The Gambler

"I'm out," the man next to him said.

"OK gentlemen. Show time!" the dealer declared. He put down his hand, "Three ladies."

The fourth man, face down, simply threw his cards on the table face down.

"Deuces over threes," Bart grinned as he raked the pot towards the large pile of cash already in front of him.

Ruffles and lace pushed into him as Molly put her hand on his shoulder. To the other men, the Riverboat Girl seemed attracted to this young man. Or maybe she was more attracted to the pile of coins and green in front of him.

Bart pulled a coin from the table and handed it to her. He took the cigar out of his mouth and said, "Why don't you get us something to drink." As she started to move away he added, "Lady Luck."

She did seem to have that effect on him. Of course he was winning. The way she subtly tapped her fingers on his shoulder told him who was holding what. Her confederates, no less appealing than herself, were siding up to the other men at the table. The way they flashed their fans or tugged on their gloves signaled their sister-in-swindling.

Molly met him several evenings before and noticed his natural talent. That's when she suggested her plan to him. He would play the cards, the girls would provide the signals, and in the end, all would share in the profits.

There was another advantage for Bart. With her flaming red hair, Molly was a beauty according to the standards of her times, and hardly abashed in the bedroom. With his evening winnings, he could easily afford her price. This arrangement was fully covered in the agreement. Bart was to split the gross profits. The other girls were insistent on that point. So although Molly earned a little extra from his share of the profits, none of the other girls' investments were at risk. Even with this additional expense there was more than enough money to go around to all concerned.

This was their last night before docking in New Orleans in the morning. Bart pushed back his chair and announced, "Well, gentlemen. It's been a good night, and now I bid you good night!"

One of the other men grumbled, "A good night for you, that is."

Another said, "I've taken about as much punishment as I can stand for one evening. I'm turning in too."

With that, the game broke up.

Back in his stateroom, Molly took out a black book from her garter and recorded the evening's winnings. "Wow, this is the best night ever. Let's see, a couple of nights ago, you cleaned out that Yankee business man from Boston, tonight you took that plantation owner for quite a bundle. Cotton may be king, but not when you're holding four of them. Come on; let's have another drink to celebrate. Then I'm going to show you a time you'll never forget!"

The drink went down quickly, and so did Molly. Molly did save her climax performance for the last evening. Bart was sweating and exhausted by the time they were done. He collapsed into a dreamless street. He heard the steamboat whistle. The alarm clock used by the captain to announce their arrival in the Crescent City. When he awoke, Molly was gone. So was his money.

Getting dressed, and getting packed, he searched to boat for her; all in vain. She and her friends it seemed had simply vanished. He did not know that they departed on the boat sent out to deposit the pilot to navigate the large ship through the ever-shifting channels. Passage on which was booked, no doubt, with part of the profits of his labor.

"Well," he thought, "at least she didn't get it all. He reached into the pocket in his boot. It wasn't much money, but it was enough to get along on for a couple more days and a stake for building more. Indeed he knew exactly where to go to start rebuilding his wealth. He didn't make money as fast as he did on the boat, but there were enough rubes in every town who thought they knew how to play cards to keep him well-fed and well accompanied in the evening.

It was in one of these establishments that he got friendly with Sarah, the owner. Of course he had taken in the show, and was intrigued with one of the showgirls. He slipped Sarah a tidy sum, and asked if the dancer, second from the left was available for the evening. Sarah, responded that for that amount of money, she would be. "Good," he replied, "send her to my room after closing."

Bart sat in a chair in his room situated in such a manner so he would be behind the opening door. He listened to the drunken stumblings of some of the other occupants. Then he heard it. He recognized the click of the boot heels on the hallway floor. The click of a femininely paced foot.

There was a soft knock at the door. "Come in," he answered. She came into the room looking around. He pushed the door shut. She turned and smiled at him. Suddenly comprehending, her smile vanished.

"You!" she said.

"No, you," he said.

"I don't have your money," she said apologetically.

"I don't want my money."

"What do you want?"

"Revenge!"

He pulled her over his lap, pulled up her dress, and pulled down her panties: all in one smooth movement. Surprisingly, she didn't resist.

She was sobbing before the first spank landed. "I'm sorry. They made me do it." She never did say who "they" were.

Bart didn't seem to pay attention and simply paddled away, "You can't con a con man."

"Oh, but I did," she thought. A spanking was a delightful price to pay to have so much fun playing this game.