One early Saturday morning he landed in Las Vegas with over $20,000 stolen from the bank deposit he didn’t make that afternoon in Orlando, Florida. He had sweated what seemed like hours getting pass Homeland Security at Orlando International Airport, but the federal agents had not spotted the money. On the nonstop gambler special to Vegas he had drank round after round of free drinks in First Class often looking around because he knew this fellow passenger somehow knew he was a thief. After hanging in the air for an eternity, the jet landed in Las Vegas. A quick taxi trip Mandalay Bay hotel and casino followed with a speedy check in by a dark haired Asian female clerk with piecing black eyes that looked into his soul and saw that it was troubled and paranoid; however, the company Gold American Express card approved the high roller penthouse, and the Dragon Lady admitted him into the Kingdom of Luck.
Then up to the luxury apartment with a bird’s view of The Strip and the busy airport across the street. The $20,000 in hundred dollar bills came out of its hiding place and he put it on the bed. The Gambler was in the life again. The clothes in suitcase from Florida were old, so he charged new threads to his company credit card and within minutes men arrived with expensive suits , shirts, underwear, socks and shoes. They don’t call it The Miracle Mile for nothing – If the customer has the cash or credit just about anything can be delivered at 3 a.m. After taking a bath and feeling safe, relaxed and in total command again, The Gambler called a high end escort service and ordered a 20 something black woman with a good figure and large breasts. She arrives in less than hour, a real African princess from a small country that became a republic after first shooting most of the former monarchy. The black princess was on the last plane out with rebels literally racing down the runway after it firing machine guns. The plane was a direct flight to New York City and The Princess thinks of asking for political asylum but decides not to because she remembers the USA is a republic that overthrew a monarchy. Instead she shows Immigration her British passport with a six month approved Visa given to her by a former lover at the British embassy in her country. What happens in the next couple of years is a long story, the short version is The Princess finds out very quickly she has no marketable skills. Thus the Princess changes into a high roller whore in Las Vegas with a thing for middle age white men because only they can bring her to orgasm all the quicker if they mean and slap her around a bit during sex. The Princess often thinks they are fools to pay her to be degraded; she would do for free.
The gross orgy with The Gambler that involves sexual acts outlawed in many countries finally ends about dawn with the two love birds are covered with bodily fluids and smelling like a subway toilet. The Princess rises and goes to the bathroom for a cleanup and the Gambler starts hitting back the contents of the fully stocked liquor cabinet. In the bathroom, the Princess calls her agency and logs the time spent with her client and another charge is placed on the company credit card plus a 20% gratuity. The Princess is clean and perfumed again. The drugs have also kicked in and she is ready for the day shift. Her white man of the night before is setting at the bar drinking. “Would you care for a drink, honey?” The Princess replies with a high class British accent, “I can’t. I’m on duty today and all booked up. Call the agency if you want me back. I rather enjoyed myself.” The Gambler drains the cocktail glass, “You came about a dozen times. I thought you whores never came for customers.” The Princess smiles, “Where in the Whore’s Rule Book does it say the hooker can’t enjoy herself? Would you like oral sex before I leave?” The Princess falls to her knees, “This will be free and will bring you good luck at the tables for the next 24 hours.” The Gambler asks as she looks at him with an upturned face, “Why do you like white men?” The Princess touches his cock which becomes hard in an instant and she says just before placing the dirty smelly thing in her mouth, “Black men murdered my family.” The Gambler closes his eyes and comes within a minute. He is ready for the tables and ready for his triumph.
It is early Saturday morning at the Mandalay Bay Casino. The vast room is nearly deserted, but the Gambler is feeling lucky and The Man again. The nervous wimp of the night has been replaced by the Master of the Game. He finds a dollar slot machine and wages a buck. He receives a $10 from the machine. Another wager brings $100 and people gather to watch. The Gambler throws the game a third one dollar bill and hits the $1,000 jack pot. The crowd approves with a sigh and woman says, “You’re Mr. Lucky. I can touch you for good luck.” The Gambler says, “Touch away lady and maybe some good luck will rub off on you.” The woman gives him a brief kiss on the mouth and runs off to the tables where she does enjoy a good run.
The pattern is set for the day. The Gambler, now known as Mr. Lucky, wins big at whatever game he plays. The casino staff at first thinks it’s some type of fraud but finally the experts are convinced that The Gambler is just…well…damn lucky. This means that the casino has to keep paying off and paying off big because The Gambler’s luck passes mysteriously like some sort of virus to whoever touches him in anyway. The word spreads like wildfire along The Strip and by noon professional gamblers from as far away as Reno are getting on planes for the hot tables of Mandalay Bay where apparently everyone is a winner. At approximately 2 p.m. The House is broke. The police have formed a line outside the hotel/casino and none but hotel guests and reporters are allowed inside. At corporate headquarters the powers that be float another loan at Bank of America in excess of one billion dollars. The decision is made to keep paying off the winners, as luck always changes and the winners become losers; besides the free publicity about the Mandalay Bay casino has spread worldwide and the hotel is quickly booked solid for years.
The Gambler this day has become for the first time in his life loved and respected instead of the hateful looks and disrespect he has put up with for years from his family, wife and employers. The crowd follows him everywhere he goes in the casino and people with health issues say they are healed by a touch from him. He begins to feel like a latter day Messiah; like Barack Obama, he has been touched but a magic Negro and passes the gift along. The Gambler winnings hit the one million dollar mark, then ten million and by early the next morning over $100 million. He has become a world class celebrity with cameras and reporters following him all over the casino between games asking him to explain how he became so lucky. On Fox News the gambling experts are called to voice their theories on how this man could be cheating. The best analysis is that it’s some complex system developed at M.I.T. However, at the end of the day the experts have no rational explanation and call in the mystics to explain luck which cannot be explained in rational terms.
The Gambler even for a time is asked to comment on international affair and politics. “What should we do about Iran?” asks a reporter from CNN. He replies, “Like my man John McCain said, bomb, bomb, bomb Iran.” What would be Barak Obama’s best move as president?” asks a reporter from The New York Times. “Resign, “says The Gambler. “What should we do about the recession?” asks a pretty info babe from ABC. “Nothing. Ride it out. Boom and bust. It’s the American Way” announces The Gambler to the news hounds. A just arrived reporter from The Orlando Sentinel shouts at The Gambler, “Your wife in Orlando wants you to answer your cell phone!” But this remark is ignored, as the herd of reporters back The Gambler into a wall and is only saved from sure death by a thin line of Mandalay Bay security hosts heavily reinforced by Las Vegas cops and the Nevada National Guard.
The games continue. The once beautiful casino and hotel has been trashed and looks like the Super Dome in New Orleans after Katrina The food and drinks give out after six p.m. The Nevada National Guard is put in charge and attempts to get emergency supplies into the casino, but all roads are blocked by thousands of desperate gamblers seeking the hot tables and easy winning of Mandalay Bay. The General in charge finally orders supplies and troops to be flown in by way of the helipad on the hotel roof and the casualties evacuated from the casino. The General also declares martial law and orders all gaming to stop at the casino, after allowing one last bet to each gambler. The General is after all a native of Las Vegas and knows how important Last Calls are to a gambler. The announcement is made. The time is 9:01 Sunday morning. It is 24 hours and one minute after The Princess gave her dirty Prince Charming 24 hours of good luck. The bet is laid all over the casino:” LET IT RIDE!” shouts everyone. The dice are rolled, the slot machine handles are pulled, the wheels turn AND
The House wins and the long feared riot happens anyway. The National Guard, police and security hosts pop the tear gas and do a combat assault against the gamblers. This is later called a police riot and compared to Chicago in 1968 at the Democrat Convention. The mob does not do the logical thing and race out the front doors to safety, instead they fight the police and try to burn down one of the most famous and well appointed hotel/casino complex in the world. The battle royal continues all day and a slow news Sunday is interrupted by Fox News headlines, “Las Vegas Is Burning” and live pictures from The Strip as thousands of angry gamblers attack, loot and burn one famous Las Vegas landmark after another. The General orders the troops to open fire. The gamblers loot gun shops and return fire. The streets are filled with dead and wounded. But between fire fights games of chance are played at tables filled with National Guardsmen and gamblers on a truce. The Governor of Nevada declares a state of emergency and asks for federal troops. President Obama orders the 82nd Airborne and 10th Mountain Division to Las Vegas with shoot-to-kill orders as most of the gambler-rioters are white or Asian.
The Gambler returns to the penthouse after hours of dodging the National Guard in the hallways and stairwells of the formerly grand hotel which slowly but surely burning down. He has been without sleep for nearly 48 hours, aside from a catnap on the plane from Orlando. He falls exhausted into bed after a quick shower and the removal of his expensive clothing now destroyed beyond repair. The dreams The Gambler dreams are at first pleasant ones of home and family in sunny Florida but then they turn dark and he hears gun fire and shouts. He wakes up in the dark and understands it wasn’t a dream. A woman’s voice with a British accent booms in the darkness, “No it wasn’t a dream. You are in Las Vegas and the gun fire you hear is from the soldiers of the 82th Airborne Division attacking their own city. It may take several days for things to calm down, but when they do, I daresay you will be held responsible for everything bad that happened this weekend.” The Princess lights the lamp on the table beside where her she sits naked in a chair. “Why did you come back?” asks The Gambler, “I’m the last guy you want to be with when the law catches up to me?”
The Princess rises and even without clothes looks royal and aristocratic. She has oiled her body for sex. She reaches the large bed and crawls on all four towards the white man with the very erect penis. She pauses, “I came back because I’m your bitch. I love you. Also, I’m responsible for what happened here this last weekend. I’ve been a bad girl and I need to be punished.” The Gambler feels power returning to him, “Do you want to be punished? Then turn around and take my cock up your black ass. This will be the start of your punishment tonight.” “Yes, master, I am your slave. I am the slave that has caused your downfall. Love me. Hurt me. The Gambler shoves his large white cock into the black ass of The Princess who screams in agony and ecstasy.”They are bonded: master and slave.
A couple can only fuck so long and do so many positions before they get hungry. So at last enough is enough and the perverted couple hit the showers and dry off with big fluffy towels. They discover a well stocked refrigerator and plenty of liquor at the bar of penthouse. The view this early Monday is awesome with out of control fires blazing up and down The Strip. The electric has remained on and the large HD televisions and neon signs are witness to wild gun battles between troops and rioters. The night booms as an Abrams main battle tank unloads a 120 mm HE round into the Four Seasons hotels: One small round of sniper fire gets one very large round in response. The panzer rumbles north up The Strip with smoking cannon raised. A squad of heavily armed paratroopers follows the M-1 tank. It is the ultimate road show that finally hits Vegas.
The Master turns to his naked black Slave, “It won’t be long now. These are experienced and seasoned soldiers. They’ll get situation under control and then John Law comes looking for me. I command you to run as far from me as you can, Slave.” The woman smiles, “Where you go, I go too” Something like that – It’s in the Bible. I was educated at an English Anglican school near London. This was before I was a sinful whore and slave.” “Well we all have our sins, most especially me,” said the Master. “You said earlier you were responsible for my actions. How so? The only one around this train wreck was me.” The Slave walks over to a large comfortable chair and sits down, “My father, the late king was a witch doctor. I never really believed it until today. I always thought it was a myth. I was a proper Christian girl educated from an early age by the Anglican Church and took little stock in such things. Then Saturday morning I gave you the gift of luck. As I said I didn’t know I had the power to grant what was every gambler’s dream – to break the house. And like all evil things it got out of control and an entire city is burned and thousands of people killed and injured. You are innocent, but will be found guilty when things are finally sorted out. The mob will destroy you.”
The still naked Master thinks for a moment. “Okay Slave we have both sinned and are equally responsible. for the hot time in the old town – where do we go and what do we do?” The Slave smiles, “Master, the first thing we do is put on clothes. The second is that I give your infamous face an appearance change using my make up kit. Third, we get the hell out of Dodge, as the Westerners say.” “And go where?” asks the Master. The Slave answers, “We get lost in America. At some point we’ll reach a town and settle down. We will work hard and take care of people. We will go to church. We will pray to the Lord Jesus to forgive our sins. We will marry and have children…”
Just before dawn, Master and Slave make their escape through the smoking ruins of Mandalay Bay and dart across The Strip between companies of advancing soldiers who only shoot at those who shoot at them and not at unarmed civilians running away from danger. The couple soon finds the remarkably intact car and full tank of gas belonging to The Slave and The Master takes the wheel never stopping the vehicle until they reach Ely, Nevada. They check into a motel named the “Jailhouse” and the desk clerk, a retired Nevada State prison guard and realist is impressed with how much in love, the newly wedded couple “John and June Jarvis of Dearborn, Michigan” are despite being of two different races who have been at war with one another for hundreds of years. When he hands them the key, the white man kisses the black woman and says something that kind of shocks him, “Are you ready to satisfy my ever y whim, Slave?’ The black woman replies, “I am yours to command, but just remember the bank account and credit cards are still in my name, Master.” The black woman then smiles at the elderly desk clerk and says, “It’s an old captivity,” and winks.
The clerk watches as the white man picks up the black woman and carries her over the threshold. “In Nevada you see it all” he thinks and turns on the TV to watch the coverage of the riots in Vegas.