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Message-ID: <30684asstr$991973405@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Souvie <souvie@netdot.com>
Reply-To: Souvie <souvie@netdot.com>
Subject: {ASSM} RP "To Each His Own" (no sex)
Date: Fri,  8 Jun 2001 00:10:05 -0400
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"To Each His Own" (no sex)
by Souvie 
copyright 2000-2001


Author's note: This is a work of erotic fiction, and was
inspired by a an erotic photograph by Ashely Redding. It's
been "tweaked" a bit, and I decided to repost it. If you're
not of legal age to be reading it, then please don't.  The
story is copyright by me, Souvie, so please no reposting
unless you've gotten permission from me first. In the
spirit of the Blow Job Principle, I welcome any and all
comments. In fact, I get off on feedback. Email me at
souvie@netdot.com

==========
"To Each His Own"



"Hey, Bobby, just cause you busted don't mean you can't
watch the game," Roy hollered. 

"I am watchin' the game. Cabrera is up at bat and St.
Louis is ahead by two." Bobby was sitting on the edge of
the recliner, eyes glued to the television set and a
Budwiser clutched in his right hand. 

Roy shook his head in disgust and turned his attention
back to the game in progress around the square card table
George had set up in the kitchen. 

Everyone had busted except for Luke and Frannie. Yep,
Frannie was playing cards with "the boys." When the friends
got together for their bi-monthly poker game, it was
strictly no women allowed. Roy still wasn't sure how
Frannie had managed to wheedle a spot at the table, but it
was a done deal. 

They all worked together, even Frannie, at Pilgrim's
Pride, a chicken processing plant. The work was dirty and
smelly and the poker night gave them a small measure of
relief. It was good to just sit back and cut up with the
boys every now and then. That is, until a woman like
Frannie invaded your turf. 

At the table, Luke raised his eyes. Directly across from
him was the cause of his sweaty palms, sweat-coated brow
and dry mouth. Frannie was a vision in fishnet stockings
with a matching garter, no shoes and a backless black
sundress. Nails painted a hot pink tapped against the card
table as blue eyes perused the dealt cards. Not a bad hand,
was Frannie's thinking. 

Luke loosened his tie. He'd come over to George's for the
game right after work and hadn't had a chance to change
yet. He'd been against letting Frannie play, but the other
boys'd out-voted him. And now Frannie was beating the socks
off of him. Figured. 

Frannie, looking quite delectable with matching hot pink
lipstick, thick black lashes that most women tried all
their life to achieve and a pout that must have taken at
least a month of practice to perfect, placed two cards face
down on the table and slid them to George, the dealer. 

He dealt two more back and those were slowly placed with
the remaining three cards. 

Luke tugged nervously on his tie again. The pot was up to
three hundred and fifty bucks. Certainly not chump change.
He placed three cards face down and slid them to George,
then picked up his three new ones. He frowned and studied
his cards. 

He felt a sudden pressure on the inside of his leg;
sliding, slowly sliding up toward his crotch. He looked
over at Frannie. The pretty pink lips were turned upward in
a knowing grin. 

Luke scooted his chair back out of range. The smile turned
into a frown. 

In a definite snit now, Frannie said, "I want to bet, but
I don't have any money left." 

"Then you call," Luke said, "and show your cards." 

Bobby, bored now that a commercial had interrupted his
ballgame, wandered in to grab another beer. "Whoo-whee,
darlin', you lookin' good tonight." He passed behind
Frannie and leaned down, planting a loud kiss against the
back of her neck. "Wanna go somewhere and party after you
win all of Luke's money?" He opened the fridge door and
popped open a fresh beer. 

Frannie giggled. "Oh, George, you flirt! What would your
wife say?" 

Bobby's reply was a loud belch. 

George made a face of disgust while Roy just shook his
head. "You're drunk as a skunk, Bobby," George said. "I'm
taking you home as soon as this game's over. And I hope to
hell you remember everything in the morning." 

Luke looked at Frannie again. "You going to call?" 

Drunk on the attention from Bobby, Frannie hiccuped and
used an elegant hand to cover it up. "Oh but, I'm sure I
have something I could add to the pot to keep the betting
up." The eyelashes fluttered. Frannie turned to the right
and started to bend over. As if in slow motion, Frannie's
hand hit the edge of the table and the cards fluttered to
the floor. "Oh damn!" 

Luke, the gentleman he was, kept his eyes on the table and
didn't even try to sneak a peek at his opponent's cards. 

Roy started to get up to help, but Frannie waved him back
in his seat. "I've got it." Out of sight of the others,
Frannie slipped the ace of diamonds out of the top of one
stocking and slid the replaced card under a shapely foot.
Sliding off the stocking, Frannie raised up and deposited
it on top of the money in the center of the table. "Will
that do, sweet cheeks?" 

Luke threw his cards down in disgust. "That's it, that's
just fucking it. Divide up the money and let me go home." 

George was going to try to reason with him, when Roy put
in, "Best thing to do. Frannie cheated anyway. Had a card
stuck in the top of that there stocking. Switched 'em when
the cards were dropped." 

"Fred, you fruity son of a bitch!" Luke shouted. "We all
stood by you when you confessed that you liked to dress in
women's clothing on occasion. That was uncomfortable but we
could handle it. You come in here, all dressed up in your
wife's clothes to play cards tonight, and we let you. And
you pay us back by cheating? I thought we were friends.
Kinky queer," he said in disgust. 

Fred stood up, pink lips in a sneer, pink nails digging
into his palms; all pretense at femininity gone now.
"Goddamn it, Luke! I told you to call me Frannie!" 


THE END

More of my stories can be found at: 
"Things That Go Bump in the Night" 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Souvie/www



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