rests on her haunches and smiles up at him, her tongue running along those swollen lips.
"Liked that did you?" she asks archly.
He catches hold of her wrist and pulls her up along his body. "You know I did," he says a moment before he kisses her neck.
"It's a peppermint," she says between sighs. "Makes things all shivery, doesn't it?"
"Aren't those the candies doctors give you when you're sick?" Race asks in some amazement.
Sally nods. "Makes you feel real good, doesn't it?" she says with a grin.
"I'll never be able to look at them the same," he assures her with mock seriousness. "Now enough with all this talking. There's work to be done and I won't have anyone saying I didn't put all my effort into it."
He stands and pushes her down onto the bed. She tucks a pillow under her head and touches her breasts, rubbing them as she stares at him. He watches her for a moment, then kneels beside her on the bed. He moves closer, leaning over and licking the nipples made hard by her own hands. She wiggles under him, hands coming up to tangle in his hair.
He pulls back and smiles at her. "Have any more of those peppermints?" he asks.
She nods, pointing to the washstand. He walks over and finds a tin with the word peppermint and the faded image of a cowboy. He smiles at the picture, thinking that Jack would like it, then flicks open the top and pulls out one of the chalky white candies. Shutting it with a soft click, he replaces the tin and walks back to the bed.
He repositions himself over her, then pops the candy into his mouth and returns his attention to her breasts. She moves against him like never before, moaning and sobbing as he licks and sucks. Startled, he accidently bites down harder then he intends to, but instead of reprimanding him, she begs him to do it again.
Race smiles to himself, redoubling his efforts, as he slides inside.
When it's over and she's lying with her head resting on his chest, he wonders if life could ever be better then it is right now. She shifts, pressing close against his side and starts tracing patterns on his stomach with one finger.
"Race?" she asks, eyes turned up towards him.
"Yes?"
"Why don't you kiss me?"
He sucks on his teeth, surprised by the uncertainty in her tone. "It's just not my thing," he lies, and is shocked to find that he cares about her feelings after all.