They Die At The End.

Yvonne waited for her opponent to make up his mind. She didn’t attempt to hide her subtle smile. He might mistake her amusement for a tell but she didn’t care. The guy was an idiot and deserved what he got. He was a shitty poker player, big balls, no brains. She knew all his tells like the back of his hand. She knew that well enough too. Disgusting Neanderthal. For all his graces and charm he was nothing but a bully. Their game was a silent battle of wills. One way or another Yvonne was going to win. He was going down, permanently this time.

The dealer remained impassive, sliding cards across the table and spoke only when necessary. She was a professional but it didn’t stop her judging the players. She could slot any player into a neat box the moment they joined her table. The woman was an Ice Queen, late fifties, no wedding ring although there was a pale band where one used to be. A parasite who fed on men with bulging wallets and time on their hands. She was power-hungry. Loved to play stupid mind games and jerk rich men around. What an asshole. In secret the dealer loved to watch women like the Ice Queen crash and burn.

Carlton watched Yvonne slide a stack of chips across the table. Her smile gave her away. It always did. Her every movement both sickened and aroused him. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear was enough to make his junk twitch. At the same time her smile killed his excitement. It hurt his head too. He’d tried to shift a pounding headache since arriving at the table that morning. Pills, alcohol and nicotine were the only answer. He watched her like a hunter tracking its prey. Poker was like Chess. He moved his pieces, plotted and planned, slowly reeling her in and then he’d wipe her out. This time he was going to take her for everything she had. The gutter was where she belonged. He upped the bet and settled back to see her reaction.