The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Daley said, “So you already know how to play that dumb game?”

“Hey,” red-headed Melanie Maxwell drawled, “Nothin’ dumb about it! It’s a good honest Texas game, y’know. Yep, I know how to play right well. Fact, I’m damn good at it. This one time last summer my daddy took me along with him on a business trip to Dallas. . . .”

Daley resisted an impulse to roll her eyes. She was sitting, barely, on the edge of Melly’s book-and-clothes-strewn sofa. No wonder Melly didn’t have a roommate—she was the messiest girl Daley had ever run across, and her apartment was like a monument to clutter. And her heavy sho’—sugah Texas accent was, to put it frankly, a little sickening. But the redhead didn’t seem to notice her guest’s boredom, and she cheerfully continued: “Well, anyhow, that Saddity night Daddy had an in-vite to play poker with some of the other oil men at the conference, and he says, ‘Honeychile, I’d love to play, but I sho’ hate to leave you alone.’ ‘Hail, Daddy,’ I says, ‘I love poker. Whyn’t ya take me ‘long with you?’ So he did. Six of them big fat sumbitches in their ten-gallon hats and their stupid-ass cowboy boots were waitin’ in a ho-tel suite for Daddy and me, and when I set down at the table, they thought I was just so damn cute, wantin’ to join in their little old game.” She grinned. “By the end of the night, I’d done took half a million off ‘em, but Daddy wound up not letting me keep but ten thousand of it, on account of he staked me that much to begin with.”

An idea had begun to form in the back of Daley’s mind, in one of those dusty, especially dark corners where sometimes the bad things lurked. She smiled suddenly and warmly and leaned forward to touch Melly’s wrist with her fingertips. “Hey, you know what? I think it would be a great joke if you pretended you didn’t know a thing about poker when we play tomorrow. See if you can’t beat Mr. Magic at his own game.”

“I dunno,” Melly said doubtfully. She was chubby, not actually fat, with a round, lively, berry face and a childish splash of freckles across her cheeks. “Act dumb about the game, you mean? Ain’t that like cheatin’?”

“No, it’s just bringing this hot-shot down a peg or two,” Daley insisted, straightening up. “I just can’t get Susan to see how unsuitable he is for her. Maybe if you embarrass him in front of her, she’ll get the idea he’s not so wonderful after all.”

Melly still looked unconvinced. “I like Susan.”

“So do I!” Daley put a little tremor in her voice: “She could do so much better for herself, Melly! She’s just throwing herself away on this guy. He’s not only poor, but he’s such a phony! He has to work his way through school, and he does it by doing stupid card tricks at parties. Why, I’ll bet he’s just playing up to Susan because of her money. You’d be doing her a big favor if you showed him up.”

Melly’s green eyes had gone thoughtful at the mention of card tricks. “He thinks he’s a good player, huh?”

“He says he wins money playing the game. But you know how boys lie when it comes to money.”

“Yeah, or the size of their dicks,” Melly said with a snort and a guffaw. “Okay, I’ll assume he’s a fair-to-good poker player. So are we gonna play for real money?”

“I don’t know,” Daley admitted, trying to keep the edge of irritation out of her voice. “He just said he was going to teach us the game, that’s all. Look, I doubt if the stakes will be high. I told you he has to work his way through school. He can’t have much.”

Melly frowned. “Shucks, it ain’t very interestin’ ‘less there’s somethin’ at risk. Betcha he’ll just want to play with toothpicks or somethin’ dumb like that while he’s teaching us.”

“Unless he means to take some money off poor Susan,” Daley said, trying hard to sound concerned and worried.

“He’d be some kinda rat to do that. Anyway, I’d rather play for money, or for somethin’ other than toothpicks at least.”

“Maybe you can convince him to make a bet or two after we get started.”

Melly thought this over, then snickered. “Well. . . .maybe it don’t even have to be money if I play my cards right, so to speak. So what’s this guy like?”

Daley shrugged. “I really didn’t pay much attention. He’s not bad-looking, I’ll give him that. He’s got sort of black hair and blue eyes. Wears a lot of black.”

“He a Yankee boy?”

“I guess,” Daley said. What was it about people from the South? Melanie had more money than she and Susan put together, but she was so damn defensive about being from Teh-yex-ass, as she called it. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s from Boston or someplace.” She added sweetly, “In fact, I’m not really positive, but I think he might have mentioned that one of his ancestors served under General Sherman in the Civil War.”

“Okay,” Melly agreed finally. “That’s enough. I’ll whup his ass at poker. Don’t let on to Susan that I’m a good player, though. Don’t want her mad at me.”

“Oh, Susan,” said Daley. This time she did roll her eyes. “She’s too dumb to notice that you’ll be playing a trick. I mean, she’s my best friend and all, and I love her, but she’s a blonde. Well, you know.”

Saturday was warmer, with lots of sunshine. Melly volunteered to drive them over in her bright red Escalade SUV. Of course, they had to spend about ten minutes shoveling it out before they had room to sit, but it was a very comfortable car, Daley decided once they were on their way.

Susan sat in the back and gave directions that took them down Greek Row, then west on a narrow, tree-lined street. “He lives back here?” Daley asked, making a face. The warren of streets behind the fraternity and sorority houses were old, tiny, and shabby, rental units that college kids could just about afford.

“His house is nice,” Susan said.

“He got roommates?” Melly asked.

“No, he lives by himself.”

“Oh, really.”

Following Susan’s directions, Melly made a left, then a right, and finally pulled in the driveway of a neat—but very small, Daley noted—Craftsman-style house with a deep shady front porch. Grudgingly, she admitted that it was better looking than the other houses on the street, with a small, trimly-kept front lawn and fresh white paint. The girls piled out of the Escalade—in front of them, pulled well in off the street, was a battered old white Ford van, Tim’s car, she guessed. They crossed the porch, and before Susan could even reach for the doorknob, the door opened and Tim was there smiling at them. “Ladies,” he said. “Come in.”

They stepped into a cramped but tidy living room. “This looks like a yacht I once was on,” Melly pronounced. “Place for everythin’ and everythin’ in its place.”

The walls were a creamy yellow, with a tall bookshelf set against the right wall. On the left wall deep shadowboxes held odd pictures that turned out to be antique Tarot cards: the Priestess, the Magician, the Fool, and the Hanging Man. “Antiques?” she asked.

Tim was taking their coats. “Yes. It was a broken deck, so I got it cheap. Interesting cards, though—Italian, seventeenth century. These were the best-looking ones.”

The furniture wasn’t bad, either, a comfortable sofa in earth tones, a matching armchair, a handsome coffee table. The TV, though, was tiny, maybe only nineteen inches, though it sat on a sort of credenza thing that looked well made.

Tim led them through a doorway. “I’m going to put your coats on the bed,” he said, opening another door. “The bathroom is through here.” Daley got a glimpse of a bedroom that, again, seemed well furnished. The queen-sized bed sported an intricately worked quilt.

“That’s a pretty quilt,” Melly said.

“Thanks. My mom made it for me.”

Ugh, Daley thought. Her family never made things. They bought them.

The kitchen-dinette opened onto a sun porch. “I thought we’d eat out here,” Tim said. “It’s warm enough with the sun coming in. Is that okay?”

“Sure,” Susan said. “Oh, I’m sorry, Melly. Tim, I think you met Melanie once. Melanie Maxwell.”

“I think I did,” Tim said with a smile. “Hi, Melly. If I remember right, you’re from Texas, aren’t you?”

“Corpus Christi,” Melly said.

“Really? Any relation to Maxwell Oil?”

“Sugar, my daddy is Maxwell Oil,” Melanie said with a laugh.

“I’m impressed,” Tim said.

Melly shrugged. “Well, he’d be a lot richer, you know, if he didn’t have to pay alimony to my mama and three other ex-wives. I love my daddy, but my Lord, he’s just an old horndog.”

Tim gestured. “Well, if you’ll seat yourselves, I’ll bring the food out.”

“I’ll help you,” Susan volunteered.

Daley and Melly went out onto the sun porch. A round table with four chairs waited, and they sat down. “This is right nice,” Melly said, looking out into the back yard. It was nearly square, with a privacy hedge rising to more than six feet. Everything looked well cared for and neatly trimmed. Melly picked up the fork that waited beside her plate. “And look at this silverware. My mama’d purely kill to get her hands on somethin’ like this. It’s antique.”

Susan and Tim came out with food, glasses, and a bottle of wine. “To start, a poached-pear salad with romaine, grape tomatoes, toasted walnuts, and feta cheese,” Tim announced. “I made my own dressing, a walnut-raspberry vinaigrette. Is that okay with everyone?”

Daley shrugged, but Melly said, “Yum!”

As Tim set the salads down, she asked, “Where in the world did you get this silverware? It’s old, isn’t it?”

Tim grinned. “Well, I’m kind of poor, so I spend a lot of time looking for bargains. I found these pieces in a shop in, let me see, I think it was Norfolk, Virginia. They’re Colonial, I think. Anyway, the mark shows that they’re from the Hurd family of silversmiths. I got them for a steal because the pattern is unusual and hard to match and—you guessed it—it’s a broken set. I’ve only got four forks!” He poured four glasses of wine. “Now, this is a pinot gris, not French but from Oregon, but it’s a pretty good wine. See what you think.”

Daley found herself feeling more and more irritable. The salad was delectable, the cheese and walnuts providing interesting tastes and textures to contrast with the pear and the lettuce. And the wine was wonderful, a white wine with a pale peach tinge, citrusy and tangy and robust. “You must have shot your budget on this,” she said, holding her glass up.

Tim shook his head. “Poor, remember? No, back before Christmas break I performed at a bachelorette party, and the ladies who threw it were kind enough to let me take a couple of bottles that hadn’t been opened.”

“Oh, you’re just serving us leftovers,” Daley said with a smirk.

“That’s right. Ready for the next course? I kept it sort of light,” Tim said, rising.

As soon as he had gone back into the kitchen, Susan said unhappily, “Daley, I wish you’d be nice! Tim went to a lot of trouble.”

“I’m sorry,” Daley said with absolutely no conviction in her voice.

Tim came out again with a loaded tray. “Here you are,” he said, setting a plate down before Daley.

“Ooh!” squealed Melly, irritatingly. “That’s so pretty!” Of course it came out purty.

But Melly was right. Tim certainly knew how to present a meal. On the plate rested three rosettes, pinkish-red, along with three small ovals of a dark brown bread, as well as risotto with mushrooms and scallions and some bright green French-cut beans with slivers of almond. Tim set a small bowl of what looked like cream cheese down on the table, put his own plate down, and sat.

Melly was digging in greedily. “Oh, Gawd!” she exclaimed. “This smoked salmon is so damn good!”

Daley sampled some. Her brown eyes flew open wide. It was good smoked salmon, rolled up like a rosebud, and inside it lurked caviar that popped against her tongue. She sipped her wine and noticed what a terrific match it was for the food, balancing but not overwhelming the caviar and fish. “It’s good,” she admitted.

“This is what I blew my food budget on,” Tim said with a laugh. “Not to worry, though. I’m doing a party on Monday, and what with my fee and tips, I’ll bring in at least a couple of thousand, so dig in.”

He uncorked a second bottle of that wonderful wine. Daley tried to eat with restraint, but the tastes were so fucking good, the textures so right, that she had to force herself to eat like a lady instead of a glutton. The wine began to give her a mild buzz, too, making her feel mellower, less irritable. By the time they got to dessert—big luscious strawberries dipped in chocolate with a delicate flavor of mint—Daley had even started to feel tolerant toward Tim.

At last Daley sighed and said, “Well, Susan, I have to admit it. Your boyfriend could always make a living as a cook. Maybe Melly’s dad would want to hire him.”

“Hail with that,” Melly said, picking up the last of her strawberries. “I want to hire him!”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Tim said, rising to his feet. “Susan, if you’ll help me clear up and load the dishwasher, I think we’re ready to learn some poker.

“I can’t wait,” Daley said. “You will go slow, won’t you? Melly’s never played cards before in her life.”

“I’ll go slow,” Tim promised. “Until you’re ready for me to go faster.”

“Okay,” Tim said, breaking the seal on a deck of cards. “To begin with, does everybody know the ranking of poker hands?”

“Melly doesn’t,” Daley said. “Explain it.”

“All right. The highest hand, the one that beats all the others, is a royal flush. That’s the ten, jack, queen, king, and ace of the same suit—the ten, jack, queen, king, and ace of hearts, clubs, diamonds, or spades.”

“What happens,” Melly asked impishly, “if you get a royal flush in hearts and I get one in spades? Who wins then?”

“We’d split the pot,” Tim said. “But I wouldn’t worry about it. I’ve never seen a royal flush in any game I’ve played, let alone two. They’re kind of rare.”

“Oh. Well, do go on.”

Tim went through the other possible hands, from straight flush through four of a kind down to high card. “In most varieties of Texas Hold’Em, you don’t chuck in an ante, but the players have to contribute different amounts called blinds,” he explained. He reached down and retrieved a shoebox from the floor beside his chair and passed out stacks of chips. “Now, here’s your stakes. We’re going to do this simply. The red chips are worth five dollars, the blue ones are ten, the green ones twenty-five, and the black ones a hundred bucks. We’re each starting off with five thousand, okay? Good. Now, the player to my left, that’s Susan, posts the small blind. That’s a five-dollar chip, Susan. Push it out on the table. And then the next player, Melly, posts the big blind. That’s ten bucks. Right. Now in tournaments the blinds increase, but for this learning game, we’re going to post the same blinds every time, five for the small blind, ten for the big one. Got that?”

“Got it,” Susan said. Melly agreed, and Daley nodded.

“Now,” he said, “I’m going to deal us all two hole cards and leave them exposed just to show you how it goes. Normally I’d deal them face-down, though, and nobody but you would know what they are. All right, here we go. A ten of hearts for Daley, and a Jack of Clubs for Melly, and a Queen of Hearts for Susan, and I get a seven of hearts. A five of diamonds for Daley, a trey of clubs for Melly, a Queen of Spades for Susan, and I get a King of Spades.”

Daley sipped her wine and wished she had more of it. She reflected that her two cards weren’t great. But Melly had two clubs, and Susan had a high pair. “Daley,” Tim said, “you’d begin the betting. You didn’t get the best hand, but you might want to ride along a little and see what the next cards are before deciding to drop. Want to bet?”

“Sure,” Daley said, tossing in a ten-dollar chip.

“Okay, I’ll match that,” Tim said, putting in one of his own.

They went through the first round of betting, and then Tim tossed aside one card—the bum card, he called it—and dealt three cards face-up. “These are the flop,” he said. “Now, you can combine any three cards from the ones I deal face-up with your own cards to form a hand. Now everybody look at what’s on the table and see what kind of hand you can make.”

The ten of clubs, six of clubs, and five of hearts lay on the table. Susan said, “Didn’t help me any.”

“No,” Tim agreed. “But now Melly has four clubs, a possible flush, and Daley has two pair, tens and fives. I’ve got a five, six, and seven, a possible straight. Now we bet again.”

They did, with Daley raising the stakes until they had more than four hundred dollars on the table. After removing another bum card, Tim said, “This is the turn.” He put down a King of Diamonds. “Now I have a pair of kings, so I might consider trying to bluff you all out. I’d lose to Daley, but of course I wouldn’t know that. So now we bet again, and this time bets can double.”

They went through another round, and at last Tim bummed another card and turned the last one face up on the table. “This is the river,” he said. “Jack of Diamonds, and now Melly has a pair. Now ordinarily, we’d go through more betting, then show our hands. In this case, Daley would win, see? Now you all understand? Ready to try a hand for real?”

“I sho’ will try to remember everythin’,” Melly said plaintively.

The next hands were much harder, Daley thought, without Tim’s patient explanations. Tim won one, Melly won one, and Susan won. Daley, to her great irritation, kept drawing low hands, jumbles of cards that she couldn’t build anything from.

Then in the fourth round Tim dealt her the King of Hearts and the King of Spades, and what should turn up in the flop but the King of Clubs. By the time they showed their cards, she had a full house, kings over deuces, and she said with a grin, “Hey, I’m beginning to like this game!”

After an hour or so, the cards began to run Melly’s way. Susan won now and again, and Dailey a couple more times, but Tim’s luck was out. Melly nailed him with four nines when he was holding two good pair, jacks and queens, and he sighed and said, “Okay, I’m broke. Now the three of you play it out and I’ll sort of coach if you want me to take a look at your cards. Only one per round, though, to keep it honest!”

“Oh, no,” Melly said. “I don’t want you to stop playin’! Ain’t you got some more of these little old chips?”

“Sure, but that wouldn’t be fair,” Tim said. “In a game, I couldn’t just pull more money out of my wallet if I didn’t have any.”

“You might sell somethin’ to raise a little money on, though,” Melly said seriously.

“You could sell me another glass of wine, if you have any more,” Daley said.

Tim chuckled, rose, and went into the house. He came back with another bottle. “This is the last one, though,” he said. “I’m glad you enjoy it. And you can’t buy it, Daley. I’m the host.” He poured her another glass and when both Melly and Susan turned down, another for himself.

“I’ll offer you five hundred dollars for your little old shirt,” Melly said mischievously.

“Melly!” Susan said.

“Take it off, take it off!” Daley said with a grin.

“Well—”

“Come on, Mr. Teacher,” Melly said. “You ain’t afraid of little old me, are you?”

Tim leaned back. “Tell me, Melly, if the tables were turned—if you were busted and I offered you five hundred for your blouse—what would you do?”

“Sugar, I’d peel it over my head and let the twins out!” Melly said with a raucous laugh.

“Remember that,” Tim said, and he unbuttoned his black shirt.

Daley stared. Damn, but he had wide shoulders. And good abs, visible beneath a tight, sleeveless undershirt. The next hand saw some of his luck come back, and he recaptured about three hundred dollars in chips. Then somehow Melly began to struggle with her hands, and in a disastrous move, she went broke when she had a low straight and Tim showed a flush in hearts. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll buy your blouse for five hundred.”

“Tim!” Susan said.

Tim had picked up his high card, a Queen of Hearts, and spun it between two fingers. “What is it, my Queen of Hearts?”

Susan relaxed and giggled. “Nothing. I just don’t know whether Melly has the guts.”

The red-haired girl gave her a smug look, stood up, and took off her tight white top. Her lush breasts, barely contained in a low-cut bra, had the same sprinkle of freckles across their tops as her cheeks. “There, Mr. Smarty,” she said. “Give me my chips.”

Tim pushed them across the table. Susan said, “Before the next hand, show her the card trick, Tim.”

“Not a goddam magic trick,” Daley moaned. She grimaced down at Tim’s hand and saw that the card he was spinning was . . . the Queen . . . of Clubs. Her head spun a little. Too much wine. A little too much wine, she thought.

“You thought it was a good trick,” Tim reminded her. “When I found your guardian card. The Queen of Clubs, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Daley felt floaty, warm. She smiled lazily. “Yes, that was a good trick. Show Melly.”

“What is it?” Melly asked quizzically. She sat back in her chair, shoulders high, obviously not bothered at all by the display of her chest she was making.

“It’s a little magic stunt,” Tim said, gathering the cards together. “You’re going to pick a card at random. Now, for centuries, cards have held the mystery of human fate. I propose to show you your guardian card, the one that symbolizes and stands for you.”

He went through the whole routine, shuffling, mixing the cards, spreading them out face-down on the table, inviting Melly to choose one. Before she did, though, he said, “For you, there can be only one card: the Queen of Diamonds. A rich girl, sharp and red-haired and with a competitive nature. You’re naturally adventurous, and you’ll try anything once. You’ve got strong appetites, and you don’t mind satisfying them. Turn it over and show me the Queen of Diamonds.”

Melly suspiciously turned over the card she had chosen. “Well I’ll be damn,” she whispered.

He took it from her and began somehow to spin it between his fingers in a mesmerizing rhythm. Shaking her head, a puzzled little smile on her face, Melly stared at it. The red queen, then the blue-diamond back, then the queen, it was fascinating.

Before she knew it they were playing again, and this time, after four hands, Daley went bust. Melly said gaily, “Five hundred for your blouse, Daley!”

“I know the rules,” Daley bitched, but she peeled off her tight black sweater. What am I doing? she thought fleetingly, but if Melly didn’t mind showing off her rack, Daley certainly didn’t. She had perky tits and an enticing cleavage supported by a lacy black bra. Nothing to be ashamed of.

Melly went broke again and cheerfully surrendered her bra for seven hundred and fifty dollars in chips. Susan murmured, “Oh, my, Melly, you’ve got such pretty titties. I’d like to lick them!”

Melly smiled at her and reached for her cards.

Susan lost her top next. Then Daley lost her bra and sat there holding her cards and feeling her nipples prickling with the cool air. Smart-ass Tim had amassed a fortune in chips. She’d show him, she thought.

Another hour. All the girls were down to panties, their young breasts bobbing as they reached to pick up cards or make a bet. Melly won a big hand. She was flushed in the face now, and her nipples had grown stiff and erect. She raked in the chips and then said defiantly, “Hail with this game. Tim, I’ll give you all my chips right now for a good fuck.”

Tim raised his eyebrows. He turned to Susan and murmured, “Is that all right with you, my Queen of Hearts?”

“Yes,” Susan said in a dreamy, far-away voice. “If you’ll let me and Daley watch. I’ve never watched anyone fuck before.”

“My Queen of Clubs?”

Dailey squirmed. God damn it, but she felt excited. Her pussy was moist with anticipation. And, she thought in a hazy kind of way, if Tim liked meaty girls, maybe he’d go for Melly and drop Susan, and then. . . and then what? Something about . . . about her and Susan, but she’d lost track of the thought. “I’d like to see you get fucked,” Daley heard herself say.

Tim got up from the table. “Ladies,” he said, “Let’s adjourn to the bedroom.”