Beginning of The Game

He stood in front of the door, unsure of whether he should knock or not. He was intrigued by the little Irish Squadron Leader. Never before had he met a woman who thought like he did, that got as much entertainment from playing poker. He was thankful that the powers that be had decided to give them a night of fun before they had to buckle down for Red Flag. Just as he raised his hand to knock, the door opened revealing the young RAF pilot decked out in an emerald green dress that emphasized her ample bosom in a low cut v-neck style tapering down her waist before flaring out into a full skirt that ended just above the knee revealing shapely legs that seemed to go on forever. The color brought out the deep green of her eyes. All of a sudden, Ace's mouth went dry.

"Aye, it's ye. I was hopin it'd be ye. Ace." Megan's eyes lit up. "Billy told me we had da night off. So, I was a comin' to see if ye'd like to go out, find a game somewhere?" She waggled her eyebrows.

"Actually, I was hoping to take you out on the town, check out the sights, get some dinner, maybe some dancing and a game. That is, if you'd be interested?" He asked, nearly stammering.

"Aye, I would." She smiled and Ace felt his heart beat nearly out of his chest. "I was thinkin'. I heard that there was a poker tournament happenin here. I was hopin to get a chance to watch it."

"Well, then. You are in luck. I just so happen to have made reservations at a restaurant at the Bellagio where they're holding the tournament and I got us tickets to the game."

"Now, that sounds like fun, Ace." Her smile reached all the way to her Emerald green eyes.

He held out his elbow for her just as he heard the muffled voices of Lady Jaye and Flint in the hallway around the corner. He looked around the corner just in time to see the big, burly Green Beret knocked flat on his butt by the petite covert agent who was screaming at him in a language Ace couldn't understand.

"Tá tú asal sotalach, ní bhíonn tú an Boss de dom! " The covert agent yelled. [1] "If I want to go on a date with the Soviet colonel, I will."

"He's the enemy!"

"Hawk told me to be nice to the guy."

"Yeah, be nice to the guy. Not date him." Flint yelled.

"Well, it's not like you're taking me out."

"I was planning to."

"When?"

"Tonight. I called you earlier." Flint said sheepishly, rubbing his jaw. "You didn't answer."

Ace turned to his date and asked a single word question. "Ready?" His goal to steer the woman in front of him away from the argument.

"Aye, that I am, but what be goin' on over there?" The Irish pilot asked in her lilting brogue.

"Nothing." Ace tried to steer her away from the argument, an argument that was bringing out every member of the team.

"Don't sound like nothing." She responded. "Sounds like they be havin a fight."

"They're practicing for an undercover assignment coming up." Ace tried to assuage the Irish pilot's curiosity.

"They gonna be in Ireland are they?" A coal black eyebrow shot up in question.

"I think so." Ace steered her away from the argument between Lady Jaye and Flint. The argument that had brought out most of the team.

Meghan looked around her, she couldn't believe the extravagance that was Las Vegas. It was all she'd ever dreamt about. Where Monte-Carlo was all about riches, gold, yachts and expensive cars and the casinos were a bit more subdued, more refined, Las Vegas was all lights and noise and excitement. Neon lights lit up the sky with multi-colored starlight, flickering and blinking in mesmerizing patterns. Cars of every make and size drove down the strip, Rolls-Royces sharing the road with beat up old pickups covered in desert dust. Ace had managed to rent a candy-apple red Mustang, a car she'd dreamt of riding in since she was a little girl. Growing up in rural Ireland, she'd either only had an old truck or, more recently, her little 1965 Cooper. Glancing over at her date next to her, she was amazed at how good looking, how self-assured the American pilot was.

She could easily see him driving through the hills of Monte Carlo, wearing a tux, the wind whipping through his black hair, an air of intrigue about him and most definitely, in an Aston Martin. Yes, Meghan thought, Ace could easily pass for James Bond.

"Here we are." Ace turned to his intrepid passenger and smiled a million-dollar smile as he pulled the sports car in front of the famous Tropicana hotel and casino. Ace swiftly exited his side of the car to open the door for her as the valet sauntered up to do same thing. Shooting the young freckle-faced kid who looked barely old enough to drive a look that said Get away, she's mine, he reached for the handle, opened the door and offered his hand, admiring his fellow pilot's lithe, shapely legs as they stepped out one at, an agonizingly slow time.

As he helped hero out of the car, he watched her big green eyes grow even larger as she saw the extravagence and opulence that was the Tropicana casino.

"Wow, Monte Carlo isna annathing like this." The noise of the slot machines dispensing coins and tokens combined with the rock and roll music made for a nearly deafening roar. "Cac naofa, is e' an a'it dUsachtach.[2]" Megan exclaimed in her native Irish. Ace glanced over at her questioning. "Ya dinna wanna know." She smiled. Ace knew he was cornering Lady Jaye later to learn some of the Irish language.

"What does that mean?"

"I'm too much of a lady ta be tellin' ya." She smiled sweetly.

"So, you've been to Monte Carlo?" Ace smiled as he gently placed his hand possessively on the small of her back.

"Aye, That I have." She smiled. "But, it's nothing like this."

"What is it like?" He asked as he gently guided her towards the restaurant just inside the hotel. "I've never had the chance to go."

"Ah, it's fulla people dressed like they be goin' ta town on it. Everybody is so rich, they say to hell with poverty, hi throw another chair on the fire." Megan said, stars seemed to sparkle from her eyes. "And all the women, they be dove up like a dog's dream."

Ace just laughed. He had no clue what the woman was talking about, but, he didn't care right at that moment. Her lilting brogue and whimsical sayings were enough to arouse his interest in her.

"You think I'm funny, do ya?" Megan asked.

"No, no, of course not. I think you're enchanting." Ace replied. "Now, let's go have dinner and then play a hand or two in the casino."

They shared a large dinner of lobster and steak. Ace watched as the Irish pilot tried to figure out just how to eat the crustacean.

"'Ow do you eat one a these things?"

"You've never seen a lobster before?"

"I've eaten lobster before, but, I've never eaten it like this before."

"Really?" Ace was a bit surprised. Being a Providence, Rhode Island native, lobster was almost a staple. Then he proceeded to show her how to break the shell and pull out the succulent meat inside.

"Well, well, if it ain't Ace Armbruster." A deep voice called from behind him and Ace bristled. He knew that voice. It was that of one his archenemies when he had taught at Red Flag. Captain James "Weasel" Wheeldon. One of the most arrogant and dangerous pilots that ever sat in the cockpit of an F-5 or any jet for that matter. And one of the biggest womanizers he'd ever met, not to mention one of the most despicable backstabber he'd ever met. If Colonel Sharp hadn't pulled him from the weapons school, Ace was sure he would've been court martialed for assaulting a fellow officer. Now that he was back as a student, Ace was fairly sure Hawk wouldn't appreciate him killing the man.

"Wheeldon." Ace ground out. "What are you doing here?"

"Same as you, ole' buddy, eating dinner."

"I thought you were finally drummed out of the Air Force." Ace replied.

"Not a chance Ole' Buddy. I'm one of your instructors." Wheeldon replied. "Maybe I can teach you something about flying."

"Doubtful, Wheeldon. I could outfly you when I was an instructor here, and I can outfly you now. Remember, only one of us made it to G.I. Joe." Ace sneered.

"Yeah, well, we'll see about that." The hawkish little man turned to Megan with a million wattage smile. "So, who are you, little lady?"

"Squadron Leader Megan O'Leary. Royal Air Force. And you are?"

"Captain Jim Wheeldon, at your service. Irish, aye? How'd you get into the Royal Air Force?"

"Verra good. I signed up, just like you did with the US Air Force."

"No, I mean, how did a lovely Irish pilot join the RAF? I thought Ireland had their own air force? And what do you do for the RAF."

"I'm a tornado pilot. And to answer yer question, I'm a member of the UK's version of G.I. Joe. We all hafta be a part of Britain's military. Our team has members from all parts of Queen's rule including, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, Australia, even Canada." She squared her shoulders. Megan didn't like this pilot. He was too full of himself. "I was wonderin, how did you become a pilot. I'd a thought the US Air Force would be more choosy about the wankers they allowed to fly their planes." She smiled sweetly as Ace tried to hide his desire to burst out laughing. "Especially since uv a head on yee lyk a box of harp[i]. Now, I was enjoyin me meal with me luv, can ye bugger off now." She smiled as the annoying pilot huffed and walked off, but not before he issued a warning to Ace who just laughed it off. Ace knew he was better his former student and fellow instructor. "'Ow did a wanker like him get to be a fighter pilot?"

"Megan, I've been asking that since he was one of my students at Red Flag." Ace laughed. "Now, let's finish enjoying dinner so we can hit the tables."

[1] You arrogant ass, you're not the boss of me!

[2]

[i] You have a big head. From